Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1915-05-14


| venge. I'll take it on as bit Of good
sport. Wong will fix us out Now look
alive. It's after nine. and I'd like
little fun first"
The two left the cafe veranda and
engaged a pair of rickshaws. AS they
logged down the road, Warrington
stepped out from behind the palms
and modify watched them until the
, night swallowed them up. He had not
overheard their interesting converse
ton, nor had he known they we're
about until they came down the steps
together. He ached to follow them.
He was in fine mood for blows. That
there were two of them did not trouble
him. Of one thing he was assured:
Somewhere in the dim past an ances-
tor of his had died in a Berserk rage.
He had been watching Elsa. 1t dis
turbed but did not mystify him to see
her talking to the colonel Table
chance had brought them together,
and perhaps to better understand
ing. How pale she was! From time
to time he caught the flash of her
eyes as she turned to this or that
guest. Once she smiled, but the smile
did not tighten up her face He was
very wretched and miserable. She had
taken him at his word, and he should
have been glad. He had seen her but
once again on board, but she had
looked away. 1t was best so. Yet, it
was as if fate had reached down into
his heart and snapped the strings
which made life tuneful.
And tomorrow! What would tomor-
row bring? Would they refuse? Would
they demand the full penalty? Eight
thousand with interest was a small
sum to such a corporation. He had
often wondered if they had searched
for him. Ten years. In the midst of
these cogitations he saw the group at
the table rise and break up. Elsa en-
tered the hotel. Warrington turned
away and walked aimlessly toward
town. For hours he wandered about,
seeing nothing, hearing nothing; and
it was long past midnight when he
sought his room, restless and weary
but wide awake. He called for a stiff
peg, drank it, and tumbled into bed.
dreams. He was in the Andes, toiling
with his Orders over unspeakable
chasms. A shifting glance at the old
billiard room in the club, the letter,
and his subsequent wild night of in
toxication, the one time in his life
when he had drunk hard and long.
Back to the Indian deserts and jungles.
And he heard the shrek Of parrots.
The Shrek of parrots. He sat up.
Even in his dream he recognized that
cry. Night or day, Rajah always
shrieked when someone entered the
room. Warrington silently slid out of
bed and dashed to the door which led
to the gallery. A body thudded
against his. He caught hold. The
body was nude to the waist and
smelled evilly of sweat and fish oil.
Something whiplike struck him across
the face. 1t was queue.
Warrington struck out, but missed.
INSTANTLY pair Oh powerful dILuS
wound about him, bearing and bend
ing him backward. His right arm lay
| parallel with the invaders chest He
brought up the heel of his palm
viciously against the Chinaman's chin.
1t was sufficient to break the hold.
Then followed a struggle that always
remained nightmarish to Warrington.
Hither and thither across the room,
miraculously avoiding chairs, tables
and bed, they surged. He heard ring
of steel upon the cement floor. and
breathed easier to learn that the thief
had dropped his knife. Warrington
never thought to call out for help. The
old fear of bringing people about him
had become a habit. Once, in the
whirl of, things. his hand came into