Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1923-03-22

] Z
u ing in lonely road near what he
judged to be oil driller's camp, heard
a horse coming toward him, and snorting
neryously as it came and drew back into
the shadows until he recognized the shroud-
ed silhouette leading the animal.
cit belongs to my son." she said. I'll
fix it with him tomorrow. But if you're
caught you'll have to say you came out
and took him, or you'll get us all into trou-
BILE"
She gave him careful instructions as to
how to find the trail, and urged him to
haste She seemed to have doubt what
ever that the fugitive was heading for the
cabin, and her own conviction influenced
Bassett. 1t was true that she had given
him reason for the conviction, but some
times, in the months that followed he
wondered whether there was not something
more some curious, psychic quality, the
same instinct that in another form enabled
her to avoid objects in the dark, behind her
absolute certainty.
He mounted and prepared to ride off.
He would have shaken hands with her but
the horse was still terrified at her shrOuded
figure and Yeered and snorted when she
approached However it turns out he
said, you've done your BEST and I'm CRATE
full"
The horse moved off and left her stand
ing there, her cowl drawn forward and her
hands crossed on her breast She stood
for a moment, facing toward the mountains,
like some clustered figure absorbed in
prayer. Then she turned back toward the
town
Dick had picked up his life again where
he had left it off, so long before Gone
was David's house built on the sands of
forgetfulness. Gone was David himself,
and Lucy. Gone-no, not even born into
his consciousness was Elizabeth The war;
his work, his new place in the world, were
obliterated. drowned in the flood of memo
ries revived by the shock of Bassett's rev.
elations
Not that the breaking point had revealed
itself as. such at once. There was confu-
sion first then stupor and Inconsistencies,
and out of that, sharply and clearly, came
| memory. 1t was not ten years ago, but
an hour ago, minute ago, that he MAD
| stood staring at Howard Lucas on the floor
| of the billiard room, and had seen Beverly
run in through the door.
"Bev" he was saying. "Bev! Don't
| look like that"
He moved and found he was in bed. 1t
had been dream. He drew long breath,
! looked about the room, saw the woman and
| greeted her. But already he knew he had
! not been dreaming. Things were sharpening
! in his mind. He shuddered and looked at
the floor, but nobody lay there. Only the
! horror in his mind, and the instinct to get
| away from it. He was not thinking at all,
| but rising in him was not only the need
| for light. but the sense of pursuit. They
| were after him. They would get him. They
! must never get him alive.
Instinct and will took the place Of
! thought. And whatever closed chamber in
! his brain had opened, it clearly influenced
| his physical condition. He bore all the
| stigmata of heavy and prolonged drinking;
! his nerves were gone; he ,twitched and
| shook. When he got down the fire escape
| his legs would scarcely hold him.
The discovery of Ed Ricketts, horse in the
| courtyard, saddled and ready, fitted in with
! the brain pattern of the past. Like one who
enters room for moment he felt that this
| thing that he was doing he had done before.
| Only for a moment. Then partial memory
ceased, and he climbed into the saddle, rode
out and turned towards the mountains and
| the cabin. By that strange quality of the
! brain which is called habit, although the hab-
/ it be of only one emphatic precedent, he fol-
| lowed the route he had taken ten years be-
| fore. How closely will never be known. Did
| he stop at this turn to look back, as he had
! once before? Did he let his horse breathe
| there? Not the latter, probably, for as, fol
| lowing the blind course that he had followed
ten years before he left the town and went up
! the canyon trail, he was riding as though
all the devils of hell were behind him.
| One thing is certain. The reproductions Of
the conditions of the earlier flight, the ia
miiar associations of the trail, must have
| helped rather than hindered his fiXation in
the past Again he was Judson Clark with
out a doubt, any way and Judson Clark III
panic flight.
Before long his horse was in acute dis
| tress, but he did not notice it. At the top OF
the long climb the animal stopped, but he
kicked him on recklessly. He as unaware
of his own fatigue, that he was swaying in
the saddle, until galloping across meadow
the horse stumbled and threw him.
He lay still for some time, not hurt, but
apparently lacking the initiative to get up
| again. He had at that period the alternating
Iucidity and mental torpor of the half-drunk-
en- man But struggling up through layers OF
blackness at last there came again the instinct
for flight, and he got on the horse and set off
The tOrpor again overcame him and he
slept in the saddle. When the horse stopped
he reused and kicked it on. Once he came up
through the blackness to the accompaniment
of a great roaring, and found that the ami
NAL was saddle deep in ford and foundering
badly among the rocks. He turned its head
upstream, and got it out safely.