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THE LIGHT
THAI FAILED
7sy 'Rvdyard K_tplmg
CHAPTER IX.
The lark will make her hymn to God,
The partridge tail her brood.
While 1 forget the heath I trod,
The fields wherein I stood.
’Tis dule to know not night from morn,
But deeper dule to know
I can but hear the hunter's horn
That once I used to blow.
—The Only Son.
IT was the third day after Torpen
how's returii, and his heart was
heavy.
“Do you mean to tell me that
you can't see without whisky? It's
generally the other way about.”
“Can a drunkard swear on his hon
or?” said Dick.
“Yes, if he has been as good a man
as you.”
“Then I give my word of honor,”
said Dick, speaking hurriedly through
parched lips. “Old man, I can hardly
see your face now. You’ve kept me so
ber for two days—if I ever was drunk
—and I’ve done no work. Don’t keep
me back any more. I don’t know when
my eyes may 7 give out. The spots and
dots and the pains and things are
crowding worse than ever. I swear I
can see all right when I'm—when I’m
moderately screwed, as you say. Give
me three more sittings from Bessie and
ail the stuff I want, and the picture
will be done. I can’t kill myself in
three days. It only means a touch of
D. T. at the worst.”
“If I give you three days more, will
you promise me to stop work and—
the other thing, whether the picture’s
finished or not?”
“I can't. You don't know 7 what that
picture means to me. But surely you
could get the Nllghai to help you, and
knock me down and tie me up. I
shouldn’t fight for the whisky, but I
should for the work.”
“Go on, then, I give you three days,
but you're nearly breaking my heart.”
Dick returned to his work, toiling as
one possessed. And the yellow devil
of whisky stood by him and chased
away the spots in his eyes. The Mel
anesia was nearly finished and was
all or nearly all that lie hoped she
would be. Dick Jested with Bessie,
who reminded him that he was “a
drunken beast.” But the reproof did
not move him.
“You can't understand, Bess. \Ye are
in sight of land now, and soon we shall
lie back ami think about what we’ve
done. I’ll give you three months’ pay
when the picture’s finished, and next
time I have any more work in hand—
but that doesn’t matter. Won’t three
mouths’ pay make you hate me less?”
“No, it won’t! I hate you, and I’ll
go on hating you. Mr. Torpenhow
won’t speak to me any more. He’s al
ways looking at map things and red
backed books.”
Bessie did not say that she had
again laid siege to Torpenhow or that
be had at the end of her passionate
pleading picked her up, given her a
kiss and put her outside the door with
a recommendation not to be a little
fool. He spent most of his time In the
company of the Nilghai, and their
talk was of war in the near future, the
hiring of transports and secret prepara
tions among the dockyards. He did
not care to see Dick till the picture
was finished.
“He’s doing first class work.” he said
to the Nilghai, “and it’s quite out of his
regular line. But for the matter of that,
so’s his infernal drinking.”
“Never mind. Leave him alone. When
he has come to his senses again we'll
carrj T him off from this place and let
him breathe clean air. Poor Dick! I
don’t envy you, Torp, when his eyes
tgil.”
"Yea, it will be a case of ‘God help
the matt Wbo’S chained to our Davie.’
The wnrst is that we don't know when
it Will happen, and I believe the uncer
tainty and the waiting have sent Dick
to the whisky more than anything
else.”
“How the Arab who cut his head
open would grin if he knew!”
“He's at perfect liberty to grin if he
can. He's dead. That’s poor consola
tion now.”
In the afternoon of the third day
Torpenhow heard Dick calling for him.
“All finished!” he shouted. “I’ve done
it Come in! Isn’t she a beauty? Isn't
she a darling? I’ve been down to hell
to get her, but isn't she worth it?”
Torpenhow looked at the head of a
woman and laughed—a full lipped, hol
low eyed woman who laughed from
out of the canvas as Dick had intended
she should.
“Who taught you how to do it?” said
Torpenhow. “The touch and notion
have nothing to do with your regular
work. What a face it is! What eyes
and what insolence!” Unconsciously he
threw back his bead and laughed with
her. “She's seen the game played out
—I don't think she had a good time ol'
it—and now she doesn't care, lsu't that
the idea?”
