The Lynden tribune. [volume] (Lynden, Wash.) 1908-current, 1916-12-07

second thought
You amt goin' - he began, and
suffered that 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
down and see what ails our visitor of
| the other night. Somehow the more
I've thought about it the more I've
come to fear that he is temperamental.
| Joe, too temperamental for such a
wearing proposition as this one is like,
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. Ill just stroll down and
let them know that I'm back home"
1t is odd how much of finality 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. fun.
bled for a gun which Steve had tossed
upon the blankets and followed out
into the dark.
Stephen O'Mara stood long time
clubhouse that night, fingers upon the
latch, before he made any move to
enter. But neither wish to caves
drop nor a desire to frame experiment.
tally the words he meant to speak was
the reason behind that pause. 1t was
in itself new thing to find the long.
low building lighted at that hour. even
though, as he had himself put it to
Joe an instant before, it was hours
from being 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 audible, the words he spoke in
distlnguishable 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 OMara. who
had long ceased to wonder at the dis
covery In them of new and impulsive
fnenesses which bordered close upon
inherent nobility, knew fully as well
how utteraS ly and unspeakably gross
could be the premeditated coarseness
of those same men.
There was no movement to mark his
latch and swung the door open, not
so much as single glance to indicate
that his presence was noted. Under
the yellow light of Pickering 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
lounging 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 SAVIOR of
which already had set him noisily to
licking his lips. And in the doorway
Steve, rigid of sudden, sensed what
that climax was to be.
"Ier ramsay inside"-the droning-
ly indistinguishabl words were very
plain now-"her fi-an-say inside, con,
soomed with pride and anticipation,
tellin' all who had come to dance that
she had pr-romised to be his FOREVER
more. And her at that same minute
outside with him, and both av thin
Harrigan did not hurry it in the tell.
ing. And If his portrayal of Archi-
bald Wickersham was Enthusiastically
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
cutlery of applause which rocked the
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 eli
max a breath before. And at his com,
ing Harrigan slid from the bunk. start
ed to reach within the blanket pack at
the head of what had been his bed ana
then thought better of such impulse
Bravado intermingled with blank sur
prise. he came haltingly to his feet
The voices Of few men have been as
unhurriedly deadly as was that of HIN
who faced Harrigan that night.
"That was wise. Harrigan.' Steve
told him slowly-far too gantly. THAT
was wise to let your knife lie safe
within your pack. for If you'd touched
1t I'd have killed you, as I ought to kill
you now. But you're drunk. Harri
gan. You were drunk minute ago
when you lied your lie. You're sober
err now. You're sober enough to start
again and tell me vonrn a liar"
They waited-the roomful Of river
men. Nothing stirred save the clouds
of filmy blue smoke floating against
the rafters-that and bulky blot OF
shadow outside which shifted little,
noiselessly. just beyond the patch OF
light that streamed through the door
They waited. heavy breathed, while
Harrigan began to recover from the
disconcertment into which OMara' $
coming had flung him. Slowly the