Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-10-13
"CH. Eben Perkins" says Molly, '-and git qui

gazing at the stars as soberlike as If she was
in the habit of star gain every night with q
shotgun laid across her lap. Nor you couldn't
see the way old Revenue Perkins eyed her and
hestitated, scrawn out his neck and fetch %
O halt"
81 heard him. though. Andy: promise you
that. Pleasant evenn Mis- Brewsterl' Pleasant
evenin', Mr.. Perkinsp I'm amin to have
look in under that skih If you don't mind Mis-
Brewster In which case, MIR. Perkins, you're
amin to do something you amt able; not SO
longs I'm setting onto it, In which case, Mis-
Brewster, I shall have the law onto the lot OF
you--' In which case, Mr.. Perkins, I'll have
something sight quicker actin than the law
onto you, sir. with that hear the gun-butt
easin' up along the garboard-strake.) Quit it.
Molly Brewster' says Perkins. Git, Eben Per-
kins' says Molly, and git quickl''
"And Revenue gait guess he gat!'
Never hear the last of 1t, did he? Nor
come snoopin' this way again, eh?"
Feared o. meetin' up with Molly! Heh-hehi"
The gentlest the abidingest of women! What
homage could be more precious to the heroine
of long ago than this cachination of old men,
this mirth flung out in thready challenge to
reconquering nothingness and the prowling
powers of the dark?
The dark answers coagulating in another
shade at their feet down-hill. 80
What you doin' here, you guys?"
Their mouths dry and fall agape.
well, v-v-vow" bleats Isaiah. and Andy
echoes him: ST vow!"
oh" breathes the shade, ST know now.
It's old Isaiah and old Andy"
But who in-in-are you?"
Don't you recnize me? It's Tony Fuller
from the Coast Guard. You know me-"
"Tony" They see their chance. TONY
Fuller!" The impostor is delivered into their
hands. Their voices break high. There WANT
never a man-there's been Eds and Ezras,
Johns and Jonathans-but never a man
amongst the Fullers called by any such name,
such lemon-peddlin' NAME as Tony No
Sir-ee!"
The haunt chuckles, rubbing his Inns with
Q spectral sleeve.
TRY Farquiera then; that's my family name
when they come from the Azores Or if you're
bent on crackin your jaws, try 'em on this
Sob-lef- sky-Sub-lof-s It's He's
down in the road to the left, waitin; so you
get along now, quiet, and tell him I sent you,
and he'll leave you through. Skedaddle, my
boys; clear out of herei"
II there Is one there are dozen retortS Just
at their scandalized lips; arrogant laughter,
whitening old quarterback oaths. Dumbly,
though sending down a whispering lace of
sand, like autumnal spiders. they fee as they
are told, not knowing why. They get off the
cliff, their own cliff, not knowing how: q
lichenous ground Is underfoot then a streak
half clay, then ruts. wind, a slow draft
redolent of clam and weed bears them along;
An All idHuiar as the years OF their youth,
turned secret and queer. 1t bears them into
the mouth of hollow foored with blackness
and rooted with stars. Sergt. Belkar Soblieyski
OF the State Police snaps on the headlight of
his motor cycle and examines them with his
yellow cornucopia OF tame
You're out late, my friends Then not
meaning the tght-blistered couple to stand
there all night. ne says in a kindlier tome:
60 right on, the way you were going my
fathers, and keep your mouths shut, and no
harm done. Good night"
1t Is some moments before he snaps off the
shopping light. Behind Isaiah and Andy.