“Exactly.”
"Where did yon get the mouth and
chin from? They don’t belong to Bess.”
“They’re some one else’s. lut isn't it
good? Isn’t it thundering good? Wasn’t
it worth whisky? I did it. Alone I
did it, and it's the best I can uo.” He
drew his breath sharply **nd whis
pered: "Just God! What could I not
do ten years hence if I can do this
now! By the way, what do you think
of it. E<‘SS?”
. The girl was_ biting her lips. She
loathed Torpenhow because he had
taken no notice of her.
"I think it's just the borridost, beast
liest thing I ever saw,” she answered,
and turned away.
“More than you will be of that way
of thinking, young woman. Dick,
there’s a sort of murderous viperine
suggestion in the poise of the head that
I don’t understand,” said Torpenhow.
“That’s trick work,” said Dick, chuc
kling with delight at being completely
understood. “I couldn't resist one little
bit of sheer swagger. It’s a French
trick, and you wouldn’t understand.
But it's got at by slewing round the
head a tribe and a tiny, tiny foreshort
ening of one side of the face from the
angle of the chin to the top of the left
ear. That and deepening the shadow
under the lobe of the ear. It was fla
grant trick work; but, having the no
tion fixed, I feit entitled to play with
it. Oh. you beauty!”
“Amen! She is a beauty. I can feel
it.”
“So will every man who has any sor
row of Ids own," said Dick, slapping
his thigh. “He shall see his trouble
there, and, by the Lord Harry, .just
when he’s feeling properly sorry for
himself he shall throw back his head
and laugh, as site is laughing. I’ve put
the life of my 1-cart n.d the light of my
eyes into her, and 1 don't care wliat
cojnes. * * l'm tirel -awfully
tired. I think I’ll got to sleep. Take
away the whisky. It has served its
turn. Oh. give Bessie thirty-six quid
and three over for luck. Cover the pic
ture.”
He was asleep in the long chair. Ins
face white and haggard, almost before
he had finished the sentence. Bessie
tried to take Torpenhow's hand.
“Aren’t you never going to speak to me
any more?" she said, but Torpenhow
was lookiug at Dick.
“What a stock of vanity the man
has! I’ll take him in hand tomorrow
and make much of him. He deserves
it— Eh? What was that, Bess?”
“Nothing. I’ll put things tidy here a
little, and then I’ll go. Y’ou couldn’t
give me that three months’ pay now,
could you? He said you were to.”
Torpenhow gave her a check and
went to his own rooms. Bessie faith
fully tidied up the studio, set the door
ajar for flight, emptied half a bottle of
turpentine on a duster and began to
scrub the face of the Melancolia
viciously. The paiut did not smudge
quickly enough. She took a palette
knife and scraped, following each
stroke with the wet duster. In five min
utes the picture was a formless, scarred
muddle of colors. She threw the paint
stained duster into the studio stove,
stuck out her tongue at the sleeper and
whispered, "Bilked!” as she turned to
run down the staircase. She would
never see Torpenhow any more, but
she had at least done harm to the man
who had come between her and her
desire and who used to make fun of
her. Cashing the check was the very
cream of the jest to Bessie. Then
the little privateer sailed across the
Thames to be swallowed up in the
gray wilderness of South-the-water.
Dick slept till late in the evening,
when Torpenhow dragged him off to
bed. His eyes were as bright as his
voice was hoarse. “Let’s have another
look at the picture,” he said as insist
ently as a child.
“You—go—to—bed,” said Torpenhow.
“You aren’t at all well, though you
mayn’t know it You’re as jumpy as a
cat,”
“I reform tomorrow. Good night”
As he passed through the studio Tor
penhow lifted the cloth above the pic
ture and almost betrayed himself by
outcries: "Wiped out! Scraped out,
nnd turped out! If Dick knows this
tonight he’ll go perfectly mad. He’s
on the verge of the jumps as it is.
That's Bess—the little fiend! Only a
woman could have done that, with the
ink not dry on the cheek too! Dick
will be raving mad tomorrow. It was
all my fault for trying to help gutter
devils. Oh, my poor Dick, the Lord is
hitting you very hard!”
