The Sunday telegram. [volume] (Clarksburg, W. Va.) 1914-1927, 1916-03-26

songs OF home seem like halIowed
memories. and one fingers over them
strangely.
had played It through twice. per-
haps. when heard a peculiar rustling
az Of heavy body sliding over the
ground. Ny hand slipped bit and !
struck false note. A sort of WhlBtling
sigh answered the slip and opened
by eyes to sec therein front OF the
veranda step-not two yards away, a
huge, fiat head swaying rhythmicaily,
as Its long, 1.-the body rose and fell
to the music. It's head was nearly on
level with my own. / realized In
stantly what 1t was that had poisoned
poor Dutt0n's brain. and with the real
izatIOn came the knowledge Of my own
danger. God! What a thing to be
entertaining. It was keeping time To
the music. slowly. awFulIy and kept
on playing automatically. A strange
sickness Crept over me as ! Thought
OF the good old Smith and Wesson ut
my belt and realized how useless 1t
was-f0r I must play on. and on, and
on. There lay my only safety.
There was only one why for help
to come. and that was through Grang-
or. recalled his careless. "Yes. may
be I'll come when get through here.
Don't wait for me, though. Dutton
won't care to see mo II he's batty."
and II felt the cold sweat roll down
my face In big drops. II he should
get through too late; II he should not
cOme-if should have to sit hero all
night! All, my heart dropped into my
stomach and my flesh turned to putty
as played, and played and played. My
God! It Is was hell. And all the time
Dutton was making queer. grooming
noise-not a human nnise-a noise one
could never fOrget-never-not II one
lived for thousand years.
The thing came closer and closer.
Once thought 1t was going to touch
me. and ! walted-what? Madness
and w0rse-far worse. All, Dutton.
poor lad. poor lad!
wondered vaguely whether Grang-
or would come: after time | ceased
to care. and then ] forgot altogether.
My hands were Jumps of lead. It
was no volitfon OF mine that kept them
moving. My brain was a living coal
that burned and burned. It met its
reflection In the two points Of living
fame that held me.
AIlIsense of sound and feeling had
died out. knew no fear. knew
nothlng-but those two cleaning, ruby
lights that swayed and bent me in a
dull ryhthm.
The hours grew into nights and the
nights into weeks and months and
years, and at last, had always been
there. had known no other life-no
other thought. My hands were the
only part Of me that seemed alive, and
they moved on, and on, and on. in a
strange sort Of monotone.
A sharp bark pinged through the air
and broke the cursed spell. / saw the
fiat, loathsome head fall apart and l
heard scream OF terrible agony from
the window. Then the two chunks Of
lead that had been my hands dropped
and ! heard the instrument clatter on
to the bare boards.
There was a strong smell OF spirits
In the air, and saw Changers face
bending anxlously above me. His
eyes were tender as a woman's. and l
could have sworn that there were
tears in them.
Here. old man. drink this" he said
with his hand under my neck.
"And Dutton?" / asked family, for
/ felt as though great sickness had
Slapped tho life from my body.
Poor Dutton is dead to the world
for awhile"
-Let him Sleep" I said shuddering-
ly. well get him away from this
hell hole before we try to fetch him
round"
Wo sent him up in the hill and he
found his lady after all. and sailed
back to Gods country with her
thank heaven for that!
AS for newell, don't yearn after
Annie Laurie" any more. and the
sound of a violin chtlIs me to the very
soul.-New York Telegraph.