Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-03-27

man and death | alone stood, andII
| had every reason to make me step
aside. The man was a tlend. He was
| killing the finest woman l had ever
| met His presence poisoned the air he
! walked in. He was an active agent OF
| evil; there was no doubt of that I
| hated him as / had never hated any.
| thing else in my life.
| And / saw other considerations as
well--saw them as clearly as | see
YOU sitting there. ! saw the man who
| loved Mrs. Whitney. and | saw Mrs
! Whitney herself, and in my keeping.
| knew. was all her chance for happi-
| ness. the one hope that the future
would make up to her for some of the
horror of the past. 1t would have
been an easy thing to do. The most
| ordinary caution was on my sid.
/ Whitney was far larger than I. and
| even in his weakened condition. was
weak myself-stronger. and he had "a
| gun that in q flash of light could blow
me into eternity. And what would
| happen then? Why. when he got back
| to Los PinoS they would hang him.
They would be only too glad of the
chance. And his wife. she would die.
/ knew 1t. Just go out like flame
from the unbearableness OF il all.
And there wasn't one chance in a!
thousand that he wouldn't kill me if
| l made a single step toward him.
had only to let him go and in a few
minutes he would be dead--as dead as
| his poor brute of a horse would he
| within the hour.
II felt already the cool relief that
would be mine when the black shadow
of him was gone | would ride into
town and think no more of it than if
/ ] had watched a tarantula die. You
see, had 1t all reasoned out as clearly
as could be. And yet-well. / didHt
do it,
Didn't" 1t was Jarrick who put
the question. little breathlessly.
mo. / stepped toward him--soi
One step, then another. very slowly,
hardly a foot at time, and all the'
while / watched the internal circle of
that gun, expecting 1t every minute
TO spit fire. / didn't want to go. l
| vent against my will. / was scared,
too, MORALLY scared. My legs We're
like lead. / had to think every time
l lifted a foot and in d queer, crazy
| way I seemed to feel two people.
man and a woman. holding me back.
plucking at my sleeves. But / went.
| All the time / kept saying, very
steady and quiet:
| "Don't shoot, Whitney, D'you
hear? Don't shoot. or I'll kill you"
wasn't 1t silly? Kill him! Why,
ne had me dead ten times before l got
to him. But l suppose some trace of
sanity was knocking at his drink
sodden brain. for he didn't shoot
| just watched me, his red eyes blink
| ing So, One step at a time-nearer
and nearer. 1 could feel the sweat on
my forehead. And then l jumped.
had him by the legs and we went
down in a heap. He shot then; they
always do But ] had him tied up
with the rags of his own shirt in a
| trice.
"Then / brought him water in my
hat and let him drink it. drop by drop.
| After a while he came to altogether.
But he never thanked me. He wasn't
that kind of a brute. ! got him into
town the morning of the second daX
and turned him over to his wife. 50
you see"-Hardy hesitated and lookf
at the circle of our faces with an ODD.
appealing look-"it is queer, isn't It?
All mixed up. One doesn't know.
He sank back in his chair and be-
gan to scratch, absent-m1ndedly, at
holder with a match.
The aftertheater crowd was begin
ming to come in, the sound of laughter
and talk grew steadily higher. far of
an orchestra walled inarticulately.
what became of them?' | asked.
Hardy looked up as If startled.
1.-The Whitneys? oh, she died
Martin wrote me. Down there. within
a. year. One would know it would
happen. Like u flame, l suppose
suddenly"
"And the mantle fellow who was
in love with herr
Hardy stirred YEARLY. II haven't
heard" he said. 81 suppose he is still
alive"
He leaned over to complete the
striking of his match. and his sleeve
brushed a glass to the edge OF tne
table. He shot out hand TO stop 1t.
and as ne did so I saw on his arm n
queer, ragged white cross--the scar a
snake bite leaves when it is cicatriced.
meant to avoid his eyes. but some
how I caught them instead. They
were yelled and hurt .
Copyright. 1877