Dick could not sleep that night, part
ly for pure joy and partly because the
well known Catherine wheels inside
his eyes had given place to crackling
volcanoes of many colored fires.
“Spout away,” he said aloud. “I’ve
done my work, and now you can do
what you please.” He lay still, star
ing at the ceiling, the long pent up
delirium of drink in his veins, his brain
on fire with racing thoughts that would
uot stay to be considered, and his
hands crisped and dry.
lie had just discovered that he was
painting the face of the Mclaucolia on
a revolving dome ribbed with millions
of lights, and that all his wondrous
thoughts stood embodied hundreds of
feet below his tiny swinging plank,
shouting together in his honor, when
something cracked inside his temples
like an overstrained bowstring, the
glittering dome broke inward, and he
was alone in the thick night.
“I’ll go to sleep. The room's very
dark. Let’s light a lamp and see how
the Melaneolia looks. There ought to
have been a moon.”
It was then that Torpenhow heard
his name called by n voice that he did
not know—ln the rattling accents of
deadly fear.
“He’s looked at the picture,” was his
first thought as be hurried hue .he beu
room and found Dick sitting up and
heating the air with his hands.
“Torp! Torp! Where are you? For
pity's sake, come to me!”
“What’s the matter?”
Dick clutched at his shoulder. “Mat
ter! I’ve been lying here for hours in
the dark, and you never beard me.
Torp, old man, don’t go away. I’m all
in the dark. In the dark. I tell you.”
Torpenhow held the candle within a
foot of Dick’s eves, but there was no
light in those eyes. He lighted the gas
and Dick heard the flame catch. The
grip of his fingers on Torpenhow’s
shoulder made Torpenhow wince.
“Don't leave me. You wouldn’t leave
me alone now. would you? I can’t see.
D'you understand? It’s black—quite
black, and I feel as if I was falling
through it all.”
“Steady does it.” Torpenhow put his
arm round Dick and instinctively be
gan to rock him gently to and fro.
“That's good. Now don’t talk. If I
keep very quiet for awhile this dark
ness will lift. It seems just on the
point of breaking. H’sh!” Dick knit
his brows and stared desperately in
front of him. The night air was chill
ing Torpenhow’s toes.
“Can you stay like that a minute?.”
he said. “I’ll get my dressing gown and
some slippers.”
Dick clutched the bedhead with both
hands and waited for the darkness to
clear away. “What a time you’ve
There was no liqht in those eyes.
been!” he cried when Torpenhow re
turned. “It’s as black as ever. And
what are you banging about in the
doorway?”
“Long chair— horse blanket—pillow.
Going to sleep by you. Lie down now,
you’ll be better in the morning.”
“I shan't!” The voice rose to a wail.
“My God, I’m blind! I'm blind, and
the darkness will never go away.” He
made as if to leap from the bed, but
Torpenhow’s arms were around him,
and Torpenhow’s chin was on his
shoulder, and his breath was squeezed
out of him. He could only gasp,
“Blind!” and wriggle feebly.
“Steady, Dickie, steady!” said the
deep voice in his ear, and the grip
tightened. “Bite on the bullet, old
man, and don’t let them think you’re
afraid.” The grip could draw no closer.
Both men were breathing heavily. Dick
threw his head from side to side and
groaned.
“Let me go!” he panted. “You’re
cracking my ribs. We —we musn’t let
them think we’re afraid, must we—all
the powers of darkness and that lot?”
"Lie down. It’s all over now.”
“Yes,” said Dick obediently. “But
would you mind letting me hold your
hand? I feel as if I wanted something
to hold on to. One drops through the
dark so.”
Torpenhow thrust out a large and
hairy paw from the long chair. Dick
clutched it tightly and in half an hour
had fallen asleep. Torpenhow withdrew
his hand and, stooping over Dick,
kissed him lightly on the forehead, as
men do sometimes kiss a wounded
comrade in the hour of death, to ease
his departure.
