The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-08-01

Ef5cne1 O'Mara came quietly up to l..egsJ the open door of his own lighted shack and stopped for mo- ment to gaze in at the two men, whose faces were touched by the glow of the lamp on the table. There had been more than one moment in those forty eight hours which had elapsed eince Ee had lifted that black robed, inert ng- ure from the floor in which Steve had wondered whether Garry Devereau would even await his return to Thirty Mile.
 Save for a short and casual "See you in the morning." Stephen O'Mara turn ed without q word that night to leave the improvised sleeping quarters in the storehouse Ghack.
 He looked at Garry Dodding drowsily, on bunk and then at Fat Joe seated near him. Their eyes held for mo- ment before Steve turned again toward the door. And perhaps his manner was little too unconcerned that even- ing, little too carefu.;, careless, for almost before he had lifted the latch Fat Joe stepped forward one quick, protesting step and then stopped on second thought.
 "You ain't goin' '"- he began, and suffered tha. spoken protest also to re- main uncompleted.
 Its not late" Steve's voice was thoughtful. Its not late, but it's sure ly very quiet" He stood gazing out
 into the gloom. Maybe I'd best run c;I uy- ol
 the other night. Somehow the more I've thought about it the more I've come to fear that he is temperamentaI
 Joe, too temperamental for such
 wearing proposition as this one is hke- ly to be. And you haven't slept much
 since I've been gone. Oh, that was easy, just from your eyes! So you'd
 better turn in. I'll just stroll down and
 let them know that I'm back home" It is odd how much of fnality there
 can be in the Quietest of statements.
 Eyes narrowed, Joe stood in the middle
 of the floor and watched him depart
 without further objection. But the
 moment the blackness had swallowed him up he backed to the bunk, fum- bled for a gun which Steve had tossed
 upon the blankets and followed out
 into the dark.
 Stephen O'Mara stood a long time
 outside the door of the workmens
 bunkhouse that night, fingers upon the
 latch, before he made any move to enter. But neither a wish to caves drop nor a desire to frame experiment tally the words he meant to speak was the reason behind that pause. It was | fin itself a new thing to find the long, low building lighted at thar hour. even though. as he had himself put it to Joe an instant before, 1t was hours from beirg late. That night the al- most absolute silence beyond the closed door was an even more unusual state of affairs. The voice of one man only was andible, the words he spoke in- distinguishable altogether, But sud-
 den bursts of laughter, punctuating the recital which he could not clearly fol- low, were indication enough to the ! man outside of what manner of tale
 was holding the ears of that roomful of rivermen. Stephen O'Mara, who had long ceased to wonder at the dis covery in them of new and impulsivo finenesses which bordered close upon inherent nobility, knew fully as well how uttersbly and unspeakably gross could be the premeditated coarseness of those same men.
 There was no movement to mark his
 entrance when he finally pressed the latch and swung the door open, not so much as single glance to indicate that his presence was noted. Under the yellow light of nickering oil lamps the eyes of all those scores of gaudy shirted figures lounging against the
 walls were fixed eagerly upon the face
 of him who held the middle of their stage-him who talked from where he half lay, propped on one elbow, in his bunk at the end of the room. Harri- gan,. red shirted. red headed, was Iounging at ease, waiting for the last
 gurgle of appreciation to subside be. fore he gave them the close of the
 story, the last titbit, the savor of
 which already had set him noisily to licking his lips. And in the doorway
 Steve, rigid of a sudden, sensed what
 that climax was to be.
 "Her fi-an-say inside"-the droning-
 ly indistinguishab ble words were very
 plain now-"her fl-an-say inside, con-
 soomed with pride and anticipation,
 tellin' all who had come to dance that she had pr-romised to be his for-river more. And Der at that same minute
 outside with hlra, and both av thinl"- Harrigan did not hurry it in the tell ing. And if his portrayal of Archi- hald VVicterskaIn was unmiStakab
 deliberate, neither did he fail for want
 of sufficient detail to make the other
 picture clear. Vilely he gave them the
 complete imagery of his vile brain.
 A shout went up, a louder, hoarser
 outcry of applause which rocked tho
 room. And then that rigid figure. in the doorway had started forward Be- tween those lanes of suddenly silent
 men Steve passed in silence, to stand
 before him who had achieved his cli-
 max a breath before. And at his com
 ing Hsrrigan slid from the bunk, start
 ed to reach within the blanket pack at
 the head of what had been his bed and
 then thought better of such impulse.
 Bravado intermingled with blank sur
 prise, he came haltingly to bis rect.
 The voices of few men have been as
 unhurriedly deadly as was that of him
 who faced Harrigan that night.