Read 
 
In the Alamo 
 

 
 
In the Alamo 
 
 BY OPIE READ 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 AN ARKANSAS PLANTER," "JUDGE ELBRIDGE, 
 WATERS OF CANEY FORK," "YANKEE FROM 
 THE WEST," " BOLANYO," ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: 
 RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY, 
 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
Copyright, 1900, by Rand, McNally & Co. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CANDIDATE. 
 
 I was born in Tennessee, and at the age of 
 sixteen was taken by my parents to Texas. 
 I was bred to the law and before my parents 
 passed away I gave them evidence, let me 
 hope, that I should succeed in a calling 
 which had been selected for me by my father s 
 ambition and my mother s pride. It is well 
 known within the state, and may not be 
 wholly forgotten in Washington, that I served 
 two terms in Congress, where I talked for free 
 trade and stood, as firmly as possible, upon 
 the slippery ground of state s rights. And I 
 believe, having had many positive assurances, 
 that I could have won my way to a third term, 
 but the lower house did not satisfy my ambi 
 tion. I had learned more than one trick of 
 the statesman s trade and believed that I might 
 
 M528462 
 
2 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 wear the laurels of a senator. Being a politi 
 cian, I might become a statesman; and it is 
 almost essential for a man to be the former 
 in order ever to become even a semblance of 
 the latter. Not every politician believes him 
 self a statesman, but nearly every politician 
 believes that the public is unable to distinguish 
 the difference between politics and statesman 
 ship. 
 
 Among the tricks which I learned was to 
 bow to pride and to pat vanity upon the back ; 
 and I discovered that nearly every man who 
 takes an interest in politics believes that he 
 can successfully manage a campaign. Politi 
 cians have made themselves familiar, and 
 therefore their "wisdom" is looked upon by 
 the ignorant and the fawning with a certain 
 degree of contempt. But we all of us know 
 that without the experience of politics it would 
 be almost impossible for a man to be a prac 
 tical statesman. 
 
 There was one fact which arose in recollec 
 tion to condemn my aspirations; my mistakes 
 had all of them been small, when history 
 
THE CANDIDATE. 3 
 
 teaches that deep men make grave mistakes. 
 However, this was but a far-fetched condem 
 nation, for of course I believed myself com 
 petent to face the senate, to stand, at least, in 
 the presence of the average senator. In the 
 house there is more or less of rawness, and in 
 the senate, a noticeable degree of pretentious 
 dullness. In rawness there may be promise, 
 but dullness that pretends to be deep because 
 it is slow and ponderous, is absolutely hope 
 less. Thus much have I said in excuse for my 
 candidacy. 
 
 My announcement appeared on the twen 
 tieth of February. The choice was to be made 
 by the legislature in the winter, nearly a year 
 later. I desired to be the first in the field, and 
 I was forestalling Campwell by three days 
 and Apperson by nearly a week. Of course 
 these gentlemen had a right to grasp at the 
 office. As a general thing, ambition in Amer 
 ican public life proves to be harmless. It is 
 not for me to say whether either of these gen 
 tlemen was fitted for the place. But I know 
 that I would not, as Campwell did in his card, 
 
4 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 declare that I was not only worthy but en 
 titled to the honor. And then he proceeded 
 to define his position on the tariff question, 
 as if every one did not know beforehand. Why 
 will over-weening man mount the moss-grown 
 platform of accepted fact and attempt to 
 thunder? Is any man so devoid of humor as 
 not to know that some truths are so well 
 known to all that we laugh at a man for utter 
 ing them? But that was Campwell s affair. 
 It was not my duty to advise him. 
 
 Apperson was a different sort of a man; 
 shrewd to a fox-like degree, taciturn at times ; 
 and again as talkative as a horse-trader a 
 hypocrite always. I am not intending this 
 for the closet; it is for the public eye, at some 
 time in the future, and I shall strive hard to 
 tell the truth, just as I feel it. 
 
 The first newspaper that took editorial 
 notice of my out-coming was a fairly repre 
 sentative sheet, published near the central part 
 of the state, and this is what it said: 
 
 "Ex-Congressman Lucian Howardson has 
 come out as a candidate for the United States 
 
THE CANDIDATE. 5 
 
 senate, which, however, does not prove that 
 he will be elected. He is a man of ability and 
 a fine politician, impressive in manner, tall and 
 of good size and about thirty-six years of age, 
 with a clean face, broad, closely-shutting 
 mouth and a deep, engaging voice. He has 
 evidently made a close study of our rural 
 friend, particularly of the old-timer, whom 
 he endeavors to please. He speaks of a tavern 
 instead of a hotel, and he always says my 
 countrymen instead of fellow-citizens. The 
 chances are that he will make a strong race, 
 being a tireless worker, but he will find old 
 H. M. Apperson a difficult proposition to over 
 come." 
 
 And this was the first newspaper recogni 
 tion of the fact that I was a candidate for the 
 senate. But why should it sneer at my way 
 of speaking of an inn or a gathering of voters ? 
 Had those little things any bearing upon my 
 fitness for the place? And why should the 
 editor go out of his way to declare that I had 
 a "difficult proposition" in old H.M. Apperson? 
 These are merely trifling inquiries, but they 
 
6 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 show my state of mind at the beginning of my 
 candidacy. 
 
 I had just put the paper aside when my 
 friend Sam Hall came into the office, where 
 I stood upon the hearth, back to the fire. 
 
 "Well, Lucian, they ve begun to shoot." 
 
 "Yes, with blank cartridges." 
 
 "Don t know as to that," said Sam Hall. 
 He was a blunt fellow, a true but not always 
 an encouraging friend. "I don t know," he 
 repeated, "but I thought I heard a bullet whiz 
 right there." He pointed to the paper which 
 I had thrown upon the table. 
 
 "What, in his reference to old Apperson?" 
 I asked. 
 
 He stood on the hearth beside me, and out of 
 the corner of my eye I saw him shaking his 
 head. "No, in reference to what was said 
 about tavern and my countrymen. It will 
 set fools to watching you, and nearly every 
 thing you say, no matter how straight from 
 the heart, will be credited to demagogy. Is 
 your heart much set on the thing, Lucian?" 
 
THE CANDIDATE. 7 
 
 He put his hand on my shoulder, and our eyes 
 met in a sharp, sidewise glance. 
 
 "Yes, it is the ambition of my my soul, 
 you might say. Defeat won t kill me, Sam, 
 but I ll pledge you my word that I would 
 rather die than to be beaten." 
 
 "You think so," he said, and then we stood 
 in a silence, as to words, but acutely conscious, 
 at least I was and he seemed to be, of the 
 wind whining at the casement and the drowsy 
 muttering of the fire. He removed his hand 
 from my shoulder and I started, so magnet 
 ized had we been, standing there together ; and 
 I looked at him as he turned to draw up a 
 chair. A cold wind, a "norther," was sweep 
 ing over the community and the whole town 
 was shivering. He sat down, thrust forth his 
 feet to the fire, crossed them and after a time 
 repeated : "You think so !" 
 
 "I feel it and to feel is to know, Sam. You 
 may argue against a conviction, but not 
 against a feeling." 
 
 "But sometimes we think we feel when we 
 don t," he said, gazing steadily into the fire. 
 
8 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "The mind may set itself upon many a thing 
 and recover from many a disappointment, but 
 
 the heart " A chunk fell, his gaze was 
 
 broken; but his fancy had received only a 
 momentary shock, for almost without a pause 
 he continued : "The mind asks for its ambi 
 tion ; the heart begs for its life. Wait till the 
 woman comes, Lucian." 
 
 "She did come/ I quickly replied. "I am 
 rather astonished that you should have made 
 that remark. Don t you remember Viola 
 Morgan ?" 
 
 "Very well married Joe Maghee. Her 
 hair was like shredded copper and " 
 
 You needn t paint her." 
 
 "I wanted to show you that I remembered 
 her." 
 
 "Well, don t you think my heart begged her 
 for its life?" 
 
 He shook his head. "Not as mine begged, 
 Lucian. The day after you knew that she was 
 forever lost to you, you were here in your 
 office, drawing indictments as prosecuting at 
 torney; and no one would ever have known 
 
THE CANDIDATE. 9 
 
 the difference, while I I gave up my practice, 
 went away, wandered up and down the earth, 
 a vagabond, with a dead heart. And it is 
 dead yet, for never since then have I taken any 
 real interest in life. You don t believe that a 
 woman could have that much influence upon 
 you?" 
 
 "No, I don t. I love the romantic, and 
 poetry, the beautiful science of words, but I 
 am rather a modern product. And I must go 
 out now and fight in the modern field of pol 
 itics " 
 
 "In taverns with my countrymen." 
 
 "Well, that may not be so modern, but " 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "To San Antonio." 
 
 "Well, take care of yourself. No telling 
 what you may bump up against before you get 
 through with this political knight errantry. 
 You ll have to fight many a windmill." 
 
 "Yes, on the plain and even in the legisla 
 ture." 
 
 "By the way, before you go. You remem 
 ber that big Mexican, Loro Dalia, don t you, 
 
io IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 the one you sent to the penitentiary for five 
 years? Well, he s out and is slouching about 
 with a hang-dog air, and you d better look 
 out for him. Well/ he added, getting up and 
 giving me his hand, "take care of yourself. I 
 haven t much faith in the outcome of your 
 present undertaking, but my heart my dead 
 heart wishes you success." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 . THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 
 
 San Antonio. Nowhere on the continent 
 of America is there a city so full of a peculiar 
 interest, so quaintly attractive. On the one 
 hand a relic of the early determination of the 
 Church to Romanize the Indian, on the other 
 the phonograph whining the ephemeral "coon" 
 song of today. Here an adobe house, with leg 
 end and dark-hued romance clinging to the 
 eaves; there a modish club wherein stricken 
 millionaires, lungless but full of hope, win one 
 another s money. Winding through the city 
 is a river, with many bridges, and a creek, a 
 Styx, flowing blue between Mexican past and 
 Texas future. The Mexican side is the setting 
 for an opera intended to be serious, but hu 
 morous in excess of gravity. At night on the 
 plaza, in the blurred light of a lantern which, 
 
12 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 from a distance, looks like, a magnified firefly, 
 sits the Chili queen, with persuading eye and 
 voice melodious, making music with the 
 mention of her merchandise; and near 
 her sits her lord, master, tyrant, rolling 
 his cigarette. From the diminutive houses, 
 flush with the sidewalks, comes the tinkle 
 of -Spanish love rhythm; and naturally 
 one would expect the entire plaza to break 
 out in preconcerted chorus; but out there, 
 though they seem to have dressed for it, they 
 are not waiting for the festivities commemo 
 rative of the birth of the Duke s daughter. 
 Oveta s eyes may look opera, and in her soft 
 and enticing tones there may be a sweetness 
 too delicate to be entrapped and put down in the 
 prompter s book, but she wants to exchange 
 meat, meal and corn husk for money. 
 
 The sunlight brings the broadening charm 
 of completer revelation, houses after the style 
 of some Spanish picture book; a plaza, not 
 marked off by the calculating surveyor but 
 shaped by grace-loving chance and here a 
 mission nearly two centuries old an altar 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 13 
 
 where the wild man sniffed a strange scent and 
 for the first time heard of a woman s son who 
 gave his life for him. But what is this, so old 
 in the new shadow thrown by progress? It is 
 the Alamo, frowning as if in all these years 
 its war-ruffled countenance had not been 
 smoothed. The leisure life, gathered from 
 many cities in the east, sojourns about it, for 
 its door-yard, another piece of chance grace, 
 is one of the most charming gardens in the 
 land ; and nearby commerce has reared her man 
 sions. But for him who loves his country there 
 is no science-tended garden, no handsome 
 structures but only the rough walls of the old 
 church, the grandest cradle that ever rocked 
 American valor to the full maturity of im 
 mortal glory. And who of us can muse upon 
 it without pride and emotion ? Fewer than two 
 hundred men fighting an army Travis, Bowie 
 and old David Crockett, whose Tennessee hu 
 mor enlivened the dull hum of Congress. And 
 how grim that humor was to Santa Anna J* Ap 
 peals for assistance had been sent out; a small 
 band of heroes had responded, but for the most 
 
14 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 part the messengers had been slaughtered, and 
 now all was hopeless. No, there was a hope. 
 Let Colonel Travis tell what it was: "Our 
 fate is sealed. Within a few hours we must 
 be in eternity. . . In the honest and sim 
 ple confidence of heart I have trans 
 mitted your promises of help and my con 
 fident hope of success. But the promised help 
 has not come and our hopes are not to be 
 realized. . . Our friends were evidently not 
 informed of our perilous position in time to 
 save us. . . Then we must die. . . Our 
 business is not to make a fruitless effort 
 to save our lives, but to choose the manner of 
 our death. But three modes are presented to 
 us; let us choose that by which we may best 
 serve our country. Shall we surrender and be 
 shot without taking the life of a single enemy? 
 Shall we try to cut our way through the Mexi 
 can ranks and be butchered before we can kill 
 more than twenty of our adversaries ? I am op 
 posed to either method. . . Let us resolve 
 to withstand our enemies to the last, and each to 
 kill as many of them as possible. And when at 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 15 
 
 last they shall storm our fortress, let us kill 
 them as they come! Kill them as they scale 
 our walls ! Kill them as they leap within ! Kill 
 them as they raise their weapons to use them ! 
 Kill them as they kill our companions! And 
 continue to kill them as long as any of us re 
 main alive."* So the man had a hope, not that 
 he might escape death, but that in dying he 
 might kill as many as possible of his enemies. 
 The bloodiest death was the one to be chosen. 
 This was the truest of patriotism, for to kill 
 was to serve country. But in this he did not 
 enforce his authority as commander. He would 
 leave it to individual decision, and drawing a 
 line upon the ground with his sword, he told his 
 men that he was going to stay in the fort even 
 if he had to stay alone, that each man might 
 do as he choose, but that those who should so 
 elect within themselves to remain with him 
 that such men would please step across the 
 sword-drawn line. And a man named Tapley 
 Holland leaped the line and cried out that he 
 
 *"Origin and Fall of the Alamo," by Col. John S. Ford. 
 
16 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 was willing to die for his country. Then every 
 man in the line stepped forward no, all but 
 one, a man named Rose ; all the sick who could 
 walk or crawl passed over, and Jim Bowie, 
 down with fever, cried out: "Boys, I am not 
 able to come to you, but I wish some of you 
 would be so kind as to move my cot over there." 
 Four companions sprang to his cot and bore it 
 over the line, the equator of courage; and at 
 last every man had crossed save Rose, who 
 stood back deeply affected, but without the ex 
 alted courage to take his place in the death- 
 squad of heroism. But no one reproached him. 
 Virtue may be acquired, and pride and reason 
 sometimes gather courage, but bravery must 
 have been born with the blood. In kindly tones 
 Bowie spoke to Rose, who replied : "I am not 
 prepared to die, and shall not do so if I can 
 avoid it." And then old Crockett spoke, with 
 drollery in his voice and his eyes whimsically 
 winking, we may well imagine : "Might as well 
 conclude to die with us, old man;" just as in 
 his Tennessee home he would have said to a 
 neighbor : "Don t be snatched, old man stay 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR, 17 
 
 and eat a bite with me." Rose climbed the wall 
 and escaped, and while we must deplore his 
 weakness yet we are indebted to him for a part 
 of the story of the Alamo. 
 
 The last assault began at daylight and ended 
 at nine o clock. Then a stillness fell, so pro 
 found that the drip, drip of heroic blood could 
 be heard. Sergeant Becerra, a Mexican, 
 gave this account of the scene : "It was a fear 
 ful sight. Our lifeless soldiers covered the 
 ground surrounding the Alamo. They were 
 heaped inside the fortress. Blood and brains 
 covered the earth and the floor and had spat 
 tered the walls. The ghastly faces of our com 
 rades met our gaze and we removed them with 
 desperate hearts. Our loss in front of the Al 
 amo was represented as two thousand killed 
 and more than three hundred wounded. The 
 killed were generally struck on the head. The 
 wounds were in the neck or shoulder, seldom 
 below that. The firing of the besieged was 
 fearfully precise. When a Texas rifle was 
 leveled on a Mexican he was considered as 
 
 good as dead. All this indicated the dauntless 
 2 
 
18 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 bravery and the cool self-possession of the men 
 who were engaged in the hopeless conflict with 
 an enemy numbering more than twenty to one. 
 They inflicted on us a loss ten times greater 
 than they sustained. The victory of the Alamo 
 was dearly bought. Indeed, the price in the end 
 was well-nigh the ruin of Mexico." 
 
 Two thousand killed ! Well had the heroes 
 hope been realized. And what a shrine was 
 there consecrated to American valor! The 
 glory of bravery ought to belong to brave men 
 everywhere, but how strangely ignorant the 
 world is of this battle! And even in the edu 
 cation of the American youth, deserving stress 
 is not put upon it. He is taught to revere the 
 pilgrim fathers, whose bravery was largely fan 
 aticism and whose piety reached out to tie a 
 rope about the Quaker s neck. The fathers 
 of Texas were not sustained with the intolerant 
 fever of the ultra religionists. Their achieve 
 ments were cool and deliberate the result of 
 pure nerve. 
 
 My room in the tavern looked out upon the 
 Alamo, and early, the first morning after my 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 19 
 
 arrival, I sat gazing upon it, with the scenes 
 of the fight aglow in my mind, when a card was 
 brought up. It bore the name of John Quailes, 
 reporter, secretary of numerous societies and 
 general promoter of things necessary. And 
 when he came in I could have sworn that he 
 was rehearsing for a "cake walk." Of about 
 the medium height, thirty, smooth of face, not 
 wanting in color, frocked in a coat noticeably 
 long, with low-cut waistcoat and long tie tucked 
 into the opening of his shirt these marks, 
 bearing and dress, surely fulfilled their mission, 
 that of demanding attention. I could not sup 
 press a smile, and quickly perceiving both the 
 smile and my effort, he spoke pleasantly with 
 his hand thrust forth : "That s all right. Laugh 
 if you want to no offense." I shook hands 
 with him. He placed his hat on the table, took 
 off his remaining glove (the first one having 
 been removed as he was doing his cake walk 
 toward me), put it and mate into the hat, sat 
 down, leaned forward, put his hand on my arm 
 and said : 
 
20 I(N THE ALAMO. 
 
 "You re all right. Tote fair with me and I ll 
 tote fair with you. You can be of use to me. 
 As you may know, or if you don t you may 
 soon find out, I am the best newspaper man in 
 the State. I don t say this to blow about my 
 self but as a matter for your own information 
 and guidance. And whenever you have any 
 thing that s worth printing, give it to me. Don t 
 run the risk of letting any one spoil it. See? 
 I am the Secretary of the State Central Com 
 mittee and I shall continue to be as long as 
 they want an efficient man. How s your out 
 look?" 
 
 "Very good, I think." 
 
 "Don t talk like that it s too modest. In the 
 bustling affairs of this life modesty means de 
 feat. What you want is assurance. Then 
 comes confidence and enthusiastic work. I ve 
 looked over the field and I have decided that 
 I ll give my allegiance to you. This is not a 
 contest to return an old incumbent, he having 
 retired from public life, but the selection of 
 a new man, and as that man you strike me 
 about right. At the proper time, and I ll be on 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 21 
 
 the spot, I may spring something on our op 
 ponents something like an indiscreet letter. 
 They all write them sooner or later, and when 
 you lay for your opponent s letters, you are 
 doing yourself a great service. And this leads 
 me to the fact that I want you to write a letter 
 for me not one, however, that will in the least 
 compromise you. Will you listen to a very 
 brief affair?" 
 
 I told him that I would, and with a long 
 breath of satisfaction he leaned back in his 
 chair, was silent for a few moments, and then 
 began : 
 
 "I fell deeply in love with her and I said 
 to myself that if I didn t win her my life 
 wouldn t be worth a penny ; that my richly de 
 veloping mind would cease to pulsate. The 
 girl was willing enough, I discovered after an 
 association of two weeks, during which our 
 relationship consisted of glimpses, sighs and a 
 hastily spoken word, now and then, so keenly 
 alert was the mother oh, but the mother ! She 
 was opposed and we found ourselves against a 
 snag, for the girl is frightened to death at the 
 
22 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 idea of marrying without her mother s consent. 
 Senator, have you gathered a good idea of the 
 situation?" 
 
 "Yes, but I don t see how I can be of any use 
 to you." 
 
 "Possibly not, but I do. I will write the 
 girl s mother this sort of a letter. Now listen. 
 My Dear Madam : As you know, Lucian 
 Howardson is soon to be elected United States 
 Senator from this State. He is an able, moral 
 and therefore highly influential man, and it 
 is with pleasure that I herewith enclose a let 
 ter which lie has been kind enough to write 
 concerning my character and general fitness 
 as a husband for the most charming young 
 woman alive your daughter. Now, all I ask 
 of you, Senator, is that you write that letter. 
 What do you say?" 
 
 I knew what to say but I did not say it. I 
 ought flatly to have said no, but I didn t. How 
 strongly was I now governed by the diplomacy 
 of politics ! 
 
 "Most any time will do, I suppose," I re- 
 
THE CRADLE OF VALOR. 23 
 
 plied, trying to gird up my resolution to deny 
 him the absurd favor. 
 
 "Well, no, I want to send it off today." He 
 arose and,, standing in front of me, began to 
 meter his talk with motions of his forefinger. 
 "Now, you are not running the slightest bit of 
 risk. Either of the other candidates would do 
 it in a moment and thank me most gratefully 
 for the opportunity. But I want you because 
 you are going to be elected; and the letter 
 would be a good thing to show in after years. 
 I ll ring for writing material no, there s some 
 on the table." 
 
 He was so confident, so enthusiastic, and 
 withal so free in the expression of his prefer 
 ence for me that I had not the heart to douche 
 him with cold water. I wrote the letter to the 
 dear old lady, not mincingly, but with a full 
 ness of statement that caused him tightly to 
 grip my hand and sigh from the depth of his 
 gratitude. 
 
 "You have a fine view of the old Alamo," 
 he said, folding his "character" and putting 
 
24 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 it into his pocket. "You have been in it many 
 a time, I reckon?" 
 
 "No, not many a time, only once, but I am 
 going again. I am a stranger in this city, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes. In our marvelous State two congres 
 sional districts may be a thousand miles apart, 
 but the Senator s mantle must spread over the 
 entire country. But, Lucian, you are going to 
 get there. Of course you are going to make a 
 speech here and I want it as soon as you can 
 give it to me and by the way, come right over 
 to the Alamo and dictate something." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MEETING IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 It was still early and there were not many 
 persons in the lobby of the hotel, but Quailes 
 pulled me by the sleeve from time to time as 
 we were passing through, to introduce a noted 
 cattle man, a wool raiser, a young fellow who 
 had caught the largest tarpon ever seen on the 
 Texas coast, and a boy, the noted bootblack of 
 the city. And he found as much pleasure in the 
 ceremony as if he were leading forward high 
 potentates of the land, and I did not think the 
 less of him for it. 
 
 Oh, I run with the best of them," said he. 
 "To catch me a man must have done something 
 or have an ambition that promises something. 
 I don t recognize inherited greatness. See that 
 fellow? Best hackman in the State. And he 
 
26 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 might be of use to us. Oh, say, Jim, come 
 here." 
 
 When I had shaken hands with the hackman, 
 who said, "bet your life" in response to Quailes 
 declaration that I should be elected, we went 
 straightway to the Alamo. The sun was pour 
 ing upon it, and about its sullen eaves birds, 
 moved to music, were sweetly twittering. I 
 halted at the portal to gaze upon the carving, 
 the work of a graceful chisel. Two ladies 
 passed through the doorway. One had just 
 crossed the line of middle life, the other a model 
 of grace ; but I do not think that I should have 
 paid to them the contribution of even a passing 
 attention had not the young woman sprung out 
 as if unconsciously to challenge comparison 
 with the work of the artist. They turned into 
 the first room oh the right and Quailes followed 
 them. I walked down the main room, where 
 the ground had once been red with as brave 
 blood as ever enriched the earth, and had halted 
 to look at a niche in the wall where the monk 
 was wont to put his midnight lamp, when 
 Quailes came hastily to me and said that the 
 
A MEETING IN THE ALAMO. 27 
 
 two ladies desired an introduction to me. I had 
 no time to hang back; he seized my arm and 
 conducted me to Bowie s room wherein he lay 
 with fever and wherein his cot had been brought 
 across the line which the commander had traced 
 with his sword. And then I was presented to 
 Mrs. Acklin, and her daughter Zaleme. We 
 shook hands, after the warm-hearted manner 
 of Texas, and though there was no especial 
 restraint, yet it did not seem to me that they 
 had importuned Quailes for the introduction. 
 The mother was a woman in whose quiet man 
 ner there might be much authority. She was 
 slightly gray, very soft of voice, a presence to 
 suggest the word "mother." Her expression 
 was a sort of calm sadness which comes with 
 long contemplation of religion not a sad 
 ness, perhaps, but a semi-holiness. It was some 
 moments before I suffered my eyes to fill them 
 selves with the young woman. As I look 
 back now I know that I was struck with a sud 
 den trepidation, as if I were about to look upon 
 a fascinating trouble. But I filled my eyes with 
 her. How black was her hair, and her eyes 
 
28 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 might have come from Egypt. Her complexion 
 was rich rather than fair, and her lips looked 
 as if they had been stained with the juice 
 of the old mission grape. I know that 
 this is more of rhapsody than description, but 
 who can describe a delight? I can say that 
 she was tall, yes, and gracefully moving off in 
 one direction when you had expected her to 
 move in another that in nearly everything she 
 was forestalling and a surprise, and if not meet 
 ing expectation in one thing surpassing it in all 
 things. Sometimes her smile was slow, and 
 sometimes it was like a flash of lightning; and 
 at one moment I thought that I had known her 
 always, and then that I never had and never 
 could know her. And with strange perversity 
 she reminded me of numerous women whom I 
 had almost loved, and sent my mind back in a 
 harrassing and fruitless search to find them. 
 Her but I am rhapsodizing again. 
 
 "Bowie died in this room," said I, and 
 Quailes cried out, "You bet he did;" and I 
 looked at this wondrous creature, expecting 
 that she must have fainted. But she had not ; 
 
A MEETING IN THE ALAMO. 29 
 
 she was smiling. "He is what my father would 
 call a case," she said. "And he is so amusing, 
 almost shockingly entertaining. Yes, here is 
 where Bowie died, and out there," she added, 
 waving her hand, "is where old Crockett was 
 found, surrounded by his enemies." 
 
 "I am proud of him," I said. 
 
 "You are?" she spoke up. 
 
 "Yes, I am a Tennesseean." 
 
 "Oh ! And blood from my State was spilled 
 here. I am from Kentucky." 
 
 "And in this corner," said I, "may have 
 been held a weird religious ceremony, just be 
 fore the final slaughter, for some of those he 
 roes must have been church members, and " 
 I looked at her and silence fell upon my tongue. 
 With hands clasped she was gazing at the cor 
 ner, and her lips were shut so close that they 
 were traced by a waving line, and her breath 
 was deep and slow. I looked toward Quailes. 
 He and Mrs. Acklin were talking over a photo 
 graph which evidently he had just taken from 
 his pocket. I turned again to the young woman. 
 She had not changed her attitude nor the ex- 
 
30 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 pression of her countenance; like the devotee 
 of a mystic religion, suddenly smitten with an 
 inward reproach for not having discharged the 
 duty due from the soul to a higher spirit, she 
 stood, oblivious of the world of me. The 
 mother looked around, with the photograph in 
 her hand as if to speak, but instantly she turned 
 away and in a low tone spoke to Quailes. So 
 she must have seen that attitude, that devotion, 
 before; and respecting it, gave to it her sanc 
 tion. 
 
 Quailes called out something to me, and the 
 young woman moved, walked out into the large 
 room, and I followed her as far as the door, 
 through which I could see her as slowly she 
 walked, meditating, towards the far end of the 
 chapel. Presently she came back, almost com 
 pletely changed, her lips apart and her eyes 
 almost merry. I expected some sort of explana 
 tion, but she offered none, not a word, and then 
 I wondered whether she had been conscious of 
 her devotional reverie. Quailes came forward 
 with the photograph and, handing it to her, said : 
 
 "Now Miss Zaleme, there s a girl a girl 
 
A MEETING IN THE ALAMO. 31 
 
 right, you might say. And your mother, here, 
 says my taste is good." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Acklin, "and if all your 
 selections are to be marked by a similar judg 
 ment you must surely become a reference 
 for " 
 
 "I wonder if you are guying me." 
 
 "Guying?" she repeated her face brighten 
 ing with surprise. 
 
 "Mother doesn t guy," said the daughter, 
 returning the photograph. "Yes, a very good 
 looking girl, I should say." 
 
 "Well, I should say you should." 
 
 "How long have you known her, Mr. 
 Quailes?" 
 
 "Oh, I haven t met her but a few times, but 
 when I meet people I meet em. I am what 
 you might call a quick and effective meeter. 
 I said to her, Young woman, you may not 
 realize it, being young and inexperienced, but 
 fate is standing right here talking to you : she 
 blushed, for she realized the fact, but her 
 mother is one of these fate-fighting women 
 she objected, but it will be all right now, for 
 
32 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 no one can deny the fact that my friend, Lucian 
 Howardson, is going to the Senate, and he has 
 given me a letter that will curl the old lady s 
 hair. I ll read it to you." 
 
 I protested but the ladies mischievously in 
 sisted, and Quailes, declaring that not even the 
 opposition of a Senator should prevail against 
 the wishes of ladies, especially in Texas, read 
 the letter. Mrs. Acklin turned to me : "How 
 generous of you such praise. You must have 
 known Mr. Quailes a long time." 
 
 I stammered, but Quailes blurted out: 
 "Never met him personally until this morning, 
 but of course I knew him by reputation, and 
 was willing to give him my confidence to the 
 extent of suggesting this letter. But say, Lu 
 cian, we ve got a good many men to meet to 
 day and must therefore bid the ladies a reluct 
 ant good morning. Madam," he continued, 
 speaking to Mrs. Acklin, "do not include me 
 when you meditate upon the evil that men do, 
 but remember me as a man always looking 
 higher. Miss Zaleme, still hoping that your 
 stay in our city may be full of pleasant dreams 
 
A MEETING IN THE ALAMO. 33. 
 
 and awakenings none the less joyous, I wish 
 you good morning." 
 
 I looked straight and searchingly into the 
 young woman s eyes as I took her hand upon 
 parting, and she met my gaze as steadily as 
 if she had been a school-fellow. I had not im 
 pressed her as a Quailes might have done she 
 did not seem to feel that fate had taken her 
 hand. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ADVISED WITH ME. 
 
 The politician must cultivate geographical 
 friendships. He must have his coaling sta 
 tions. I had not neglected San Antonio. Sev 
 eral of its prominent citizens had in well-con 
 sidered days been warmed into a preference for 
 me, and I did not think I had taken an advan 
 tage of them. Someone must represent them, 
 and if I had convinced them, even by design, 
 that I was the proper man, then I had shown 
 no lack of sincerity and had no apologies to 
 offer. These reflections led me to the remark 
 that the office seeker, to appear strong and 
 conscientious, must "square" himself with him 
 self. 
 