In the gray dawn Torpenhow heard
Dick talking to himself. He was adrift
on the shoreless tides of delirium,
speaking very quietly:
“It’s a pity—a great pity. But it’s
.helped, and it must be eaten, Master
George. Sufficient unto the day is the
blindness thereof, and, further, putting
aside all Melancolias and false hu
mors, it is of obvious notoriety—such
as mine was-rthat the quoen can do no
wrong. Torp doesn't know that. I’ll
tell him when we're a little further into
the desert. What a bungle those boat
men are making of the steamer ropes!
They’ll have that four inch hawser
chafed through in a minute. I told you
so! There she goes! White foam on
green water, and the steamer slewing
round. How good that looks! I’ll
sketch it. No, I can’t. I’m afflicted
with ophthalmia. That was one of the
ten plagues of Egypt, and it extends
up the Nile in the shape of cataract.
Ha! That’s a joke, Torp. Laugh, you
graven image, and stand clear of the
hawser. * * it'll knock you into
the water and make your dress all
dirty. Maisie, <! :r"
“Oh!" said Torpenhow. “This hap
poned before. That night e;> jhe river.”
“She'!! he sir i , w.v ~\< v-y fault if
you get mudi! .:■•!. ;,:’re q.'tc near
enough to •’ • •.
that’s cot !':■ / ' ; -v,;.
LoiV tn. .o ... r.i. . .
no conviction. Everything in the world
except conviction. Don’t be angry, dar
ling. I'd cut my hand off if it would
give you anything more than obstinacy.
My right hand, if it would serve.”
“Now, we mustn't listen. Here's an
island shouting across seas ’of misun
derstanding with a vengeance. But it's
shouting truth, I fancy,” said Torpen
how.
The babble continued. It all bore up
on Maisie. Sometimes Dick lectured at
length on his craft, then he cursed him
self for his foiiy in being enslaved. He
pleaded to Maisie for a kiss—only one
kiss before she went away. He called
to her to come back from Vitry-sur-
Marne, if she would, but through all his
ravings he bade heaven and earth wit
ness that the queen could do no wrong.
Torpenhow listened attentively and
learned every detail of Dick's life that
had be -n hidden from him. For three
days Dick raved through his past, and
then slept a natural sleep. “What a
strain lie has been running under, poor
chap!” said Torpenhow. “Dick, of alt
men, handing himself over like a dog!
And I was lecturing him on arrogance!
I ought to have known that it was no
use to judge a man. But I did it. What
a demon that girl must be! Dick's given
her his life —confound him!—and she's
given him one kiss apparently.”
“Torp,” said Dick from the bed, “go
out for a walk. You’ve been here too
long. I’ll get up. Hi! This is annoy
ing. I can't dress myself. Oh, it’s too
absurd!”
Torpenhow helped him into his
clothes and led him to the big chair in
the studio. He sat quietly waiting un
der strained nerves for the darkness to
lift. It did not lift that day or the next.
Dick adventured on a voyage round
the walls. He hit his shins against the
stove, and this suggested to him that it
would be better to crawl on all fours,
one hand in front of him. Torpenhow
found him on the floor.
“I’m trying to get the geography of
my new possessions,” said he. “D’you
remember that nigger you gouged in
the square? Pity you didn’t keep the
odd eye. It would have been useful.
Any letters for me? Give me all the
ones in fat, gray envelopes with a sort
of crown thing outside. They are of no
importance.”
Torpenhow gave him a letter with a
black M on the envelope flap. Dick put
it into his pocket. There was nothing
In It that Torpenhow might not have
read, but it belonged to himself and to
Maisie, who would never belong to
him.
“When she finds that I don’t write,
she’ll stop writing. It's better so. 1
couldn’t be any use to her now’,” Dick
argued, and the tempter suggested
that he should make known his condi
tion. Every nerve in him revolted. “I
have fallen low enough already. I’m
not going to beg for pity. Besides, it
would be cruel to her.”
He strove to put Maisie out of his
thoughts, but the blind have many op
portunities for thinking, and as the
tides of his strength came back to him
in the long, employless days of dead
darkness, Dick’s soul was troubled to
the core. Another letter and another
came from Maisie. Then there was si
lence, and Dick sat by the window
with the pulse of summer in the air
and pictured her being w’on by another
man stronger than himself.
