The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1914-05-14
THE PRICE IS PAID

AT suntset Curran was far In the
hills. There was a tiny hunting shack
in the thick OF an oak scrub ridge
where he had often spent the night in
seeking the squirrels and wild pigeons,
and now, unconsciously, his steps led
thither. Without thought, without
purpose-only he must be alone with
hts crisis OF defeat; he must keep rea-
son, he must grope for the tatters life
had left him. 4
All the afternoon he had wandered,
keeping from the roads, and meeting
no ono, He had beheld the silent Mid
land country, the cloud patches chas-
ing one another over the close cropped
meadows from ridge to ridge, the val
leys bleak In the November hush. Altar
he heard the farmers swapping the corn
from the frozen husks throwing It with
a rough cadence against the bump
boards Of the wagons: and now and
then he saw h yellow piles among
the shocked fodder n the pumpkin
vines. Again he saw a threshing
crew, the red machine roaring,
the flow of chaff, the CLINT of the
fork tines as the pitchers threw
the the bundles to the hand cut
tiers; the farm boys wallowing in the
bright straw, the girls coming out to bid
the hands to dinner which the neigh
Dor women had gathered to prepare.
All this fine hearty life seemed strange
ly unreal, but ~curiously his mind alb
sorbed itself in 1t. He pictured the
long table in the farmhouse, the host
welcoming the threshers, the discus
sion OF the yield and price with the
weighers and ack sewers, as the own
er let the brown wheat run through his
fingers. All this he had been giving up
with his new larger life; this prosy
country friendliness which only his
RvaaT hnthad dfG0nuarnd oRl INxynH .~l
which had made place for him, given
him honor. And now. at the moment of
his miracle. the precious knowledge of
their trust, and that he was equal to
this mans work. he had fallen; again,
the wanderer, the man without under
standing. h poet without song.
He turned from 1t all with tear-flled
eyes, climbing higher in the bluffs. The
leaves were new-fallen. showing the
a -winding river. the bronze shields OF
the corn coming up to the black muddy
roads. leading to the towns, first past
the modest homes Of the workers and
hired folk. and then to the h~eavy-faced
ant friendly town, coming at last to
know him; a wholesome town blown
always with odorous airs; n filled
with h voices OF young people, BOYS
climbing the cattle trails. sweethearts
wandering along the pebbly water
courses OF Sunday afternoons; or old
men and women coming slowly along
the walks under the arching naples,
speaking kindly, knowing every one and
the children of every one.
From the last high ridge. where the
uplands began. he could see the great
vistas. The smoke over the mines and
factories in Earlyille. the Mississippi,
a band of u silver strung along the
hills Of Illinois; and now. on his home
shore. far to the north. a single farm
wagon, toiling UP the red cash of n
o to the yellow bluff, then rafting
on. a crawling speck at last, the
wrapped figure in the seat alone and
desolate under the sky. the low-press .
ing globe of gray. He thought IL might
be his friend. Hemminger, going back
TO his homo people. He would tell them
the news. He wondered how they would
receive 1t; II they would not be sad
de7ed? They would open their weekly |
paper. the damp and soggy little sheet
as 1t came from its old press. and read
his announcement. The talk would 60
aoout--some nameless blight that had
struck down their champion, and only |
the infinite silence would answer. Hell
thought OF the farmers driving home.
ward from the rally that would not
take place. rough CARRIED. silent. In n
sort OF awe of Thad Tanner. the little
gray boss who was on top again. They
would guess az this much. But Cur
ran who, somehow. had appealed to
their secret sentiment; who had
come clearing an obscure message, the
lighting good. the newer ideal of de-
MISUNDERSTANDING past the money
lust or the republic-he, who had
dreamed that out OF their gray and
honest lives he might weave the col |
ors OF his W infinite possibilities
what would they think OF him?
tomorrow was the election, and by
night the great fight would be won.
They would all win, Delroy, the mill
tant governor, the Junior senator; all
the men Of the north In the brilliant
campaign. But he who had been OF
them. Of whom tho home folk had been