Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-09-21

at David's bedside
made him, like the Donaldsons, acces-
bic. Small chance Of him coming out
with any confession. Yet he was the
connecting link. Must be.
On his third reading the reporter be.
gan to visualize the human elements Of
the fight to save the boy; he saw NOV
ing before him the whole ptiful strug-
Sgle; the indomitable ranch manager,
his heart breaking struggle with the
blizzard, the shooting of his horse, the
careful disarming of suspicion, and
later the intrepid woman. daring that
night ride through snow that had sent
the posse back to its fresides to the
boy, locked in the cabin and raving.
His mind was busy as he packed his
suitcase. Already he had forgotten his
compunctions of the early morning; he
moved about methodically. calculating
roughly what expense money he would
need, and the line of attack, II any, re-
quired at the Office. Between Norada
and that old brick house at Haverly
lay his story. Ten years OF it. He
was closing his bag when he remem-
bered the little girl in the blue dress.
at the theatre. He Strengthened and
scowled. After moment he snapped
the bag shut. Damn 1t all, II Clark
had chosen to tie up with n girl, that
was on Clark's conscience, not his.
But he was vaguely uncomfortable.
''It's queer world. Joe," he OBJ
served to the waiter, who had come in
for the breakfast dishes.
''Xes, sir. 1t is that" said Joe.
During all the long nights Dick sat
evening there had been consultation;
David had suffered n light stroke, but
there was no paralysis, and the prog
nosis was good. For this time, at least.
David had escaped, but there must he
no other time. He was to be Kept quiet
and free from worry, his diet was to be
carefully regulated, and with care he
still had long years before him.
David slept, his breathing heavy and
slow. In the morning there would be
Il nurse, but that night Dick. having
sent Lucy to bed. himself kept watch.
On the walnut bed lay DIR. David's
rortly figure, dimly outlined by the
shaded lamp. and on a chair drawn
close sat Dick.
lie was wide awake and very anx-
ious, but as time went on and no un.
toward symptoms appeared. as David's
sleep seemed 10 grow easier and more
natural, Dicks thoughts wandered.
|They went to Elizabeth first. and then
on and on from that starting point.
through the years ahead. IIc saw the
cid house with Elizabeth waiting In it
for his return: he saw both their lives
united and flowing OF, together. with
children, with small cares, with tho
routine Of daily living, and behind 1t
all the two of them, hand I'm hans.
Then his mind turned OH himseiS.
How often in the last ten years it had
of professional detachment, and stud
led his own case. With the entrance
into his world Of the new science Of
psyche analysis he had made now and
then small, not very sincere, attempts
to penetrate the veil of his own uncon-
sclous devising. Not very sincere, for
with the increase of his own knowledge
of the mind he had learned that behind
such conditions as his lay generally.
deeply hidden. the desire 10 forget. And
that behind that there lay, acknowledged
or not, fear.
But TO forget "hat: lie used to
say to David, when the first textbooks
on the new. science appeared, and he
and David were learning the new
terminology, DICK eagerly and David
with contemptuous snorts of derision.
10 forget whatI
you had plenty to forget David
would say, stolidly. II think this
mans fool, but ut that--yOu'd had
your fathers death. for one thing. And
you gone pretty close TO the edge
of eternity yourself. You'd fought sin
e-hand"d the worst storm of ten years,
you came out or 1t with double Dncu-
monia, and YOU lay alone in that cabin
about htty-slS hours. Forget. You
had plenty to forget.
IT had never occurred 70 Dick TO
doubt David $ story 1t did NOT. even
now. ii" had accepted it unqurstion
ing'y from the hrst. supplemented the
shadnwy childish memories that re-
mained to him with If. and gradually
co-ordinalng the two had built out Of
them his house OF tn" past.
Thus, the elderly man whom be
dimly remembered was not only his
father; ne was pnvid S brother. And
ne had d''u' ~ was Ihc shock OF that
death, according to David. that had
sent hlih iiito the mountains, where
Davld had lolloWed ana nurscd him
back to health
1T was quite simple. and even ex-
plicabic by the new psychology. Not
that he had worried about the new
psychology IN those early days. lie
had been profoundly lcthargic, passive
and injurious. 1t had been too much
trouble even TO think.
| True, he had brought over from those
lost years certain instincts and few
mental pictures. lie had had Ger