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

III Tic lldI ucSk Ill the lar corner,
did not look up. That was the manner
in which most OF his guests came in.
simpson, who a signed the register
n was on his way to the sleeping
quarters, paused and turned his
purplish face toward the door that lac
been shaken by the blow. Keener witted
than most of the derelicts Who drifted
into this house Of refuge, he wondered
whether the place could furnish him
amusement. Also, he was making a
mental bet that there could come in
nobody more wretched looking than he.
After a short, dead silence outside,
there followed the sound Of hard flesh
n rough finger nails scraping and
clawing on the woodwork. The door
swung in very slowly, and that which
had sounded like a sack OF meal stood
waVering in the opening, like q spectre,
his right shoulder against the door
Jamb. his left hand still on the knob.
lie trembled visibly, and, without re-
moving his shoulder from the wood
against which he leaned, passed his
right hand YEARLY across his forehead.
the long, pale fingers moving loosely
against his coal black, tangled hair. He
wore no hat. His beard, a week old,
completed the dark, circular frame for
his dead white face, made all the
ghastlier by the big, fever lit eyes.
me eyes were terrific. They had in
'NN AS III VI ttIlOT. 1t WAS as IL
the fierceness Of it lighted up all the
padges OF misery that he wore. His
collar was gone, showing the neckband
or his shirt fastened with q bone collar
button. The rusty coat hung open, eX-
posing a teal in his shirt just over his
neart, and from the right cuff of his
coat sleeve, as he moved his hand with
mat peculiar, crawling motion, dangled
a long piece of cloth. His trousers,
baggy and shapeless, tapped slightly
as his knees knocked together. His
clothes, too big for him, made him look
ike a draped skeleton. His torn shoes
spread out as if they had been filled
with mush.
The terror that was in his eyes was
also in his heart. 1t was more ap-
parent, more real, than any terror that
had ever faced Simpson the bum, or
ola sullivan. 1t was something SUPER
natural-something ghostly.
simpson Shivered.
sullivan, who had let his paper slide
nolSlly to the floor, got to his feet.
Hello" he said, trying to make the
word a mere greeting. In reality it was
a command To the stranger to speak, to
Danish the spectral impression.
the trembling man sprang into the
room with the agility of a cat, slammed
the door shut, and fell hard with his
pack gains il. He looked like one
6hNoN q dIll
makes one last effort to escape pursuit.
HIS burning eyes glanced at Simpson
ana then at the few articles in the
barely furnished room, but they took no
knowledge of what they saw. The
Ilame or them. brilliant and steady,
went oward Sullivan.
What can we do for o ?" the old
man asked o~rusquely, disliking the bril-
liant eyes.
nj stranger, a grotesque flattened
against the door, licked his lips twice
n tried to speak. When he did so, it
was In a rafting whisper, and he moved
his neck curiously as if his throat hurt
him.
Help me" he said, and there was in
the whisper something that sounded
~unpleasantly like a whine.
"All right" Sullivan, having pulled
hlmself together, assured him. Come
over here"
The visitor trembled as if invisible.
irresistible hands had hold of him. and
again his burning eyes SURVEYED the
room blindly. He came away from the
door with an infinity of caution, his
breath audible in his nostrils. He came
slowly, his knees half giving way be-
meath him. AS he walked, half of the
sole OF his right shoe fell away from
ms 1oot and Tapped against the floor.
Ills arms hung loose at his sides.
will you'--he said, whispering.
when he almost had reached the desk
will you help-help me?"
Although the whine Of appeal was
still in the whisper, there was, back of
that' something which sounded like a
new definition of despair. 1t our
that ne had no hope of finding help.
sure Sullivan answered him
breezily. ~
The stranger lurched against the desk
and fell forward, the hardness of his
bony elbows making a knocking noise.
With his head bowed, his nose mashed
against the hard wood, he flung up his
right arm, his hand shaking, the fingers
movin through the air with the slow,
Gravity motion, and screamed aloud.
one prolonged note.
~"Ee-ee-ee!" he lamented shrilly.
I'm afraid of it,"
He lifted his head so that it was
flung far back on his shoulders, and
stared at Sullivan.
I've run through the Streets" he
said in a whisper, through the streets
and through the fields-1,O 900 miles!
And 1t was always-always behind me.
1t held on to my shoulder"
He clapped his left hand to his right
shoulder, hesitated a moment, and
grinned sheepishly, trying to cover up
ms taliure to capture that which
threatened him.
Nearly got it them" he declared.
The whisper, more than the burning
eyes, made Sullivan all sympathy. He
held Onward a Pen and spun the reg
lister around.
Can you sign your Nance" he in
quired kindly.
The stranger took the pen and pushed
the torn piece of coat sleeve out of the
way, preparatory TO writing. He paused.
the pen webbing in his hand, while a
new and grayer horror spread over his
face. Then, with the new ugliness up
On him, he began to laugh in a silly,
scarcely audible, fashion.
MY name?" he giggled. Somebody's
stolen it," Then slowly, the words
coming one by one through his vacu-
Gus laughter: "l-don't-know-my-
name. Sort of joke. l don't know who
I am"
"All right" Sullivan said lightly, tax
ing the pen from the others palsied
fingers. III sign for you" He wrote
it down and spoke it: John Smith
There o are. That all right"
Yes"
John Smith laughed vacantly and be-
gan to lOok around the room furtively.
The tramp Simpson. who had been