The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1917-01-11

personality had been concentrated into
the uncanny fire Of the terror stricken
eyes. But, apparently. they saw Moth
ing. They entirely ignored Simpsons
steady, searching glance.
Here, o Simpson," old Sullivan
suddenly called out. Get to your bunk!
Don't bother this mani"
The tramp went out through the 9TH
err door; but. as he went, he looked
back over his shoulder at John Smith,
and whistled softly to himself, express
ing his amaZement.
The stranger had let his head go
down against the desk again. Sullivan,
watching the shaking shoulders, saw
that he was sobbing.
How about you now, John Smith ~
he asked, cheerily. Feel better?"
DO II" the other returned, bewil-
dered, and lifted his head, resting his
chin in the cup Of his hands.
He Kept that attitude while Sullivan,
recognizing the extremity Of the mans
suffering, unlocked a small cabinet back
of the desk and brought forth q flask
or whisky and a glass. Smith, watch
ing him, sobbed nee or twice con-
vulsively, while terror made new fur
rows in his features. His eyes grew
in brilliance.
sullivan, pouring some Of the whisky
into the glass, extended 1t toward him,
with the pleasant invitations:
Take this drink. It's medicine now"
Smith, his face writing, his whole
body jerking and contorted, fought
by a supreme effort, he drew himself
to his full height, like a man about to
be shot, and put out a tremulous hand
toward the glass. He tried to grin,
but succeeded only in drawing his lips
away from his teeth, as If they had
been moved by strings manipulated
from the back Of his head.
GO ahead" urged Sullivan.
Smith took the glass in his right
hand and Immediately transferred . to
his left.
Look" he said timidly. I've got it
right here-right here in my hand" He
spoke now in a hoarse, deep voice, and
put e~agerness into his tone. I've got
hold OF it-haven't II"
Sure" agreed Sullivan. Drink it,"
From somewhere strength came back
to John Smith. There was in his eyes
force enough to compel the gaze of
sullivan, and there was in his backbone
strength enough to hold him erect. His
big, bass voice doomed like thunder.
"Old man." he said, the glass entire
ly steady in his left hand, I've come
down from high, awful pl~aces-places
so hlg that the pealS Of thunder
ounde no louder than a robins call
so high that h pale ends Of lightning
whips cracked harmlessly against my
eyeballs-so high hat escaping souls
went by me like thin, white flames!"
He stood a moment rigid, his ardent
glance holding Sullivan.
old man." he swept on. I've come
up from the blacklist depths of deep
ness, where there was no life, not a
bit, II yet worlds crawled in Shiny,
Sickly motion, forever-here there was
no light, n yet millions Of miseries
SWelled into my eyes-where there was
no sound, n yet the passing of every
thought was a screaming curse. Ali
that's a thing you'll know some day.
that thoughts have Observation-Disclosures
tongues that lash and burn and shriyel
up the heart"
He accomplished a smile, %patronizing
Sullivan.
odd man, you've never been where
I've been. I've seen dead souls shroud-
ed in dreams denied-poor, still souls.
I've heard dying souls sob and shrek
when they were cast over the edges of
eternity. V learned that spirits die.
Consider that! Spirits sometimes die"
He paused to set the glass on the
desk, and the terror that had let him
alone caught him up again, straining
his limbs and making curious patterns
on his face.
AIT We CoIle D3CK-COme DaCk
long corridors hat lead to nowhere"
he mourned, flinging his arms wide. Il
came because they drove me. They
drove me with fear. They scourged
me with terror. They whipped me with
sha ne. A million b%ayonets always
within a hairs breadth Of my back
900 swords, heavy as horror, dangling
in the sunlight at the n of a silken
thread-just above my ears!"
The strength returned tn bis hocl
bone. He stood erect.
"They show me no mercy" he ex-
planned. the ghost Of pride in his voice.
II asked none. l did not look back or up.
Without looking, I could see the bayon-
cts and the swords. Old man, for at
least 1000 years I've fled-fled with all
the furies OF hell at my heels"
He crumpled up on the desk, his
misery-marked face in the cup Of his
two hands, and fixed the flame of his
eyes on the wondering Sullivan.
For Gods sake!" the old man cried
out. Drink the whisky! Here!" :,
Smith began to laugh foolishly, a
sound devoid OF mirth or cheer, and, his
shoulders sagging, backed away from
the desk n the drink. He sood so a
long moment, pointing a weak hand at
the glass.
And" he giggled, I've arrived
after 1000 years-I've arrived at that"