The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1920-08-19
CHAPTER II-continued.

It was Andrew March who had
found him running wild, one spring
night in lower Cincinnati, with a gun
speaking from each hand. The riot
call was in. Andrew March had, by
the grace of God. appeared, beheld
and understood. The elder man had
recognized the eQuinoctial madness
of one whose head was filed with
beauty, the heart passionate for life
and more of it, the feet rebel1ing
against the ugliness of pavements.
March had hurried him away, and
later at his leisure soaked some of the
deviItry out of the young frame,
steaming him clean and reasonable.
He had needed to be patient with
Lexington while the rioter found a
new sensation called health.
Presently the car turned in beneath
a vine-covered archway. and stopped
at the door of a great house. A Ian
tern that was mellow and friendly
hung at the step. There was a ter
raced garden ridging gently down to
q pond, far back from the road.
These terraces with lanes of roses and
cOIumbine were Levington's respite
from the wine-sOgged streets that
wanted him.
March's housekeeper. Mrs. Ames, a
cheerfulIy dazed woman whose narrow
body never recovered from the exer-
tions of yesterday, opened the door
to them. They went directly to the
stairs and assembled to an open door
from which freight danced out into
the hallway.
AS they entered, a very old man
put down his book and turned to face
them. There we're no glasses before
his eyes. and through the pallOr OF
age on his face showed yet seasoned
strength.
81 know it is early for a fire. I
was not cold" he said smiling, ''but
there are certain thoughts one cannot
think without a bank of Goals to look
into. And my fire here has been out
nearly four months"
eyes. and think Of the people who
can always get along without an open
CRATE" said Andrew March.
The very old man had the manner
OF one who has found a vital peace,
filed with more than memories His
head was strangely long, and some
thing like nobility lowered about the
wasted shoulders. He was the father
Of Andrew March.
Now the gray-haired son closed the
hall door. and brought to his fathers
chair the tiny leather packet He
said: Lexington has done very WELL"
The father nodded, and the light in
his eyes meant long acquaintance with
defeat. Expectancy caught his fea-
lures and turned them almost youth
full. The bit of leather was placed in
his hand, and he drew from it a
square of white six. 1t was tightly
creased, Of firmest texture. Traced
in purple upon one side was line
curiousiy crooked and trailing. It was
dotted and crinkled, fanciful as some
river of the moon. Along the margin
OF the silk, certain Chinese characters
were etched.
"ThiS is not mantra, as we had
hoped. At these words Con felt a
rush OF disappointment. But the old
voice went on-'though it may be of
great help to us. 1t is a map"
The three men studied the purple
line as 1t yeered across the silk, but
only the eldest could read the char
acters. ga mantra."' he said, would
have been your passport with traders
and thieves, and they would try as
always to deceive you, direct you
falsely, if they were content not to
murder. Whatever their hate Of one
another, they league against the trav-
eler who would pass their inner boun-
diaries. It would have been a bodily
protection in the desert tribes, If you
had managed to proceed SO far. But
on this silk is the route itself. in.
tended for the return journey of their
messenger"
what are the words?"
"AIl prayer-signs, save one. which
reads .Shan-sung.' You know the vii
Iage. Andrew"
Stephen March's son knew it, bitter
Iy. Lexington was trembling with
eagerness. Tie old man did not gIancs
up from the silken map. This begins
at Shan-sung and runs westward
Each dot marks 8 days travel, I sup
pose In favorable circumstances. NJ
water is indicated until this point