His imagination, the keener for the
dark background it worked against,
spared him no single detail that might
send him raging up and down the stu
dio to stumble over the stove that
seemed to be in four places at once.
Worst of all, tobacco would not taste
in the dark. The arrogance of the man
had disappeared, and in its place was
settled despair that Torpenhow knew
and blind passion that Dick confided
to his pillows at night. The intervals
between paroxysms were filled with
intolerable wailing and the weight of
intolerable darkness.
“Come out into the park,” said Tor
penhow. “You haven’t stirred out since
the beginning of things.”
“What’s the use? There’s no move
ment in the dark, and besides”—he
paused irresolutely at the head of the
stairs —“something will run over me.”
“Not if I’m with you. Proceed gin
gerly.”
The roar of the streets filled Dick
with nervous terror, and he clung to
Torpenhow’s arm. “Fancy having to
feel for a gutter with your foot!” he
said petulantly as he turned into the
park. “Let's curse God and die.”
“Sentries are forbidden to pay un
authorized compliments. By Jove,
there are the guards!”
Dick’s figure straightened. “Let’s get
near ’em. Let’s go in and look. Let’s
get on the grass and run. 1 can smell
the trees.”
“Mind the low railing. That’s all
right.” Torpenhow kicked out a tuft
of grass with his heel. “Smell that,”
he said. “Isn’t it good?” Dick snuffed
luxuriously. “Now pick up your feet
and run.” They approached as near
to the regiment as was possible. The
clank of bayonets being unfixed made
Dick’s nostrils quiver.
“Let’s get nearer. They’re in, col
umn. aren’t they?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Felt it. Oh. my men! My beauti
ful men!” lie edged forward as
though he could see. “I could draw
those chaps once. Who'll draw ’em
now ?”
“They’ll move off in a minute. Don’t
jump when the band begins.”
“Huh! I'm not anew charger. It’s
the silences that hurt. Nearer, Torp!
Nearer! Oh, my God, what wouldn’t
I give to see ’em for a minute—one
half minute!”
He could hear the armed life almost
within reach of him, could hear the
slings tighten across the bandsman’s
chest as he heaved the big drum from
the ground. v
“Sticks crossed above his head,”
whispered Torpenhow.
’T know! I know! Who should know
if 1 don’t? H’sh!”
The drumsticks fell with a boom, and
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the men swung forward to the crash of
the band. Dick felt the wind of the
massed movement in his face, heard
the maddening tramp of feet and the
friction of the pouches on the belts.
The big drum pounded out the tune. It
was a music hall refrain that made a
perfect quickstep:
He must be a man of decent height,
He must be a man of weight,
He must come home on a Saturday night
In a thoroughly sober state.
He must know how to love me,
And he must know how to kiss,
And If he’s enough to keep us both
I can't refuse him bliss.
“What’s the matter?” said Torpenhow
as he saw Dick’s head fall when the
last of the regiment had departed.
“Nothing. I feel a little bit out of the
running, that’s all. Torp, take me back.
Why did you bring me out?”
r .
[to be continued.l
v. b McGinnis'
Resolutions of Stliesboro Lodge
No. 260. F. & A. M.
It becomes our painful duty to
announce the resolutions of this
lodge on the death of our brother
aud friend V. B. McGinnis, who
died October 17, 1903.
In his death we, as a fiaternity,
feel a personal bereavement and we
who knew him long and well know
enough to know the manliness of
his character and the s.necrity of
his friendship. It is for us a sad,
yet gratexul service; sad to know
him here no more forever, gratelul
for the sweet associations and
memories of his life. But he leaves
a heritage of honor to his family
and a shining work well worth the
emulation of all men. We could
not forebear this tribute before
offering these resolutions,
First. That we feel his loss and
honor his memory.
Second. That we tender his
children our deepest sympathy.
Third. That these resolutions be
published in the News and Courant,
put on our minuses and a copy be
furnished the families.
P. M, Rhodes,
J. M. Dorsey,
W. A. Dodd,
Comm ittee.