 In my room a number of friends gathered 
 to advise with me and to assure me of suc 
 cess. Anthony Hotze, fat, red, curly-haired 
 
 34 
 
ADVISED WITH ME. 35 
 
 and oily under a silk hat, was a typical hench 
 man. Years ago he had come from New York 
 in search of lungs and had acquired a stomach, 
 and covering it with a beflowered vest, was 
 proud of himself. To any cause which he 
 might espouse Hotze contributed a certain 
 weakness. But no one could frown upon his al 
 legiance ; he was so interested, so solicitous and 
 so hopeful that it would have been brutal to 
 scout at him. In any gathering, those most con 
 cerned in the success of a cause were stricken 
 with nervous anxiety whenever he began to 
 speak and drew deep sighs when he left off. 
 He possessed much ill-assorted information, a 
 jumble of learning, picked up here and there 
 and unfortunately never forgotten. He would 
 refer to "this Cincinnatus, leaving his ax and 
 coming out to save his country." And within 
 a few moments after coming to me with his 
 "allegiance" he said : "Gentlemen, I want to 
 tell you that to me the outcome is perfectly 
 plain. The boys here will tell you that I have 
 never gone wrong on a prize fight or an elec 
 tion ; and I say Howardson is going to win the 
 
36 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 battle. It is a Mookerheyde, with its result 
 already foretold in the clouds." 
 
 My friend Haney spoke up, "Hotze, being 
 from Manhattan Island, you must necessarily 
 have a smattering of Dutch history, but at 
 Mookerheyde the patriot army was defeated 
 and Louis of Nassau was killed. Justice was 
 crushed, while on this occasion we hope that 
 justice will win." 
 
 "My dear fellow," Hotze replied, in no wise 
 put out, "that is a figure, and you ve got to 
 give a figure plenty of lee room; the minute 
 you begin to cramp it," he added, leaning over 
 and letting his hand fall upon my knee, "you 
 destroy its I might say, force. We want to 
 meet the boys and 
 
 "In this contest," Haney interrupted, "it is 
 not a question of meeting the boys. We are 
 not running for Alderman; we want to go to 
 the Senate." 
 
 "That s all right in its way," Hotze per 
 sisted, "but this thing is mainly to be settled by 
 primaries, and if the boys don t run the pri 
 maries I don t know who does." 
 
ADVISED WITH ME. 37 
 
 "We will make our arrangements for an ad 
 dress to be delivered in the opera house," said 
 Haney to me, "and if you do as well as I have 
 heard you, we will catch the people. We " 
 
 He was interrupted by the coming of a man 
 named Briggs. He came to tell me that while 
 he was an Apperson man and would do any 
 thing to insure his election, yet he wished 
 me well. He had called merely to let me know 
 where he stood. I could have told him that 
 never having heard of him I did not know that 
 he stood at all. But a certain degree of respect 
 is due to frankness, and he aspired to the dis 
 tinction of open enmity. However, he lingered 
 after having announced his mission. He asked 
 numerous questions, as to my views on this 
 and that. 
 
 Haney cleared his throat. "I beg your par 
 don," he said to Briggs, "but for one who has 
 no interest in our affairs, you re taking up a 
 good deal of our time." 
 
 Briggs smiled. "A man who aspires to serve 
 the people in a high position ought to answer 
 the people s questions." 
 
38 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Well," Haney rejoined, "we ll answer our 
 share and let your man Apperson answer the 
 rest." 
 
 Briggs said that he would go, but he did not 
 just at that time ; he came back after reaching 
 the door, reaffirmed his preference for Apper 
 son, but hoped that I would make myself at 
 .home while in the city, even though the city 
 would undoubtedly give its support to another 
 man. And then he took his leave. How easily 
 a candidate is elated or depressed. A word or 
 even a look may haunt him; and while I had 
 no faith in the judgment of Briggs, yet he tied 
 a weight about my neck and I wore it during 
 the remainder of the day ; but it fell off at night, 
 for many a warm hand came to clasp mine, and 
 to me was spoken many a resonant and stirring 
 word of encouragement. During the evening 
 I held a continuous reception in the lobby of 
 the tavern, and I was tired when late at night 
 I went up to my room. I sat down to think over 
 my chances, and I felt that they were good. 
 Suddenly I seemed to hear the name Zaleme 
 I could almost have sworn that it was whis- 
 
ADVISED WITH ME. 39 
 
 pered warm in my ear ; and then I remembered 
 that I had forgotten her, during all the hours 
 of the afternoon and night. But my nerves 
 must have been keyed taut when she twanged 
 them like strings. And upon leaving her I had 
 fancied that I had been deeply wounded by 
 her, for often an impression is but a wound ! 
 Looking back over that brief lapse of time I 
 could not then see her as clearly as afterward 
 she stood in my memory, gazing into the cor 
 ner where brave blood had flowed for country. 
 Was she handsome ? I could not determine, for 
 her face eluded me. I could see her lips and 
 eyes ; and I knew that her complexion was not 
 pale, that she was graceful ; but I could not 
 grasp her in my mind. Once I thought I had, 
 but her lips parted in a white and scarlet smile 
 and she was gone, a shadow graceful in the air. 
 It was past midnight when Quailes came with 
 the proof sheet of an interview with me, more 
 than a column in length ; and I shuddered as I 
 took it, for glancing at it I saw that in its con 
 versational form I was made to speak for my 
 self. But I was soon greatly relieved, for it 
 
40 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 was well expressed and dignified in tone. "Of 
 course the paper won t let me say anything, but 
 I can print what you say," he observed, and 
 then added : "Don t have to choke a political 
 situation to death in order to kill it, you know." 
 
 I had offered a chair but he had not sat 
 down; he stood looking at me, posing as if to 
 begin his "cake walk." "Sit down, I want to 
 talk to you." 
 
 "All right," he said, and sat down. I spoke 
 of Miss Acklin, of her strange reverie in the 
 Alamo. He had not noticed it. Was it, then, 
 a freak of my own fancy? In his opinion she 
 was a young woman of good common sense, 
 and not more than ordinarily good looking. 
 She had a brother, a prominent physician, liv 
 ing in San Antonio, and she and her mother 
 were visiting him. 
 
 "By the way," I remarked, "you said that 
 they wanted to meet me. Had they requested 
 an introduction ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, but the fact is that nearly everybody 
 wants to meet my friends. One of my principal 
 characteristics is to have friends that people 
 
ADVISED WITH ME. 41 
 
 want to meet. Choosing friends ought to be 
 numbered among the sciences and if I were 
 the main guy of a university I would include 
 it in the curriculum. I know the Doctor very 
 well he s under obligations to me. When 
 he cuts off a leg, an arm or even a finger, I 
 publish the fact. Do you want to go out there 
 and call on Miss Zaleme?" 
 
 "Well, I don t know." 
 
 "If you don t know, you do, of course. I ll 
 make the engagement." 
 
 "Wait until after I have appeared at the 
 opera house as the champion of the people." 
 
 "All right; and I ll see that she comes to the 
 speaking. But at present I guess we both need 
 sleep." 
 
 He went away and I sat in the window, look 
 ing out upon the Alamo, frowning in the moon 
 light. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 LIKED THE SPEECH. 
 
 The speech was done and numerous persons 
 were coming forward to shake hands with me, 
 as I stood upon the stage; and my eyes wan 
 dered about in search of a face, for Quailes 
 had come to me and told me that she was there. 
 Women as well as men came to encourage 
 me, and I wondered why she held aloof. 
 Surely she could have no interest in me, and 
 if she had not, why should I care to call upon 
 her at her brother s house? Ah, she came, 
 with her brother, and held out her hand, say 
 ing that she was pleased to meet me again ; and 
 when the brother had assured me that my speech 
 had won his good will, I was elated. But why 
 had I questioned myself concerning her? I 
 found I could talk to her in a matter-of-fact 
 
 manner, with no suggestion of emotional re- 
 42 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. 43 
 
 straint; and looking into her eyes I remem 
 bered her school-fellow frankness in meeting 
 eye with eye. And so, she was now an acquaint 
 ance, to be perhaps a friend. It must be true 
 that after passing the age of thirty-five some 
 men are afraid lest they meet the "right" 
 woman. I remember to have heard a man cry 
 out : "Merciful Lord, and must I marry her?" 
 "Then why, if you are so alarmed," some one 
 spoke out. "I can t help it. Why, confound 
 her, she has poisoned me." The grand passion, 
 to be dreaded by all men and deplored by all 
 women, was upon him. And now, as I stood 
 talking to this woman, I wondered if she could 
 poison me with those eyes. The Doctor was 
 drawn apart from us by a thin-breasted refu 
 gee from the North. 
 
 "Have you been to our shrine since I saw you 
 there? The Alamo." 
 
 "Our shrine! Mine. Oh," she cried, with 
 a decided change of manner, "I understand 
 the blood of Kentucky and Tennessee. Yes, our 
 shrine. No, I have not been there since I saw 
 you. What a fine audience you had," she said, 
 
44 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 looking off toward the front door, where 
 people were still massed. 
 
 "Yes," singularly quick. "I hope I pleased 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I m easily pleased I mean you 
 did." 
 
 I had turned my eyes away. I did not wish 
 to view her in the redness of her embarrass 
 ment. Yes, I let her blush, and when I fancied 
 that she was cooled I looked at her, and upon 
 my honor I could have sworn that she had not 
 blushed at all. 
 
 "How long do you expect to remain in San 
 Antonio?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh, until mother gets tired. As for myself, 
 it makes no difference. But I suppose that 
 within a few weeks we shall go for a short time 
 to Riplar, a little old town off in the timber, 
 they tell me. Perhaps you know where it is." 
 
 "Yes, I live there." 
 
 "Oh, do you? Are you acquainted with 
 Andrew Carson?" 
 
 "Yes; he is one of our stanchest citizens." 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. 45 
 
 "He is mother s brother. I m glad you know 
 him. What sort of a town is it ?" 
 
 "It is built upon a rise of red ground and has 
 the appearance of being old." 
 
 "And I suppose I can walk out into the 
 wooded country. I don t like cities, or even 
 towns. I love the country, and I should be 
 happy never to see another pavement. If I were 
 to tell you of one of the most enjoyable occa 
 sions in my memory you would laugh at me, 
 I m sure. It was while I was in Georgia, a long 
 time ago, wading barefoot in the cotton seed in 
 a cotton pen. Isn t that a glorious thing to re 
 member?" 
 
 "Yes, if it gave you such pleasure. One of 
 my keenest enjoyments is something similar, at 
 least no more notable dropping like a turtle 
 from a log into the river." 
 
 We could talk without emotion, I could ; and 
 she had no thought of restraint. And in those 
 eyes there might be poison for some one, but 
 not for me. Was it my parting talk with old 
 Sam Hall that inspired a sudden mistrust of 
 women ? But we had held such talks on more 
 
46 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 than one occasion, at times when his wounds 
 were agape and bleeding, and I had not been 
 made alert with any sort of fear. 
 
 Together we walked toward the entrance, 
 around by the side passage way, she in front 
 talking pleasantly, looking back at times; and 
 I wondered why I thought of that old liar, Sir 
 John Maundeville, who said that in the countries 
 which he had visited there were women with 
 jewels in their eyes with which they could look 
 and kill. I didn t know how far away the Doc 
 tor lived, and perhaps I might walk home with 
 her; but she had come with the Doctor in his 
 buggy the distance, I learned, was several 
 miles ; and so the fragile hope of a moon-lighted 
 stroll was blown away like the down of the cot- 
 tonwood tree. But something had been accom 
 plished, I thought as I walked across the plaza 
 toward the hotel permission to call upon her 
 the following evening. I was bold enough to 
 analyze the interest which I felt in her; and I 
 knew that it was nothing except a desire to 
 know more of her. I reminded myself of a 
 coin collector and she a strange coin. But there 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. 47 
 
 was no desire for possession. How lightly she 
 had sprung into the buggy, and how she had 
 appeared to dance on the sidewalk, so agile was 
 she upon her feet. Was it a spiritual or physi 
 cal lightness ? And my spirit rose with her as 
 she sprang into the buggy, and in my breast 
 was the thrilling flutter that comes when we 
 swing, described by a boy who said that he 
 liked it because it made him feel glad. In my 
 speech I had achieved success, I felt it; and 
 yet how little was I thrilled. At the hotel a 
 number of voters were waiting to greet me, 
 among them Briggs, my open-faced enemy. 
 "You did very well," he said, giving me a cool 
 shake of the hand. "Yes, sir, I have heard your 
 effort favorably spoken of. You are well 
 calculated to catch the popular fancy, still the 
 statesman 
 
 "Popular fancy is of the masses of the 
 people," I broke in. "And I don t care to be 
 elected unless I am the choice of the people." 
 
 This may have been buncombe of the cheap 
 est order, and perhaps it was, but the bystanders 
 applauded and Briggs withdrew. Shortly 
 
4& IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 afterward I went to my room and wrote thus 
 to old Sam Hall : "You are a man of wisdom 
 and experience, but I don t believe in your the 
 ories. I believe that a man with the proper 
 estimation of himself can entrench and battle 
 ment his heart against any woman in the world. 
 The grand passion may come upon a very 
 young man, but the man who has arrived at the 
 sensible age let us say thirty-five wants com 
 panionship. You can t put off any of your 
 grand passion upon him. Mind you, I don t 
 say that love, even powerful love, does not ex 
 ist. It seems to be necessary in order that art 
 and literature may be carried to the tower in 
 the seventh heaven of exaltation. But it 
 is an insanity, which, as science advances, 
 will be treated as a disease. You remem 
 ber old Andrew Carson, whose money is 
 good but hard to get. He has a sister, who is 
 at present visiting her son here. She is a very 
 pleasant woman, refined, and with that quiet 
 sweet air which we of the South like to believe 
 belongs to our women more than to the women 
 of any other land ; and I am prepared to say 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. ,49 
 
 that it is a fact. She is coming to Riplar and I 
 wish you would call on her. I am getting 
 along first-rate in my campaign work; have 
 shaken a thousand hands and a few prejudices. 
 Tonight I made a speech at the opera house, 
 and every time I repeat it I can count on new 
 friends. I met this Mrs. Acklin in the Alamo, 
 and was introduced by a reporter named John 
 Quailes, a peculiar duck, you would term him ; 
 but he is all right and a good friend to the 
 cause. I wish that you had seen the enthu 
 siasm of the audience tonight, not that you 
 would have had cause to feel proud of your 
 friend, but that you would have received a 
 glimpse of the possibility of his election, for 
 enthusiasm in this cosmopolitan city means 
 much. I forgot to mention that Mrs. Acklin 
 is accompanied by her daughter, a young 
 woman of about twenty-five." 
 
 I had sealed my letter and was gazing at it 
 listlessly when there came a rap at my door. 
 Quailes came in full of enthusiasm, not indeed 
 over my speech, but over the fact that he had 
 made four columns of it. He declared that he 
 
50 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 couldn t possibly "go stale" on such an occa 
 sion, but that when he began to "round up 1 
 his material he surprised himself. And after 
 a time he looked at me and said : "I want to 
 tell you something that perhaps some people 
 don t know. There isn t any accident about 
 me ; I am all design, my talk and dress. Sup 
 pose I were to dress like other men. Who d 
 notice me? Nobody. I would simply belong 
 to the herd. With some men eccentricity is a 
 vanity, but with me it is business. I want peo 
 ple to remember me, and I impress myself on 
 them. And then if they have anything worth 
 printing and I am around they give it to me. 
 I am naturally modest, and I tried modesty for 
 a number of years, but I want to tell you it 
 won t work. You caught the Doctor all right 
 tonight. I sat where I could see the girl and 
 I know she was deeply interested." 
 
 "What girl?" 
 
 "Miss Zaleme, of course. Wasn t she the 
 only girl there so far as you were concerned? 
 I thought you were a married man until you 
 began to take such notice of her." 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. 51 
 
 "Take notice of her ! Why, Quailes, I haven t 
 taken any particular notice of her. I am a man 
 of too much experience to take decided notice 
 on short acquaintance. I haven t taken any 
 vows, but long ago I resolved to remain a 
 bachelor. Once I was on the eve of marrying 
 a woman of striking appearance, and a woman 
 who would be of great advantage to me in this 
 campaign. But she grew tired of waiting, 
 and in the meantime we discovered that instead 
 of lovers we were simply confidential friends." 
 
 "And they are sometimes material for happy 
 marriages," said Quailes. "I don t know that 
 it s a good idea to marry a passion, for that 
 sort of thing can t last." He put back his arms, 
 yawned and added : "I had a passion once and 
 I tried to kill myself over it; and there never 
 was a more disappointed and disgusted human 
 being than I was when I found that my plan of 
 self-destruction had been thwarted. Yes, sir, 
 I wanted to die. But this girl I have now in 
 spires rest and peace. I want to sit down by 
 her and look away off yonder, holding her 
 hand, and not care whether the cows come 
 
52 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 home or not. There are two sorts of love, you 
 know the whisper love and the roar love 
 and I don t want any more of the latter. But 
 dropping the subject of love for a moment 
 (we can always pick it up again, you know), 
 I want you to take breakfast with me about 
 ten o clock tomorrow morning. Among the 
 many remarkable features about this ancient 
 town is an old German who has cooked for 
 three Mexican Presidents and one Emperor of 
 Mexico. He serves the finest beef steak that 
 man ever tasted has a secret. It doesn t ap 
 pear to make any difference what sort of steak 
 he has; it s in the cooking. He has been of 
 fered a small fortune for his secret, but he won t 
 sell it. He says he d rather leave it to his chil 
 dren than to leave them money. Now, I know 
 it may be out of place to branch off at such 
 length on a beef steak during the anxie 
 ties of a senatorial campaign, but when 
 ever a man can get the best in the 
 world of anything, why, he owes it to 
 himself to get it. Well, I ve made a speech 
 nearly as long as yours, and I won t keep you 
 
LIKED THE SPEECH. 53 
 
 up any longer. By the way, you made an en 
 gagement to go out yonder tomorrow night, 
 didn t you?" 
 
 "Yes, I said I might call. By the way, 
 Quailes, have you any idea what it is about the 
 Alamo that is so sacred to her ? I spoke of it as 
 our shrine, and forgetfully she cried out 
 Mine. And then she said, Oh, yes, the blood 
 of Kentucky and Tennessee. Have you any 
 notion as to what she meant?" 
 
 "No, but I guess I can find out." 
 
 "I wish you would, that is, casually, for of 
 course it is of no particular importance." 
 
 He bade me good-night, giving me a look 
 that I did not exactly like, and went whistling 
 down the hall. And he had tried to kill him 
 self! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WAITING AND IMPATIENT. 
 
 The next morning I was deep in the study of 
 a question that lay close to the interest of the 
 people and which, mastered, must set me high 
 in their esteem, when Quailes came to remind 
 me that I had an engagement to eat a beef steak. 
 I asked him if it were so very important and 
 he answered, "Vital." Questions could be 
 studied at any time, but a steak cooked by that 
 old fellow had to be spoken for in advance, and 
 the arrangements had been made. 
 
 I went with him to a place that looked like a 
 deserted market house. I learned that it had 
 once been a seat of government, having been 
 built by the Spaniards at a time which now is 
 almost ancient. In the center of a broad open 
 space was the gastronomic shrine, and the altar 
 54 
 
WAITING AND IMPATIENT 55 
 
 was an old cook stove. About it, describing a 
 square, was a counter, or rather a breast-high 
 shelf. There was no cloth. There were several 
 stools and they were the only furniture. 
 Quailes introduced me to the old man, who, 
 with his wife, stood in the pen formed by the 
 shelves. He was told that I was to be the next 
 United States Senator from Texas, and he re 
 plied that it made no difference to him, he would 
 give me a good steak. Somewhere within him 
 there must have been a strata of humor. I 
 learned that he bought a certain number of 
 steaks each day, and that when the supply was 
 exhausted he closed up, or rather went away, 
 and that no inducement could draw him back 
 to his place of business. Quailes told me to 
 watch him. He raked coals of fire out into the 
 apron of the stove, remarking that for fuel he 
 used only the mesquite bush, that any other 
 wood spoiled a steak. His wife stood near, 
 watching him as if with reverence. When the 
 fire had been arranged to his notion he took 
 up a piece of beef, put it upon a block, patted it 
 affectionately with the broad side of a cleaver, 
 
56 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 turned it over and patted the other side. Then 
 he placed it upon the gridiron. I asked Quailes 
 if the old fellow s secret lay in the manner of 
 his patting, and he replied : "Now see what 
 he is doing." The old man had taken up a tin 
 can, and with a spoon was pouring a clear 
 liquid on the meat, and the steak, which I had 
 observed was thin, at once arose to astonishing 
 thickness. He stood gazing intently, and at 
 the proper moment turned and treated the other 
 side with the liquid. And when the steak was 
 served I could have cut it with a spoon, and the 
 juice was as the essence of some delicious fruit 
 ripened in an air heavy with sweet odors; and 
 the meat itself was like unto the butter of a 
 prize cow fed upon spicewood leaves and the 
 bloom of the wild honeysuckle. I looked at 
 the old man, and he stood watching me with a 
 smile upon his face. Quailes was busy with 
 what he termed a luscious assignment. "Eat 
 ing is vulgar enough," said he, pausing a mo 
 ment in his exercises, "but since it must be done 
 let us make a poetry of it. This juice would 
 have converted the other thief on the cross. 
 
WAITING AND IMPATIENT. 57 
 
 You may think I m extravagant, but you ought 
 to hear some of these other fellows. And here 
 comes one of them now, the Doctor, by the 
 way." 
 
 I shook hands with Dr. Acklin, giving him 
 a tight grip ; he was slow and precise of speech, 
 weighing his words and seeming to tilt the 
 scales to make them heavy, but I listened to 
 him with great interest. The old man went 
 about the preparation of his steak, which, I 
 learned, had been engaged the day before, and 
 the Doctor, beginning to talk about it, forgot 
 his caution and jerked out the short, quick 
 sentences of enthusiasm. 
 
 "Our old friend here and our marvelous cli 
 mate are in league against consumption," said 
 he. "And a man will never die as long as he 
 can eat one of those steaks," he said, laughing 
 at his joke and the joke of his grandfather. 
 "Ah, here s our friend Hotze." 
 
 The politician grasped me by the hand, 
 squeezed it, looked me in the eye and squeezed 
 again. "It s all right," said he. "Don t you 
 worry, for it s all right." He climbed upon a 
 
58 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 stool, said something to the German and then 
 addressed himself to me. "Some men have a 
 faculty for one thing and some another. My 
 faculty is what? Success in business? No; 
 to tell who will be elected. With me it is a 
 sort of instinct. Didn t I see your double 
 team out today, Doctor?" 
 
 "Yes, my sister and the Rev. Mr. Curry." 
 "Well, sir, you know I thought it was Curry. 
 He s a brilliant preacher, and he s going to 
 make his way here." 
 
 His talk was annoying. I could have 
 knocked him on the head. He might be able 
 by his peculiar intuition to forecast the result 
 of an election, and in his greasy system there 
 might have been the essential oil of honesty, 
 but he was a bore. Several times the Doctor 
 turned to me to say something, but he was fore 
 stalled by Hotze. "But politics are too meager 
 in this part of the country. New York s the 
 only place. Old Andy Jackson said : *I am 
 not a politician, but if I were I would be a New 
 York politician. The old hero said it, but 
 who wanted to hear this fellow repeat it? At 
 
WAITING AND IMPATIENT. 59 
 
 last the Doctor found an opportunity and he ad 
 dressed a remark to me. "If you don t mind," 
 said he, "I would like to call for you tonight 
 and take you out in my buggy." I told him 
 that I should be pleased, which was the truth. 
 And I wish I may be put to the torture if Hotze 
 didn t offer to go with us. 
 
 "You can t lose him," Quailes remarked. 
 
 "Well, I guess not," Hotze replied. "When 
 a fellow begins to let them lose him he s gone. 
 I didn t know, Howardson, but it was some 
 sort of a political conference you were going to 
 hold out there." 
 
 "No, just a social occasion," I replied, not 
 looking at him. 
 
 "If that s the case count me out. I haven t 
 any time for social affairs." 
 
 I shook hands with the Doctor and returned 
 to the hotel. I had eaten in many places not 
 confined to my own country, but never before 
 had I known what a beef steak could be; and 
 this caused me to be all the more provoked at 
 Hotze, with his self-assertiveness. And why 
 
60 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 should he care if the Doctor s double team was 
 out? 
 
 "Quailes, who is the Rev. Mr. Curry?" I 
 asked, as we sat in my room looking out at the 
 Alamo, blazing in the sun. 
 
 "Oh, he is a sort of sky-scraping preacher, 
 newly arrived," he answered, and I fancied 
 that I saw him smile. Was he, too, going to 
 make himself intolerable? 
 
 "A man old enough to be learned in the book 
 of his calling," I suggested. 
 
 "No, he is a young chap, rather fresh from 
 college, I think." 
 
 Haney and a number of other men called and 
 we talked about the bleeding condition of the 
 country the absolute need of a change. An 
 old man came with his little grandson; the 
 youngster had heard me speak and wanted to 
 shake hands with me. He was a freckle-faced 
 chap with an inquiring eye, and the first thing 
 he did was to overturn the inkstand. The old 
 man said, "Oh, tut," and Quailes said some 
 thing that sounded like "Oh, hell." When the 
 little rascal s hands had been washed, for he 
 
WAITING AND IMPATIENT. 61 
 
 had dabbled in the ink, he came up and said : 
 "I want you to tell me a funny story like the 
 one that made gramper laugh." 
 
 The old gentleman spoke up: "Mr. How- 
 ardson doesn t want to tell funny stories to 
 little boys, Hector, but maybe he would like 
 to hear you sing. Won t you sing for him?" 
 
 "And if I sing will you buy me some ice 
 cream?" he cried, his eyes aflame. The old 
 man promised and he howled a rhyme, came 
 within one of overturning the ink again, and 
 in a sort of triumphal march was escorted 
 from the room by the grandfather. 
 
 "You can bet your life I ll never be a candi 
 date," said Quailes. 
 
 "And you haven t heard that I intend to an 
 nounce myself as a candidate to succeed my 
 self," I replied, and the dry countenance of 
 Haney cracked. "Instead of being the people s 
 servant," said he, "our men in high positions 
 are more often their martyrs. Yet," he added, 
 his countenance again cracking, "the most of 
 us are willing to stand the tortures of martyr 
 dom." 
 
62 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Somehow they were all of them dull to me. 
 I wanted no longer to hear compliments nor 
 to receive the guesswork assurances of certain 
 victory. The fact is, I wanted to think. There 
 were many problems which I should study and 
 be quick upon; a man in my position should 
 have been ready to answer every question in 
 which the public was interested, but he could 
 not do it without deep meditation, and he could 
 not meditate unless he were left alone. Quailes 
 went out to chase the dogging shadow of duty, 
 and finally every one was gone save Haney, 
 who, I believed, remained to show me that he 
 could crack his countenance again, and in the 
 hope that the doing of the trick would set the 
 limit of his stay, I sought by various means to 
 assist him, drew him out, asked numerous ques 
 tions, repeated what he had said about martyr 
 dom; and once his countenance seamed for a 
 moment, but it did not crack. I remembered 
 that during my speech he had laughed at a 
 thrust which I had given our common enemy, 
 the opposite party, and I devised a similar one, 
 but he did not smile. Was he with perverse 
 
WAITING AND IMPATIENT. 63 
 
 unconsciousness fighting against me? He 
 launched a long harangue upon the conduct of 
 the campaign, hinting at the distribution of our 
 patronage, if we should win, which was cer 
 tain; and finally he got up reluctantly and de 
 clared that as he had private business of a press 
 ing nature he could not possibly stay longer. 
 So he was gone. And now what were the prob 
 lems that I desired to study ? I walked up and 
 down the room, halting at times to glance at a 
 book or newspaper, but more often to look out 
 upon the Alamo. But why did I within less 
 than thirty minutes three times glance at my 
 watch ? I was impatient of the day s limp and 
 halt, the lagging of the swollen hours. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AT THE DOCTOR S HOUSE. 
 
 The doctor was prompt and I drove out with 
 him, listening, or pretending to listen, to his 
 mincing talk; and looking ahead through the 
 gathering dusk I would pick out here and there 
 a house at which he surely must stop. But 
 suddenly he turned a corner and drew up in 
 front of a handsome wooden house with broad 
 veranda. The lamps had not been lighted, and 
 out of the darkness within came floating the 
 subdued, meditative notes of a piano, those ten 
 der touches which live in the memory of us all. 
 As we passed through the gate the music 
 ceased, and then in the room whence it had 
 come there was a sudden leap of light. I shook 
 hands with Miss Acklin, with her mother, with 
 
 the doctor s wife; and we sat down, talking, 
 64 
 
AT THE DOCTOR S HOUSE. 65 
 
 everyone at ease. And after a time Miss Za- 
 leme and I were alone. How black was her hair, 
 midnight spun fine; and how shapely was her 
 neck; and how sweet was the perfume she 
 used. And I wondered what it could be until 
 with a thrill I knew that it was no perfume at 
 all, but simply her. A man thinks he must 
 talk books to a woman, run over titles, with a 
 word or two of comment upon a poem or a char 
 acter here and there. And how often have we 
 seen an old fellow striving to dust the shelf of 
 his memory, put to for some new title or 
 author? But I soon found that she did not 
 care to talk about books. She wanted to talk 
 about her father, and she called him "dad," 
 and if she should ever meet a man whom she 
 liked better she would marry him, but that was 
 not likely to be. Information that he was a 
 "crank" was freely given, a "crank" on diet. 
 He had a farm near Bowling Green, Ky., and 
 after selling cattle and hogs for years was con 
 vinced that meat was not intended to be eaten. 
 "But it was intended to be sold," she said, smil- 
 
66 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ing. "Dad argues that if people are determined 
 to kill themselves by eating meat they ought to 
 kill themselves with the best." He must have 
 been a very interesting old gentleman, and I 
 asked many questions concerning him, all of 
 which she answered pleasingly. Was she then 
 not a thoughtful woman but a fond child, de 
 lighted to hear herself talk of an indulgent 
 father ? No ; she could rise above the pettiness 
 of wanting to be petted. She had read. Even 
 in her most careless talk I could see the smooth 
 ing effect of cultivation. And though she might 
 keep upon one subject the expression of her 
 countenance was constantly changing. It may 
 be the most idiotic of fancies, but I have 
 thought that when a woman realizes that she 
 has been talking random nonsense she acknowl 
 edges it with a short sigh. Away back yonder 
 somewhere was a woman who impressed this 
 upon me; and she may no more have repre 
 sented her sex than a totem pole represents the 
 Christian religion. But I have always remem 
 bered that short sigh as following nonsense and 
 
AT THE DOCTOR S HOUSE. 67 
 
 preceding seriousness. Had Miss Acklin re 
 minded me of that woman away back yonder? 
 
 "It is so natural to think of being elected," 
 she said. "But have you thought of being de 
 feated?" She was sitting in a rocking chair, 
 with her hands stretched forth upon the arms. 
 
 "Yes, late at night when thoughts are most 
 likely to be true." 
 
 "I wonder if thoughts are most likely to be 
 true then ?" She looked straight into my eyes 
 as if really she were wondering. 
 
 "I can t speak for others; but as for myself 
 tne best thoughts come when I awake at mid 
 night, and the best thoughts ought to be the 
 truest." 
 
 "And is the midnight tear the truest?" I 
 caught her eye or she frankly gave it to me. 
 
 "All tears are true," I answered. "We may 
 force a laugh, but it is hard to force a tear." 
 
 "The stars seem nearer when we look 
 through tears." 
 
 "Ah, when we look through the tears of re 
 pentance, for then heaven is closer." 
 
68 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 If there had been mists about her they were 
 gone now. And I saw her as we see an object 
 in an atmosphere, pure and clear, after a rain. 
 Some one opened an outer door and it stirred 
 the perfume of her, and my nostrils were filled 
 with it, and I breathed it as a pagan might 
 have breathed the incense to his god. 
 
 Any one might be proud to represent such 
 an empire as Texas," she said, and then 
 thoughtfully she added : "The world doesn t 
 know what this State is. It is a great civiliza 
 tion within itself. And its fathers were the 
 bravest of the modern world." 
 
 "Yes, and the Alamo will always " I 
 
 looked at her and did not complete the sentence. 
 Her expression had changed suddenly, as if a 
 light had been turned down. "One would think 
 that you have a strange memory of the Alamo," 
 said I. And she started and stared at me. "I 
 beg your pardon if I have " 
 
 "Oh, please don t. Let it pass. You haven t 
 heard the Rev. Mr. Curry, have you?" 
 
