Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-01-18


shack on the marsh and cleaned ms
gun with slow, brooding dehbera-
81 ton.
It was dusk when he had come home-home
from the stretch they give to poachers IN the
county Jail at Penn sboro. 1t was dark when ne
finished cleaning his gun. 1t smeled OF OIL
and its barrels glinted in the thin new moon
light He leaned it up against the shack
All around him, in the Indian Summer eve
ming the marsh stirred and was alive with old
familiar sounds. Birds rustled in the grass
down near the landing a muskrat splashed; y
ducks Cabling out in the bay On the
northern horizon the Pennsboro glow WaVereo
between the flats and the stars over east De-
vond the dunes, the Autumn ocean tumbled
and sucked at it's strip of Carolina coast.
Jon Shepherd was part of all this part OF the
life and soul of the marsh. He shared lCS
sonber moods, its invert fascination, its dark
pride Like the marsh, he could smile sud-
denly and become suddenly bleak. But now he
had only murder in his hsart. Only an ooSes-
sion as cold. as deliberate, as it was unbalanced
He was going to kill the man who had been
responsible for sending him to jail he was
going to do it tonight
LIE LIT a cigarette. The fare OF the match
snatchad his face out of the dark. 1t ex-
ploded with noiseless light against the bony
cheeks the riveted black eyes, the aquil1ne nose,
the thin lips gripping the cigarette Jon Shep-
herd took two or three pufs on the cigarette
and then Tipped it into the damp marsh grass
S~$NNo' ~
was tenacious it wouldn't go out. He Won
dered whether Henry Garner would be as hard
to kill.
For as long as Jon Shepherd could remember
he and Henry Garner had been friends Henry
Garner had been rich; he himself had been
DOOR Henry Garner had been brought up in the
big house beyond the woods near the PennS-
boro road, while he had always lived In the
trappers shack But none of these things had
mattered until Henry Garner inherited the big
house and began to invite fine guests down from
Baltimore and Richmond and Philadelphia.
Then one day he had warned Jon Shepherd TO
conflne his trapping and shooting activities to
the bay and the lower marsh, away from pr1-
vate property. He wanted to turn his own land
into a sporting preserve. And when Shepherd
had disregarde6 his warning-not once, but
tWice-Garner had sent him to JAN.
The cigarette in the marsh-grass sizzled and
went out. Shepherd stood up and reached Tor
his gun His body was dark blotch against
tho. shack the shack pale blotch against
the pines behind it, and the pines were shaggy
uncombed wilderness helter-ske under the
new moon. 1t was a grand night for loving or
kiIling-whichever q man had mind to do.
The killing itself would be very simple. There
would be a short tramp through the woods to
the big house near the Pennsboro road. Then
there would be a creeping up to the window OF
the room where Henry Garner always sat about
this time. After that there would be nothing
left to do but ram the muzzle of the gun
through q thin pane and coax couple OF
tender triggers It was all as simple as that
Jon Shepherd had desire to leer at Henry
Garner or to taunt him. He wanted to have
it over with as soon as possible.
He tucked his shotgun in the crotch Of his
arm and walked unhurredly toward the strip
of woods that marked the beginning OF Gamers
land He walked inexorably. like a machine
that had been wound up and pointed at GER
tain spot At the edge of the woods he paused
to make sure that the safety catch Of his gun
was all right Although he knew every inch OF
the way he didn't want his gun to go of If he
tripped in the underbrush. Then he faced
around for a last look eastward. The marsh
curved darby around the bay and the bay
lay es'ean against the dim shoulders Of the
d". yond the dunes, the beat OF the
occ med to keep time with the beat of
the b God in Shepherds chest and wrist and
temples. But there was no need to hurry.
There use ting excited.
Shepherd walked through the woods and
Skirted the field that lay in front Of the big
house where Garner lived. His state Of mind
was quite different from that OF the average
story book murderer No lurking fear clutched
at his heart; none of the usual drops of sweat
stood out his brow. Everything WITS matter
of-fact, even the light that cleaned in the
downstairs window and guided him, as he had
known 1t would.
DY using the cover of clump OF bushes 1t
was easy to creep up to the lighted window
Shepherd crouched under the sill and gripped
his gun with both hands. ready for a smashing
blow at the pane. Then he stood up deliber-
ately and looked in. His face slid up Into the
liRht and DOiSed there Vulpine. staring,