“The blood is the life.” Science
has never gone beyond that simple
statement of Scripture. But it has
illuminated that statement and giv
en it a meanitig ever broadening
with the increasing breadth of
knowledge. When the blood is
“bad” or impure it is not alone the
body which suffers through dis
ease. The b r ain is also clouded,
the mind and judgment are affected,
and many an evil deed or impure
thought may be directly traced to
the impurity of the blood,. No
one be well balanced in mind and
body whose blood is impure. No
one can hav a wholesome and phre
life unless the blood is pure. Foul
blood can be made pure by the use
of Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical
Discovery. When the blood is
pure, body and brain are alike
healthy aud life becomes a daily
happiuess.
bree, Dr. Pierce’s Common
Sense Medical Adviser, 1008 pages,
700 illustrations, is sent free on
receipt of stan ps to defray expense
of mailing only. Send 21 one
cent stamps for paper coveis, or 31
stanps for cloth* to Dr. R. V.
bierce, 663 Main street, Buffalo,
N. Y.
F, rjtif;, -Its and Chi If 1
fhe K nd You Have
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Bears the / .
Signature
w
ft Jfv In
Use
{}• For Over
Thirty Years
GASTORIA
THE CENTAUR COMPANY. NEW YORK CITY.
JUNGLE_VMCTIMS.
Thousands Slain Last Year in India
by Deasta and Snakes.
London Leader.
The resolution of the government
of India on the subject notices that
in 1901 more human beings were
killed by wild animals than in any
year since 1875. except one, and
reached a total of 3,651, while last
year it was 2,836, and the number
ot deaths from snake bite was 23 -
160.
Tigers killed 1,046 persons, of
whom 544 perished in Bengal, 65
being in a single district. This
was due to the depredations of a
man eater, for the destruction of
which a special reward was ofiFered
without avail. In another district,
where 43 persons were killed, most
of them fell victims also to a man
eater.
Wolves slew 377 persons last
year, of whom 204 were killed in
the United Provinces. A campaign
was undertaken against these
animals in Rohilkhand and the
Allahabad diyision, and they have
been almost exterminated in Cawn
pore district, where they used to
abound.
Eleven thousand one hundred
and thirty deaths took place in
Bengal alone from snake bite, 3,258
of these being in the Patna division
while s,iio deaths took place in
the United Provinces. 80,796 cat
tle (an increase on the previous
year) were killed by wild animals
last year, and 9,919 by snakes.
Tigers killed 30,555 of these, leop
ards 38,2 r 1 and wolves and hyenas
most of the remainder.
On the other hand, rewards were
paid last year fer the destruction of
U 3 31 tigers, 4,413 hopards, 1,858
bears, 2,373 wolves and 706 hyenas,
while the number of snakes killed
for reward was 72,595. For the
destruction of w'ild animals a sum
of 96,952 rupees was paid, and
3,529 rupees for that of snakes.
In addition licenses are issued
free of cost under the arms act for
the destruction of wild animals, and
the protection of crops, and these
numbered 37,923 last year.
No account is taken of the
number predatory animals killed
by sportsmen and others who did
not claim the legal rewards.
A Remarkable Case.
One of the most remarkable cases
of a cold, deep-seated on the lung 9 '
causing pneumonia, is that of Mrs.
Gertrude E.. Fenner, Marion, lnd..
who was entire.y cured by the me 0
One Minute Cough Cure She sa>s
“The coughing and straining so vea '
ened me that I ran down in we'g n
from 148 to 92 pounds. 1 tried a nun*
her of remedies to no avail min
used One Minute Cough Cure, r°'
bottles of this wonderful renie v
cured me entirely of the eoug >
strengthened my lungs and restor
me to my former weight, health a
strength.” Sold by M. F. Word.
Nov.
U T'
One fare plus ?2 00 lor the round trip
to p intsin Arkansas, Indian If C
Oklahoma, Texas aud New Mexico v£
U. ck Island System. rickets on s
the fust and third Tuesdays ol ca -
ul. ,th. Let S. L. Parrott, T. P-A.. A
lama. Ua., tell you about it. Not