 "No, I have simply heard of him." 
 
AT THE DOCTOR S HOUSE. 69 
 
 "Then in my opinion you have something to 
 look forward to. He is almost a revelation." 
 
 I could have asked her if the Rev. Mr. Curry 
 had heard me that I might be a revelation 
 to him. "A very young preacher, isn t he?" 
 
 "As a preacher, yes, but as a man he is no 
 stripling. He has a wonderful command of 
 language, and his figures are beautiful." 
 
 "The pulpit, as a monument to emotion, ad 
 mits of figures that might not be tolerated on 
 the platform. I don t think that pulpit oratory 
 is the best. It addresses an audience that is 
 already convinced; it has no jury to win. If I 
 did not hesitate to be profane I might say that 
 the pulpit orator addresses faith, and faith may 
 have an eye so clear as to see things which do 
 not exist. Higher oratory must conquer the 
 material." 
 
 "But Mr. Curry is very liberal," she said. 
 
 "Oh, that may be and not particularly alter 
 the general truth of what I affirm. A preacher 
 may be liberal for a preacher; and yet among 
 laymen he would be regarded as singularly 
 narrow." 
 
70 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "You wouldn t argue against the truth of 
 revealed " 
 
 "Oh, no." The fact is I was simply annoyed 
 with that man Curry. I knew that he must be 
 a pretender, for what is easier than for a 
 preacher to study some old sermon and pass it 
 off as his own? Texts do not grow old, and 
 with the church the fire of centuries ago is the 
 fire of today. But this did not console me. 
 What I wanted to settle in my mind was, why 
 should this fellow Curry go about the country, 
 passing himself off as an eloquent man? And 
 how strange it was, too, that this woman should 
 know so little as to be imposed upon? 
 
 "There must be a sort of kinship between 
 you and Mr. Curry," she said, and the lack of 
 humor in her eyes told me that she was in ear 
 nest. I managed to say "Yes" and she added : 
 "The afrinity of aspiration, if I may be per 
 mitted the expression. It is not yet formally 
 announced, but he is to be a candidate for chap 
 lain of the Texas house of representatives." 
 
 "The affinity of aspiration," I mused. The 
 sting of comparison ! Not that I would make 
 
AT THE DOCTOR S HOUSE. 71 
 
 little of the position to which he aspired ; but 
 the fact is, I couldn t see any possible com 
 parison. I must have given her a rebuking 
 look, for she blushed, and old Green s verse, 
 like a vine in bloom, was trailed before me 
 "Her cheeks like ripened lilies steeped in wine." 
 I forgot the preacher. No, I did not forget 
 him. I said that I hoped he might be elected, 
 and I said it blithely, though I knew I lied. My 
 physical strength was often remarked, and I 
 must have undergone some peculiar nerve strain 
 thus at times to feel such irritation. 
 
 I asked her to play something that had been 
 forgotten by the world, and softly she rippled 
 a tune that lies sweet in the memory of 
 many a man of middle age. When the music 
 ceased I did not ask for more. I wanted to 
 think, and she came back to the rocking chair 
 and sat down, with her hands stretched forth 
 upon the arms. She was thoughtful for a time, 
 and then she said : "How many an old song 
 and forgotten poem shall leap back to life when 
 the trumpet blows on the morning of senti 
 ment s resurrection. Oh, how foolish that is," 
 
72 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 she cried, and then she laughed until I was 
 impatient of her merriment. For the first time 
 since I entered the house I heard a clock strike, 
 and now the last stroke startled me. It was 
 midnight. There was a brief lingering at the 
 door. It would be difficult to recall what I said. 
 I may have told her to tell Mr. Curry that I 
 would do all within the scope of my influence 
 to further his election. I took her hand, and 
 I remember the heaviness of the realization 
 that she was slowly drawing it^away from me. 
 I went forth from the yard and in the street I 
 sniffed from some distant garden the scent of 
 the early blossom, but it was not so sweet, nor 
 was it half so thrilling as the redolence shut in 
 by the door where I had stood the perfume 
 of her. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 
 
 By appointment I went next morning to a 
 town fifty miles from San Antonio, and there 
 the adherents of my cause gathered about me 
 to assure me of their fidelity and of my elec 
 tion. I spoke in the courthouse, and the audi 
 ence was enthusiastic ; I talked in the hotel, and 
 my listeners seemed to be profoundly impressed. 
 "Where are you going from here?" a friend 
 inquired of me, and I answered that arrange 
 ments had been made for my appearance the 
 next day at a county seat sixty miles distant. 
 But I returned to San Antonio early the next 
 morning. 
 
 The hotel clerk handed me a letter. Glan 
 cing at it I recognized the handwriting of old 
 73 
 
74 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Sam Hall. Why had he addressed me at San 
 Antonio? He knew that I had completed my 
 work in the city and had departed. I tore open 
 the envelope and read these words : "I know 
 where to direct my letter, as I see that you are 
 in love with Miss Acklin." That was as far as 
 I read. I tore up the presumptuous paper and 
 threw it away. What, the old fool ! Now I 
 admire the God-given faculty of intuition, and 
 I have even a respect for close guessing, but 
 blunt assertion angers me. But Sam, poor fel 
 low, was hardly to be blamed. A woman had 
 set her foot upon his heart, and the crushing 
 was none the less complete because the foot 
 was graceful. But what possible cause had he 
 to say that I was in love with Miss Acklin? 
 Why, hang him, in my letter I had merely 
 mentioned her name. 
 
 While I was walking up and down, mutter 
 ing against Sam Hall, Quailes joined me, and 
 he did not seem surprised to see me, though at 
 parting I remarked that as there were numer 
 ous places to be visited a long time must elapse 
 before my return. 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 75 
 
 "I ve got some good news," said he. "My 
 girl s mother has given in your letter did it; 
 and if you are defeated the old lady will feel 
 that I took an advantage of her. So I want 
 you to do everything you can for yourself. But 
 you re all right. You don t forget your dig 
 nity. It won t do to be too familiar, you 
 know." 
 
 Dignity? I had not thought of it, and I 
 told him so, and with shrewdness he replied : 
 "Well, dignity is most effective when you for 
 get you ve got it with you. But, as you know, 
 even in this democracy, a man who would lead 
 must " 
 
 "Follow," I suggested, and he laughed. 
 
 "That s right. I ve been secretary of more 
 political pow-wows than any man in the State, 
 and I know what s what. Excuse me a mo 
 ment." A man came along and Quailes, step 
 ping out, presented his card. "I beg your 
 pardon," said the reporter, "but I wish to say 
 something that may be of interest to you. I 
 have seen you several times, have heard you 
 preach, but this is the first time I have had the 
 
76 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 pleasure of speaking to you. My card tells you 
 what business I am in, but it does not tell you 
 that I am the best in the State. But what I 
 wanted to say to you is this : whenever you ve 
 got anything that the people want to know you 
 tell me and I will serve it warm and palatable. 
 Mr. Curry, have you met Mr. Howardson?" 
 
 It seemed that a fog suddenly cleared from 
 the man as he stood before me, as with a bow 
 and a smile, white and gleaming, he held forth 
 his hand. The well-kept air of the preacher 
 was prominent, the evidence of health, the re 
 ward of constant care ; and when he spoke there 
 was in his voice the soft tone of cultivated 
 solicitude. He was glad to see that I was strong 
 enough to endure the physical fatigue and 
 the mental worry of a campaign. It had not 
 been his good fortune to hear my speech, but he 
 had heard of it and he was pleased to assure 
 me that my principles were his own. He shook 
 hands again, bowed and passed on ; and Quailes, 
 looking after him, remarked : "There s about 
 as eloquent a guy as you ever saw." 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER 77 
 
 "The rhetoric of the school I should think," 
 said I. "Scarcely a heart-flow." 
 
 "I don t know what you mean by that 
 exactly, but he s a talker from away back. But 
 he s rather cool, that s a fact. He talks to the 
 head, while you have a way of talking into a 
 man s breast, and I guess you must feel it your 
 self. Let s sit down." 
 
 I felt that I was overstaying my time in the 
 town, that justice to my own cause demanded 
 that I should go elsewhere; but what once had 
 been so clear a duty was obscure now, and I 
 found weariness in contemplating it. Several 
 men came forward and sat down, Haney and 
 Hotze among them. Hotze had heard that my 
 opponents were hot and strong in the harvest, 
 working day and night. Haney remarked that 
 in fighting so hard they might offset each other, 
 might beat themselves, a view which so im 
 pressed Hotze that he shook hands with Haney 
 and then with me. "I think you are wise in 
 staying about here," said he. "Take care of 
 the most important places and the others will 
 take care of themselves." I soon grew tired 
 
78 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 of the talk, and turning from it heard only a 
 distant hum, till Haney put his hand on my 
 arm and asked me how long I expected to re 
 main. 
 
 "Only a short time. I am going back to 
 Riplar within a few days, and then I shall make 
 a systematic canvass of the State." 
 
 "When you go back give old Sam Hall my 
 regards. Smart man, Sam; got as much of 
 this old world s wisdom as most any man I 
 ever met. He s had a good deal of trouble, but 
 he has stood it like a man." 
 
 "Oh, I don t know that he has so much 
 trouble," said I. "He has been reasonably 
 prosperous lucky, you might say and man, 
 supposed to be a reasoning creature, ought not 
 to ask for more." 
 
 "Why, I have understood and from him, too, 
 that his prospects in this life and all concern 
 regarding the future were " 
 
 "Yes," I broke in with a show of good 
 humor which I did not feel. "You are going 
 to say something about a woman. He is too 
 strong a man to believe any such nonsense, and 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 79 
 
 he ought not to say that he does. The world is 
 too old and man is too full of practical sense 
 to be blasted in so sentimental a way. There 
 is such a thing as sentiment, of course, and once 
 in a while we see a weakling losing his interest 
 in life out of disappointment of the the heart, 
 let us call it but man in general is too strong 
 for that sort of nonsense." 
 
 "That s where you hit the nail on the head/ 
 Hotze declared, and somehow I felt angered 
 with him for agreeing with me. It did not seem 
 apparent to me that he should know anything 
 on the subject. He was too much of an animal, 
 too oozing of oil to hold sentiment. Not leav 
 ing off with a simple agreement with me, he 
 proceeded to illustrate. "I could have gone 
 around sighing over a woman and she was a 
 peach at that thought she belonged to me, but 
 Hip, and away she went. And I said, If that s 
 the plan of your campaign, good-day/ And as 
 fast as she would pop back into my head I d 
 put her out the only way to do em, put em 
 out when they pop in." 
 
 "It s easy enough for men who ve not had 
 
80 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 real experience to talk glibly," said Quailes. 
 "And the less experience they ve had the more 
 glibly they can talk, but I want to tell you that 
 a woman gone back on you is a hell on earth. 
 You may talk of putting her out of your head, 
 but you can t put her out of your heart, and 
 that s where the trouble is. I happen to know." 
 I had respect for what Quailes said, for had 
 he not told me of his disappointment when they 
 kept him from killing himself because of a 
 woman? He had a right to speak, but I cared 
 nothing for what the others said or thought. 
 And during all this time I was attempting to 
 devise some polite means of escape, but finding 
 at last that it must be done bluntly, I went out. 
 There was a dreamy, spring-time drizzle of 
 rain, such as makes the Spanish dagger open 
 wide its thirsty lips and drink and give to the 
 curious and attentive a glimpse of its coming 
 bloom, hidden in its bosom. The Alamo, dis 
 tant only a few rods, was in the mist gloomily 
 majestic, its sides steaming, one well could 
 fancy, as if it had run hot from antiquity and 
 leaped into the midst of the cool and calculating 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 81 
 
 present. But I laughed at a thought so foolish 
 and so idly wanton, and I smiled to surmise 
 what the staid voter might think if he should 
 suspect me of such frivolity. 
 
 At the great door I stood for a moment, and 
 suddenly my heart was tightly gripped and 
 ceased to beat, and all before me were a daz 
 zling of light and a flitting of shadows. But 
 soon I was calm, and walking into the chapel I 
 said "good morning" to her, as sweetly she 
 smiled upon me. She said that it was a charm 
 ing day, and it was, with the air so soft 
 and the mist so full of dreams. What 
 thoughtful solemnity she found in the old place 
 on a rainy day, and she always came to see 
 new tears run down its ancient wrinkles, she 
 said. I looked about for her mother, but she 
 was not there. 
 
 "Why, I thought you were in the country," 
 she said, as if suddenly remembering that I had 
 been away. 
 
 "I went to the country, but was called back 
 here." 
 
82 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "And how long do you expect to remain this 
 time?" 
 
 "Not long. Business will soon call me to 
 Riplar." 
 
 "Oh, soon, I hope. Mother and I are going 
 day after tomorrow." 
 
 "I may go tomorrow." 
 
 "Can t you remain a day longer and go with 
 us?" 
 
 "I m afraid not." 
 
 With her umbrella she was marking upon 
 the ground. Visitors were passing in and out. 
 I paid no attention to them, and I was pleased 
 to think that she did not. 
 
 "Do I look like a Mexican ?" she asked. And 
 before I could answer that not in my opinion 
 had a Mexican received such favor of the gods, 
 she continued: "But I d rather be called a 
 Mexican than to be called queer. My friends 
 often call me queer, and it makes me furious. 
 What are you thinking about so intently?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing," I said, but I was wondering 
 whether any one could have taken Homer s 
 stag-eyed queen of heaven for a "greaser." 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 83 
 
 "And if you can think so deeply and forget 
 fully of nothing, how must you manage your 
 mind when you think of something?" 
 
 We walked down toward the end of the 
 chapel, I on the right, next to the door of the 
 room in which her shrine seemed to be, and in 
 passing the door I took care to divert her 
 attention. Beneath a window where the misty 
 light was falling, we halted; and I know not 
 how the subject came about or how gently it 
 was led to, but I know that we talked of men 
 and women who had loved. "None but a des 
 perate love is worth considering," she said, 
 and even now she did not withdraw her eyes, 
 but looked at me frankly. "I would like to 
 think of my hero as being unable to live if he 
 thought I didn t love him. I would want it 
 to break his heart in an instant." 
 
 "You surely wouldn t want to kill him?" 
 
 "Of course not. But, as I said, I would want 
 him to die if he knew that I didn t love him. 
 But my dad says that no man can ever love me 
 as much as I want to be loved. And no man 
 would want to love me if he knew how jealous 
 
84 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I am; for I would not only be jealous of other 
 women, but of inanimate things. I remember 
 after hearing a great pianist I thought of how 
 miserable I would be if I were his wife jealous 
 of the piano." 
 
 "But would you give as much love as you 
 demand?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am capable of it. I have pictured 
 a life full of a sort of delirium ; but they tell me 
 that such a life could not last long. It would be 
 a heaven, though, while it did last, and a year 
 of bliss is worth more than a century of mere 
 contentment. My dad says that I get such ideas 
 from foolish books, and perhaps I do, but they 
 seem to come up in my breast like beads rising 
 in wine. But of course I never expect to realize 
 such a love, for after all it is not for this life. 
 I should think that you would have married 
 before this, Mr. Howardson?" 
 
 "And I suppose the reason is that I looked 
 for bliss instead of mere contentment," I re 
 plied; and she regarded my answer as of no 
 moment, simply as a matter of course. And in 
 this she disappointed me, Why did she so con- 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. -8$ 
 
 stantly fail to show appreciation? Surely a 
 woman is a disease unto a man, with symptoms 
 baffling to all previous diagnosis. This woman 
 was beginning to oppress me and I wanted to 
 be away from her ; but when I thought of going 
 I faltered, for in her presence I was not strong. 
 And yet I did not love her. It was a sort of 
 nervous fever. Then was she not to me a sort 
 of disease? I looked at her and repented of all 
 the idle fancies which I have here set down. 
 How full of sympathy those eyes could become, 
 and how happy a man must be to know that 
 they had wept for him. I wondered if that sigh 
 was for me. Outside the wind was sweetly 
 lisping. 
 
 "When the wind blows how sad is the music 
 here," she said, looking at me, for she, too, was 
 listening to the lisping air. 
 
 "But if it were not sad you would not re 
 member it." 
 
 "That is true," she agreed. "A memory can 
 be so sweet that is sad." 
 
 "Yes, and in our keenest joys we weep." 
 
 She smiled. "Now I feel that we are on the 
 
86 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 stage. But I rather like it. I think that once 
 in a while it is well to feel that we are not 
 utterly commonplace. We might invite the 
 charge of unnaturalness, but that is nonsense. 
 More than half our criticisms are absurd. Why 
 should I presume to criticise something in an 
 atmosphere wholly different from mine?" 
 
 I did not encourage her in this view; I did 
 not care to be stagy if I could help it, and her 
 opinions on the subject were of no interest. To 
 tell the truth I do not know what I wanted her 
 to say. 
 
 We walked slowly toward the front door. I 
 was on the point of asking her to permit me to 
 take her home in a carriage when she remarked 
 that the doctor was going to call for her; and 
 very soon we saw him coming. He halted to 
 talk to some one. 
 
 "I am glad you are going to Riplar," said I. 
 "Out there we have oak woods. Do you like to 
 roam in the woods with some one who is con 
 siderate enough to let you think?" 
 
 "Yes," she said, giving me her hand, for 
 the doctor s buggy had driven up for her. 
 
A PRESUMPTUOUS PAPER. 87 
 
 "And," she added, with a smile, "I will be 
 gracious, too; I will let you think. Good-bye." 
 Her hand gleamed for a moment in the air, a 
 ring flashed, and I stood gazing, not knowing 
 which way to turn. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 
 
 I took train for Riplar the next morning, and 
 how easy it was to go; how manfully had I 
 overcome the temptation to remain one day 
 longer. It was past midnight when I reached 
 the town. Not wishing to alarm the tavern 
 wherein I was wont to make my home, I went 
 to the office and lay upon a couch, and half 
 dozing, I saw a purple mist floating through 
 my mind, and in the mist was a face that shone 
 like a star. Through the window the sun had 
 long been blazing upon me when I awoke. 
 What was it I dreaded ? To meet Sam ? Yes, 
 a Calchas delighting to augur ill. 
 
 At the postoffice there were numerous letters 
 waiting for me; letters from earnest men 
 
BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 89 
 
 throughout the State, assuring me of their sup 
 port, and that something which at times is 
 pleased to whisper to us all assured me that I 
 should win the fight. A newspaper printed in 
 a distant place threw a criticism at me for ob 
 scurity. "Of course he has served in Con 
 gress, but that does not make him sufficiently 
 well known to aspire to the Senate." I could 
 have told this fellow that some of my speeches 
 had been commented upon throughout the 
 country, east and west, but he was looking for 
 a fault and found it. But of what avail were 
 such airy carpings? His paper was printed in 
 a village obscured in a gulch country seven 
 hundred miles from the State capital. 
 
 As I was thus musing in the office, old Sarn 
 came in with his sad smile. We shook hands 
 without saying anything, and I was afraid of 
 his first words, but I should not have been, 
 for with conviction in his tone he remarked : 
 
 "Lucian, it begins to look as if you are going 
 to be elected." 
 
 "Thank you, old man. That does me more 
 
90 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 good than everything else I ve heard. But 
 upon what do you base your belief?" 
 
 "Upon the fact that you have no machine 
 behind you the people are sick of political 
 machinery. Make no bad breaks and you re 
 all right. But why do you come back here at 
 this time?" 
 
 "Because I have discovered that much can 
 be accomplished by correspondence, and I 
 wanted to write here, undisturbed. A candi 
 date at home may belong to himself, but away 
 from home he is the property of every man." 
 
 But why did he sit there with his hands 
 clasped about one knee, smiling at me as if a 
 new humor were bubbling within him ? 
 
 "Didn t you say that the Acklins were com 
 ing out here to visit old man Carson?" he 
 asked, his smile gradually fading like a wan 
 light. 
 
 "Yes, I think you can credit me with hav 
 ing given that information." 
 
 "But why do you quibble? Why don t you 
 simply say yes?" 
 
 "I did say yes," 
 
BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 91 
 
 "Not without a beating of the bush. When 
 are they coming?" 
 
 "Well, by persistent inquiry I suppose I could 
 find out, but " 
 
 "Yes, and I am going to find out by persist 
 ent inquiry. When are they coming?" 
 
 "Tomorrow." 
 
 "Oh, before you ll have time to write many 
 of your letters. But if she comes perhaps you 
 won t need to write so many." 
 
 "Sam, I must make a request of you not to 
 torment me. You see me in the midst of a host 
 of campaign worries and you have taken it 
 into that hard head of yours that I am in love. 
 But you ought to know that when I told 
 Viola Morgan good-bye, I bade farewell to 
 woman in general." 
 
 "You didn t love Viola Morgan." 
 
 "Perhaps I didn t in your way, but I did in 
 
 mine." 
 
 "But, Lucian, a man of your nature must 
 sooner or later love as I did. Such a nature is 
 the prospectus of the book to come. And I 
 
92 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 have been dreading it for you, for, as you 
 know, I am close-hooked to you." 
 
 "Yes, I know that, Sam, and when the book 
 follows the prospectus I will enlighten you." 
 "What fights harder against itself and 
 against fate than such a nature? And how 
 secret it is, attempting to steal from itself and 
 lying persistently! Ah, my friend, the awful 
 passion does not mean a beautiful nor even a 
 chaste woman, a truth attested by many a trag 
 edy." 
 
 From his pocketbook he took a photograph, 
 one which often I had seen, of a plain woman 
 with wide-open eyes. "Lucian, the moment I 
 first saw this face I knew that hell itself had 
 spewed its eternal fire into my soul. There was 
 no time to run, to dodge. Tell me about Miss 
 Acklin. What is her Christian name, if any 
 thing about her is Christian?" 
 
 "Oh, let me think." 
 
 "It will come presently." 
 
 "I think yes, it is Zaleme." 
 
 "A good name to dance upon the mind at 
 midnight. And what is she like? Tall?" 
 
BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 93 
 
 "If she were willing and were to tiptoe I 
 could kiss her without stooping." 
 
 "Good. And her eyes?" 
 
 "Stars shining through jet." 
 
 "Good again. And her hair ?" 
 
 "You spoke of Viola Morgan s hair as shred 
 ded copper. Zaleme s hair is silken ravelings 
 from the darkest chamber of the Mammoth 
 Cave." 
 
 "A description which may mean absolutely 
 nothing, Lucian, but which to me is minuter 
 than a photograph. And now all I have to say 
 is, God pity you." 
 
 I arose early the next morning for I felt 
 that she was in the town. The blooming 
 cherry-trees poured out their sweets upon the 
 air. A nesting oriole flew past me with a red 
 ribbon in its beak a strip of flame. Music al 
 most inaudible came from afar. 
 
 Carson lived nearly a mile from town and 
 for exercise I strolled out in that direction. 
 Many a time and, as now, in early spring had 
 I taken the walk, but never before had it been 
 so full of pleasure and promise. The roadside 
 
94 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 was bordered by sweet grasses, with here and 
 there a white blossom. And that ill-kept, un- 
 painted old wooden house, always a dreary re 
 proach to winter and a blotch upon the face of 
 spring, how bright it looked now, as if within 
 its walls it held a glowing joy. 
 
 Old man Carson was planting something in 
 his garden and I halted at the fence to talk a 
 moment and then to return to town, for in my 
 office there were affairs that demanded prompt 
 attention. He came forward ready to talk and 
 began to tell me of the trouble he had experi 
 enced with his neighbor s pigs. And for ten 
 minutes or more I talked about pigs. He asked 
 me how my campaign was progressing, and I 
 assured him that my election was certain. 
 "Have just returned from San Antonio/ said 
 I, and I expected him to look toward the house, 
 but he did not. And then I remarked : "You 
 have relatives in that city, I believe." 
 
 Just at this moment he found a hole where 
 a pig had got through the fence, and he began 
 to stop it up with chunks of wood. "Now 
 here s where one of them infernal rascals got 
 
BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 95 
 
 in. And I m going to send word over to Jami 
 son that if he don t keep them out he ll hear a 
 dog bark and a hog squeal." 
 
 "I was in San Antonio several days." 
 "As sure as you are born hear a dog bark 
 and a pig squeal." 
 
 "I met some of your relatives there." 
 "That so? I was expecting my sister and 
 niece this morning, but they didn t come. Well, 
 I reckon that ought to keep them out," he 
 added, surveying his work. "Won t you come 
 in, sir?" 
 
 I thanked him and I told him no. It was a 
 barn-like place with a front window blind 
 hanging by one hinge, and in a corner of the 
 yard a cow was distressfully lowing. I 
 turned back toward the town, and the cheer 
 less road was bordered by yellowish grass, set 
 here and there with a ghastly flower. The 
 sunshine lay pale upon the hillside, and a dusty 
 bird flew past me. I halted at the postoffice, 
 and among my letters was a square, cream- 
 colored envelope, superscribed in violet ink, 
 postmarked San Antonio. I hastened to the 
 
96 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 office, stealing away to be alone with it; and 
 there I sat gazing upon my name in her writ 
 ing, and the room was filled with a delicate 
 perfume. I dreaded to open the envelope, to 
 read the cool and formal words, but I did 
 soon and for a long time sat gazing at the brief 
 message. "I am so sorry we could not come 
 at the appointed time, a delay occasioned by 
 mother s neuralgia. But we hope to come 
 within a few days ; and then I shall be pleased 
 to have you conduct me to those marvelous 
 woods where one can muse without interrup 
 tion." That was all, but it was a whole book 
 to me, but not that in it there was encourage 
 ment. What encouragement? What did I 
 wish for or expect ? She had shown that I was 
 not forgotten, and that was enough. Old Sam 
 found me gazing at the note. 
 
 "Lucian, it appears that you are receiving 
 letters instead of writing them. What, is it 
 a secret?" Had I, with the impulse of uncon 
 scious secrecy, attempted to hide the letter? 
 But I handed it to him, and reading it with 
 
BEAUTIFUL AND DREARY. 97 
 
 his peculiar sharp cornered smile, he returned 
 it with the remark : 
 
 "That looks all right, Lucian." 
 
 "The words don t say much, Sam." 
 
 "Oh, I don t care anything at all for the 
 words. I mean the handwriting. It is that 
 of a stubborn woman." 
 
 "Stubborn?" I repeated. 
 
 "Yes, true to her principles and herself. The 
 pliant woman may be sweet, but she is never 
 true. Enduring love itself is a sort of pig- 
 headedness." 
 
 "I thought you compared it with blazing 
 lava from " 
 
 "Yes, I know. But you can compare it with 
 almost anything. I suppose I mean that con 
 stancy is a sort of pig-headedness. Yes, that s 
 what I meant, not love. But why should I 
 attempt to philosophize with you. You are yet 
 whole, while I am but the part of a man. St. 
 Simon, speaking of a prince who had been 
 poisoned, said that his heart when taken up 
 flowed through the fingers like a liquid. I was 
 poisoned, you know, and my heart would blow 
 away like ashes." 
 
 7 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE PURPLE BANK. 
 
 Poor old Sam! Nothing could be sincerer 
 than his grief. To most men time brings the 
 balm of forgetfulness, or at least it lifts up a 
 sorrow and lightens it for the bearer, but with 
 him there was not even a shifting of his gall 
 ing load. He had withdrawn from the general 
 practice of the law, preferring the specialty of 
 real estate, but had consented to look after a 
 number of cases of mine which had lapped 
 over into the campaign; and he did it with 
 devotion. When I spoke of the settlement of a 
 certain case he said : "Never mind about set 
 tling with me for anything. Every cent you 
 can rake and scrape will be needed in this po 
 litical trouble of yours." Surely there was 
 
 a glow left amid the ashes of his heart. 
 98 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. 99 
 
 And again the air was full of a music so 
 still it could scarcely be heard, and the per 
 fume from the woods was sweetened tenfold 
 with the coming of another sun, for I knew 
 that she was there. I waited till the afternoon, 
 and then I walked out toward old Carson s 
 house; and afraid to find him, an ill-omen in 
 the garden, a scare-crow of hope, I kept my 
 eyes averted, but at last I looked and he was 
 not there. As I opened the gate a frisking 
 puppy and an old dog that ran sidewise came 
 to meet me, and an old woman whom I took 
 to be Mrs. Carson opened a door leading out 
 upon the front veranda. It was Mrs. Carson 
 and she knew me, dear old soul, and invited 
 me to a seat where a cool breeze was stirring; 
 and she brought me a fan and said she would 
 be much pleased if I would make myself at 
 home. And out came Mrs. Acklin. She gave 
 me a dim smile, but she was cordial in her 
 manner and declared that seeing me was like 
 meeting an old friend. And wasn t I an old 
 friend, and a good friend at that? She knew, 
 she said, that Zaleme had written to me, and 
 
ioo IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 how pleasant it was to know that some one was 
 looking forward to their coming. Zaleme was 
 running wild, she was so glad to get back into 
 the country. I heard no footsteps, no swish 
 of skirt, no sound, and yet I knew that she was 
 coming. She came round the corner of the 
 house, and in her hair she wore a red bloom. 
 At the steps I met her, and took her hand, 
 which she gladly thrust forth, and I led her to 
 a chair, wishing that the way were a league 
 instead of a few steps. The old ladies imposed 
 no restraint, for there were no confidences to 
 be exchanged, but I wished that they would go 
 away. They talked about ancient friends, now 
 dead, of women whose marriages had reached 
 an unfortunate turn, of hopeless cripples in 
 poverty-ridden families. Old man Carson 
 came, without a coat and with his shirt sleeves 
 rolled far up about his brown arms. And to 
 make me feel at ease he began to talk politics. 
 He knew Apperson, who had, while in Con 
 gress, sent him some grass seeds : and that was 
 a strong argument in his favor. Still, local 
 pride must of necessity impel him to support 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. iol 
 
 me. At that time I would have valued his 
 withdrawal more than his support. The girl 
 had come with a bounding spirit and plainly 
 said: "I am glad to be here," but he had 
 driven it away, and now she sat with a shadow 
 on her face. 
 
 "Look yonder," the old man called out. "See 
 that horse trying to nose off the top rail of 
 the fence so he can jump over into the or 
 chard." 
 
 "He wants to stand under the tree and let 
 the blossoms fall on him," said Zaleme. 
 
 "Well, now, if he don t get away," replied 
 the old man, "something will fall on him and 
 it won t be a blossom, either. That s May- 
 field s horse, ain t it, mother?" 
 
 Mrs. Carson said she thought that it must 
 be Thompson s. Mayfield had several sorrel 
 horses, but not one with a white nose. 
 
 "Well," said the old man, "there he goes, 
 and it s a good thing for him, too. Thompson s 
 got the finest farm in the country and all he 
 needs is a wife." He chuckled at Zaleme, rub- 
 
102 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 bing his hairy arm, grinned at her mother 
 and was much taken with himself. 
 
 "An old bachelor?" Zaleme asked. 
 
 "No, widower." 
 
 "His wife worked herself to death," said 
 Mrs. Carson, clearing her throat. "It s the 
 truth if ever one was told. Thompson is a 
 northern man, and it seems that no matter how 
 well off a Northern farmer is he lets his wife 
 work. I told her one day, I said, Great good 
 ness alive, you ll kill yourself. But she kept 
 on, and sure enough she died, and as good a 
 soul, too, as ever lived. And now he is looking 
 for another wife." 
 
 "Well, he needn t look at a daughter of 
 mine," said Mrs. Acklin. "I don t care how 
 much he s worth." 
 
 "No one needs to look at your daughter, 
 mother, you know that," Zaleme replied, and 
 a hundred fancies began to buzz in my head. 
 "And especially a man who has permitted his 
 wife to work herself to death," she added. 
 "Brother has taught me that I don t want to 
 be a doctor s wife, and " 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. 103 
 
 "How about a lawyer?" old Carson broke in, 
 with a wink at me. 
 
