Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1916-03-15

Swered, I'm the mason, MIR. wayne.
DO you lie bye a wee and gle the fever
a chance to get out of the body" But
Alan stuck jealousy to his job. Ten
Percent Wayne might retire on his
laurels but he could never be beaten.
Every third day the fever In his
bones seized his body In a grip that
could not be denied, shook it till it rat
tied and cast it down limp, cold and
hot teeth chattering and then clenched,
and then chattering again. But on
the days between Alan made up for
the lapse. He became a devil hanging
on the backs of his men and driving
them to superhuman efforts. Terror
held them. They were Italians, far
from home. wilderness stretched
between them and the sea. The sea it.
self was none of theirs; it was but an
added barrier. A mailman had them
In thrall. Terror drove them. 1t was
a race to finish the bridge before he
killed them. 81 am going to be sick" he
had told them in cold, rapid words, 81
am going to be sick, but before I'm
finished the bridge is finished Or" He
smiled and made a gesture with his
hand to show how he would brush
them all off into the dry gorge. His
smile terrified more than the raised
hand.
The giant gang-boss, McDougal,
stood by and nodded solemn confrma-
ton. When Alan was Ill by day, Nc
Dougal left him and drove the men in
his stead, but when the hour for knock
ing off came with the sudden eclipse
of the sun by the horizon, he hurried
to Alan's tent, fshed him out from
some corner on the floor, wrapped him
in blankets, dosed him with quinine,
tempted him with poor, weak broths
and nursed him, unprotesting, through
the night
McDougal had followed Alan into
strange lands and strange places and
seen him in many a deep hole, and
through it all Alan had been the same
"a purring dynamo at work. He had
been the same until this trip into the
Brazilian wilderness, and here a
change had come over him. There were
times when he talked and what he said
was, mo more trips for me, McDougal.
I I'm a consulting engineer, from this
on" McDougal had heard more than
one man talk like that under fever and
he frowned, trying to remember one of
them that had ever come back.
Alan was Injured to river fever. He
had fought it often, and when he saw
the fetid pools of stagnant water in
the dried-up watercourse he knew he
would have TO fight it again. Some
how, some night mosquito was
bound to get at him, and the fever
would begin. He doubled his preven-
tive dose of quinine, but he could not
double his spirits for the battle. He
came to the field with a gnawing at
those sources of health, a calm mind
and sure sleep. Sleep did not come
as of old after the days work. In
stead he tossed and twisted on his
narrow cot and finally would turn on
over and over again.
One he read with a curl of the lip
1t was from pretty woman that had
iuttered into his life and out He had
forgotten her and now she had come
back to buzz words in his buzzing ears.
She said, 1T costs woman to learn
that happiness is not really tangible.
Between being fortunate and happy a
gulf is fixed. l was fortunatexjust
not miserable-and stood on the brink
of the gulf. Happiness brushed me
with its wings. l reached out to
catch it and the gulf took me. How
long will it be before l climb back
to the height that seemed not so very
high when I possessed it? I don't
know l do not hate you-only
myself. You have known many wom-
en-, but you have not known me. That
is the bitter part. You do not know
what 1 gave you. One thing ask you
and the words as 1 write are blurred
with tears like my eyes-if ever
foolish woman, honest and true as
was, offers you the same sacrifice, do
not take it. have suffered for all the
women you will meet"
"Fool," said Alan to himself, "fool,
not to see that l turned her wish
washy weakness into strength and
loosed a dumb tongue"
And then he drew out the other let
ter and the curl In his lip Strengthened
out to a line of sweetness and the
light in his eyes turned to artery, blind
alteration. The letter had been sent
to him. sealed by j. Y, who had ac-
companied it with a note. The letter
began. ITO my boy at Thirty and
signed, with undylng laye, your
friend and Mother" In lifs.he could;
not remember his MOTHER but he saw
her now in three pages of laboring
words traced by dying hand. In her
self, dying at thirty, she had seen her
boy revealed. She had had no
strength-no tlme-left for slow ap-
proaches. With tn first words of her
letter she laid : cooling hand on his
burning soul. She spoke the all-seeing
wisdom of death. Sho :leld him close
to her heart and fed him with her lffe's
blood. All that she had been, al that
she had learned, an that she ifSresaw,
was crowded into those three pages
ITO Be Continued)