Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1919-12-26


n man in quarter profile. She coulC
see his great shock of bushy red hair
; bit of his shaggy beard, his enormous
~ broad shoulders and the white CLEAN
OF his two hands hanging almost at his
knees. He was hatless and dressed
In faded blue dungarees many sizes
too small for his bulk.
AS she watched him he raised his
arms In wide still gesture ana began
to sing. At the first note, quite IN
conscious Of action, she let the door
swing open and stepped out on the
yeranda. II was the aria from Faust"
the same aria, but oh how different.
The voice Of this man was like n huge
ana glittering serpent of sound that
writhed smoothly into the air, chal-
longing the dome OF heaven itself.
lf there was one thing that Andrea
knew better than another, It was the
accurate valuation of every operate
voice that had sung In Europe during
the last decade. She had been taken
to COyent Garden regularly before she
was out, as a matter of education. and
no less regularly after her eighteenth
birthday, as a matter of matrimonial
business.
She knew instantly that this extra
ordinary apparition in the wilderness
was nothing less than the solution of
a world mystery. He could be but one
man and that person whose tremen-
dous triumph had been so short as to
leave him with fame but without a
name. She was hearing the Great
folce-the voice of the star that had
shone for a single night; resounded
but once through the Scala, set as
swiftly as II had risen and disappeared
forever, leaving behind no trace be-
yond memory SO short that it had
become recollection almost unbeliey-
able to the few that had heard 1t.
Now her ears were filed with its |
music to the exclusion of thought or
reason or consciousness of self. She |
became nothing more than a sentient |
channel. The easy power of the Voice
lifted IL beyond the common standards
OF vocal classification and gave IL the
allure and the terror of the superhu-
man. Its tenuity seemed a thing in
corporated apart, an actual substance
with reckoning arms and hands. 1t
drew her slowly, steadily out into the
quivering moonlight, held her, lifted
her face with 1t toward the sky.
With her breast rising and falling In
aching accompaniment to the mount
Ing rhythm, cheeks pale, lips parted,
fr, In
credible flight of sound, she stood, a
slim tense figure for once made free
OF that domain that is beyond art, be-
yond genius and Is called quite simply
Gift OF God. With toss and back
ward shake of the mans great head.
the voice climbed smoothly to that stu
pendous high G that has wrecked the
reputation of many pygmies and
brought fame to daring few. 1t held ..
and still held until earth and moon and
stars seemed little things that paused
to listen, obstructed in unlmportant
courses. Breath suspended until her
lungs were near to bursting, Andrea
waited for that note to come down in l
TO the range of normal belief. but to
her mind at least it was destined to
hang eternally in the heavens, for the
nan had turned. L
Her eyes knew horror for the first
line. The mans face was half oblit- a
'rated. 1t had been plowed by conflu-
mt smallpox and destroyed by worse E
disease. The nose was gone, leaving
In ignoble ruin of stripped cartilage, +
Tried in the air till 1t was like wealth E
red parchment. One ear had been E
avaged in clean cut so that 1t rose s
0 needle-point. That the wounds s
we're healed only added an inexorable
nalty to their responsiveness. +
Only the mans thick red lips and
is blazing eyes seemed to have es-
aped the pestilence. AS his startled
axe fell upon Andrea his mouth s
pened to n wide. soundless laugh. Il
With broad shoulders stopped, his alb g
ormally lOw-hangng hands curved up L,
Ike monstrous talOns and his shaggy u
card wagging to that silent laughter.
g advanced upon her, encircled her IL
mist with his fingers and shot her up n
Chilly so that she fell doubled across VI
Is back and chest. He gave low II
histle and sped from the craal at an Y
credible pace. The boat-boys arose
ealthily and fitted after him. /
To Andrea's transfixing terror was
lded a memory-a fieeting glimpse
Trevor, standing. hands in pockets, :
fore his door. On his face was an \
'r-cold, white. unforgiving anger. -
he thought she cried out to MacClos- h
r TO stop, to give her but one moment
explain, to beg forgiveness. to h
'ovel Mt the feet of the one man in
| the world, but no sound came from
II lips.
Not until she stood lettering on the
nted bottom of MacCloster's boat did
e come back TO her heart and veins
a