 And she was not at all embarrassed when 
 she said: "Oh, a lawyer is out of the ques 
 tion. He would be wedded to his clients and 
 would forget me. And a preacher well, I 
 wouldn t like to be compelled to take every 
 thing that women would give me, and smile 
 and tell them how thankful I was." 
 
 "You ve got the list pretty well cut down," 
 said the old man. "How would you like a 
 man whom you couldn t see too much of, a 
 traveling drummer, for instance?" 
 
 I saw her catch her breath quickly and meet 
 a look from her mother s eyes ; and the fancies 
 in my head buzzed louder, like bees swarming. 
 But the old man comprehended nothing and 
 continued to talk: "Getting back to Thomp 
 son, why, there s no better man anywhere than 
 he is and that talk about his wife killing her 
 self with work is all the palest sort of moon 
 shine. Why, she had a horse and buggy that 
 horse, I think, standing out yonder just now 
 and could drive out as often as she wanted to, 
 
io 4 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 but of course the women of the neighborhood 
 had to have it that she killed herself. I m go 
 ing to ask him to come over while you re 
 here." 
 
 "Not to see me, uncle, please. I know very 
 well that I shouldn t care for him." And then 
 she turned and, pointing, said to me: "I sup 
 pose those are the woods you told me about. 
 Are you going to keep your promise? I m 
 ready." 
 
 And so was I, and through the front gate 
 and across a clover field we went, to the woods, 
 greenish with opening buds. Spring in Texas 
 is a mad riot of wild flowers, defying the bot 
 anist, a mob of struggling color. Giant vio 
 lets, a nameless blossom like a primrose dip 
 ped in blood, shooting the astonished eye with 
 a pain; buttercups with hanging heads, half 
 asleep, drooling honey. We came to a rivulet 
 and a rapturous bank blazing like a varie 
 gated fire. We had been silent, and now I 
 spoke, not in the tone of common sense, but 
 almost in a shout: 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. 105 
 
 "Let us sit upon this bank and weep our wet eyes dry 
 
 amid the scented bloom, 
 And then to Heaven our faces we will turn 
 To catch the dripping dew within our eyes: 
 Then back to bloom and weep them dry again. 
 
 "Oh," she laughed, "how could you remem 
 ber that? Do men read such foolish things 
 now-a-days; was that from one of the old 
 dramatists ?" 
 
 "From one of the very oldest." 
 
 "How barbarous and free they were. But 
 how true. Man wrote best before man began 
 to criticise. The fear of censure often kills a 
 truth." 
 
 Was this the pettish woman who would 
 rather be taken for a Mexican than to be called 
 queer? Was she flesh and blood, like other 
 women? Was she not at times a sort of seer- 
 ess? The soul does not steadily abide within 
 us, but wanders hither and thither, seeking 
 rest; and when it returns and lights this lowly 
 temple for a time, men say that we have been 
 inspired. 
 
 We sat upon the bank and her tongue was 
 free and I listened. But she gave opinions and 
 
106 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 not the secrets I longed to know, why the Al 
 amo was her shrine, and what she meant by 
 the words, "No one needs to look at your 
 daughter, mother." I dared not ask her, but 
 sat listening, in the hope that she would drift 
 upon the the reef entered my mind, and I 
 wondered if it were not predestined a wrecking 
 reef to me. And then, protesting that I did 
 not care for her, I gave myself up to the lulling 
 sweetness of her voice. She told me of her 
 trials at school, of her singular love of philos 
 ophy and the mathematical blight of her mind. 
 And then she began to talk of politics. 
 
 "Uncle thinks you will be elected," she said. 
 "And won t it be pleasant for me, if I should 
 go to Washington, to know that I have a friend 
 there. For you have been so kind to me that 
 you are my friend, aren t you?" 
 
 Without a waver she looked into my eyes 
 and I told her yes. "But you have a great deal 
 of work ahead, haven t you?" she asked, her 
 voice deep and earnest. 
 
 "Yes, thousands of letters to be written and 
 hundreds of places to be canvassed." 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. 107 
 
 "And surely you will not permit your private 
 business here to interfere with your plans?" 
 
 "No; my friend, Sam Hall, will take care 
 of my business here as soon as I can get it 
 into a shape so that he can take hold of it." 
 
 "Quailes has told me about him he has 
 told me about nearly everybody. Didn t he 
 have some great disappointment?" 
 
 "Yes, a woman killed his heart." 
 
 "Oh, what a sorrow. But won t his heart 
 come to life again?" 
 
 "No, it is ashes." 
 
 "And if her heart prompted her to be un 
 faithful, couldn t she couldn t she have been 
 gentler?" 
 
 "Despair cannot be made easy." 
 
 "Did he almost die?" 
 
 "Yes, praying for death." 
 
 "Oh, his was a love worth having. And 
 uncle told me something else." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "Can t you guess?" 
 
 "About a woman Viola Morgan." 
 
IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Yes. How quick you are. And did she 
 leave your heart a heap of ashes ?" 
 
 "No. My pride was wounded, but I re 
 covered soon, and now I know that I didn t 
 love her." 
 
 "You know it now, you say. Do we have 
 to learn to know that we did not love?" 
 
 "Yes and sometimes it comes upon us 
 slowly." 
 
 "And do we know when we have learned to 
 love and is such a love strong?" 
 
 "When love is a task, a lesson, it can be 
 learned. But there is a love which is ever a 
 barbarian, fighting, always conquering. We 
 may fly, but it pursues, waving its fire-brand." 
 
 "Isn t it strange that we should be sitting 
 here talking thus ?" she said. "We know that 
 not far away there are electric cars and the 
 newest inventions and discoveries in science 
 and yet we sit upon this purple bank of the 
 middle ages and talk of love." 
 
 "To love there is no middle age, no age but 
 the first age. I knew a white-haired man, an 
 electrician, an inventor, with his work spread 
 
THE PURPLE BANK. 109 
 
 out beneath an electric light and as if in the 
 candle s semi-gloom he loved an unworthy 
 woman and killed himself." 
 
 "No, love has no age," she said, musingly. 
 And then she asked: "Was Miss Morgan 
 handsome?" 
 
 "Cupid must have surveyed her face and 
 set her features; and yet it was a face that 
 soon fades from the mind. She was like a 
 bright flower that has no perfume. I thank 
 her." 
 
 "You thank her ? And what for ?" 
 
 "For marrying the cattle man. He came 
 and dazzled her with his wealth and now he 
 is in Congress and she is doubtless happy." 
 
 "And if you are elected you will see her 
 in Washington. Won t it be embarrassing?" 
 
 "To her, perhaps, because I shall be in the 
 Senate and her husband in the House." 
 
 "You said you had learned that you did not 
 love her. What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Exactly what I said that I had learned." 
 
 "When was this this romance?" 
 
 "Several years ago." 
 
no IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "And when did you you learn?" 
 
 "Very lately, I think after I came out as 
 a candidate." 
 
 "Oh, and then you found that ambition was 
 stronger than love." 
 
 "No, not that. I you don t know what you 
 are saying. But before I tell you more of my 
 self, and you must admit that I have been 
 free, tell me, please, why the Alamo is your 
 shrine why you stared and " 
 
 She put her hand upon my arm. "That was 
 a tragedy, Mr. Howardson, and I must not 
 talk about it. Shall we go now?" 
 
 We strolled back across the clover fields, she 
 talking in lively mood, I brooding. Long had 
 we sat upon the bank, and concerning me she 
 knew everything, while of her I knew nothing. 
 I did not wish to go into the house and at the 
 gate she gave me her hand, but her eyes did 
 not meet mine. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 GRASPING AT AN IMAGE. 
 
 On my way back to town I was overtaken 
 by a man who informed me that he had just 
 returned from the capital of the State and that 
 the most influential men connected with the 
 government had decided to support me. This 
 news was surely encouraging, but before I had 
 gone a dozen rods it had passed out of my 
 mind, leaving me to ponder over Zaleme s 
 meaning when she questioned me concerning 
 my stay in Riplar when surely there must be 
 so much important work waiting for me in 
 other parts of the State. 
 
 The tavern bell was ringing for supper, but 
 I went to the office. Old Sam was lying on 
 the couch on his back, with his arms under his 
 
 head. 
 
 in 
 
ii2 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "You have seen her?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied, sitting down. 
 
 "And I can see that she puzzles you more 
 than ever." 
 
 "She does that s a fact." 
 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 "What do you want to think?" 
 
 "I don t know that, either." 
 
 "Do you know what you look like to me. A 
 man half wild. Mind you, my eye has been 
 educated. To the average eye, you are simply 
 restless." 
 
 "Sam, what do you want me to do ?" In my 
 voice there must have been a tone of sorrow, 
 for he sat up instantly and put forth his hand 
 as if with a touch he would in some way 
 soothe me, but he leaned back against the wall, 
 sat for a time in silence, and then he said: 
 
 "You knock the props from under me. I 
 am a great hand to diagnose, but I can t pre 
 scribe. What do I want you to do ? The best 
 you can. And what is that? I ll swear I don t 
 
GRASPING AT AN IMAGE. 113 
 
 know. Then why do I keep on talking to you ? 
 Don t know." 
 
 Late at night he and I walked about the 
 echoing town. We talked politics and he said 
 that his eye, which rarely failed to see aright, 
 saw my victory coming. He knew that dis 
 tinction awaited me. There always was hope 
 for the student, for the man who read outside 
 and far beyond the demands of his own voca 
 tion. Members of the bar had laughed at me 
 for carrying a book of poems in my pocket. 
 But they had not laughed the next day when 
 a poem won a jury. He believed that after a 
 time I would make myself as much at home 
 in the Senate chamber as I had in the court 
 room. I listened abstractedly, and suddenly I 
 said to myself: "Is this croaking old Sam 
 singing that sweet song?" I had never ex 
 pected from him a tune of so soothing and 
 hopeful a melody. And yet soon I gave it but 
 half an ear, as if it were a tune grown stale. 
 How great is the psychological criange that can 
 come upon us in a. moment ! 
 
 I resolved to leave home at a time no fur- 
 
 8 
 
IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ther distant than two days made an oath of 
 it, and Sam applauded my determination. I was 
 holding the mirror, not to the face of nature, 
 but to the smiling face of success. 
 
 The next day, while pondering deeply, there 
 came the realization that I was walking toward 
 Carson s house. Straightway and with a firm 
 step I went to the office and wrote a letter to 
 a ward organizer; and then I sat and mused, 
 and through the rear window gazed at a hum 
 ming bird that whirred among the purple flow 
 ers. And later, while writing to a county judge, 
 I found that rhymes were dripping from my 
 pen. So I went out to walk, not in the direc 
 tion of Carson s house, of course; but when I 
 had come opposite the gate, I halted and gazed 
 into the house. It was for a moment only, for 
 I hastened on, afraid of being seen. I was 
 seen a moment later, by Carson, who stepped 
 from behind a clump of bushes in the yard and 
 asked me to come in. I strove to make myself 
 astonished that he should ask me, seeing 
 that I was hastening to attend to some im 
 portant matter, and I thanked him and 
 
GRASPING AT AN IMAGE. 115 
 
 walked on, my feet growing heavier with 
 each step. To the left was a wooded pas 
 ture, and a gate opening out upon the 
 road; I heard the gate creak, and, looking, I 
 felt my heart swell like a billow, almost chok 
 ing me. But I walked on, determined not to 
 let her know that I had seen her; and then I 
 began to curse myself, for she was going to suf 
 fer me to pass without a word ; and I did pass, 
 but with great effort, so heavy had my feet 
 become. I thought she called me, and I 
 wheeled about, but no toward the house she 
 was walking jauntily, and surely with no 
 thought of me. Then I said to myself: "I 
 will go back and buy a horse from old man 
 Carson. I have no place to keep one, and of 
 all things I need a horse the least, but I will 
 go back and buy one bargain in the interest 
 of a client, and after a time I can receive word 
 that he has changed his mind." But was I a 
 man to be quibbling thus with myself? I went 
 to my office. 
 
 How tired one becomes in the spring of the 
 year. And how blue everything looks. The 
 
n6 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 droning of a bee at the window made me 
 sleepy, and I lay down upon the couch, and in 
 stantly I was wide awake. In came a man, a 
 fellow with a leer of evil, a sordid eye, and 
 said that he wanted a hundred dollars to use in 
 his district, in my behalf. Of course it was 
 with pleasure that the request was refused, but 
 not with pleasure nor even with mildness did 
 he accept the refusal. I got up to kick him 
 out, and as I was about to do it, old Sam came 
 in. He scowled at me and taking the scoun 
 drel by the shoulders, put him out. 
 
 "Why," said he, sitting down, "putting him 
 out is all right enough, but you oughtn t to 
 kick him. In fact, Lucian, I don t know 
 whether he ought to have been put out at all. 
 He came as a sort of diversion and you ought 
 to have entertained him. Didn t he change the 
 drift of your mind?" 
 
 "Yes, decidedly." 
 
 "Well, then, he was good for you, presum 
 ing that your thoughts were, let us say, tire 
 some. You ought to have been like old Calvin 
 Burgiss, of North Carolina. He was going 
 
GRASPING AT AN IMAGE. 117 
 
 along the road one night, with a breach of 
 promise suit haunting his brain, when suddenly 
 two men stepped out into the road and thrust 
 pistols under his nose. 
 
 " Gentlemen, he cried out, I am pleased to 
 meet you. What are you going to take ? They 
 took his money and at the close of the cere 
 mony he said, Good-night, gentlemen, so glad 
 to have met you. And you should have felt 
 as he did, Lucian." 
 
 "But I have no breach of promise case on 
 hand." 
 
 "True enough, but it s worse, and anything 
 to give even temporary relief ought to be wel 
 come. By the way, I was out at Carson s this 
 morning." 
 
 "You were!" I cried in surprise. 
 
 "Yes; you didn t ask me to go with you 
 and " 
 
 "Come now, Sam, you know it was simply 
 an oversight." 
 
 "Yes, I know that at times to forget the 
 world is simply an oversight. But I really had 
 business with Carson a real estate transfer." 
 
n8 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Did you see her?" 
 
 "Oh yes, and had quite a talk with her very 
 practical girl, I should say." 
 
 "It s just what you shouldn t say. I don t 
 think she s at all practical." 
 
 "That s where you are misled. Don t you 
 know that women are more practical than 
 men?" 
 
 "No, I don t." 
 
 "But I do. A woman " 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "About you? Oh, she spoke of you." 
 
 "I didn t ask you that." 
 
 "No, but that s what you meant." 
 
 "Sam, you used to bark; now you are be 
 ginning to bite." 
 
 "That s right, I am as mean as a dog." 
 
 "I didn t say that." 
 
 "No, but it s a fact." 
 
 "It is not a fact. You are the most gener 
 ous, whole-souled fellow in the world. But 
 tell me what she said." 
 
 "About you?" 
 
 "Well, yes, if you will have it that way." 
 
GRASPING AT AN IMAGE. 119 
 
 "It s you that will have it that way. She 
 spoke highly of you, said you had been kind 
 to her." 
 
 "Sam, you spoke of her hand-writing, you 
 remember about her being stubborn. What 
 do you think now that you have seen her?" 
 
 "That she is as steadfast as a rock. The man 
 who wins her love will keep it ; however, to be 
 frank with you, Lucian, I don t know but it 
 has already been won." 
 
 "I m afraid of that, too, but I won t believe 
 it nothing shall convince me of it." 
 
 "Why should you care? You don t love 
 her." 
 
 "Well, no, that s true." 
 
 Sam said that he knew it and then we sat 
 in silence. How peculiar a fellow he was, and 
 how gray his hair was turning, though he was 
 not so very old; and his face, how full of 
 wrinkles. Ah, trouble has many a mask, 
 which it puts from day to day upon our faces, 
 choosing those with deeper and yet still deeper 
 lines. But a young god of happiness may 
 spring up, with the coming of a new sunrise, 
 
120 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 tea r off the mask and with a wing, loaned by 
 the angel of love, fan back to youth the aged 
 countenance. While thus musing I knew that 
 there were times when the mind would reject 
 a truth to grasp an image. We speak of the 
 nobility of love, and in a heedless passion there 
 may be a gentle virtue, but we know that rea 
 son leads a man to enlightenment, that love, 
 with her iron-pointed lash, often drives him 
 back to barbarism. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OUT IN THE STORM. 
 
 I sat alone in the office until the hour was 
 late. The night was dark. The damp breath 
 of a cloud was blown in at the window. A 
 long time had passed since the sound of a foot 
 step had fallen a patrolman treading his way 
 through the lonesome hours. How weary 
 seems all the world when high overhead in 
 the darkness the bell strikes one. It is as if 
 life itself is companionless. One, nothing more, 
 and hill-side dogs cease their barking and then 
 in a prolonged howl pour forth their sorrow. 
 
 I put down the window to keep out the com 
 ing rain, went out, locked the door and was 
 looking up at the clouds when I heard a quick 
 step. There came a distant, dull flash of 
 lightning, and I saw something gleam above 
 
 121 
 
122 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 my head and I threw up my arm and caught 
 a heavy blow upon it, caught a wrist, and 
 knew that a knife was lashing at my arm. 
 Firmly I held the wrist, and with free 
 hands we fought. Grasping at his throat 
 I tore his garments I got my thumb in the 
 corner of his eye but no, nothing so barbar 
 ous as that. I was heavier, stronger, but he 
 was quick, and how dexterously he strove with 
 the free hand to seize the knife. As I struck 
 him, he shook in the grasp of my other hand, 
 and he tottered, but he dodged like a rat and 
 muttered in Spanish, and then I knew him. I 
 tried to catch his other wrist; I was sure that 
 with the strength of my right hand I could 
 break it, but he had a way of turning 
 about and humping forward so that I could not 
 reach him. To cry for assistance did not oc 
 cur to me. I was in the fight and my only 
 thought was to conquer. If I could only hit 
 him in the burr of the ear, but surely he had 
 the head of a rat. But during all this time his 
 wrist was shrinking within my grasp; he was 
 in agony, for I could hear him groan. "Mercy," 
 
OUT IN THE STORM. 123 
 
 he cried in English, but I gave him a twist, and 
 in the flash of light I saw his face, almost at 
 my knees, turned upward, and down went my 
 fist with a smash. He was limp in my grasp 
 the knife had fallen to the ground. It was 
 all I could do to restrain myself. I yearned 
 to tear him to pieces, and I did put my foot 
 upon his neck till I could summon the patrol 
 man. He came with a lantern, and in the 
 bleeding thing upon the ground we recognized 
 a Mexican, Loro Dalio. 
 
 "It s a pity that we can t have the first say so 
 with him," said the policeman, "but we ve got 
 a warrant for him from a town down the road. 
 I reckon you re able to walk now. Come, get 
 up here with you now." 
 
 Sam Hall had warned me against the Mexi 
 can, but since my return I had not thought of 
 him. 
 
 The policeman picked up the knife and I saw 
 something gleam in the light and took it up 
 a small morocco jewel case, and on it glowed 
 in gold the name "Zaleme." 
 
 "Let me take this," said I. "It belongs to a 
 
124 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 friend of mine," and I put it into the pocket of 
 my coat, but it burned against my breast, and 
 I took it out and wrapped my handkerchief 
 about it and, carrying it in my hand, went to 
 the hotel. At so late an hour there was usually 
 no one stirring about the place, but now a 
 number of boarders were in the office, having 
 come from their rooms in fear of the coming 
 storm. And by this time the wind was howling 
 and from overhead came a tearing noise as if 
 the roof were ripping off. I went to my room 
 and put the jewel case upon the cold slab of 
 the dresser and sat down to think. In the street 
 arose the cry that a cyclone was coming and 
 I hastened below. The storm had increased in 
 violence and a fierce rain was lashing the earth. 
 Harder and harder the wind blew, and in my 
 breast was a sickening fear that old Carson s 
 house might blow away. Pale women with 
 hanging hair came running down the stairs, 
 and in a corner knelt an old negro, praying 
 piteously. The front door blew open with a 
 crash of glass, the rain threshed in and I I 
 was out in the street with my face set toward 
 
OUT IN THE STORM. 125 
 
 Carson s house. As far as the edge of the 
 town there was here and there a light, but I 
 had to grope with my head bent, for the rain 
 was blinding and it beat hard upon my breast. 
 Out upon the road the wind was fiercer, but 
 there was less danger, and with no chance to 
 go astray unless the fences marking the bound 
 ary of the roadway should be blown down. 
 Horses neighed and cattle lowed distressfully. 
 In the woods there was a great roar and it 
 seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, and 
 yet it remained off in the woods. Surely old 
 Carson s house could not stand so fierce a blast. 
 Thunder jarred the earth and the lightning 
 shot across the sky from the east and tore open 
 the black bosom of the distant west. For a 
 moment there was the house, a live coal in a 
 torrent of liquid fire, and then came a 
 blackness that almost benumbed the heart. 
 Feeling along the fence I found the gate, 
 went into the yard and halted beneath a 
 locust tree, but the falling boughs threshed 
 me and I stood out in the open, waiting 
 for the light and what? For the in- 
 
126 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ward glory of saving her life, to seize her in 
 my arms, to hold her to my breast, to let my 
 wild heart beat against hers. But the deceit 
 ful old house stood there, and no one seemed 
 to be disturbed. The roar in the woods was 
 dying, the rain did not beat so hard, the storm 
 was passing, and with a disappointment which 
 I could not have explained and which my rea 
 son must have condemned, I stole out at the 
 gate, afraid now of being seen. The rain 
 ceased, and now out upon the road I trod pro 
 saic mud, ashamed of myself. I stole into 
 my room a drenched and dripping fighter of 
 wind-mills, tossed high in the blanket of sheer 
 absurdity. 
 
 The jewel case! I unwound my handker 
 chief from about it, opened it; and I found a 
 lock of light hair, clasped with gold, and a 
 locket, and in the locket were two pictures, of 
 a light-haired man and of the Alamo. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 
 
 Old Sam joined me at the breakfast table on 
 the following morning, and as he took his seat 
 he remarked : "So, you proved yourself a hero 
 last night." I heard a rush in my head, I felt 
 that I was red, and I stammered something. 
 "In your conquest over the Mexican," said he, 
 and in relief I cried : "Oh, yes." I thought he 
 alluded to my struggle through the wind and 
 the rain, to my standing in Carson s yard, 
 watching for the house to blow down. The 
 fight for life had faded from my mind. 
 
 "What did you suppose I meant?" Sam 
 asked, giving me his peculiar smile, in which 
 there was a cool harmonizing of bitterness and 
 generosity. 
 
 "What else could you have meant?" 
 127 
 
128 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "And is your life so lightly to be estimated 
 that you forgot the fact that only a few hours 
 ago you came near losing it?" 
 
 "I wasn t in any especial danger." 
 
 "No? Regard it as a sort of cheerful greet 
 ing when a ruffian rushes upon you with a 
 knife, and in the dark, too, eh? But I am 
 worrying you, Lucian, and I won t. You know 
 I warned you against that fellow, but of course 
 you had no way to protect yourself against 
 him. He must have committed numerous petty 
 robberies, for in his pockets they found odds 
 and ends of household vanities, rings and 
 breastpins." 
 
 Did he know what I had found ? Was noth 
 ing beyond the reach of that searching eye? 
 At times how devilish was his intuition. To 
 save annoyance, I told him of the jewel case. 
 He was not at all surprised; he smiled. The 
 patrolman had told him that I took up some 
 thing with gold lettering upon it and had said 
 that it belonged to a friend of mine. That had 
 given him a clue, so strong, indeed, that he 
 had requested the officer to speak of it to no 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 129 
 
 person. And for this I thanked him, assuring 
 him that he was always considerate in the ab 
 sence of a friend. He smiled and remarked : 
 "Ah, but in his presence how " 
 
 "That is another matter. Sam, I have known 
 you for years, and during all the time you 
 have been a deep study to me." 
 
 "You must believe in the study of man." 
 
 "Yes, for other philosophies may be dead. 
 Man is a living philosophy." 
 
 "You mean a living fool, don t you?" 
 
 "A living issue, at any rate." 
 
 "Lucian, I don t think your study of man 
 has been in relation to philosophy, but to poli 
 tics. You are a born politician, and I have 
 studied you for years. Understand, you are 
 as good a fellow as ever lived, true to your 
 friends, and I might say fatally generous, but 
 no man can feel as much interest in an ac 
 quaintance as you always seem to. But of late 
 you have been almost completely changed. And 
 at your time of life a man must be powerfully 
 wrought upon " 
 
 "I m not so old, Sam." 
 
136 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Oh, sensitive along that line, eh? Why, 
 some time ago you snorted when some old fel 
 low said he didn t believe you mature enough 
 for the Senate." 
 
 "Look here, Sam, you want me to do some 
 thing. What is it?" 
 
 "Acknowledge to me," he said. "You know 
 what." 
 
 "But suppose that in such an acknowledg 
 ment there " 
 
 He stopped me with a shake of his wise old 
 head. "No bush-beating. I want to know. 
 Will you acknowledge?" 
 
 "And if I should, it would be an acknowl 
 edgment to you before to myself. I have 
 denied it, even under the spell of her presence, 
 of a sweet incense that arose from her but, 
 yes, I will acknowledge it, Sam." 
 
 He reached over and took my hand, and his 
 throat appeared to be swollen. There was no 
 one else in the room, save the negro waiter, 
 and he stood in a corner, asleep, like a horse. 
 And for a long time we sat in silence. A sour 
 sharpness was gone from his smile. We parted 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 131 
 
 at the door. The sun was hot and there were 
 but few reminders of the storm, tangled shrub 
 bery and a pool of red water in the road ; and 
 about them were gorgeous butterflies, winged 
 fancies. 
 
 Old man Carson was gathering up the locust 
 boughs which the wind had snapped from the 
 trees and scattered upon the ground. I was 
 quite upon him before he was aware of me, 
 and peering through his green burden he 
 called out: "Just go in and make yourself at 
 home and I ll be there in a moment." On the 
 veranda there were rocking chairs and I sat 
 down to wait for the old man to throw the 
 boughs over the fence, which he did, and then 
 he came slowly walking toward the house, a 
 turkey gobbler strutting behind him. He sat 
 down, took off his hat, dropped it upon the 
 floor beside his chair and said that it was warm, 
 and I agreed that it was warm. He could not 
 say that the rain was done with, and neither 
 could I. Away off to the northwest the storm 
 must have done considerable damage, and I 
 thought so, too. Zaleme and her mother drove 
 
132 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 early into town to do some shopping and he 
 didn t know when they would be back; and 
 after this it made no difference to, me whether 
 or not he knew anything. But unfortunately 
 he did, and about politics. There are two sub 
 jects which all men in America are prepared to 
 discuss, politics and a prize fight, and for both 
 of them ignorance often serves as a text 
 book. I saw a buggy and looked at him. 
 Confound him, why didn t he say whether 
 or not it was Zaleme. He sat there talking 
 about his young onions; and the ground 
 was drying so fast that he could weed 
 them pretty soon, and the buggy drew up at 
 the gate. Ah, and had she slept in the moon 
 and for a morning bath had she plunged into 
 the sun? They say that the ignorant are those 
 who have not by education been taught to 
 govern their emotions; and I have no doubt 
 that Milton s hell would be hotter if his brain 
 had not been cooled by the sublime thought of 
 all preceding ages. Yes, that is what they 
 say of the ignorant, and if it is true that to 
 feel with undue intensity is a mark of igno- 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 133 
 
 ranee, then I am far from learned. But how 
 wise she must have been, for she seemed to feel 
 nothing; perhaps, however, I thought with a 
 pang, there was nothing to feel. She sat in a 
 rocking chair, fanning herself, and an anger 
 arose within me, not against her, but inflamed 
 against the picture of the man in the jewel 
 case. She must value it, and if so, deserved 
 punishment, and I would punish her. I asked 
 her if she had been frightened by the storm. 
 She was accustomed to storms ; the wind often 
 blew hard in Kentucky. 
 
 "Our bank of flowers, where your ancient 
 poet waited to sit and weep his wet eyes dry, 
 must have been moist enough last night," she 
 said. 
 
 To know that she had remembered what I 
 had said was a sort of consolation, and I post 
 poned her punishment, but it was respite in 
 stead of pardon ; she deserved to suffer. 
 
 "Oh, you have met my friend, Sam Hall." 
 
 "Yes ; and isn t he interesting but he s aw 
 fully harsh at times. It is a harshness, though, 
 that one must pity, considering the the his- 
 
134 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 tory of his heart. And that reminds me how 
 much more interesting the history of a man s 
 heart than the history of his public acts. 
 Wouldn t you like to know the battles fought 
 by the heart of a great man not the pretended 
 ones, such as we read about, but the real ones 
 wouldn t you like to know?" 
 
 "Yes, but the heart of a great man is gener 
 ally bound up in his public life. His heart has 
 afflictions, but is not often called upon to fight 
 a great battle because " 
 
 "Because what?" 
 
 "Because woman yields to greatness." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, you mustn t think that. Do 
 you mean that woman is ever willing to be the 
 slave of greatness; is that w r hat you mean?" 
 
 "No, that is not what I mean exactly, but 
 there is in it an element of my meaning. But 
 this and similar questions have been argued 
 time out of mind. Let us talk about my 
 friend." 
 
 "We were talking about him. Do you know 
 that I am well enough acquainted with you to 
 tell you something?" 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 135 
 
 "May I ask what it is ?" 
 
 "That I don t like you very well today, for 
 you are harsher than Mr. Hall. But I ought 
 not to censure you, for you, like him, have 
 had a " 
 
 "Please don t say that when you know bet 
 ter." 
 
 "Indeed, I don t know better. Why should 
 I know better when every one else in the neigh 
 borhood knows to the contrary?" 
 
 "Because I have assured you." 
 
 "But why assure me? I didn t demand " 
 
 "I know that. You had no interest in it." 
 
 "Oh, yes I had the interest of a friend." 
 
 "Then as a friend, accept the truth when I 
 offer it, that Viola Morgan left no impression 
 upon my life." 
 
 "If you say so, of course I must believe it; 
 and indeed I am glad to hear you say so, for 
 to have one s entire life " 
 
 I held up my hand, and my heart beat hard 
 against the jewel case, the portrait of a man; 
 I held up my hand and she sat in silence, look- 
 
136 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ing at me. Was it time for her punishment? 
 No, I would grant her another respite. 
 
 "Were you going to say something?" she 
 asked, and her expression was so serious, so 
 sorrowful for a moment that I had it in my 
 softened heart to pardon her and to give her 
 the jewel case, without a word ; but she smiled, 
 the smile of carelessness, and my heart hard 
 ened again, and I was a savage. 
 
 "Was I going to say something? It couldn t 
 have been of any importance, for I have forgot 
 ten it." 
 
 "You spoke, I don t recall when, of going 
 away to attend to your campaign work. Do 
 you expect to go soon?" 
 
 "Yes, tomorrow." 
 
 "Really, now, isn t it singular that you 
 should go just a day before we do? Mother 
 and I start for Kentucky day after tomorrow." 
 
 "And I suppose you are anxious to get 
 home?" 
 
 "Yes, but I have enjoyed my stay in Texas. 
 I come here every year to San Antonio." 
 
 "Has your brother lived there very long?" 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 137 
 
 "No, he moved there from another Texas 
 town about two years ago." 
 
 "Then you began your yearly visits " 
 
 "Before he moved there ? Yes." 
 
 Why was she glad to anticipate me? Was 
 this on her part a studied or an accidental pun 
 ishment? But she did not look like a wilful 
 torturer, as she sat in half listless grace before 
 me. Why did she, or why should she have 
 begun her visits when there was no cause 
 there was a cause, and my heart beat hard 
 against the image of it. 
 
 "Do you always come at the same time of 
 the year?" 
 
 "Not exactly, but when it s cold at home." 
 
