Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-07-07

WITH cold shock, Richard Blades realized
the truth. 1t was the commencement Of
the man-hunt that follows a chiefs death:
the hunt that-like all huntS-gives the in
tended victim a chance, in order to secure good
sport. Blades knew 1t. He knew that once
started, the hunt would follow relentlessly over
mountain and gorge, through torrent and
gorge through torrent and through Jungle for
days. II need be, until at last the man was
caught and the five executioners closed around
him.
only the hare was needed to begin; and no
one-yet-knew whom the hare would be. That
was as it happened.
Hence the whirling the milling, the continual
CLOTHING Of the crowd, for a moment, around
some man, who succeeded-Heaven and his
need alone knew how!-in diverting the stream
OF death, making himself part Of the stream,
and setting 1t toward another victim. Not yet
had the unmiStakable choice fallen; but soon,
surely soon, 1t would
BY Heaven, it had fallen! Blades felt sick
when he saw the crowd Whirl closer and
closer around one common center, like bees
that have found their queen. Saw the herce
boiling up that enSued, as the victim made one
last struggle against his hdeous lot Saw
worse than all-the crowd part, letting the
hare" Of the hunt get clear away, the while
they gave tongue to roaring brassy song.
Some weeks ago he would have tried to beat
of the crowd-save the hare from them some
how. Now he knew better.
He could not look on. He knew without loc',-
ing that the hare had torn away into tie
climbing forests; that the hounds, consciously
delaying were beginning to trot leisurely along
the beach, silent now, exactly as animal hounds
are when they get down to their work. He let
them pass by, and went into his hut.
Mbh was gone. The Afternoon sun glided
the floor The sea hsped on the sand little
way outside. Blades hearing that sound real
lied his utter isolation, the distance, the seas
that lay between him and his kind.
Night came. He got himself a meal, lit the
lamp and, by way Of occupation, set to work
on a repair of the corduroy floor, which had
been damaged by an overturned case Of goods.
It was an excellent floor. Blades, warned by
Samarai folk Of the foot WEAKNESS that comes
with the true native floor Of springy palm
slips Single-layered, had made this one triple
stringers of hard wood joists Of palm splint,
large, flooring Of fne-split palm laid as even
as the fingers Of hand. 1t made thick
layer IS inches through and Blades was proud
Of it.
He got to work removing the damaged Sec
ton. Flooring and joists were cracked, but the
stringers were intact Between them, as he
lifted away the broken pieces, showed mar
row, grave-lke space Blades, chin In hand,
studied it for a minute
Not bad idea" he said, talking to himself,
as solitary men will do
LIE got few pieces of sawn timber from
= the broken case, and nailed them between
the stringer, making kind of long, shallow
box below the floor. He took his reserve of
stick tobacco-the gold of the islands-and
slowed it In the box.
Good" he said, replacing the section of
black palm, laced together and repaired.
Richard Blades could not rest that night.
Two things oppressed him. One was the
thought Of the hunt One couldn't sleep with
that in ones mind. Nor could one even lie
down. obsessed unreasonably as Blades was