Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-01-26
By
Gardner
Hunting.

ribbed hillsl Flimsy, chance-fiung
thing-recorded eternally on the books
of Time-in a medium for which no
eraser had yet been devised!
| One after another the young man
caught up the labeled bombs from the
tray, released their confined gases and
watched on their unsubstantial mass
that fragile Specter of adamant that
Knocked him. Again and again there
stood before him the face of the con-
denser's dial board, hid by that shred
OF cloth. A rag masking the face of
Fulfillment!
At the end Brainard stood before
his tray and stared at three little
spheres of mystery. Presumably each
contained record of that woodland
scene recorded nowhere except in the
indelible print upon memory. He had
reserved these three. He had not
| dared to release them until he might
know when or how--or fit were
possible to replace them. Suddenly
precious in his eyes, in each, one
glimpse of beauty such as his gaze
had looked upon but once; in each, one
thrill OF such emotion as his life had
not matched; in each, one taste of a
cup that created the ravishing thirst 1t
served exquisitely without shaking! One
glimpse, one thrill, one taste, in each!
He weighed one in his hand. Desire
rose in him like fever. It was as If
he could put it to his lips and quaff
1t like wine-could pour its Intoxicating
sweets into his waiting veins, along his
not nerves, into his burning brain and
heart!
Suddenly he turned, his hands trem-
bling, and flung the bomb into the
niche OF his protector. His whole body
was behind the push which swung deli
cate switches into place. He turned
and CROPPED for his chair like a man
who has driven the needle into his flesh
and feels the first fog of drunken
awakening from normal apathy to the
plane of drugged joys.
The tinkle of a tiny waterfall lifted
Its bubbling voice. It's sparkling thread
trickled over the face of the rock like
spray of iridescent gems Ferns
touched with peacock tints half clothed
recumbent limbs of giant trees, seated
here In forest nook cooling their weary
feet in a crystal pool Water, abloom
with the blue of unseen sky, fringed
with the lacy green of new grass and
tender leaf, scarcely ripping to the
touch of the tiny fall. Turf like a
magic carpet spread to invite. Low
sunrise rays gliding rough bark to gold
and staining shadows to the hues of
blood. glided to the edge of the pool and
dipped and drank. its eyes aglow with
the light of sheer Joy in being!
Here was enchantment! A butterfly
painted by Aurora's own fingers, how
cred and sank enraptured Soft f1utter
Of wings on overhead branch, and the
bird by the pool Sprang alert and war
bled its love note like a Joyous cry of
ecstasy in the revelations of Spring.
The leaf screen parted and eyes of
mystery looked out into the watching
mans waiting soul!
She was Beauty's own daughter
Splashed with the dew of youth and
laughter! She was the sweet spirit of
the wood and the dawn! She was wom-
an, pining and wandering asearch for
the first touch of love! Hoping, dis
appointed, pleading The man famed
to the parting of tender lips and the
glance of wistful eyes!
She called, opened her arms, dropped
to her knees and invited him. He
slipped from his chair and crept to the
vanishing edge of her world and of his
and crouched huddled against her
transparent barrier, that might be a
window into yesterday or a lens of the
ages! And he lay there like a dead
thing snatched by draft and sucked
against screen!
1t was hours later that he stumbled
back into his world again-and found
Ushigi lowering terror stricken at the
door, While he drank at his decanter,
and drank again. till the frightened
Jap himself protested, he heard a
broken tale of the white-faced woman
who had beaten with bleeding hand at
his door unheard. And he did not care.
Then he went into his bedroom and
flung himself into his chair before a
dead hearth, and faced the fact he had
been holding away from him as some