 "I hope that your next visit may be during 
 the session of the next legislature." 
 
 "Oh, yes, for then I may have an opportu 
 nity to congratulate you." 
 
 "I trust that the result " 
 
 "Oh, yes," she broke in, her face so glow 
 ing that my own hope brightened. "You will 
 surely be elected, for everybody says so, and 
 and everybody is a majority, of course." 
 
138 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Yes, as a rule, but not always as a legis 
 lature." 
 
 "Now you are laughing at me, but I d rather 
 you d laugh than be harsh. I should think that 
 it would be such fun to go about and meet 
 people who are anxious to meet you and to 
 make speeches. Isn t it?" 
 
 "Looking back, it seems that it was," I re 
 plied; "but looking forward it does not seem 
 that it will be." 
 
 "Oh, then you have grown tired of it? Of 
 course too much of it would grow wearisome." 
 
 Did her mind shed everything, like a swan s 
 back shedding water; or was she artfully put 
 ting me away when she found that I was com 
 ing too near? But out of a deep study of her 
 I came with no knowledge; no key could open 
 her heart. Ah, and was it bolted with the steel 
 of a time lock, and must I wait for a certain 
 minute to be ticked off in the hazy future? A 
 newspaper had recently offered this criticism 
 of a speech of mine : "His address for the 
 practical mind was too full of images." And 
 now I wondered if that were true. Had the 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 139 
 
 woman sitting before me, slowly rocking, with 
 her hands expressive in repose upon the arms 
 of the chair had she taught me, forced me to 
 think in images? 
 
 Carson, who at the garden gate had been 
 talking to some one, came upon the veranda 
 to congratulate me upon my escape from assas 
 sination. "Fought a Mexican in the dark, 
 smashed his face and took a knife away from 
 him," said the old man, speaking to Zaleme. 
 She looked at me and for a moment there were 
 taut lines about her mouth. "While we were 
 in town mother and I heard some men talking 
 about a desperate fight, but heard no names, 
 and surely did not think that you had been in 
 such danger, Mr. Howardson. Tell me no, 
 don t tell me, either. I don t want to hear it." 
 
 "But I do," said the old man. "Rushed right 
 on you in the dark. Now you know that s 
 dangerous ! Why, a man might be killed. You 
 recollect old Tom Martson, found dead one 
 morning, you know, with a knife sticking in 
 him. Humph ! And all because you d sent the 
 greaser to the penitentiary while you were 
 
140 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 prosecuting attorney. They ought to hang 
 him that s the only way to serve such scoun 
 drels. And they tell me he had his pockets full 
 of all sorts of trinkets. Sneak thief as well as 
 murderer. Well, I m glad he didn t get you, 
 anyway." 
 
 He went about his work, picking up things 
 in the yard, pulling up weeds in the garden, 
 calling out at some one passing along the road, 
 humming a tune ; an old man whose farm was 
 in the center of the world. 
 
 "You heard your uncle say that the Mexican 
 was a sneak thief. Have you missed any any 
 jewelry?" 
 
 "No, I didn t bring any with me; the truth 
 is, I don t care for it." 
 
 "Isn t this yours?" I held forth the jewel 
 case and I thought she would snatch it from 
 me. 
 
 "Where where did you get it?" Her hands 
 were not listless now. 
 
 "The Mexican dropped it while he was try 
 ing to kill me." 
 
 "It was on the dresser and I saw it at noon- 
 
GAVE HER THE LOCKET. 141 
 
 time yesterday; and I wonder that I did not 
 miss it this morning." 
 
 "Is it so very very valuable?" 
 
 "To any one else? No," and slowly she 
 shook her head, looking upon the case lying in 
 her lap. 
 
 "Miss Zaleme, I must confess a crime. I 
 opened it." 
 
 "Did you?" and now she opened it. "That 
 
 was no crime." 
 
 "I can understand the lock of hair and the 
 man, but why the picture of the Alamo?" 
 
 "Please don t ask me." 
 
 "Is the memory painful ?" 
 
 "The memory of a tragedy is always pain 
 ful." 
 
 "Am I ever to know?" 
 
 She shook her head, looked down, and was 
 silent. And with a perversity I could not de 
 fine, I was disappointed because she had not 
 condemned me for opening the jewel case. I 
 was soon to depart for the field of labor, and 
 doubtless I should see her no more; and look 
 ing back into the mist, the lamp light, the 
 
142 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 woods, her words and her actions had given me 
 no encouragement. Encouragement toward 
 what end ? She had spoken of a tragedy. She 
 lived in the past, worshiping at an altar, and 
 upon it had been sprinkled sacred blood. But 
 I was determined to see her once again, and I 
 asked her if I might come in the evening, and 
 with a smile that set bells ringing somewhere, 
 she said yes, and held forth her hand. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. * 
 
 WITH THE LIGHT OF THE STARS IN HER EYES. 
 
 Once I saw a hawk trying to fly with a piece 
 of wood which had been tied to its foot, and 
 it rose almost as high as the top of a tall tree, 
 but the persistent weight pulled the bird down 
 to the earth. And that is sometimes the con 
 dition of a man s mind. It is held down by a 
 weight ; and I felt it to be the state of my mind 
 as I walked back to town. I was striving to 
 construct an address, to be delivered to the peo 
 ple of an adjoining county. I could not soar. 
 With a dead weight pulling at me, it was all I 
 could do to plod. 
 
 Old Sam was in the office, and his nurse-like 
 tenderness fretted me. He wanted something 
 to pet, a stone bruise to tie up and care for, and 
 
 only the most dependent of men could like that 
 143 
 
144 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 sort of attention. "Sam," said I, "will you do 
 me a favor?" 
 
 "Yes, surely, what is it?" 
 "Curse me. Call me a damned fool." 
 "Why so ? What have you done ?" 
 "Nothing, only I d rather you d curse me 
 than to be so tender with me." 
 
 He laughed, not his old laugh that I used to 
 call three-cornered, like a saw file, but a laugh 
 that was soft and sympathetic. "I know ex 
 actly how you feel, Lucian, and I ll let your 
 suggestion shape my conduct," and then with 
 his eyes a-twinkle with genial mischief he 
 swore a "mouth filling oath," but in it there 
 was no profanity. 
 
 Our weekly paper, in order that it might give 
 an account of the "Dastardly Attempt," and so 
 forth, had delayed going to press, but it was 
 out now, and I was the hero in a column of 
 type, with a picture that might have been taken 
 for the blackened impression of a horse s hoof. 
 The details had been known to the town long 
 before the paper was printed, and the Squire 
 and the Judge and Uncle This and Uncle That 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE STARS. 14$ 
 
 had congratulated me upon my escape, but af 
 ter the paper appeared they came round to con 
 gratulate me again. One old friend said that 
 it would do me a "power" of good among the 
 people. He was one of those men who always 
 can tell the reason why, by illustration, and 
 he told : At one time, away back in the forties, 
 he was a candidate for constable, with the 
 chances against him ; but on the day before the 
 contest at the polls he was called upon to de 
 fend himself -against a fellow who sought his 
 life and was elected. Sam, in his droll way, 
 said : "Why, the fellow you fought must have 
 been the opposing candidate and you must have 
 killed him. Of course you were elected." This 
 didn t displease the old man. It was an honor 
 to have come victorious out of a fight, and if 
 a man had been killed, it was his own fault, 
 an error of judgment. 
 
 Mr. Carson came in and said that he wished 
 to see me for a moment and I went over to the 
 window with him, my heart beating fast, but 
 it was soon eased back to the measured stroke 
 
 of peace. He said that Zaleme would drive 
 10 
 
146 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 into town about sunset and that she would be 
 pleased to have me accompany her home. I 
 squeezed the old fellow s gnarly hand and 
 caught Sam Hall s eye, the eye of soft solici 
 tude. 
 
 The time was long, but she came at last, driv 
 ing upon the public square, and I got into the 
 buggy, and we followed a road that led toward 
 the pink in the western sky. Along the road 
 were hedges of Cherokee rose, and out of 
 them came a sweet coolness. And now there 
 was but the faintest blush in the pearl cheek of 
 the horizon. Why has man s mind progressed 
 so far, and why has that something, that sense 
 which he calls his soul, remained in primitive 
 meshes? Why can t the soul break loose and 
 hurl itself into that light almost red up yon 
 der? 
 
 "And probably it would be caught in a trap 
 if it did," she remarked; and I was startled, 
 for I had been thinking aloud. 
 
 "It might as well be caught in a trap there 
 as here." 
 
 "But it isn t caught in a trap here," she said. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE STARS. 147 
 
 "It is held here for a time, it is true, but it 
 goes home. Am I old fashioned to talk that 
 way ? Does it seem odd to you ?" 
 
 I said no, and she replied : "But you seem 
 surprised." 
 
 "It may be that faith is beautiful and that 
 we are often surprised at beauty," I replied. 
 
 "Oh, thank you. But I think that there is 
 more religion now than ever before. Though 
 why should we talk about such things?" 
 
 "An unconscious effort to discover each oth 
 er s tastes," said I. "We see it in the case of 
 a boy and a girl keeping company for the 
 first time. They are embarrassed and they 
 sputter, but unconsciously they discover." 
 
 "Yes, that may be very true, but why so in 
 this instance, when we may not see each other 
 again ?" 
 
 "You said you were coming back during the 
 meeting of the legislature to congratulate me." 
 
 "Oh, yes, so I did ; but I had forgotten it," 
 and after a pause she added : "Mr. Howard- 
 son, I often find myself surprised to realize 
 that I may number you among my friends. You 
 
148 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 are so widely known, and are going to be so 
 prominent and I .am so obscure. But after all 
 what surprises me most is that I cease to be 
 surprised. I suppose that woman accepts as 
 her natural right any attention that a man 
 pays to her. But what serious nonsense I m 
 talking. And isn t it true that solemn non 
 sense is the worst of all? When I begin to 
 take myself seriously it most always ends with 
 a headache. So after all, it is the physical 
 seeking to predominate. What a delight I 
 w r ould be this evening to my old preceptress 
 with my big words. Isn t the air delicious ?" 
 She was driving, and when she turned into 
 a lane, to the right, I came within one of cry 
 ing out : "Oh, we are not there yet !" meaning 
 the place of the sunset. She continued to talk, 
 gayer than I had ever known her, and that, 
 too, with our parting moment so near. How 
 I wished that the storm of the night 
 before had held back, to burst upon us now. 
 What a joy to have wrapped the buggy 
 robe about her and to feel that she and I were 
 alone in the wind and the rain. She must 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE STARS. 149 
 
 have gone over the course before, for with 
 another turn we were driving toward Carson s 
 house ; and I wondered if we were to sit upon 
 the veranda, with the old man constantly in 
 truding; but if we had nothing to say, what dif 
 ference should it make? She felt that it was 
 an honor to number me among her friends, and 
 yet she stood off so cool a friend as to give no 
 meed of her confidence. But if she really lived 
 and worshiped in the past, why should I care 
 for her confidence? 
 
 We sat alone upon the veranda, and she was 
 just as gay as she 1 had been out on the road, 
 a trailing vine bursting into constant bloom; 
 and if I thought of anything serious I did not 
 utter it. At last the time to say good-bye was 
 come. An old clock had struck a late hour, 
 had echoed it throughout the house for empha 
 sis, and all lights, save one in the parlor, were 
 out, and that one, seen through the window, 
 looked dim, tired and sleepy. 
 
 "Why have you been so lively to-night?" I 
 asked, and in my voice there must have been 
 a tone of reproach. 
 
150 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Have I been lively? Really I didn t know 
 it. I thought I had been particularly stupid." 
 
 "I wish you d tell your mother good-bye for 
 me. I didn t forget it, but neglected it." 
 
 "Yes, I will. Oh, did you see that star, how 
 far it shot!" 
 
 "Who knows but it was a thought shooting 
 from the mind of some genius in the heavens?" 
 
 "Shooting at some man s spirit with an idea 
 and missing him," she laughed. "But I hope 
 that when the gods shoot in your behalf at 
 the legislature they ll not miss a bad figure 
 but a good intention, Mr. Howardson. I 
 hardly know what I m saying oh, must you 
 go now?" She went with me to the steps and 
 we halted there, and the starlight was in her 
 eyes, as she looked at me. I took her hand 
 and held it for a moment, releasing it of my 
 own will, for she made no effort to withdraw it. 
 Dumbness fell upon me; I could not speak a 
 word, and I stood in silence a silence without 
 embarrassment, a sublime stillness that seemed 
 to have come down out of the quiet air. And so 
 I left her with the light of the stars in her eyes. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A CRY FOR COMPANY. 
 
 In the strenuous work of the campaign I 
 found a sort of rest, almost a relief. There 
 were physical weariness, and sound sleep, and 
 in sleep fleeting pictures, but no slow-moving 
 dreams to inspire and awake a dread to go to 
 sleep again. And the campaign liar arose with 
 his enlivening diversity. In a country news 
 paper old Vox Populi declared that during a 
 dinner I had drunk wine unto drunkenness, 
 and the prohibitionists cried "shame." But 
 the edition of the same newspaper set forth a 
 charge more serious, appealing, as it did, to 
 a larger class, that away back in the kind and 
 screening past I had published a volume of 
 verses. It was not enough to assure my 
 accuser that the verses had been printed only 
 151 
 
152 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 for private circulation ; he replied that the pri 
 vate circulation happened to be a condition 
 rather than a foresight. And still another, 
 as truth-hating a wretch as ever walked in 
 leather, spoke of the "Rehearsed Attempt at 
 Assassination." But for the most part even 
 my enemies were kind, or silent, at least; and 
 in the intoxicating exercise of physical vigor, 
 long walks of mornings and of evenings, I 
 found myself throwing off the effect of a 
 blood poisoning, a heart poison. During a 
 tour that lasted three weeks, Old Sam was 
 with me as manager. The fact is that his 
 notion of politics was vague and clouded, but 
 he was proud to be a manager and as there 
 was nothing to manage, I let him manage. 
 And sometimes I heard him prowling about 
 at all hours of the night, managing; and if 
 I showed remonstrating signs he would say: 
 "Now, that s all very well, but there are cer 
 tain things that we ve got to get in hand. You 
 don t need to worry you sleep. All youVe 
 got to do is to meet the people. I ll do the 
 rest." Once I hinted that business at home 
 
A CRY FOR COMPANY 153 
 
 might be in need of his attention. He had 
 lost none of his sickroom tenderness, and 
 touching my arm softly he said : "My dear 
 fellow, the most important business on hand 
 at present is the business of sending you to 
 the Senate. Just have a little patience I am 
 doing the very best I can." 
 
 Hotze met us one night, and his oily famil 
 iarity did not assuage the dreariness of the 
 village tavern. Sam took an instantaneous 
 photograph of him and did not like the pic 
 ture. Hotze began at once to make sugges 
 tions, and it must be remembered that Sam 
 was manager. 
 
 "Sir," said Sam, "I doubt whether you have 
 ever studied the science of politics." 
 
 Hotze was sitting on my bed. It makes no 
 difference how many chairs there may be in 
 a candidate s room at a hotel, some one must 
 sit on his bed. 
 
 "I say the science of politics," Sam repeated. 
 
 "I guess you are right there," Hotze replied, 
 "for all the time you re studying the science 
 you re missing politics. I know what elec- 
 
154 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 tions are, I can tell you that. And I read 
 newspapers as much as anybody, and that s 
 where you get what the people are thinking 
 about." 
 
 "But we don t elect senators as we do alder 
 men," said Sam. 
 
 "Think not ? Well, there is a difference, but 
 it s work among the boys at last and the boys 
 control the legislature." 
 
 Sam sneered. Hotze held forth a black 
 cigar. Sam shook his head: "Thank you, 
 I don t smoke." 
 
 "Wife object?" Hotze asked, handing the 
 cigar to me. 
 
 "No, heart objects." 
 
 "That so? Didn t think it made any dif 
 ference with the heart and let me see, seems 
 as if I heard some one say you claimed your 
 heart was dead anyhow." 
 
 Sam s eyes seemed to fly into mine. "Sam," 
 said I, speaking quickly, "you know Haney, 
 over at San Antonio; and at a time when you 
 were dejected, you must have talked freely 
 to him. Mr. Haney and Mr. Hotze meet often, 
 
A CRY FOR COMPANY. 155 
 
 met once especially when Haney requested 
 me to give his regards to you and it was 
 then that I with the kindliest " 
 
 "I understand, Lucian," he said, relieving 
 me of an explanation that was entangling me. 
 
 "Yes, you bet I know Haney all right," 
 Hotze spoke up ; "and he said something about 
 some woman trouble and I told him of a 
 woman affair I had, and you bet she tattooed 
 a picture on my breast that represented St. 
 George and the Dragoon and " 
 
 Sam fell back with a loud laugh and Hotze 
 stared at him, not wounded but surely aston 
 ished. "Oh, it s a fact," said he. "Nobody 
 might have been able to see the picture, but 
 I ll swear I could feel it there. Fact." 
 
 In all sincerity Sam begged pardon for his 
 rudeness, and Hotze said, "Oh, everything s 
 all right. But getting back to the original 
 proposition," he continued, "let me say, and 
 I hope without offense, that my experience 
 tells me you re in the kindergarten. Wait a 
 minute. I can see that this is about the first 
 
156 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 time you ever had anything to do with a cam 
 paign." 
 
 "Sir!" Sam cried with bristles rising, "I 
 don t want any insinuations and what s niore, 
 I won t have any. Put that in your pipe 
 along with your wealth of political wisdom and 
 smoke it." 
 
 Hotze withdrew soon afterward and Sam, 
 after walking up and down the room for a 
 time, halted in front of me and said: "If 
 you want me to throw up the management of 
 this campaign just speak the word and I ll 
 return home to-night. If you think that por 
 poise can manage it better than I can, all right. 
 One word s enough." 
 
 "Why, old man," I replied, "Barnum could 
 never have managed a show better than you 
 manage 
 
 He grasped my hand. "Lucian, I thank 
 you for those generous words, proceeding 
 largely from a kindliness of spirit, let us 
 acknowledge, but most grateful, I assure you. 
 I am glad you have faith in me, that you can 
 find support in me, for we are face to face 
 
A CRY FOR COMPANY. 157 
 
 with a difficult issue. But have faith. The 
 fight is almost won." 
 
 How he had changed since I had made my 
 "confession !" Before then he was cool, with a 
 Hobbes-like dryness, with his sharp, three- 
 cornered smile. And now he seemed like a 
 child, wanting to be petted. On the day after 
 meeting Hotze we were in a buggy driving 
 across the country. 
 
 "I suppose you have written to her," said 
 Sam. 
 
 "No. To tell you the truth she s not in my 
 mind as harassingly as she was. I find that 
 I m almost as strong as I was after Viola 
 Morgan married the cattleman." 
 
 He was driving and the lines became sudden 
 ly loose in his hand, but he gathered them up 
 and said: "Lucian, I hope you don t mean 
 that." 
 
 "Why ? Do you want to see me suffer ?" 
 
 "No ; but I want to see that you have a stead 
 fast heart." 
 
 "So that you may think more of me or of 
 your own judgment which?" 
 
158 . IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Now you are shilly-shallying. I know that 
 you were in a great trouble, a trouble that 
 shakes a man as a storm does a tree and if 
 you are forgetting it, why, I m sorry, Lucian." 
 
 "But, Sam, she loves a memory a shadow." 
 
 "You don t know that you did not ask 
 her." 
 
 "I didn t need to I saw." 
 
 "But all this doesn t alter the fact that you 
 were in a deep trouble and that now you are 
 in a shallow indifference." 
 
 "Let me ask you again: do you want me 
 to suffer?" 
 
 "And let me tell you again that I want to 
 feel that you are steadfast." 
 
 "Sam, a man may have a disease that threat 
 ens to blight him and a certain reserve force 
 in his constitution may at last throw off the 
 disease. Would you accuse that man of not 
 being steadfast?" 
 
 "Oh, if you want to be ridiculous, all right. 
 By the way, I shall be forced to go home to 
 morrow. I have received a letter that demands 
 my return. But understand that I am always 
 
A CRY FOR COMPANY. 159 
 
 ready with my advice if not with my active 
 services." 
 
 He went home a jaded man, as if all the 
 weariness of the campaign had suddenly come 
 upon him. His heart was not wholly dead. 
 There was in it life enough to cry for com 
 pany. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 FOUND NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 
 
 Not long after his return home Old Sam 
 wrote to me. "How goes the work of Woo 
 ing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles/ 
 said he. "Of course you must surely find 
 some little pleasure in the excitement of the 
 struggle, and sometimes I m afraid that such 
 may be your only recompense. I don t want 
 to discourage you, but it does not seem to me 
 that your chances are quite so good as they 
 were. And how things are exaggerated ! I 
 met a man the other day who said you had 
 written a book of obscene songs. This from 
 that pretty little volume of verses intended for 
 friends. Another feHow said that flown with 
 insolence and wine you had entered a saloon, 
 
 knocked down the bartender and smashed the 
 rib 
 
NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 161 
 
 mirrors. And this from the fact that you 
 had tasted a farmer s home-made wine and 
 pronounced it good, which I am ready to swear 
 it was not." 
 
 Hovering over the ashes of his heart, the 
 old man was again a cynic. Of me he could 
 hear naught but evil, and for me he could 
 see nothing but defeat. And all because I had 
 been strong enough to climb out of the black 
 hole of despair. But why did I, while thus 
 musing, halt, startled, at the corner of a vil 
 lage street? A perfume had come floating 
 upon the air, not of any flower I had known, 
 but a scent that had thrilled me when I was 
 with her. And with my senses swimming, 
 gasping, I stood as if dazed, and my heart arose 
 and with suffocating strokes beat in my throat. 
 Ah, it had not been cured by strength of will ; 
 it had been stunned by a blow and now con 
 sciousness was returning. 
 
 I stood in a courthouse, in the presence 
 of "fellow countrymen" ; and striving to 
 reason, felt that I was justifying a criti 
 cism talking in images, a child playing with 
 11 
 
162 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 picture blocks. After two other engagements 
 to speak I was to go back to Riplar; and the 
 prospect of rest was soothing. But when the 
 time was at hand I shuddered to think of re 
 turning to the place where last I had seen her. 
 And so thus I wrote to Old Sam : "I have 
 reached what I have looked forward to as a 
 breathing spell, but the air is not so clear as 
 I had expected to find it, nor does the breath 
 ing bring me rest. You have been outspoken 
 with me, to the very verge of harshness, and 
 I will speak out to you. It has all come back 
 to me, a perfume in the air, and I am more 
 than wretched. So I need a rest more sooth 
 ing than the mere giving up of work. I have 
 year after year dreamed of my old home in 
 Tennessee and in my memory it lies there 
 now just as it was when I was taken from it 
 many years ago. Quietly I am going to steal 
 back there and wander up and down the old 
 Cumberland river." 
 
 I set forth the next day, and how short was 
 the span that marked the distance between 
 my new and my old home. Hardly could I 
 
NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 163 
 
 realize that I walked about the limestone streets 
 of Nashville, which years ago looked as ancient 
 as the military roads of Rome. A half tearful 
 memory pointed out familiar objects, old brass 
 door knockers, bronze lions; and here was a 
 block of stone on which I had seen a 
 slave stand to be sold. I walked up the river 
 toward my old home, not far from the Hermit 
 age of Andrew Jackson, and looked back at 
 the town, my eye full of the spirit of long 
 ago. I loitered along the banks of the beau 
 tiful river, but from the valley where the grass 
 was fresh there floated a reminding perfume 
 and I hastened onward, coming suddenly upon 
 the old house, now almost in ruins, deserted 
 and with cattle lowing about it. And where 
 were the soothing memories which I had ex 
 pected to find, lying like cool and refreshing 
 shadows upon this sacred land? Weary and 
 downhearted I returned to the city. I went 
 to an opera, sat beside an old fellow who 
 doubtless had come down the river on a raft; 
 and turning to me he said : "Will you be so 
 kind and obligin as to give me your opinion 
 
164 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 as to how long you reckon it will be before 
 they begin to hit the tune." 
 
 "They are in the midst of it now." 
 
 "Oh, do you think so? Well, if they don t 
 git better pretty soon I ll have to leave." 
 
 He annoyed me and with impatience I turned 
 about in my seat. But what was he saying? 
 
 "Don t think I can stay till she is out nohow. 
 Got to take a train at ten o clock for Bowl 
 ing Green, Kentucky; and they tell me it s a 
 good long ways from here, eighty odd miles." 
 
 I don t know whether or not he was on that 
 train, but I was, a restless and eager passenger. 
 And now I realized what undoubtedly I knew 
 before, that I had not left Texas to find rest 
 amid the scenes of long ago, that the cause 
 lay in ambush in my heart, that by devious 
 paths I was going to her. 
 
 The train stopped on a siding to let another 
 train pass, and I caught the talk of two men 
 who occupied a seat in front of me. "Not 
 only that, a man will lie to himself and insist 
 in honestly believing it," said one of the men, 
 as if he had taken up the thread of my musing. 
 
NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 165 
 
 "Yes," replied the other, "and pretends to 
 be surprised when he finds that he s lying/ 
 
 "All the education in the world wouldn t 
 place him much beyond himself; he s hardly 
 ever broad enough not to talk about his chil 
 dren." 
 
 "Or his disease the number of nights it 
 has been since he s slept." 
 
 "Or to believe that no matter how much a 
 woman may have loved he can inspire " 
 
 A train rushed by and I lost the end of his 
 sentence, but the part which I had caught ran 
 through my mind, the words repeating time 
 and time again. And I wondered if what he 
 said was really to be numbered among the 
 many vanities of man, all the time meaning 
 myself, of course; and then it came upon me 
 that he had echoed a truth known throughout 
 the ages. But did I believe that I could inspire 
 within her breast a greater love than she had 
 ever felt before; and if I thought that she did 
 not feel such a love would I care to marry 
 her? Oh^how tired I was of asking a ques- 
 
i66 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 tion of myself and looking to myself for the 
 answer. 
 
 The train arrived at Bowling Green long 
 before daylight and, contemptible in the eye 
 of the cabmen, I walked to the tavern; and, 
 domiciled therein, I lay down to think and to 
 dream of men shouting proverbs through the 
 smoke, and finally of a perfume which stole 
 into the room and awoke me. My window 
 looked out on a small park, thick-set with trees, 
 and among the branches were numerous birds, 
 almost lyric-mad. I knew something of the 
 town, that the hills about it had been strongly 
 fortified by the Confederates during the Civil 
 War, that it was on a tongue shooting out 
 from the blue grass region famous for fine 
 horses, whiskey, handsome women and game 
 men. 
 
 When I went down to breakfast the land 
 lord could have devised no means of surprising 
 me more than he did, when he handed to me 
 a letter from Sam Hall. "I know where you 
 are or where you will be/ said the old fel 
 low, "and I send this in care of the principal 
 
NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 167 
 
 hotel of the place, presuming of course that 
 it will reach you. Don t worry about things 
 here, for everything is going well and if you 
 are not elected, the whole State will rise up 
 and demand to know the reason why. But 
 you are going to be elected. My judgment, 
 and I believe that you have cause to put faith 
 in it, persists in telling me so. Ah, my dear 
 friend, I couldn t believe that your heart had 
 been so shallow. Take any other view of man 
 which may suit your fancy, this truth still 
 stands like a bronze statue that he is never 
 complete until the grand passion comes upon 
 him, perhaps like a thief in the night, and 
 that when it has come he is never the same 
 afterward. Understand, I don t believe that 
 it comes to all men; but when it does come 
 and is thrown off, as I thought yours had been 
 thrown off, it argues a vacillating heart and 
 a soul but dimly lighted. This has established 
 itself as a sort of philosophy with me, and 
 knowing it, you do not wonder that I changed 
 so suddenly toward you not long ago. God 
 
168 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 knows I pray for your heart a different fate 
 than the one which overtook mine; and I ad 
 vise you not to give up but to continue to 
 fight. Don t accept no; don t permit yourself 
 to become weak; don t falter over the possi 
 bility that she has loved desperately in the 
 past. I know that man has but one grand 
 passion; I believe that a woman may have 
 two. To most men this may appear as a fal 
 lacy, but it seems to have been revealed to me 
 as in a dream that came true." 
 
 Was it impossible for me to get beyond the 
 range of Old Sam s preaching ? I confess that 
 now and then he whimsically hit upon a truth. 
 But I resented the fact that he had appointed 
 himself the censor of the heart of man. 
 Woman may have two grand passions ! That 
 was all very well, but I did not care to inspire 
 a second grand passion. I wanted to learn, to 
 know, that a former passion was to be classed 
 among the lesser ones. I was determined to 
 demand, to seize this knowledge; I was 
 stronger now than when I last had seen her. 
 
NO SOOTHING MEMORIES. 169 
 
 "Ah, landlord, what road shall I take to 
 Mr. Acklin s?" 
 
 "The Drake s Creek pike. Any one can 
 show you." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LISTENING FOR THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 
 
 The farm lay along the creek, about three 
 miles from town, and I preferred to walk. 
 The way was easy and the prospect a delight, 
 the brown turnpike, the green hills, the ven 
 erable trees, the leaping brooks. The land, 
 crossed here and there with gray stone fences, 
 looked old, not worn and gullied, but possessed 
 of a dreamy charm, lying under the softening 
 and indefinable tints of time. How buoyant 
 and breast-filling was the air; how one was 
 almost impelled to run down a hill, and shout 
 ing like a boy, leap across a brook. The wood 
 pecker flashed his flaming scarlet, and the blue 
 bird, as if to soften the impudent glare, flew 
 in his wake. Deep in a miniature valley where 
 
 the ground was moist, stood an army-like 
 170 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 171 
 
 array of tall weeds, and a breeze stirring, the 
 captain and his host saluted me with a nod 
 ding of their plumes. On a hill an old log 
 house was mouldering into dust, the fort-home 
 of the dauntless pioneer. From a mansion 
 on another hill near by came the notes of a 
 piano, the pioneer s great-great-granddaughter 
 sullenly and perforce perfecting herself in the 
 art of nerve torture. 
 
 I halted at a fence and looked at the ripples 
 running across a field of heading wheat. 
 From a nest in a bush a young bird stretched 
 its fuzzy neck and cried for food and its cry 
 was not in vain, for soon its mother was there 
 with nourishment, and with a song, when with 
 discerning eye she saw that I meant no harm. 
 
 How sweet the soft wind from that wooded 
 slope ! And how inspiriting that blooded colt, 
 wallowing in the clover and racing across the 
 meadow with blooms tangled in his mane. 
 Who could not be bold in such an atmosphere ! 
 How glad I was that I came. Why, even 
 the deliciousness of that deep breath on the 
 brow of the shaded hill was more than gener- 
 
172 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ous payment for all the weariness of the trip. 
 I sat down on a rock and read old Sam s 
 letter. But it was too morbid to be mused 
 over at such a time and in such a place. Of 
 a boy loitering along the road I inquired the 
 distance to the Acklin farm, and he answered, 
 "On top of the second hill, just this side the 
 creek." I pushed onward, growing stronger, 
 climbing the hill with an ease and lightness 
 that surprised me; and at the top a red brick 
 house leaped into view, and a trembling weak 
 ness came upon me and my knees shook. It 
 was the overexertion ; I had been too free 
 with my strength; I would soon recover, and 
 I sat upon a bank by the roadside, but con 
 tinued to tremble and to shudder as if with 
 the cold. Ah, it was the black cigar I had 
 smoked while musing over the rippling wheat. 
 Afar off beyond the house I could see the 
 white branches of sycamores, gleaming in the 
 sun; and the sun was warm, but I shivered. 
 I tried to laugh at myself but my teeth chat 
 tered. But even an attempt at self-ridicule 
 is often salutary, and thus I found it, for 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 173 
 
 suddenly I was strong again. Yes, it was the 
 black cigar. But I noticed an increase of 
 strength down in the valley out of sight of 
 the house, and a corresponding decrease as 
 again I came within sight of the place. With 
 out a sidewise glance I walked past the house 
 and halting on the stone bridge, arching the 
 creek, leaned over the parapet and gazed into 
 the water. I heard a guinea hen on the hill, 
 the defiant challenge of a game cock; and I 
 thought of the turkey gobbler that strutted at 
 the heels of old man Carson. I looked up 
 at the house and saw tall lilacs standing high 
 above the garden wall. A blue curtain flut 
 tered at a dormer-window. The burnished tip 
 of a lightning rod shot me in the eye with a 
 sun-arrow. Why had not some one hailed 
 me as I passed ? Where was the boasted hos 
 pitality of Kentucky? I walked back and 
 would, I verily believe, have passed a second 
 time, but for the appearance of a woman at 
 the gate Mrs. Acklin. And I marched up 
 to her and she knew me in an instant and ap 
 peared glad to see me. 
 
