Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-10-13
Another Especially Selected, Complete
Story From the 0. Henry Memorial
Azoards- Author s Short Stories
Haze Placed Him Among the Leading
Writers of Fiction in America.

native and noble with roof like another slope
of the gray Pamet moors So, unbudging from
his hybrid shell he calls through the dusk:
Molly to homer"
Neither Andy nor Isaiah answers Rock rock
rock, their chairs and their dry bones creaking
their eyes meeting, full of repugnance, rebel
lion, appeal. They'd have their tongues cut
out before they'd speak.
No need. Molly has answered herself "Yep
just second, I'll be with you, Jim, old kid"
She passes out between the rockers, hatless,
free of elbow. wanton of stocking neither
mother of tomorrow nor daughter of yester-
day.
Where you bound for, Molly?" Andy writhes.
He feels degraded.
Where you bound?" Isaiah writhes He,
too. had sworn never to ask again.
oh nowheres. Up to the dance at Chat
ham, that's all. Oh, for the love- Jimmy can
that honking. will yu! I'm on my way! Now,
Daddies, run, climb in your beds like good boys.
Sound Sleep sweet dreams!"
Sleep! Dreams! The mockery!
Their rockers are still. Leaning forward,
squeezing their chair arms with their vein-
corded fists, they follow the iron flight of the
centaur. cast back in fainter and fainter re-
verberatons from the folded moor-sides careen-
ing farther away, deeper away in the mistS Of
the falling night.
HE'S going up Graveyard Hill now. If only
their legs could run as swiftly as their
minds. He's abreast of the old Snow place now.
Thrrrmmm! Whine and wheeze An abomin-
able whisper threading the valleys. It's louder
for instant, as though a door in the hills
had opened He's crossing the marsh at the
Center now, this what-is-he? This Greek
This what's his-name? j. Krenk general
trucking Jimmy the Greek And Molly
Brewsteri
Let him take her. Let him take her back
to his lemon -peddling, olive-stinking two-for-
a-nickel Levant ports. Then let her sect
Then let her think of those White women
the other Mollys, her mothers
Memories submerge the two men; their tan
trum passes and gives place to nostalgia: they
turn towards, feeling themselves abandoned,
defeat at last The mosquito-bar is cage op-
pressing their lungs and bringing to their
skins faint, chill sweat. Moved by common
impulse, they get up and rush out They have
forgotten their hats, and Isaiah's head is as
bald as a porpoise. What matter their rheu-
matics! Their hearts! What oddsi
Where are they going, hosting their feet so
industriousy along the cam-sheH metal of this
road? Where and why?
They look back when they reach the crest
Of Sheep HILL and from the height they see
the country familiar to them rod by rod of its
folded mocrs, its dunes and winding marshes
spread of a sudden fantastic and pixy-peopled
under this night. will-o'-the and ghost
fires
There's John Champions house under the
shoulder of Finback a mile to the east John
died good 20 years ago, and his daughters
family moved to Iowa. Yet there looks to be a
light in it, goblin cheer. Dave Burch passed
on in the 'nineties; his children live In Los
Angeles; the homestead hidden under the cot
tonwoods in the Flat, opens an eye in distant
6oT1c Iaen Al
were people, populations! And there again.
Like lamp on Borneo Plain!
There's one element that never betrays, but
always plays fair. If the land is playing tricks
with your eyes, old fellows, turn them to the
sea-
Across the waters the sky toward Boston shows
a late loom of dusk, double upside down in
the mirroring plain. Not far offshore across
the mouth of the cove a fisherman sails, his
dim mastS erect in the meager breeze Farther
distant, toward the lights on Provincetown
shore, monster lies at rest on the sea.
So the sea, too, is corruptibe tonight, even
the sea. Like Leviathan. Leviathan blowing
a leaden, lazy spout prodgious creature, ink
black, incandescent-striped.
she come in weeth ngne-trouble," says a
voice.
There's another watcher on Sheep Hill He
arises from a beach-plum bush at their feet,
headlesS because he has his coat Shawlwise
over his head.
"I never seen her before thees ship, and
that's funny bcause my boy goes cen her, and
she's lax city he says. Fifty-nine t'ousand
toni What you know about that?"
What indeed, do they know about that? Ex-
cept that the night is trying to play them an
other trick Painting that shadow on the
shadows out there, enormous: though mas
ter and mate of an Incompatible Sea Glory
were TO be taken in by jest as thin as that,
a ship enormous as 80 Sea Glories on one
keell
It's too rare Andy and Isaiah open their