The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1920-08-01

stimulus of close contact. His bony
hands and long arms were quivering;
his hollow face twitching pitifully.
He's never like this" the, girl
whispered.
The young man glanced at her and
stood still. The thin hands fluttered
over his face and head. Even their
lightest touch was heavy with a
strength that must have been prodi-
gious-as If the fires OF his malady
kindled a force in him more than hui
man. Some impulse OF compassion
must have reached the heart of the
Pearlhunter, for he stretched his long
arm forth and laid it about the old
mans shoulders. Instantly he felt the
weight of the gray giant upon him. 1t
might have been the one thing the
stricken man craved in his dumb way
the touch of this kind; the prop of
a mans arm.
The situation embarrassed the
Pearlhunter. 1t was like winning the
confidence of a little child, and then
not knowing what to do with il.
The girl was quick to see his en-
barrassment, and much as a mother
might coax a child away from some
one she ina gined it was annoying,
she led the old man back TO his chair;
then, leaving him, she hurried across
the room to the bookcase.
Il never saw him so restless before"
she said, as she passed by. He
seems to like you, though" she con-
tinued while finding the book she
wanted. Strange, too, for he's cross
usually, even to the doctor Won't
you excuse me till quiet him?"
Before he could reply she had found
the book and hurried back to the
chair. Opening it. she laid il upon the
old mans knees. He bent his head
and felt over the open page with his
hand, but the weird eyes could no
longer resolve the frozen magic of the
words. He fidgeted in his chair and
the book slid to the floor
The picture was too distressing, and
the Pearlhunter turned his face away
From where he stood he had an al
most unobstructed view into the east
room the girls room. and before ne
realized it his eyes had strayed past
the curtains. Amusement held them
there moment in spite Of him. The
room, in striking contrast to what he
had seen of the rest of the house, was
almost bare of furniture. carpetIess
floor; the rudest Of beds; broken
chair, and little else Yet il held a |
certain intangible daintiness-unnis-
takably a girls room.
He heard her walking across the
floor and turned away half guiItily. !
She had her hand upon the curtained
entrance of the west room. and he
noticed that it was carpeted, and was !
otherwise furnished quite in keeping /
with the room IN which he stood, GER
tainly in very decided contrast to the
room upon the east.
But he had no time 10 reflect on all /
these things, for the girl reappeared /
in a moment carrying a cello. which
she placed between the old mans !
knees. She put the bow in his hand
and lifted his left 20 the strings. He
laid his cheek down upon the instru-
ment; grew quiet. For an instant a
flicker of pleasure glowed family be-
hind the solemn tragedy of his face,
as his trembling fingers CROPPED over
the strings, CROPPED like blind men
astray from old, familiar paths. The
bow tried to wake the
strings, but in vain. The old mans
body seemed TO shrink together His
chin dropped down upon his breast
But the next instant he sat upright
and rigid; his wide eyes, cropping
around, found the Pearlhunfer. and he
started to rise-grappled up, strained I
up. as il by power outside himself
The girl caught the falling bow
from his hand; drew the cello to her
and deftly twisted the strings in tune.
7 The Pearlhunter stood amazed at
what followed The tones of the cello
seemed to reach out into the quiet
evening. purple with the close Of day,
and gather up the drowsy sounds Of
wood and stream. and bring them in
and strew them down like falling rose
fall of a distant oar: the
lap OF water upon cool rocks; the
pulse Of current that rose and fell;
the Groom Of contented trees under
serene sunset. He did not know that
what he heard was Beethoven's in