174 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "But how surprised I am," she said when we 
 had shaken hands. 
 
 "Yes, I am surprised myself. I the fact 
 is, I had to go to my old home to settle the 
 affairs of a delinquent estate, and suddenly 
 found that my duty called me to this neigh 
 borhood." 
 
 "And I am very much pleased that it did. 
 Come in." 
 
 She knew that I would prefer to sit in the 
 airy cool of the veranda, and she drew for 
 ward a large rocking chair, with a seat of 
 split hickory; she brought a palm-leaf fan, 
 edged with green ribbon, talking constantly 
 the while, telling me how pleased she was to 
 see me; but confound it, did she live here 
 alone ? Where were the other members of the 
 family ? She clipped off a rose that was nod 
 ding in a morning nap, and pinned it on my 
 coat. She called a negro girl and ordered 
 for me a tumbler of water fresh from the well. 
 
 "I am very anxious for you to meet Mr. 
 Acklin," she said. "Zaleme has told him a 
 great deal about you, but he knew of you any- 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 175 
 
 way, as he keeps very close track of the 
 speeches made in Congress, and he is pleased 
 to know that you are going to the Senate. 
 He s out somewhere but is likely to be back 
 at any moment." 
 
 No doubt of it, but where was that young 
 woman? By what peculiar perversity was it 
 that I was thus denied all information of her? 
 She might be yachting on Lake Superior for 
 all I had been able to learn. 
 
 "You are all well, I suppose, Mrs. Acklin." 
 "Oh, yes, as well as could be expected. I 
 had a slight attack of rheumatism some time 
 ago, but it soon passed off. Mr. Acklin de 
 clared that it was all my own fault. He is 
 a vegetarian." 
 
 "Is Miss Zaleme s health good?" 
 "Yes, very good, indeed. She went fish 
 ing with a party of friends not long ago and 
 caught a slight cold, but it yielded to treat 
 ment." 
 
 "If I remember rightly she is fond of home ; 
 that is to say, she doesn t go visiting very 
 often." 
 
176 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Yes, very fond of home. She doesn t 
 really go out enough. It s so warm, and you 
 have walked so far in the sun. Won t you 
 have some more water?" 
 
 "No, thank you. What a profusion of flow 
 ers you have in the yard and what roses ! I 
 should say that Miss Zaleme and yourself are 
 fond of them." 
 
 "Oh, yes, and Mr. Acklin, too. He surely 
 will be here soon, and how surprised he will 
 be to see you, having heard so much about 
 you, and of course not expecting you." 
 
 Strong within me was the desire to say, 
 "Madam, I am tired of this senseless skirmish. 
 Where the deuce is that daughter of yours?" 
 but I didn t ; I gave her a sickly smile and said 
 "yes." 
 
 "How long do you expect your business to 
 detain you in this part of the country?" 
 
 I took some papers out of my pocket, looked 
 at them and answered : "I can t tell exactly ; 
 am expecting to get away in a few days, but 
 it might possibly be a month." 
 
 "You are exceedingly busy, I suppose?" 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 177 
 
 "Yes, very. But I cannot permit the work 
 entailed by ahem personal ambition to in 
 terfere with the settlement of an estate in 
 trusted to me in all ahem, hem confidence." 
 
 "Of course not. I m sorry that Zaleme 
 Lucy, oh Lucy, run yonder and drive the chick 
 ens out of the garden. They are scratching 
 up everything." 
 
 "You were going to say that you were sorry 
 about something." 
 
 "Yes; well it couldn t have been very im 
 portant, for I ve forgotten what it is." 
 
 "Something about Miss Zaleme, I believe." 
 
 "Oh, sure enough. I was going to say I 
 was sorry she isn t at home to " 
 
 "At some eastern seaside ?" 
 
 "Oh, no; it s not the time of year, and 
 besides we never go there. She is over at 
 Major White s. She and Miss Rhoda White 
 are like sisters. She drove over this morning 
 and is going to stay until tomorrow." 
 
 "Yes. I am sorry, for I may get through 
 with my business in town by late this evening, 
 
 12 
 
178 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 and in that event shall be compelled to start 
 for home at once." 
 
 "Then I ll send for her, for I know she ll 
 be disappointed if " 
 
 "Oh, no, no. It s of no conse I mean it 
 wouldn t be right to break up her visit." 
 
 "Why, she can go over there any time only 
 five miles and besides Rhoda can come home 
 with her. Lucy, oh, Lucy, tell Jim to ride 
 over to Major White s and tell Miss Zaleme 
 to come home and bring Miss Rhoda with 
 her that Mr. Howardson of Texas is here." 
 
 "Madam, I beg of you " 
 
 "Oh, it won t make any difference with her, 
 and besides, Rhoda will come. Ah, here s Mr. 
 Acklin now." 
 
 A tall, spry old gentleman, pale and with 
 grayish mustache, came up the walk. When 
 my name was mentioned there was a flush of 
 surprise on his face. The heartiness of a 
 hand-shake may be counterfeited, but it seems 
 that there is always something to tell us when 
 the warmth and the grip are just right; and 
 I felt that his welcome was genuine. He 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 179 
 
 leaned his chair back against the baluster, his 
 hat off, the vines about his head, a picture 
 of refined and honest manhood, and yet about 
 him there was a touch of oddity. His man 
 ner was easy and his talk was free, and my 
 mind could but dwell upon the exceeding 
 brightness of his eye. I fancied that gradually 
 he was drifting toward a cherished subject, 
 and so it proved. From the state of his health 
 he began a disquisition upon diet, and his wife 
 quietly fled. 
 
 "And I want to say," said he, "that the time 
 will come when no civilized man will eat of 
 food that has breathed ! Why, think of it 
 what an outrage it is!" 
 
 I thought of it and agreed that it was an 
 outrage. 
 
 "Mr. Howardsori, let me shake hands with 
 you again. I am more than glad to welcome 
 to my house a man of your standing and abil 
 ity. Such men, sir, are needed in public 
 places, at the council fires of the nation. It 
 has been now let me see how long since I 
 
i8o IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ate meat. Oh, a number of years, and since 
 then I have been more of a man." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it." 
 
 "Of course you haven t, for you are a man 
 of sense, but there are others who are not 
 sensible. Society is not composed of intelli 
 gence, Mr. Howardson. Think of a piece of 
 beef, sir; think of it." 
 
 It was near noontime and I thought of it. 
 The old gentleman continued : "The desire 
 to eat it does not belong so much to barbarism 
 as to cannibalism. Don t you know it?" 
 
 I said that I knew it. But it was hard to 
 give him my attention, for my mind was wan 
 dering up and down the turnpike, sometimes on 
 the bridge, and sometimes in a tree, it seemed, 
 seeking to discover Zaleme coming toward the 
 house. He said something about the physical 
 and mental effect of an exclusive diet of fruit 
 and nuts, though he was not so extreme as 
 to exclude common vegetables, and bread if 
 made properly, and I gave him the attention 
 of a dull ear, the other one quickening with 
 every sound that came from the road. But 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 181 
 
 to prove that I was heedful, I asked if he ate 
 fish and for a moment his countenance looked 
 as if a neuralgic pain had shot him in the 
 face. 
 
 "Gracious, no, Mr. Howardson. Fish have 
 lived." 
 
 I was now like certain sea fish in deep 
 water, and before realizing it I had said : "I 
 know, but I mean mackerel." 
 
 "Mackerel, Mr. Howardson! Why, sir, a 
 mackerel has lived !" 
 
 "Yes, but in most instances it has been so 
 long ago that that " 
 
 "Oh, some of your drollery, I see. Very 
 good, yes, first-rate. I couldn t see what you 
 were leading to, for of course you knew that 
 I wouldn t eat a fish." 
 
 He had unwittingly caught me at a mo 
 ment of awkward stumbling, and out of grati 
 tude I strove to pay him more attention, but 
 with all my effort my spirit wandered off, and 
 I heard him as one hears the droning of a 
 bee. Suddenly there was but one sound in 
 the world, the sharp clap of hoofs on the hard 
 
i&2 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 road; and with forgetful eagerness I sprang 
 out of my chair, pulled aside the vine curtain 
 and peered toward the bridge. And I saw 
 a buggy coming. 
 
 "Has your horse got loose?" the old gentle 
 man inquired. In the South, and especially in 
 Kentucky, when a man is seized with any sud 
 den emotion the most natural inference is that 
 his horse has broken loose. 
 
 "Oh, no, I walked." 
 
 "Ah, an example for the meat-eating and 
 horse-riding young fellows about here. There 
 was a time, sir, when my only exercise was in 
 racing round and round to catch a horse in 
 order to ride a mile. But since learning how 
 to eat, I walk." 
 
 The buggy drew up at the gate and I began 
 earnestly to talk to Mr. Acklin, not even look 
 ing down the walk when I heard light foot 
 steps and the thrilling tinkle of laughter. And 
 there she was in all her radiance with moist 
 ened lip dew on a ripening cherry and eyes 
 that proved the glory of God. In our sober 
 moments we know that such comparisons can 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 183 
 
 come only out of a sort of delirium; and it 
 was with awkwardness and a violent lurching, 
 I am constrained to believe, that I floundered 
 from the sea of my own swimming senses in 
 time properly to realize that I was presented 
 to Miss Rhoda White. And in an instant my 
 fancy seized upon the belief that in the twi- 
 lighted pleasure of semi-despair she was sigh 
 ing over a disappointment of the heart. Her 
 face was pale and in her wan smile there was 
 an assurance that it was the last. She was 
 tall and fragile, and at times appeared to 
 turn her attention to the cultivation of a cough, 
 distressful in degree as it claimed a whole or 
 a part of her energy. 
 
 "Well, who would have thought that I should 
 ever see you here," said Zaleme, standing with 
 her back toward the baluster, her hands upon 
 the railing, her head among the closing blos 
 soms of the morning glory vine. "Why, I 
 thought you were out in the thick of the fight, 
 with your sleeves rolled up like Uncle Car 
 
 son." 
 
 ( I was until during a sort of armistice when 
 
184 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I came to Nashville and then to this place to 
 attend to business of an important nature." 
 
 "Well/ she replied, radiant as a painting 
 in advantageous light, "if I never were thank 
 ful to business before I am now." 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed," said Rhoda White, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 "And how is your friend, Mr. Hall?" 
 
 "Looking up because he can t look down 
 any deeper. I received a letter from him this 
 morning." 
 
 "Did you? How I should like to read it. 
 Is it so private that you won t let me ? Please 
 let me read it. May I?" 
 
 "Not now, but before I return you may." 
 
 "It will have to do, but it is vague. Isn t it, 
 Rhoda?" 
 
 And with a smile that came slowly and faded 
 quickly away, Rhoda answered: "As vague 
 as the mysterious whispers we hear upon the 
 mountain side." 
 
 Was this woman a romantic and sentimental 
 depressor ? I would have been willing to take 
 oath that she had never seen a mountain and 
 
THE SOUND OF A HOOF. 185 
 
 had never heard whisperings other than those 
 from the lips of some enamored swain. Did 
 she spin the silken threads that bound Zaleme 
 to the past? 
 
 "Dad," Zaleme spoke up, "don t you remem 
 ber Miss Gallic Morris married Gus Torey? 
 I saw her and her baby today, the sweetest 
 little thing you ever saw in your life. How I 
 did" want to run away with it !" 
 
 " Well," said the old man, laughing, "Mr. 
 Howardson will think you are a child-stealer." 
 
 "I often feel the instinct of one. If the 
 Church had never done anything but to paint 
 the picture of the Mother and the Child that 
 alone ought to be enough to Christianize the 
 world." 
 
 The ringing of a bell called us to the dining 
 room. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SANG OLD SONGS. 
 
 At the head of the table, on a great blue- 
 bordered dish, there must have been at least 
 half a dozen spring chickens, fried by the su 
 preme judge of something good to eat an 
 old negress. And though still dazzled and 
 often in a tremor when I looked at Zaleme, 
 the walk from town had honed my appetite. 
 I sat at the right hand of Mr. Acklin. "This 
 is not for us," he said to me, drawing the dish 
 of chicken toward him, "but for those," he 
 added with a smile, "who have not climbed 
 up to our level. To show our liberality we 
 do not banish such food from our table. 
 Rhoda, you want a wish bone, I know. Mr. 
 Howardson, here we have some very fine pea 
 nut butter. I think you ll like it; and help 
 186 
 
SANG OLD SONGS. 187 
 
 yourself to this cauliflower. I wouldn t take 
 too much salt has a most distressful and dry 
 ing effect upon the system. We will take 
 some of this raw cabbage. The cooked has 
 been boiled with meat." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Howardson," cried Zaleme, "you 
 didn t tell me you were a vegetarian." 
 
 "Of course not/ her father spoke up, "why 
 should a man stand upon a house-top and shout 
 a virtue : couldn t you perceive it from his 
 health and strength?" 
 
 In the center of the table there was a boiled 
 ham, stuck full of cloves. "What we call a 
 chinquepin ham," said Mr. Acklin, "the hog 
 having been fattened upon chinquepin acorns; 
 and during the days when I plodded in the mire 
 of dietary ignorance, I thought it particularly 
 sweet. But if the sight of it is at all disagree 
 able to you I ll have it removed." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, not at all." 
 
 And I had heard my father talk of chinque 
 pin hams; and I remembered when the gastric 
 aspiration of every boy in the south was to 
 grace his appetite with a fried spring chicken. 
 
i88 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Here is some very nice dry gluten, Mr. 
 Howardson, and here is a dish of most nutri 
 tious granola. I always find these carbon 
 crackers most excellent, and Lucy," he said, 
 speaking to the negro girl, "bring Mr. How 
 ardson a glass of milk with lime water. Well, 
 sir, you have no idea what a pleasure it gives 
 me to welcome you to my home. Rhoda, 
 what s the Major doing?" 
 
 "Just worrying with the field hands. I beg 
 him and beg him to take things easier but he 
 won t." 
 
 "Ah, and he never will until he stops eat 
 ing meat. Why, look at me, younger in spirit 
 and in mind than I was twenty-five years, ago. 
 Help yourself again to the dry gluten, Mr. 
 Howardson. It won t hurt you." 
 
 Zaleme spoke and I forgot my enforced 
 adoption of the old man s diet: "You must 
 come out to see us at least every other day 
 as long as your business keeps you in this 
 part of the country. And you must be sure 
 to come next Sunday, day after tomorrow. 
 Rhoda, can t you come then, too?" 
 
SANG OLD SONGS. 189 
 
 Rhoda coughed and said, "No, I m afraid 
 not, dear." 
 
 "Why, are you expecting some one?" 
 And now the stare which she bent upon 
 Zaleme was full of sorrowful surprise and re 
 buke. "How can you speak so lightly? You 
 know that some one has come and gone afar 
 off, I won t say into the boundless space of 
 eternity, but perhaps into the careless wander 
 ings of " 
 
 "Rhoda, you know I didn t mean " 
 
 "Of course not, dear, and now there is noth 
 ing to forgive, even if I should search ever so 
 long to find it. Mr. Howardson, while here 
 you must go to a meeting of our Swinburne 
 Club. The next meeting will be held at Cap 
 tain Gray son s, ten miles down the creek from 
 here." 
 
 I knew that Rhoda was a good girl, that 
 she was twin sister to sympathy, but on this 
 occasion I could have wished that she had gone 
 with whomever he was, "into the careless wan 
 derings of" it made no difference whither. 
 Mrs. Acklin was a sort of illumined shadow, 
 
190 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 and it was easy to get away from her and I 
 could manage to break loose from the old gen 
 tleman; but this pale weeper at the death bed 
 of sentiment there was no way to dispose of 
 her. After dinner Rhoda, Zaleme and I went 
 into the hillside orchard that sloped grace 
 fully down to the creek. In the cool shade 
 we sat upon the bluegrass turf. Whenever 
 a silence fell Rhoda gave us a few staves of 
 a song which long since had passed its tear 
 ful prime. Nearly all of her heroes and hero 
 ines were dead, and those living were in a 
 sad plight, heartbroken over unfaithfulness. 
 She left us and wandered along the stone wall 
 to gather flowers. It was a relief. 
 
 "I won t forget my promise to let you read 
 Old Sam s letter." 
 
 "Well, but you put it off so." 
 
 "And when you read it you will know why." 
 
 "Oh, now you make me more anxious than 
 ever. Is it so terrible?" 
 
 "I think it has its terrors." 
 
 "Oh, now, don t be provoking. I believe 
 you are are guying me. I know he 
 
SANG OLD SONGS. 191 
 
 wouldn t say anything harsh to you ; he thinks 
 too much of you. Oh, perhaps he has said 
 something about me. Did he?" 
 
 "No, your name is not " 
 
 "Oh, to be inferred then. Don t tease me. 
 Let me read it." 
 
 "Not now. Do you know why I came to 
 this town?" 
 
 "Why, yes, to attend to business." 
 
 "No, to see you." 
 
 "I still am weeping, my lone watch keeping," 
 sang Rhoda above our heads. She scattered 
 flowers upon us, and then with a sigh sat down. 
 She asked me if I could tell fortunes by look 
 ing at the hand, and I told her that I had found 
 more misfortune than fortune by looking at 
 hands such as had been dealt to me, and she 
 cried out : "Oh, shame on you, you ve played 
 cards. What do you think of that, Zaleme?" 
 
 "I haven t any right to think evil of it, 
 Rhoda." 
 
 "Oh, now, dear, you know I didn t mean 
 anything, I " 
 
IQ2 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Zaleme laughed. "Why, of course you 
 didn t." 
 
 "No, dear, honestly I didn t." 
 
 She was too tender for me. I was afraid 
 of wounding her. I knew of such a girl years 
 ago, and now she is fat and the wife of a horse 
 doctor, but this knowledge did not relieve the 
 necessity of care now. But why didn t Rhoda 
 go away and gather more flowers, a cartload 
 of them? 
 
 We returned to the house where Mr. Acklin 
 sat upon the veranda, with a chair in front 
 of him, piled with books, some one s theories 
 on health. He caught up a dark, threatening 
 volume and declared that I must take it to 
 town with me and read it. But perhaps I 
 had read it? I looked at the title. No, I 
 had not read it, but had read a long review 
 which had given me a clear idea of it. That 
 wouldn t do. I must read the book itself. Oh, 
 nothing could give me more pleasure. 
 
 On the old fashioned sofa in the parlor 
 Zaleme sat close beside me; and I breathed 
 that perfume again. And surely nowhere on 
 
*SANG OLD SONGS. 193 
 
 earth was there such a breath of sweetness. 
 Was the spirit of love like the essence of a 
 flower, and could it be swelled like an incense ? 
 Rhoda was with us, and what annoyed me 
 was the fact that she did not seem to annoy 
 Zaleme. Nothing could stand out more clearly 
 than the fact that she was going to give me 
 serious trouble, not only by her presence, but 
 by her influence as well. But she was not 
 malicious; she had suffered an attack of sen 
 timent and it had not broken out properly. 
 And now in the fever of such a disease myself, 
 I could not give her over to complete condem 
 nation. I asked her to sing, and going to the 
 piano she touched a chord that ran like a faded 
 ribbon back into the past and a face as wan 
 as her own arose before us, the face of Lorena, 
 heroine of the song over which our maiden 
 aunts in days gone by shed tears of sweetest 
 sorrow. And how fitted she was to sing it, 
 frail and sentimental; and through recollec 
 tion s half-closed eyes I could see white crape 
 tied upon the door knobs of long ago. But 
 in my heart there was no irreverence; my eye 
 
 13 
 
194 IN THE ALAMO. * 
 
 might have been humorous, but in the sym 
 pathy of a kindred ailment I must have given 
 her tear for tear. With Zaleme so near, any 
 voice might have passed for truest melody. 
 In the soft light, with my eye not now so 
 fantastically dazzled by the fitful blaze of her 
 beauty, there was at first what must have been 
 an unconscious, followed by what I know to be 
 a conscious, effort of search to find some blem 
 ish about her., some flaw to assist hope. And 
 though some men might not have thought her 
 handsome, to me she was without a flaw. At 
 night the fire-hunted deer stands entranced, 
 his eye ablaze, blind to all except a fascinating 
 light; and often it is so with man, in the glare 
 of passion s fire. But I was determined to see 
 her better, and by sheer force I began to suc 
 ceed. Her dress was cut low and on the Y 
 shape of her gleaming flesh was a heart of gold. 
 When Rhoda s song was done I urged her 
 to sing again and had I been bluntly true to 
 myself I would have added, "Yes, and louder 
 next time." Ah, and when before had I heard 
 
SANG OLD SONGS. 195 
 
 the "watch dog is snarling for fear of Annie 
 darling"? 
 
 "You remember what I said to you out in 
 the orchard ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, that you would let me read Mr. 
 Hall s letter/ 
 
 "I told you why I had come to Kentucky." 
 
 Her eyes were full upon me. "You should 
 not have " 
 
 "But didn t you say that you thanked the 
 business that brought me here?" 
 
 "Yes, for I thought " 
 
 "That I really had come on business and 
 not especially to see you." 
 
 "Yes. But but of course I am glad to 
 see you. I had thought many and many a 
 time of your kindness to me." 
 
 "But why should I not have come to see 
 you?" 
 
 "I am afraid that I can t tell you." 
 
 "Does the cause lie in in the jewel case?" 
 
 "You must not ask me that." 
 
 She looked at me and her face was sad. 
 
196 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Won t you continue to be my friend the 
 very best friend that I ever had ? Won t you ?" 
 Rhoda hushed her singing and sat down be 
 side Zaleme. Was Old Sam s letter strength 
 ening me? I was determined not to accept 
 her "no." How sweet were those old songs, 
 and I urged Rhoda to sing, but she shook her 
 head. Had she caught my words and made 
 a note of my distress? But more important, 
 was she to be my enemy ? 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONFEDERATES IN A CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Rhoda offered no further opportunity. I 
 begged for another old song, but she said that 
 the old songs made her sad. A new one, then ; 
 but she shook her head. New songs did not 
 appeal to her nature. So, after this, what I 
 said to Zaleme might just as well have been 
 shouted on the veranda, so general was the 
 tone and the text of it all ; and when I arose 
 to take my leave, I fancied that the faded 
 sentimentalist was pleased. But in one mo 
 ment more I forgot that the poor thing had ever 
 lived, for in Zaleme s eye there was a look, 
 the coming and the going of a star, it seemed, 
 just for the hundredth part of a moment, that 
 was all, but it was enough, and my heart was 
 fluttering with its new wings, trying to fly, 
 197 
 
198 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 when I slipped out upon the veranda. Mr. 
 Acklin bounded from his seat, caught up one 
 of his dark books and declared that I must 
 take it to town with me as a protection against 
 the loneliness which inevitably we find in a 
 strange place. 
 
 "Oh, but it s so far to carry it, dad," cried 
 Zaleme, heaven-sent reliever of man s burden. 
 
 "For a meat-eater it would be far, my dear," 
 said Mr. Acklin, delivering the book to me, 
 "but for one of the dietary elect, I might say 
 it is as nothing. Now, Mr. Howardson, don t 
 forget that you have an engagement with us 
 Sunday; and by the way I have a brother in 
 town and I want you to meet him. He keeps 
 a livery stable and is the largest man physic 
 ally in the State of Kentucky. And, think of 
 it, the only brother I have is addicted to roast 
 pig. You needn t bring that book back with 
 you Sunday it takes some time to get at all 
 of its merits. And again let me tell you that 
 it is with pleasure that I welcome you to my 
 home." 
 
 That heavy book became heavier at each sue- 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 199 
 
 cessive rise in the road and it might have been 
 a treatise on appetite instead of health, so 
 greatly did it promote the necessity to eat ; and 
 having been denied hog and chicken, both flesh 
 and fowl now appealed to me. But at supper 
 in the hotel dining room I sat in a cold per 
 spiration, in fear lest Mr. Acklin should leap 
 through the door and denounce me for eating 
 the forbidden fruit of a fatted calf. I was sus 
 picious of the head waiter who stood looking 
 at me. Was he storing up an accusation? 
 To an uneasy mind any suspicion is reasonable. 
 I beckoned to him and when he came and stood 
 beside me I asked him if he knew Mr. Acklin. 
 His reply was that he often had the pleasure 
 of waiting on him. 
 
 "Ah, and he has taken it into his head that 
 I am not a meat eater and I don t want him 
 to know that I am. Do you understand?" 
 
 He looked surprised, as if he could not un 
 derstand, but I gave him a coin and the situa 
 tion became clear. 
 
 And now I began to ponder upon the time 
 that must pass before Sunday one whole day. 
 
200 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Why had she made it so long? And with the 
 thought my heart grew heavy, but suddenly 
 came back to me the memory of the star in 
 her eye; and I walked forth into the park to 
 muse, and a thousand times did I see that star 
 quickly come and go. 
 
 The next morning a boy from the afternoon 
 newspaper called and gave to me for approval 
 a proof 1 slip upon which was the following : 
 
 "The Hon. Lucian Howardson, next U. S. 
 Senator from Texas, is in the city, having 
 come in his capacity of lawyer to settle up a 
 large Tennessee estate which has a ramifica 
 tion over into this part of the country. He 
 is an organizer and a leader of men and with 
 out a doubt the announcement of his candi 
 dacy is equivalent to his election by the legis 
 lature. Mr. Howardson is a pronounced vege 
 tarian, believing that the time will come when 
 a man who eats meat will be regarded as a 
 cannibal." 
 
 The boy said that the paper was waiting to 
 go to press ; and begging him to get -back to 
 the office as fast as he could, I followed him 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 
 
 across the park, up a flight of narrow stairs 
 into a close, ill-smelling room where sat a man 
 smoking a cob pipe. I introduced myself and 
 before I could tell him that the publication of 
 the paragraph would forever damn me, he 
 asked me how many copies of the paper I 
 wanted. He was astonished when I explained 
 the cause of my visit. 
 
 "Why, I got my information from Mr. Ack- 
 lin," said he, tossing his pipe upon the table 
 and taking up a palm leaf fan. "He is one 
 of my oldest subscribers and I have learned to 
 have faith in him, but if he is wrong " 
 
 "Oh, it s not that," I broke in; "not that, 
 I assure you, but the fact is " 
 
 "I understand," he interrupted. "You are 
 willing to announce your principles in Ken 
 tucky, but are not quite ready to have them 
 known in Texas. I am sorry, for Mr. Acklin 
 and I were gratified to think that we were at 
 last to have so able an exponent of our views 
 in " 
 
 "My dear sir," said I, "you don t quite com 
 prehend my situation. If I am to do good, 
 
202 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I must first attain the place where good can 
 be accomplished. And do you suppose a cat 
 tle growing country would elect a man who 
 denounces meat?" 
 
 "Why, of course not," he laughed, fanning 
 himself faster and faster. "Suppose you write 
 a notice yourself." 
 
 "The fact is, I d rather you wouldn t say 
 anything." 
 
 "All right, we ll do as you desire. Just make 
 yourself at home here till I gather up a few 
 ends and tie them together and then we ll go 
 out to where they stir things round with a 
 spoon, and take something." 
 
 He hovered over a pad of paper and for half 
 an hour or more speeded his pencil as a Ken 
 tucky farmer, a lover of horses, would speed 
 a colt; he tore off page after page till six or 
 eight loosely written pages lay before him, 
 and then grabbing them up, he rushed into 
 another room. He came back and began to 
 look for something upon the table, raking up 
 papers, overturning a pot of paste ; he hastened 
 into the other room, was gone a few moments, 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 203 
 
 returning with a puzzled look upon his face. 
 "I had an editorial roast on the city council," 
 said he, "but I can t find it. However, it ll 
 keep warm/ and then with a most pleasing 
 change of countenance he added, "Now, sir, 
 we ll go." 
 
 He conducted me down a narrow alley into 
 a small, carpeted room known as the Side- 
 Board. A polite old negro came forward to 
 greet us, too humble to shake hands, but in 
 dulging in many expressions of welcome. 
 His place was quaintly furnished, tables with 
 twisted legs, a great side-board with many a 
 merry face carved upon it, and particularly a 
 silver pitcher of ancient make, heirloom from 
 the old world, and now full of a mint- 
 steeped liquor. A horse-hair sofa offered a 
 luxurious seat; the old man placed a neatly 
 spread table in front of us, and thus we sat, 
 talking of politics and then of Mr. Acklin. 
 He was known throughout the community, 
 my new associate declared, as one of the most 
 steadfast of men, with a steel grip upon prin 
 ciple. And his daughter was much like him. 
 
204 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 So profound was her love of truth that she 
 was never known to break her word, even if 
 lightly given, upon a matter of no importance. 
 She was engaged to marry here he hesitated 
 and all aflame I urged him to proceed, but 
 he sighed and shook his head. 
 
 "There is something singular about her en 
 gagement," said I. "The other day I met a 
 young lady are you acquainted with Miss 
 Rhoda White?" 
 
 "I hope you ll pardon me for not introduc 
 ing myself. My name is White and Rhoda 
 is my sister." 
 
 And I sat there, not knowing what to say. 
 Why was Zaleme so constant a concern to 
 Rhoda, and why did this man sigh over the 
 fact that once she was engaged to marry? 
 And the picture and the lock of hair, dropped 
 by the Mexican who had striven to murder 
 me, the Alamo, all arose frost-covered in my 
 sight. My musing was broken in upon by the 
 old negro, who came forward with a dish of 
 broiled birds, which he placed upon the table. 
 
 "He sets the finest lunch of anybody in the 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 205 
 
 country," said Mr. White. "Lately he has 
 been feeding us on young pigeons squabs 
 and here we have a whole dish." 
 
 I looked at him and he looked at me and 
 we both of us looked at the dish of squabs. 
 "Mr. White," said I, determined to clear my 
 self at least in part, "I wish to make a sort of 
 confession. While out at Mr. Acklin s yes 
 terday I agreed with something he said and 
 instantly he took up the notion that I was a 
 
 vegetarian, and " 
 
 Back upon the sofa White spread himself 
 with an echoing roar; and in his face I read 
 a counterpart of the mistake made with regard 
 to me ; and we both laughed till the tears rolled. 
 "Years ago," he said as soon as he was able, 
 "I did the same thing and in his mind I became 
 a vegetarian, and, sir, I may have nerve enough 
 to fight a man, but I haven t the strength of 
 heart to tell him he was wrong. And I ve 
 got all my people and all his trained not to 
 betray me, but I am always afraid he may find 
 me out. I went to a barbecue not long ago, 
 where they cooked sheep, hogs and even oxen 
 
206 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 whole, and following my usual custom, I 
 looked about to see if I could find Mr. Acklin. 
 I never had found him at such a place, still, 
 I was afraid. Well, on this occasion, after 
 deciding that he wasn t there, I gathered up a 
 hunk of mutton and was devouring it when 
 I saw him step out from behind a tent and turn 
 directly toward me. He was so close that I 
 couldn t throw the meat away, and it would 
 have choked me to death if I d attempted to 
 swallow it, so I shoved it into the inside pocket 
 of a light coat, snatched off my hat, wiped my 
 hands on my hair and stood facing him. He 
 came up, held out his hand, and instantly I was 
 taken with a pain in the stomach and pretended 
 not to notice his greeting. Well, sir, he did 
 not leave me for an hour or more, and all this 
 time that mutton was oozing grease, and it be 
 gan to show through, of course, when some 
 ladies came up. But just at that moment I 
 had cause to thank the Lord ; a shower of rain 
 began to fall. Help yourself to these birds." 
 
