Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1931-01-16

In the upper vault of the sky It was
fading to a ghostly pallor against the
sweeping arc of the Milky Way.
They ran on, and the spirit Of hope
began to fight for place in Jeems'
brain. This ray Of light gave life and
force to the arguments with which he
now made an effort to hold back the
grimmer thing. His home was burn
ing. But 1t must be an accident,
nothing that should fill him with
fright. The other fire-off in Forbid.
den valley-was no more than a coin
cidence, probably a conflagration
started by a careless Indian or a
white mans pipe.
He paused again to get his breath,
and Odd stopped with him. His shay
gy body was trembling with the pent.
up emotions of suspense and passion
which possessed him when he caught
in the air the deadly poison to his nos
trils-the Indian smell. Jeems strug-
gled not to believe the evidence which
he saw. and told himself that IL by
any chance there were Indians at his
home they were friends helping to
save what they could from the tragedy
Of the fire.
Out of the silence Jeems heard a
sound which rose above the pounding
Of his heart. 1t was so far away, so
indistinct, that the stirring of the
leaves had kept it from his ears.
But Jeems had heard.
He had heard the firing of guns.
Over the hills and forests the sound
had come to him from the direction of
the Tonteur seigneurie He did not
wait for the oaks to browse again.
Odd led him in their last heartbreak-
ing race into the Big forest. Leaden
weights seemed to be dragging at his
feet before they were through It. He
had run too hard. He stopped and
sagged against tree, with Odd growt-
ing in low and terrible way close
to his knees. He was not trying to
prove or disprove matters now. catas-
trophe had happened to his thoughts
with the firing of the guns. Taking
the place of hope, even Of his fears.
was the one great desire to reach his
father and mother as quickly as he
could.
His exertions had beaten him when
they came to the edge of the forest
and he could have run no farther
without falling. Before them was the
slope, a silvery carpet of the star
light. At the foot of it was what had
been his home.
That it was red-hot mass without
form or stability, pile out of which
flame rose lazily, its fierceness gone,
added nothing more to his shock. He
had unconsciously looked for this. The
barn was also a heap of blazing en-
bers. Everything was gone. Even this
fact was not the one which began to
break down his reason, which he had
struggled so hard to keep. 1t was
the stiffness, the lifelessness, the lack
of movement and sound that appalled,
him at first and then closed in about
him, a crushing, deadening force. The
fires lit up the bottom land. He could
see the big rock at the spring. The
paths between the gardens. The bird
houses in the nearest oaks. The mill.
But he could see nothing that had
been saved from the burning house.
He could not see his father or his
mother or Hepsibah Adams.
Even Odds heart seemed to break
in these moments. A sound came from
him that was like sob. He was half
crouching, no longer savage or venge-
full. But Jeems did not see. He was
trying to find some force in him that
could cry out his mothers name. His
lips were as dry as sticks, his throat
failed to respond The silence was
terrific. In it he heard the swapping
of an exploding ember, like a pistol
going off. He could hear no one talk
ing, no voices calling.
Fear, the repulsion of flesh and
nerves to danger, was utterly gone
from him. He was impelled only by
thought of his father and mother, the
mystery of their silence, his desire to
call out to them and to hear their
voices in answer. He did not fit an
arrow to his bow as he walked down
through the starlight, his feet travel
ing little unsteadily. What was
there or was not there could not be
changed by an arrow.
Unexpectedly, he came upon his
father Henri was on the ground near
one of GATHERINGS rose bushes, as If
asleep. But he was dead. He lay
with his face turned to the sky. Fire
light played upon him gently, now in
creasing, now fading, as the embers
flared or died, like fitful notes in a
strain of soundless music.
(To BE CoNTINUED.)