 And while we were eating I detected him as 
 from time to time he shot a glance at the door, 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 207 
 
 afraid of discovery; and I took his fear unto 
 myself and multiplied it, having more to lose. 
 White and I parted the best of friends, sworn 
 confederates in a dangerous conspiracy; and 
 I then went round to the livery stable kept by 
 the vegetarian s brother Stephen. If to eat 
 flesh makes one gr6ss it could well have been 
 sworn that this man in his time had swallowed 
 vast herds of cattle. He was so enormous that 
 his great height could not easily be estimated. 
 He was sitting on a long bench, which he filled, 
 and he was laughing at the joke of a skinny fel 
 low who stood near, and he shook everything 
 and the air vibrated with him. I waited until 
 he was still and then introduced myself; I told 
 him not to get up, but he arose, swallowed my 
 hand with one of his and let the other one drop 
 upon my shoulder, and its weight felt like the 
 hind quarter of a well-fed beef. He laughed, 
 pleased that I had recognized his immediate in 
 fluence, invited me to a seat on his bench, sat 
 down and then roared when I looked for a 
 place to sit, all the room having been taken. 
 He bellowed something and a negro boy came 
 
208 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 running with a chair; then I sat down and stole 
 a study of him when he was not looking. But 
 unlike nearly all over-large men he was not 
 sensitive to the surprise and curiosity of stran 
 gers. Doubtless an enforced philosophy had 
 driven him or dragged him beyond that point. 
 He said that he was pleased to see me; his 
 niece and his herb-eating brother had spoken of 
 me. "And by the way," said he, winking at 
 the skinny man, "he told me that you are along 
 with him in that line" ; and then he bellowed : 
 "Bill, put some oats and corn in trough of No. 
 10 plenty of hay in the rack gentleman be 
 here for dinner." Then he roared and shook. 
 He got up after a time and begged my pardon 
 for his rudeness, but he was seized again and 
 walked back whooping to the far end of the 
 stable, his great bulk shutting out the light that 
 came from the rear. I liked him. He was a 
 great engine, a motive power of good humor. 
 Men with keener minds might find distress ; he 
 was looking for a chance to laugh. 
 
 I took him into my confidence, telling him of 
 his brother s mistake regarding me, and he 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 209 
 
 rewarded me with the loudest laugh I ever 
 heard. It seemed a burst of impulsive gladness 
 from the heart of all animal nature, and I felt 
 that he was to be my friend. It is not always 
 true that big men are generous or broad in 
 their views. The greatest scoundrel I ever 
 knew was of prodigious size; the thickness of 
 the woe-woven garment that enrobes the soul 
 of man does not argue the greatness of the soul. 
 But the broad, kindly smile of this man, the 
 soft light of his ox-like eye, and more than all, 
 the fountain, yes, the torrent of mirth within 
 him, atoned for a thousand big rascals of the 
 flesh. He had never heard of my speeches in 
 Congress; he did not read anything and he 
 thought of naught except that which his 
 physical view revealed, but conditions had made 
 him wiser than a political economist. 
 
 "Now, while you are in town," said he, 
 "there ain t no use of walking, especially when 
 you want to go out to my brother s house. You 
 just come here and get any rig you want and it 
 sha n t cost you a cent." 
 
 I saw that he meant what he said and I 
 
210 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 thanked him. He told me that for a long time 
 certain upstarts in the town thought to show 
 wisdom by calling him Falstaff. He did not 
 know but that Sir John met all the require 
 ments that an American citizen should meet, 
 but his brother enlightened him; so he grabbed 
 one of the upstarts as he was passing the stable, 
 held him and roared so mightily in his ear that 
 he was likely to lose his hearing, and since then 
 they had shown him more respect. But while 
 listening to him, and interested in what he said, 
 why did I feel that the skinny fellow was an in 
 truder ? I wanted this big man to tell me about 
 Zaleme s engagement. But there the fellow 
 stood, to me an assassin, letting the life blood 
 out of opportunity. We were near the door, 
 and looking down the street I saw Mr. Acklin 
 coming, his gold fob shining in the sun. He 
 shook hands cordially and appeared to be 
 pleased upon seeing me with his brother. "I 
 told you he was the biggest man in the coun 
 try," said he, "and now you know it. How are 
 all, Stephen?" 
 "All well, John." 
 
A CONSPIRACY. 211 
 
 "Molly got over her cold?" 
 
 "Yes, she s about as usual/ 
 
 "I heard that someone stole your iron-gray 
 mare, Stephen?" 
 
 "Yes, fellow named Patton. Caught him 
 yesterday." 
 
 "What have they done with him?" 
 
 "They put him in jail to wait for his trial, 
 but I went on his bond and got him out. Poor 
 devil, never had a dollar in the world luck 
 has always been against him; his horse died 
 and he didn t have hair nor hide to make a 
 crop with wife and six children and as his 
 corn needed plowing he caught up the first 
 horse he found. I told him to go on home and 
 not bother about the court." 
 
 "But how is he going to make his crop ?" 
 
 "Well, I lent him the iron-gray mare, John." 
 And as if he had sprung upon his brother the 
 best of all jokes, he roared and shook himself. 
 
 "You were right, Stephen," said Zaleme s 
 father. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 STEPHEN WANTED MUSIC. 
 
 The brothers began to talk about matters 
 which concerned only themselves, and I returned 
 to the hotel with a strong feeling against the 
 skinny fellow who had dealt a death blow to 
 my opportunity. But after supper I went back 
 to the stable in the hope that Brother Stephen 
 might keep open at night, but the place was 
 closed. A screech owl hooted in a wagon shed. 
 A negro, whistling with the melody of a flute, 
 came walking past me. I broke into his music 
 to ask him if Mr. Acklin were likely to return 
 that night to the stable. He answered that he 
 thought not, but that I might find him at the 
 Side-Board. Long before reaching the place 
 I knew that I was not to be disappointed. A 
 
 musical bellow, like a bass horn burst of Wag- 
 212 
 
STEPHEN WANTED MUSIC. 213 
 
 ner, told me that he was there. He sat in a 
 great chair made especially for him, singing 
 with Editor White, whose voice was completely 
 hushed in the rafter-shaking uproar ; and on a 
 table in front of him was a "private" mug of 
 ale. He got up and bawled me a welcome, and 
 I thought that he was drunk, but he wasn t. 
 White whispered that there was not in all the 
 town enough liquor to intoxicate him. But he 
 was not disposed to drink to excess had never 
 been known to show the effect of potation, and 
 never indulged in more than a gallon of ale at 
 a draught. A peaceable disposition served to 
 illumine his other virtues. Once while sitting 
 in his accustomed place a sudden "difficulty" 
 arose and shots began to fly, but instead of 
 taking a hand or in any way giving countenance 
 to one faction or the other, he bawled out: 
 "And in the meantime, bring me something to 
 drink." Being a man of means he contributed 
 largely to the temperance cause. To slim men 
 he said, "Don t drink. It will make you too 
 heavy" ; and to heavy men he had been known 
 to give this advice : "Let it alone, it will make 
 
214 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 your pockets too light." On one occasion at a 
 temperance speaking it was discovered that the 
 orator was suddenly stricken with the influence 
 of the apple and the corn. He toppled and fell, 
 and then Stephen arose. "Ladies and gentle 
 men/ said he, "somewhere, I don t know 
 where, we are told to forgive a fallen brother, 
 and if this fellow ain t down I don t know who 
 is. Therefore we ll sponge him and let him go 
 ahead with his talk." Of course there was but 
 little truth in all this drollery, but it showed the 
 character with which a humorous people were 
 pleased to invest the big liveryman. 
 
 Stephen had a chair brought for me and 
 placed near his own, and then with that un 
 offending patronage which seems always to 
 come of great flesh, he clapped his hand on my 
 shoulder and remarked that from what he had 
 seen he did not think that I was a very bad lot. 
 
 "Why, he is going to be the next Senator 
 from the great State of Texas," said White. 
 
 "That s all right," Stephen replied. "Yes, 
 sir, it s all right, and we hope it won t do him 
 any harm. Oh, Sam !" he roared, and the old 
 
STEPHEN WANTED MUSIC. 
 
 negro off somewhere in the darkness answered, 
 "Comin , sah." And when he had come Stephen 
 thus made known what he wanted: "How 
 long do you reckon it would take you to cook 
 one of them peacocks I saw out there?" 
 
 "W y, I doan know, sah. Da s sorter hard 
 w en da s sot in dar ways, an I reckon dese out 
 yere is sot." 
 
 "Great Caesar!" White cried out, "you are 
 not thinking of eating again, are you? It 
 hasn t been three hours since you had supper." 
 
 Stephen clapped a hand on White s leg. "But, 
 Tommy, it has been at least three years since 
 I ate a peacock, and I m hungry for one. But 
 if there s any objections we ll compromise on 
 Sam, bring in half a dozen cans of cove 
 oysters with a peck or two of crackers and pep 
 per sauce." White frowned, and in the yield 
 ing tenderness of his nature Stephen added: 
 "Never mind, Sam, there seems to be objection 
 to the motion. Tommy, I came within one of 
 offending a man today fellow named Carter; 
 reckon you remember him. Well, he came 
 along and as I hadn t seen him for some time 
 
216 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I asked him how he was doing, and he looked 
 sad and replied that he had buried his father 
 the day before. And before I knew what I was 
 about I lowed it was the best thing he could 
 do. What! he yelled; and I thought he was 
 going to draw something, but I put my hand 
 on him and told him to wait a minute, and then 
 I said: Your father was dead, wasn t he? 
 Of course he was, says he. Well then, says 
 I, isn t burying a dead man about the best 
 thing you can do with him? He said yes, if it 
 was looked at that way, and I told him that was 
 the only way to look at it." 
 
 "He ought to have hired half a dozen men, 
 taken up a saw log and knocked you down," 
 said White, and the negro Sam, standing be 
 hind him, snorted and ducked back into the 
 darkness of an adjoining room. 
 
 "Yes, if you want to punish a man for tell 
 ing of the truth," Stephen replied. Then he 
 bawled for Sam, and the negro came snickering 
 back into the light. "Sam, can you get Pete 
 and Mose with their fiddle and horn and Tab 
 with his bull fiddle? We want music." 
 
STEPHEN WANTED MUSIC. 21? 
 
 "Da gone ter a dance, sah." 
 
 "What sort of a dance?" 
 
 "A cullud dance, sah." 
 
 "In town here?" 
 
 "Yes, sah; tween yere an de riber." 
 
 "Well, you go and tell the town marshal 
 I say to go over there and break up that dance. 
 I want the music." 
 
 "Ef dat ain t de gineral fix o de cullud man 
 I se de bigges liar in de worl ," the negro 
 shouted, shaking with laughter, and he seized 
 a chair to keep from falling. "You se got s ciety 
 an politics mixed up an all told right dar." I 
 felt the house shaking, and looking at Stephen 
 I saw that he was silently laughing. "Here," he 
 said, holding out a piece of money ; "there s a 
 dollar for your smartness. Wisdom ought to 
 be paid as well as labor." 
 
 I wondered how long before White would 
 take his leave. I had seen the time when such 
 jollity would have danced my heart upon a 
 gleeful knee, but now it was an oppression and 
 I was forced to keep the secret of its mockery. 
 It is a sad condition when the mind fights the 
 
2i8 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 heart, and with introspective ear I could hear 
 the din of such a conflict. After years of study 
 and of yearning I had a chance to seize the 
 object of my ambition, but now I was throwing 
 it away, chasing a butterfly through an orchard 
 to catch a black beetle down in the marsh. I 
 knew that my mind was right and that my 
 heart was wrong, and I knew that in its sudden 
 dashes the mind fought with a more desperate 
 fierceness ; but after all it was a guerrilla band 
 when compared with the mustered forces of 
 the heart. Why could there not be a medicine 
 to cure the disease of love? Men are treated 
 for nostalgia, which, after all, is a sort of love 
 sickness. It seems that science ought to be 
 able to distill a liquid from some sort of flower 
 redder than love but is love red ? Sometimes 
 it is black, like a flower murdered by the frost. 
 "Wake up," said Stephen, letting his hand 
 fall upon my shoulder. "Tomorrow s Sunday 
 and all we ve got to do is no, we are going 
 out to John s. And I want you to see the din 
 ner they serve when I m there. No stint, I bet 
 you, when I m round. I went out there once 
 
STEPHEN WANTED MUSIC. 219 
 
 and the negro woman had baked a shote just 
 right; and it was shote weather, one of the 
 first cool days in fall. It was brought on the 
 table, brown and juicy; and when I began to 
 eat I could see John s mouth water, as he sat 
 there with his gluten and pygnolia nuts, and 
 after standing it as long as he could he said, 
 Steve, would you mind going out to the stable 
 and finishing up that thing? and I said, Why, 
 that s where corn and other vegetables are 
 eaten, not meat/ and the women folks laughed 
 at him. You ll be there, won t you, Tommy?" 
 
 "Well, I hardly think so. I don t eat there 
 very often." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you are one of his supposed cranks. 
 Why don t you break away and declare your 
 independence?" 
 
 "Oh, well, because it would hurt him so to 
 find that. I was no longer a slave. I am like 
 you; I don t like to wound people. No, not 
 exactly like you. I wouldn t tell a man that 
 the best thing they could do with his father was 
 to bury him." 
 
 White was kind-hearted, no doubt, but like 
 
220 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 the skinny fellow, he was killing my oppor 
 tunity. I arose to go, hoping that Stephen 
 would offer to walk over to the hotel with me, 
 but he did not; he reached up and gave me a 
 good-night grip; and as I passed out of the 
 alley into the street I felt the air vibrating and 
 I heard him bawling his midnight song. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A MARBLE SHAFT BETWEEN US. 
 
 Consciousness came with a thrill the next 
 morning. It was the day appointed by her; 
 and before the sun s light was full upon the 
 town I arose, and dressing myself, sat by the 
 open window, musing upon the joy-riot of 
 birds in the park. Hope was born anew of the 
 soft air, and my heart arose with the sun. In 
 the coming glory of the day, when molten gold 
 is poured from the black furnaces of the night, 
 even the most doubtful must feel the spirit of 
 the world s Creator; and it is then that the 
 heart takes fresh confidence. And surely mine 
 was not to be thrown down and trampled into 
 the dust. My inner being was full of this new 
 hope, and there must have been an outward 
 glow, for upon sitting down to breakfast the 
 
 221 
 
222 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 head waiter, grown familiar, remarked that I 
 had no doubt received good news. And how 
 springy I felt when the time came to go, and 
 how my heart leaped along the road; but the 
 moment I saw the house I faltered and stood 
 trembling on the top of the hill. Why had the 
 half-sun so strengthened me and why now was 
 the full blaze so weakening? And I believe 
 that my coward legs would have taken me past 
 the house, down to the bridge, to lean with 
 heaviness upon the parapet and to sigh down 
 at the water, had I not seen Zaleme standing at 
 the gate. She came forward to meet me, with 
 a rose in her mouth ; she gave me her hand and 
 then pinned the rose upon my breast, and for a 
 moment I fancied that it was her heart with 
 mine beating against it. And if she had told 
 me that she came with the sunrise and had 
 plucked the flower on her way through Paradise 
 I would have believed her. As we passed under 
 the vine at the steps of the veranda a blue sheen 
 fell upon her hair, and upon the milk of her 
 neck a rich cream arose. With an electric touch 
 she put me into a great rocking-chair, brought 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 223 
 
 a palm-leaf fan and for a few moments play 
 fully fanned me, laughing out her sweet words, 
 words that I did not understand except that 
 they were music. Then she sat down, and on 
 a sudden I felt that she was repentant of her 
 freedom and was changing toward me. 
 
 "Is your father well?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he s always well." 
 
 "Your mother s well, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, mother is well." 
 
 We looked at each other and old Granny 
 Nature was too strong; we laughed. But in a 
 moment I was serious enough, for the old gen 
 tleman came walking out, with a black book, a 
 very beetle of literature; and he grabbed me 
 with enthusiasm and said : "My dear Howard- 
 son, here I have something that will delight us 
 both, one hundred and fifty-six opinions on 
 pygnolia nuts. You shall take it back to town 
 with you when you go. Yes, sir, delighted to 
 see you again. And how are your affairs pro 
 gressing?" 
 
 I could have told him, but I didn t. I an- 
 
224 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 swered that the estate was somewhat involved, 
 but that I hoped soon to untangle it. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to ask : You don t use much 
 soda, do you ?" 
 
 "In the settlement of estates oh, you mean 
 at the table or in cooking, I might say. No, 
 very little." 
 
 "Howardson, I am glad to hear you say that. 
 It is another evidence of the fact of your won 
 derful common sense. Why, come out, my 
 dear. Here is Mr. Howardson." 
 
 Mrs. Acklin, the luminous shadow of purity 
 and cheerfulness, came out and gave me some 
 thing white which I understood was her hand. 
 I gave it back to her and she thanked me; and 
 I caught Zaleme s eyes, and they were shouting 
 in mirth my heart could hear them. I asked 
 Zaleme if Miss White were coming and was re 
 lieved of a great distress when informed that 
 she was not. Mrs. Acklin went back into the 
 house, like an obliging shadow, but Mr. Acklin 
 sat there, refusing to budge, though he might 
 have known that I wished him at the bottom 
 of the sea. He asked me about some other in- 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 225 
 
 sipid food, and as they say in his State, I felt 
 like "cursing him out." Zaleme began to speak 
 and I forgot that there was an oath upon earth, 
 except an oath breathed amid perfume at the 
 altar. "Father," she said, "Nettie Goodwin 
 has come back from Vassar." 
 
 "Ah, hah ! Full of isms and the memory of 
 cutting up live frogs, I suppose. Shouldn t be 
 surprised but we ll hear from her pretty soon 
 on some new scheme of political economy." 
 
 "I don t believe so," she replied. "I never 
 did think much of her until yesterday, when she 
 said that she would rather be a mother than to 
 have all the education in the world." 
 
 "Then she is fitted to be one. Howardson, 
 did you ever look very far into single tax?" 
 
 Lord of Hosts, was he preparing another in 
 fliction ? But I gave him attention and with a 
 corpse-like smile answered that I had not. 
 
 "Then, sir, there is additional wisdom in 
 store for you. I have five volumes upstairs, 
 and you shall take them home with you." 
 
 "Why, father," Zaleme cried, "Mr. Howard- 
 son isn t a pack horse." 
 
 15 
 
226 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "My dear, cry out at meat-eaters and not at 
 men who have passed the age of barbarism. I 
 warrant you he wouldn t feel the weight of 
 fifty books." 
 
 I have no idea as to what I would have said, 
 for just at that moment our attention was taken 
 up with the arrival of Brother Stephen. He 
 drove two strong horses hitched to a big buggy, 
 and he made the vehicle s joints creak as he got 
 out; and he came forward neat and enormous 
 in a suit of white linen. He shook the veranda, 
 then shook hands and then sat down upon a 
 broad, bench-like chair which his brother 
 dragged out for him. He asked for water and 
 Zaleme brought it in a tin pail, laughing; and 
 he turned it up and drank it all at a draught, I 
 believe, though he may have taken two ; rolled 
 his eyes, after the manner of Hawthorne s ox, 
 drinking at the trough of the town pump; put 
 down the pail and smiled broadly in honor of 
 the achievement. In spite of his great flesh he 
 was not vulgar. His shirt bosom was spotless 
 and his monstrous growth of wheat-straw hair 
 was combed or knocked down rather neatly. 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 227 
 
 We began to laugh the moment he arrived, and 
 Mrs. Acklin came out and laughed with us; 
 a waddling negress, herself somewhat encum 
 bered with flesh, caught sight of him and we 
 could hear her laughing long after she returned 
 to the kitchen. 
 
 "Well, everybody seems to be in good humor 
 this morning," said Stephen. 
 
 "You always bring good humor with you," 
 replied Mrs. Acklin. 
 
 "Ah, hah," cried Stephen, and he turned to 
 his brother. "How do you account for that, 
 John, when I ate a steak for breakfast a third 
 as big as a horse blanket? Hah?" 
 
 "Oh, well, there is such a thing as being a 
 great machine." 
 
 "Is there? Now I ll agree that you ve got 
 more education than I have, but I can lay you 
 out on horse-sense." 
 
 "I don t know that I need so very much 
 horse-sense," Brother John replied. "I don t 
 run a livery stable." 
 
 I wondered why the idea that I had come to 
 see his daughter had never seemed to enter Mr. 
 
228 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Acklin s mind ; but it had not, so far as I was 
 able to determine from his actions. Surely his 
 wife must know, and why therefore had she 
 not told him? And why, with the ingenuity 
 which even the most ordinary country girl pos 
 sesses, did not Zaleme herself contrive some 
 means but did she really care to see me alone ? 
 There was the point, and upon it I stuck and 
 fretted. The brothers were forgetfully jovial 
 in a genial tilt and I addressed myself to 
 Zaleme. 
 
 "Miss White has had trouble, hasn t she?" 
 
 "Yes, she has had her share of sorrow." 
 
 "The loss of her mother?" 
 
 She looked at me and I thought that she was 
 going to laugh as we had laughed a short time 
 before, but she did not. She merely looked 
 and then her eyes wandered off over the green 
 fields that lay beyond the turnpike. "I wish 
 she were here," said I, "to sing an old song for 
 me. But don t you sing old songs ?" 
 
 "You talked while she was singing!" Was 
 it roguery in her eye, or was it reproach ? 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 229 
 
 "Did I? It must have been a sort of in 
 spiration/ 
 
 She shook her head. "It must have been 
 
 calculation," she replied. 
 
 "Calcu why, I don t know what you mean." 
 "I mean that you intended to say something 
 
 and said it." 
 
 "Yes, that is true. I urged you to tell me if 
 
 you knew why I came. Was there so very 
 
 much calculation in that? And tell me, did it 
 
 displease you?" 
 
 "Oh, I didn t say that it displeased me." 
 "Thank you. But did it please you to know 
 
 why I came?" 
 
 "When a woman is flattered she denies it." 
 "And were you merely flattered ? Was that 
 
 all?" 
 
 "Isn t that enough? Isn t it sufficient when 
 
 a woman acknowledges flattery?" 
 "But you haven t acknowledged it." 
 "Haven t I? Then I won t. Look at that 
 
 cloud, that fleece, that purple fan spread out. 
 
 It reminds me of Texas. Don t you wish you 
 
 were there now?" 
 
2 3 o IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Yes, in the woods with you, sitting on that 
 beflowered bank." 
 
 "Where you declaimed your barbarous 
 blank verse. But I thought it was pretty." 
 
 "The blank verse?" 
 
 "The bank where the flowers grew." 
 
 "Oh, yes, so did I. Are there any such banks 
 in the woods here ?" 
 
 "Not so gay not so Spanish. Our woods 
 are prettiest in the fall." 
 
 "I must come back to see them. Will you 
 walk with me then?" 
 
 "Yes, I am very fond of walking in the 
 fall." 
 
 She caught a quick glance from me and 
 turned it like a piece of polished steel Surely 
 she had changed since she pinned the rose on 
 my coat. And was it because she fancied that 
 I had felt a presumptuous encouragement ? W r as 
 it her desire forever to keep me meekly near 
 the earth? Over in a pasture a blooded colt 
 was racing round and round. "Mine," she 
 said, seeing that I was watching it. "A pres 
 ent from Uncle Stephen." 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 231 
 
 "And does it eat out of your hand?" 
 
 "Why, of course. Would you be afraid " 
 
 And with mounting blood I broke in: "I 
 wouldn t hesitate to eat poison " 
 
 "Of course it s poison," interrupted Mr. 
 Acklin. "The finest piece of beef in the world 
 is poison." 
 
 "But it may be another man s meat," said 
 Zaleme; and Stephen roared. "Touched you 
 that time, John. If I didn t eat everything I 
 wanted to what do you suppose would become 
 of me?" 
 
 "Why," answered his brother, "you would 
 probably shrink down to the size of about two 
 ordinary men. Seriously, Stephen, look what 
 I have accomplished since I began to live like 
 a civilized being. I have taken the complete 
 Chautauqua course " 
 
 "And have found troubles that you didn t 
 know existed before," Stephen struck in. 
 
 "No, pleasures. We must know in order to 
 enjoy; we must feel in order to judge and to 
 appreciate." 
 
 "And we must keep out of the way of school 
 
232 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 teachers if we wish to enjoy ourselves," 
 Stephen declared. "I never saw one that didn t 
 bring just a little trouble with him. Wants to 
 talk slow, as if that makes what he says heavy. 
 When they come around me I say, Here, 
 brother, say it blow it out. I d rather hear a 
 stump-sucking horse than to have a man hem 
 and haw and mouth his words trying to find 
 one long enough. Blow it out. If you d burn 
 up all the books and start over I believe the 
 world would be better off. Why, confound it, 
 you ll go crazy if you try to read the half of 
 them. Let us have common sense. Why, if 
 one man thinks he knows more than another he 
 begins to put on airs over him. There can t be 
 any true democracy as long as one man thinks 
 he. knows more than another." 
 
 Their controversy seemed to throw a sort of 
 twilight about Zaleme and me and I was grate 
 ful, for it granted me a chance to speak 
 to her, but there was not much of spirit in her 
 reply she appeared to be absorbed in some 
 thing that lay beyond the fields. Dinner was 
 announced and I was astonished at the short- 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 233 
 
 ness of the forenoon, but time is sometimes 
 swift, even when we fret it away. At the table 
 Mr. Acklin began to help me to his pasty foods, 
 and Stephen shook with chuckling. He said 
 that if he had thought about it he would have 
 brought some millet for us, as he had some of 
 excellent quality, recently shipped to him. "By 
 the way, Liza," he said, speaking to his broth 
 er s wife, "when I was out here some time ago 
 I thought you were making wild grape wine?" 
 
 "I was/ Mrs. Acklin answered. 
 
 "But I don t see any of it, and I want to tell 
 you that there ain t anything better than wild 
 grape wine if it s made right." 
 
 "Stephen, you know that I don t want any 
 wine at my table." 
 
 "Oh, I know that not the ordinary wine 
 that you buy. If I hadn t known that I would 
 have brought some along with me. And speak 
 ing about wine reminds me that I saw a china 
 set some time ago, Liza, that would look 
 mighty well on your table don t know why it 
 reminds me, but it does. John, what has be 
 come of that big silver mug you got at the 
 
234 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 county fair as a premium for that blooded 
 heifer? That was about as fine a calf as I ever 
 saw, but I think Liza deserves more of the 
 credit than you do. Now, I never tasted any 
 juicier mutton than this. Some people object 
 to sheep on account of what they call a woolly 
 taste. That s what I like about it when there 
 are certain additions, you understand. With 
 me it always called for wild grape wine that s 
 a fact, just wild grape wine. Claret, the sort 
 we get even at the best places, ruins mutton, 
 but wild- 
 
 "Liza," said Mr. Acklin, "let him have some 
 of that wine." 
 
 "Oh, no," Stephen broke in, "not if it s 
 against her principles, John. I wouldn t have 
 thought about it, you know, if it hadn t been 
 for this mutton. The next time I hope you ll 
 have beef and then there won t be any tempta 
 tion." 
 
 Mrs. Acklin left the table and soon returned 
 with the silver mug brimming with the red juice 
 of the wild grape. She asked me if I would 
 not honor her with drinking a goblet of it, and 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 235 
 
 I wanted it like a shark wants blood, but I was 
 afraid of her principles ; but, ah, the delicious- 
 ness of a moment later, a grateful look from 
 Zaleme ! Stephen "ah hahed" and smacked his 
 lips. "Liza," said he, "you don t mean to tell 
 me you made this? Oh, I know you did, but 
 somebody must have advised you. Why, John, 
 it takes experience to make wine like this. Now, 
 some people would have made it a little too 
 sharp or a little too sweet, but it is just right. 
 You may help me to another piece of that mut 
 ton if never mind. It would call for another 
 mug of wine and but if Liza has no objec 
 tions thank you." Mrs. Acklin took the mug 
 and went out with it and Stephen looked after 
 her with a broad smile, reminding me of the 
 jack-o -lantern we used to make of a pumpkin. 
 How he overshadowed us, this great steam en 
 gine with gauge dancing. His mind lay in his 
 cheerfulness, his fullness of life, and intellects 
 compared with which his might have been but 
 feeble, yielded to the domination of his flesh. 
 And in the law and in politics I have often seen 
 size win victory over merit. 
 
236 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 The two mugs of wild wine, almost a gallon, 
 I am sure, made Stephen tame enough, and he 
 dozed on the veranda ; and Mr. Acklin showed 
 an inclination to nod. I asked Zaleme if she 
 would walk with me in the orchard, and in her 
 ready consent there was a delicious charm of 
 manner. As we strolled forth I pulled at 
 leaves and tall grasses, she at my side; and I 
 said to myself: "If I should ever win you, 
 perhaps in the years to come I might be able 
 to study you closely, but now I am too much 
 dazzled to see you clearly." At times I almost 
 wished that she would do something to offend 
 me, that I might study her defects. Surely it 
 was not a love but a disease seeking relief. She 
 talked with a frank charm and we heard our 
 laughter echoing among the cliffs far down 
 the creek. I thought I was plucking a lily, but 
 it was her hand, and I held it as we walked 
 along, and her cheeks were aglow and her eyes 
 were cast down, as if she were nearly asleep, 
 dreaming. And now her laughter did not 
 echo among the cliffs; it was sweet and low 
 and it echoed in my heart. I thought of the 
 
A MARBLE SHAFT. 237 
 
 wild grape wine as I gazed upon her lips, and 
 I thirsted for them; but she leaped from me 
 with a cry ; and she stood gazing at me, her lips 
 close and her eyes stern. What was that be 
 tween her and me? A marble shaft not more 
 than two feet high, a monument above a little 
 mound. I leaned against an old apple tree and 
 looked at her, and, ah, was she coming out 
 of the dazzle? How pale she was, ghastly 
 freckled. 
 
 "Who what is buried here?" I asked; and 
 stooping over I saw the Alamo engraved upon 
 the shaft. "I have asked you " 
 
 "But you must not," she replied. "Please 
 don t." 
 
 "But I will. What does this mean ? You 
 won t tell me. I de I can t demand. I beg, 
 my heart begs, as old Sam Hall s once begged. 
 I am imploring you for for life. Tell me and 
 I I pardon it all, I forgive everything." 
 
 Oh, the glorious light that for a moment 
 illumined her face. She clasped her hands over 
 her bosom and looked upward and said to her 
 self, "A love like this -thank God !" But sud- 
 
238 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 denly she threw her hands apart, leaned toward 
 me, straightened back and with a hard look in 
 her eye she said : "You have nothing to for 
 give, nothing to pardon, Mr. Howardson. Let 
 us go back to the house." 
 
 "But won t you please tell me what is buried 
 here?" 
 
 "Something that is Sacred to me. Let us go 
 back." 
 
 "Not- until you have told me." 
 
 "Don t urge me now. After a while I will 
 tell you." 
 
 "But why not now? Don t you see how I 
 am suffering ? It is like a man pleading for his 
 life. I have thrown away all of my dignity 
 everything. You can see. And now why " 
 
 That light illumined her again. "Because I 
 want to feel that I am loved; and when I tell 
 you I can not listen again. Oh, don t try to 
 understand me. I am not worth so much 
 love. But God knows no, don t touch me! 
 Would you have my soul sent to torment? Let 
 me go back to the house." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE LANTERN AND THE OATH. 
 
 I do not know how I got away from that 
 place. It was like breaking out of a nightmare, 
 a smothering spell. I don t believe I saw any 
 thing on the road to town; I didn t recall the 
 valleys, a stream where I had to step upon 
 stones, a toll gate where a fierce dog always 
 barked. It was all a blank till I reached the 
 tavern, and then I heard the clatter of dishes 
 and inhaled an odor that sickened me. The 
 air was close, I couldn t breathe, and I hastened 
 out of the town and stood upon a hill where 
 cannon were planted during the great war.- I 
 sat down under a tree. Martins flew past to 
 their roost in the eaves of the churches; dusk 
 came up out of the valley and made the hilltop 
 brown. Lights leaped out of the darkness afar 
 239 
 
2 4 o IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 off; a railway train shrieked in the distance 
 and when morning came I sat there, wet with 
 the dew. A man driving a cow loitered near and 
 I asked if he could direct me to Major White s 
 place, and he pointed to a turnpike, running to 
 the left of my road my fateful road and 
 told me to stop at the second house beyond the 
 creek. I didn t inquire as to the distance; I 
 didn t care. All I wanted was some sort of 
 object in my mind s view, it made but little 
 difference how far off it might be. I halted 
 at a wayside place and ordered breakfast, but 
 when it came upon the table I sickened at the 
 sight of it and hastened from the house. A 
 friendly old man in a carry-all offered to take 
 me up with him, but I told him that I hadn t 
 far to go. He asked how far, and when I told 
 him he laughed and remarked that I must be 
 fond of walking. But I found a sort of mad 
 relief in physical exertion and was thankful 
 that the road was not shorter. And why did I 
 wish to trudge out to Major White s place? 
 To see that faded woman, that bloodless thing, 
 that phantom. I wanted to demand of her the 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 241 
 
 secret of her influence over Zaleme. Ha, I 
 repeated her name, over and over, Zaleme, 
 Zaleme; and it sounded further and further 
 away. Did her father grasp my hand at the 
 gate, grip it hard, and say something in a 
 wavering voice? Was Stephen himself seri 
 ous as I walked forth from the house? 
 I could not tell. I had visions, and as 
 some of them were absurd, I was afraid 
 to let any of them serve as a memory. 
 And I was going to demand of that girl why 
 her brother, the editor, hushed up so suddenly 
 after speaking of the fact that Zaleme had been 
 engaged. I crossed the creek, passed the first 
 house, and there was White s place, with a 
 hedge of cedars in the front yard, a white house 
 so neatly painted and clean that I was afraid 
 of it; and I walked past and halted further 
 down the road and stood looking over a fence 
 where a man was feeding sheep. I inquired if 
 he knew whether Major White were at home, 
 and he answered that he was the man. I could 
 have knocked him down for saying it ; and thus 
 made bold by anger I told him that I wished to 
 
 16 
 
242 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 see his daughter. It was blunt, but did not dis 
 please him. I introduced myself, we shook 
 hands and he went with me to the house. This 
 would have been well enough had he stopped 
 there, but he didn t; he wanted to be cordial 
 and he heaped annoying attentions upon me 
 introduced me to his wife and a neighbor 
 woman. But why did not Rhoda come? I 
 knew that she was at home; I had heard her 
 singing and I had seen her flit up the stairway 
 like a ghost. She came at the end of long wait 
 ing; she was so pleased to welcome me to her 
 home. How thoughtful it was of me, but 
 Texans were famous for their ,chivalry. How 
 well I was looking. Kentucky surely agreed 
 with me. 
 
 "Did you come over from Mr. Acklin s? 
 Why didn t Zaleme come with you?" 
 
 "I walked directly from town," I answered. 
 
 "Walked!" she cried. "You don t mean to 
 say you walked all that distance?" 
 
 "Yes, but I am not yet tired. Will you walk 
 out with me ? I have something to ask you." 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 243 
 
 We went out into a grove of black walnut, 
 and I remembered that I had not asked 
 pardon for my abruptness in taking leave of 
 White and the two women. I spoke to Rhoda 
 about it and she declared that I had "intro 
 duced them to a perfect model of leave-taking." 
 And now I had nothing to do but to enforce 
 my demand. "I hope you will not think ill of 
 me, Miss White " 
 
 "Oh, not at all. I shall always welcome you 
 at any time." 
 
 "I mean that you will not think ill of me for 
 my great concern regarding I don t know how 
 to say it, but I want to know something of Miss 
 Acklin s engagement." 
 
 "I would prefer not to discuss it, Mr. How- 
 ardson." 
 
 "But why? that s the question. I have a 
 right to know." 
 
 "Then why doesn t she tell you?" 
 
 "She will after a while, but I want to know 
 
 now." 
 
 "It is not so profound a secret, Mr. Howard- 
 
244 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 son, but I don t care to talk about it. It s pain 
 ful to me." 
 
 "To you ! Think of me. I beg your pardon, 
 I don t mean to be so selfish. But I must know. 
 Is she ashamed of it? Was the fellow so far 
 beneath her as to " 
 
 "Mr. Howardson, she was engaged to my 
 brother. If you wish to know anything further 
 you must ask her." 
 
 I left her there in the walnut grove, and fol 
 lowing directions caught up from a man whom 
 I met in the road, I struck out toward Mr. Ack- 
 lin s house. Her brother! Could she mean 
 the one whom I had met? Suddenly I halted. 
 What had Zaleme meant when she asked if I 
 would send her soul to torment? And then I 
 saw that diminutive monument, white in the 
 green grass ; and it rose before me till I could 
 not see the top of it, but always in view was the 
 Alamo, chiseled near the base, and I gazed till 
 it turned red, as if with the blood of hero mar 
 tyrs, and then black, as upon it fell the shadow 
 of my heart. In the midst of a thick wood I 
 came to a creek, blue and deep, with no ford, 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 245 
 
 no bridge in sight. I took off my clothes, tied 
 them into a bundle and swam across, and the 
 cold water refreshed me and reminded me that 
 I had eaten nothing that day. At a negro cabin 
 I ate a bit of bacon and drank buttermilk from 
 a gourd and then pushed onward, and coming 
 suddenly upon a turnpike I looked toward the 
 right, and there, nof far off, was a bridge, and 
 yes, the red gables of Zaleme s home. But this 
 time no tremor seized me, for my blood was 
 strong. Visions of what had taken place when 
 I left the house began to arise before me, but I 
 did not falter in my determination to see her 
 and force her to explain the cause of that di 
 minutive grave beneath the apple tree. I did 
 not dare to speculate, but the desire to see the 
 grave now, even before seeing her, arose in my 
 mind and was my master. Crossing the bridge, 
 crouching like a thief, I stole up the creek and 
 entered the orchard, and though I had not 
 marked the spot where the monument stood, 
 yet my heart led me to it. Dropping upon 
 my knees I gazed at the Alamo and it seemed 
 to be turning red. But what were those letters 
 
246 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 cut in the rock? "A voice from the dead was 
 hushed," the chisel said, and I tore away the 
 grass and studied the accursed sentence. On 
 the grave a moss rose grew, and I clutched at 
 it to tear it up by the roots, but a voice arrested 
 my hand. Was Zaleme calling me? I listened, 
 gazing toward the house, but there came no 
 other sound ; yes, a voice, as if some one taking 
 leave, was talking back. I stood up, and across 
 a corner of the orchard and over the yard fence 
 I gazed and saw Rhoda White on a horse trot 
 ting off toward the bridge. Ah, she had come 
 to forestall me, to strengthen Zaleme against 
 me, to instill more of her poison. There was 
 suddenly a slight darkening of everything, and 
 I was startled, but looking round I saw that the 
 sun s lower rim had sunk behind a hilltop, far 
 away. The latch of the gate clicked and my 
 heart leaped, as a mad man might leap in the 
 dark; and now I began to tremble and to feel 
 that I must run away, down among the shadows 
 of the creek, for I saw Zaleme coming toward 
 me, walking dreamily, her eyes cast downward. 
 And she did not come directly in a straight 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 247 
 
 line, but wandered to the right and to the left. 
 Ah, she was pursuing the course over which 
 she and I had strolled while she dreamed, 
 I holding her hand. And she awoke the 
 same way, with a start at the grave. "Oh," 
 she cried ; and in the twilight of the apple tree 
 we stood with heads hung low, silent. I was 
 almost smothering and could not speak. She 
 pointed and I sat down upon the sward, leaning 
 back against the tree, and she sat down near by, 
 her hands listless in her lap. 
 
 "Rhoda told me you were coming." 
 "I saw her ride away just now." 
 "She is very much concerned about you, Mr. 
 Howardson." 
 
 "She is more concerned about you, I think. 
 She told me that you were engaged to her 
 brother. The one I met in town ?" 
 
 "No. The one whose last message to me is 
 hushed here," she said, pointing to the grave. 
 I arose, I could sit no longer, and she stood, 
 too, and I thought I saw that glorifying light 
 coming upon her, but it was only a last gleam 
 of the dying sun. "I wanted you to sit down 
 
248 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 so you would be quieter," she said. "I had 
 made up my mind to tell you something." 
 
 "Tell it, but let me hear it as I am. What 
 do you mean by this?" and I pointed to the 
 words cut in the rock. 
 
 "I am going to tell you. But you must give 
 me time and let me tell it in my own way. Will 
 you let me sit down? I can tell it better." 
 
 "You can tell it well enough to break my 
 heart. But please sit down." 
 
 She sat down and pulled at the grass and 
 sighed, for she looked tired. 
 
 "Calvin White," she said, and pulled at the 
 grass. 
 
 "Was that his name?" 
 
 "Yes. He was three years older than I and 
 had known me always." 
 
 "And is he or a part of him buried here?" 
 
 "A part of his soul yes. If you let me I 
 will tell you. He loved me oh, I know he did 
 loved me when he was but a child and was 
 my sweetheart, and on our way to school we 
 planned the home we were going to build. 
 How graceful he was as he grew older, and at 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 249 
 
 school he took the prize for oratory. And he 
 would sit for hours telling me of his love. He 
 studied law, but he did not practice. His mind 
 took a commercial turn and he went into busi 
 ness, but he failed, and then he began to travel 
 for a farm implement house in St. Louis. From 
 time to time he was advanced till " 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but what about the 
 Alamo ? What made it your shrine and why is 
 it engraved here on this marble?" 
 
 "I said you must let me tell it in my own way. 
 He was advanced from time to time till he was 
 given nearly all the Southern territory. Three 
 years ago we met for the last time. I was in 
 San Antonio, on a visit to my brother. I had 
 never seen Calvin so nervous and anxious. 
 And for the first time he began to doubt my 
 love for him. He declared that I was not sad 
 enough when away from him. And he brooded 
 over it. One night he asked me to go to the 
 Alamo with him. Why at night? I asked. 
 Because/ he replied, I want you to take a vow 
 with me. The Alamo was not kept open at 
 night, but he borrowed the key and we entered 
 
250 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 the chamber where Bowie died. It was late. I 
 was nervous and I said to him : Calvin, why 
 did you bring me here at such a time. Let us 
 go, please. Wait, sweetheart/ he replied, 
 and he put his lantern on the floor. I can see 
 its red light now. Oh, it seems to be on the 
 little grave!" 
 
 "It is not the light of his lantern that makes 
 the grave red," I cried. "It grew red under my 
 gaze, with the blood that rushed across my 
 vision ; but soon it will be black with the shadow 
 of my heart." 
 
 "Oh, don t talk that way. If you would only 
 be reasonable." 
 
 "But what is buried here? Tell me." 
 
 "He put his lantern on the ground and said 
 to me : I want you to take an oath. You be 
 lieve in the soul, and so do I. You believe that 
 the soul can suffer throughout eternity, and so 
 do I. And now in this corner I will draw a 
 cross. See, I draw it with my finger. That 
 makes it imperishable in the mind in the years 
 to come, whenever we look into this corner we 
 shall see the cross. You might destroy the wall 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 251 
 
 but the cross would remain. His words scared 
 me. I thought something terrible must be com 
 ing. Now/ he said, taking my hand, kneel 
 with me and repeat after me. Oh, what an 
 oath it was, and as I gazed the cross was red 
 as if with blood. The oath that I was to give 
 my soul to eternal punishment if I ever married 
 other than him an oath by the love of mother, 
 father, Christ, God! It was terrible, and he 
 gripped my hand and trembled as I followed 
 him. As a general thing a vow may not amount 
 to much, but this was awful and I felt that not 
 to save my life could I break faith with him; 
 and there was something sweet in it all, even 
 though he trembled and the cross stood red in 
 my sight. I was more than ever convinced 
 that he loved me loved me as I wanted to be 
 loved knew that he would kill himself if I 
 did not love him. And that is why the Alamo 
 is my shrine." 
 
 It was growing dark. I could not see the 
 expression of her face as she looked up. I 
 dropped beside her on my knees. "Go on/ I 
 said. "Why this grave?" 
 
252 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "I came home, and in a letter not long after 
 ward he said : I am going back to San An 
 tonio the day after tomorrow and the next let 
 ter you receive from me will be written in the 
 Alamo, by the light of a lantern, at the foot of 
 the cross, twelve o clock at night. The mid 
 night letter was written on the tenth of the 
 month and was put into the letter box imme 
 diately afterward I know. But it did not reach 
 me till two days had passed and then " 
 
 "Well, and then?" 
 
 "I did not open it I buried it here. I did 
 not open it, for within a few hours after writ 
 ing it he was instantly killed in a railroad ac 
 cident and I could not read his words words 
 from the dead. So I put the letter in a silver 
 box and buried it here. To some persons this 
 may be absurd, but but I could not have 
 helped doing it. You have a temperament that 
 you can t explain, perhaps, and " 
 
 "And you don t know what was in the let 
 ter?" 
 
 "I told you that I did not read it that I 
 couldn t bear to read a letter from the dead." 
 
LANTERN AND OATH. 253 
 
 "But you must read it." 
 
 "I will not." 
 
 Then, like a jackal, I will dig it up. I will 
 shout its contents under your window at night. 
 I " 
 
 "Please don t say that. Don t you know that 
 I am " 
 
 "No, I don t know what you are. Yes, I do. 
 You are the bride of a fallacy. You are the wife 
 of a memory, an oath ; and a priestess, a phan 
 tom, a ghost, a moonbeam upon a sunken grave 
 a woman named White holds you, has tied 
 you with an undertaker s lowering lines." She 
 sprang to her feet and the grass which she had 
 pulled up she scattered upon me. "A finger 
 
 mark on a wall a nothing " God, I saw it 
 
 before me in the air, and I shut my eyes, but I 
 saw it still, the mark of a finger dipped in 
 blood. I turned to her and the cross was be 
 tween us. "You say that I have a temperament 
 that I may not be able to explain. Yes, but I 
 did not have it until you gave it to me. No 
 human being ever fought another as hard as 
 I fought you, but it was useless and I fell. I 
 
254 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 had been ambitious and my ambition was within 
 my reach till I knew you, and then you blighted 
 my mind to all else except yourself. Could you 
 imagine a man kept from water till he was 
 famishing of thirst? Could you imagine a 
 child, gaunt-eyed with hunger? Could you 
 imagine an old man smothering to death ? Then 
 you may catch a glimpse of my heart." 
 
 "You must go," she said. "Go back to your 
 home and wait and wait and, but one of these 
 days you may hear from me. Don t come here 
 again. Go and wait." I put out my hands but 
 she fled from me and I stood there alone. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LOOKED AGAIN UPON HER HOME. 
 
 Exhaustion forced me to sleep and a bloody 
 finger traced a red mark through my slumber. 
 The southbound train was to leave at 6 130 the 
 next morning and I left a call at the hotel office, 
 though I did not need to, as I was awake in 
 time. "Go and wait," was in my ears constant 
 ly and knocked at the door of my heart to 
 drag a hope therein; but a famishing thirst 
 is not appeased with one drop of water. A 
 gleam of reason began to light up my mind, so 
 long dark; and I seemed to look into corners 
 where there was mold, chilling dampness. I 
 went to the station, bought a ticket, sat down, 
 got up on a sudden, walked rapidly away, faster 
 and faster, almost running ; and from a hilltop 
 I looked upon her home. I had no thought of 
 255 
 
256 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 going to the grave; once it held a horror for 
 me, but now it was full of words. But those 
 words, how they held her though she had never 
 seen them and was not acquainted with their 
 meaning. Perhaps it were better that they 
 should not be dug up. Written in the oath- 
 corner, beneath the wall on which the cross had 
 been traced, they might seize upon her mind 
 and hold it with a tighter grip. 
 
 I let the gate slam to attract attention, but 
 no one came or looked out upon me. I knocked 
 at the door and an empty echo was the only 
 answer. Surely not every one was gone; it 
 was still so early ; and I sat down in a rocking- 
 chair. Presently a negro woman came round 
 the house and seeing me remarked by way of 
 apology that she thought some one must have 
 been knocking at the door. I asked for Zaleme, 
 and was informed that Mr. Acklin and his wife 
 had just gone over to a neighbor that wasn t 
 very well. I asked a second time for Zaleme 
 and was told that she must be walking about 
 the place somewhere. It was at least encourag 
 ing to know that she had not vanished from the 
 
LOOKED UPON HER HOME. 257 
 
 face of the earth ; and what was that my treach 
 erous inner self was saying? "Listen and you 
 may hear her singing in the garden." And I 
 did listen but heard no song. It may not have 
 been more than a minute, but it seemed that a 
 long time had passed when Zaleme came round 
 the corner of the house. She did not see me; 
 she went to the gate and stood looking toward 
 town. I got up and stood under the vine that 
 hung above the steps leading to the veranda. 
 "Zaleme," I spoke softly, and she looked up 
 ward. "Zaleme!" I spoke louder, and she 
 turned toward me, and she was not startled, 
 but came walking toward me as if in a dream, 
 as she had walked when I held her hand. I 
 reached forth my hand as she approached and 
 then she seemed to awake and she drew back. 
 But she came up the steps and sat down, putting 
 her hair back from her eyes. How pale she 
 was, and she looked so tired. Surely that moth, 
 that funereal thing, that bloodless woman, had 
 bewitched her. 
 
 "Zaleme, I tried to go away, but I couldn t." 
 
 "You must. I can t can t stand every- 
 a? 
 
258 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 thing. You have begged me to love you. 
 Would you marry a woman who did not love 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, if I loved her as as woefully as I love 
 you in the hope that I might learn to hate her ; 
 and then in the soreness of a revengeful heart 
 I would laugh in her face and run away." 
 
 That strange starlight came to her eyes, and 
 for a time she sat as if in wondering silence, 
 perfectly still, gazing into my eyes; and then 
 she said, with her hands clasped over her 
 breast : "Oh, you make my heart weep." And 
 at that moment I thought that I should die, 
 with the blinding leap of my blood, and I must 
 have staggered as I moved toward her, with my 
 arms spread wide apart. But when my eyes 
 cleared I saw that her countenance had 
 changed. She no longer seemed entranced with 
 the knowledge that I loved her; the pallor of 
 fear overspread her face, and the starlight 
 was gone from her eyes. Was the current of 
 her soul like the changeable channel of a treach 
 erous stream ? 
 
 "Zaleme," I said, steadying myself, "you are 
 
LOOKED UPON HER HOME. 259 
 
 the only woman I ever struggled to understand, 
 and you are the strangest of all women. At 
 one moment you are warm with the thought of 
 my love and then cold with your own fear. 
 Why be so unnatural? Let us be reasonable, 
 won t you?" 
 
 How bitter can become the sweet expression 
 of a beautiful mouth. "Oh, and do you speak 
 of reason ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I realize that I have no right to. 
 I know that I am the most unreasonable of all 
 men. And even my Creator may not know it 
 so well as you do." 
 
 "Mr. Howardson, if you don t show more 
 reverence you must not talk to me." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," and then after a pause 
 I added: "You will no doubt grant me the 
 privilege of calling myself a fool; and God 
 may hate a coward but he pardons a fool. And 
 as I am already pardoned above, may I hope 
 to be forgiven here below?" 
 
 She laughed, almost cruelly, I felt ; but there 
 was a softness in her eyes. "Sometimes you 
 remind me of a schoolboy," she said. 
 
260 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Ah, and what is more real than a school 
 boy s trouble a schoolboy s love?" 
 
 "But does a schoolboy s love last?" she said, 
 and even before I spoke again I saw a pallor 
 overspreading her face. 
 
 "Does it ?" I cried. "Does it live to be buried 
 alive under an apple tree?" 
 
 I thought she frowned at me as she said : 
 "How it pleases you to take an advantage of 
 me. It seems you would be delighted to know 
 that no one had ever been true except your 
 self." 
 
 "Ah, you know I am true. As for others 
 another, you can simply surmise." 
 
 Her eyes snapped. Never had she seemed 
 such a stranger to my heart. She was so new 
 to me that I could not assimilate her, and I 
 looked at her, feeling that there was amaze 
 ment in my eyes, and there must have been, for 
 with a cool smile she said: "You look as if 
 you had just met me for the first time and were 
 astonished at something strange about me." 
 
 "I feel that way. But why should we talk 
 to each other in this manner? I reveal myself, 
 
LOOKED UPON HER HOME. 261 
 
 for I cannot conceal my heart; but you hide 
 yourself from me." 
 
 She shook her head. "I have nothing to 
 hide." 
 
 "You have. You hide the words of a man. 
 You are afraid of them. You have buried them 
 in the dark earth and you are afraid to see them 
 wither and turn to nothing in the light of the 
 sun. Come, we will dig up the letter. We will 
 take it to the Alamo and at midnight we will 
 read it by the light of a lantern. Come, I dare 
 you." 
 
 She was coming back toward my heart, 
 nearer and nearer, and I trembled. "You dare. 
 Let us enter into a contract. I will dig up the 
 letter and read it. If it is full of the same old 
 love you are to go away and " 
 
 "No !" I cried, "I will not enter into such a 
 contract." 
 
 "Then you are afraid of the letter." 
 
 "Yes, I acknowledge I am afraid of it. I love 
 you so much that I am afraid to look with you 
 upon a past that is yours but not mine. You 
 said that you would want a man to love you so 
 
262 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 desperately that he would kill himself if he 
 believed you did not love him, I am that man, 
 Zaleme. If you do not cannot love me, I will 
 kill myself. Do you think I would continue to 
 fight as I have fought ? Don t you know I would 
 say to God : Here is a soul that you have seen 
 tortured. Take it and give it relief by sending 
 it to hell ! " 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Howardson Lucian rdon t talk 
 that way. Yes, say it again, and God forgive 
 me for listening and finding it sweet to my 
 heart. No you must not touch me no, not 
 now. Lucian, I am so slow to change that 
 when I do, I must have received a new nature 
 and time must pass before I can become accus 
 tomed to myself. But but I do believe I have 
 been born again. No, not yet. Please don t 
 misunderstand me. Oh, you don t know how 
 steadfast I am. Who knows what may come? 
 Lucian, will you do my bidding? Yes, you will. 
 Then go back and re-enter the fight into which 
 your ambition leads you and win. Won t 
 you for me?" 
 
 "Yes," I said, not tremulous now, but as 
 
LOOKED UPON HER HOME. 263 
 
 strong as oak. "I will go back and win the 
 fight for you. But before I say good-bye, will 
 you walk with me, once more, in the orchard ?" 
 
 She gave me an earnest look. "You want 
 to go to the monument, and it will distress 
 you." 
 
 "No, not to the monument, but only in that 
 direction." 
 
 Did she understand that I hungered for that 
 dreamy walk, holding her hand as I held it, 
 leading her when first we went to the grave? 
 Yes, she understood for she gave me her hand 
 and I led her forth, through the gate, into the 
 orchard; but she did not dream as she had 
 dreamed before; she was self-conscious she 
 halted, looked at me and said : "The dream 
 won t come." 
 
 "It is because we know that the grave is over 
 there." 
 
 "No, that is not the reason, for it came once 
 after we had gone together to the grave. No, 
 it is useless. Oh," she cried, grasping my 
 arm, "there is the red cross in the sky. Don t 
 you see it?" 
 
264 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I shut my eyes, but I saw it, red, traced upon 
 a white cloud as if by the bloody finger of a 
 giant. "We are both insane, Zaleme," I said, 
 looking at her. 
 
 "Let us go back," she replied ; and we turned 
 about. 
 
 "You said you would go and win the fight. 
 When will you start?" 
 
 "I will leave on the night train. Is that 
 soon enough ?" 
 
 "Yes, too soon if I were to consult " she 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Zaleme, why are you so afraid you might 
 say something to encourage me? Is it that 
 you would always keep my heart dark and 
 heavy ? Won t you lighten it with a promise 
 that you will write to me?" 
 
 "Yes, I will answer your letters." 
 
 "And you will write with more freedom than 
 you have talked?" 
 
 "I have told you the truth and I couldn t be 
 freer than that. Do you want me " 
 
 "I want you to say that my love is not thrown 
 away I want you to say that you love me." 
 
LOOKED UPON HER HOME. 265 
 
 "You don t want me to say it unless " 
 
 she hesitated and looked up at me with a smile. 
 "I told you that when I change I must have 
 received a new nature and if I have received 
 one, I must have time to comprehend it." 
 
 We were now at the gate. The thorn of a 
 rose bush caught her hand and pricked it. 
 "Good-bye," I said, and seizing her hand I 
 kissed the wound and I went away with her 
 blood on my lips. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 
 
 Just as I reached the outskirts of the town 
 Mr. Acklin, in his buggy, overtook me. He 
 drew up, calling out that he had something of 
 a serious nature to impart to me, and my blood 
 leaped and my heart quickened as I stepped into 
 the buggy and sat down beside him. And then 
 we drove along in silence. Was he going to 
 speak? Had he forgotten the something of 
 serious nature ? It may not have been but a few 
 moments, but it seemed that a long time had 
 passed when he said : 
 
 "Mr. Howardson, if I had known the state 
 of your mind I would not have taken such a 
 liberty with you and I regret the many quiet 
 laughs I have had at your expense." 
 
 "Mr. Acklin, please speak plainer. I don t 
 
 understand you." 
 
 266 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 267 
 
 "That is exactly what I am going to do, Mr. 
 Howardson. You have no doubt discovered 
 that I am not a commonplace man ; in fact, you 
 must have seen that we are not a commonplace 
 family. A peculiar humor is a trait among us. 
 When you first came to my house not know 
 ing the state of your mind, as I before remarked 
 I pretended to discover or to understand that 
 you were an adherent of my belief vegetari 
 anism; and having sworn my family to the 
 secrecy of the joke, I settled down to a sly 
 enjoyment of it, just as for years I have en 
 joyed Editor White but I charge you not to 
 say a word about it to him. But the state of 
 your mind I might say heart has been 
 revealed to me, Mr. Howardson, and I now 
 beg your pardon." 
 
 "Mr. Acklin, I hope you haven t driven after 
 me to speak of a thing so trivial." 
 
 "It is not trivial to me, Mr. Howardson, 
 knowing as I do the state of your mind." 
 
 1 "Well, sir," I cried, "what have you to say 
 concerning it?" 
 
 "Not so loud, my dear sir. What have I to 
 
268 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 say? Why, I appreciate your condition. I can 
 not say that I have been situated exactly as 
 you are, having become the master of my tem 
 perament at quite an early age, that is in an 
 emotional way ; but my mastery of diet did not 
 come until a period much later. But now, 
 sir, coming straight to the point of the question 
 at issue, I am sorry that a previous well, en 
 tanglement, should in any way blind my 
 daughter to " 
 
 I grasped his hand and pulled it so hard in 
 my effort to draw it toward me that the horse 
 turned aside and halted with his forefeet in 
 the gutter. 
 
 "Gently," said Mr. Acklin. "And now," 
 he added, "having said all I intended to say by 
 inference if not directly in words, I think I will 
 bid you good-bye here and return home. It is 
 only a short distance to your hotel." 
 
 I got out and shook hands with him, and 
 loath to loosen my grasp I retained my hold, 
 eager, struggling to utter words that would 
 not come to me. In the ardor of my gratitude 
 I thanked him for his kindness during the long 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 269 
 
 period of our acquaintance, .and remembering 
 that I had known him but a short time, I took 
 it all back and started off anew, only to fall 
 into other embarrassments. And how patient 
 he was, with a sad smile on his face, kindly 
 waiting; but how rough to me was even the 
 gentlest parting, for in him I saw a strong 
 encouragement, and to see him driving away 
 was to look upon a new-born hope going from 
 me, to sink out of sight beyond the hill. I 
 strove to make him understand that without 
 Zaleme there would be no light for .me, that 
 life, if indeed it should endure, would be but 
 a smothering darkness. 
 
 "Mr. Howardson/ he said, and his face grew 
 brighter, "let us both hope. If she has told 
 you to do something, no matter what it may 
 be, do it and wait. That is all I can say 
 with regard to her, but as to myself in relation 
 to you I could say much more if it were neces 
 sary, but it is not, for you understand. Good 
 bye." 
 
 He turned the horse about, waved his hand 
 at me and drove away, and I looked after him 
 
270 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 until a hilltop arose between us. The tavern 
 bells were ringing the noon hour. I passed the 
 court room of a magistrate, and saw a jury 
 filing out to dinner. Editor White followed 
 with a piece of paper (notes for his newspaper) 
 fluttering in his hand. He saluted me, looking 
 sharply at me, and taking my arm walked with 
 me down the street, talking of the case on trial, 
 but thinking of something else, I fancied of 
 Zaleme. 
 
 "You have just come in from Mr. Acklin s, 
 haven t you?" 
 
 "Yes, and have just left Mr. Acklin." 
 "Did he say anything about my brother 
 Calvin?" 
 
 "No, why should he say anything?" 
 "Oh, he might have his reasons." 
 "Great Caesar!" I exclaimed irritably, "his 
 daughter is not engaged to your brother s 
 ghost." 
 
 "Not in the least certainly not." 
 For a time we walked on in silence, turned 
 toward his office and halted near his place of 
 daily toil. "Won t you come in?" he asked. 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 271 
 
 appearing to have something on his mind. But 
 I did not care to hear of his brother, and I 
 said, "No, I thank you." I gave him an op 
 portunity to go, stepping back for that purpose, 
 but he stood still. 
 
 "Wait a moment," he said. "Has Stephen 
 told you anything about my brother?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said I, "but is your 
 brother on every man s mind?" 
 
 "Oh, as to that, not so much on any man s 
 mind as he seems to be on yours." 
 
 I could have struck him. His insulting smile 
 invited a blow ; hot blood flew to the ends of my 
 fingers, shutting them up into a fist. He stepped 
 back, and in a tone of unctuous apology de 
 clared that he meant no harm, and that he 
 wished to recall his offensive words. I was as 
 willing to pardon him as I was to strike, and 
 I told him so, at the same time offering my 
 hand in proof that I held no malice. I was now 
 more than willing to leave him, but he detained 
 me, not with holding my hand or with words, 
 but by manner, an atmosphere that pleaded 
 with me to stay ; and I waited, looking at him. 
 
272 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Mr. Howardson," said he, "you will please 
 pardon me if I speak of my brother, won t 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, speak out." 
 
 He seemed embarrassed. "I have really 
 nothing to say, myself. In fact/ 1 am troubled 
 by the thought of what some one else may say. 
 Will you do me this favor: If any one if 
 Stephen begins to tell you about my brother 
 will you please inform him that you do not care 
 to hear it? I know that is a singular request, 
 but will you make me that promise ?" 
 
 "Mr. White, I don t see why I should make 
 such a promise. The fact is, I should like to 
 hear anything of your brother that Stephen 
 might say. But I am going away today and I 
 may not see him again." 
 
 "Are you going around to his stable?" 
 
 "Well, I may not." 
 
 "Would you mind promising me that you 
 will not?" 
 
 "Why should I make you any promises at 
 all ? No, I won t promise. I don t understand 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 273 
 
 why you and your sister should wish to main 
 tain such an influence over Miss Acklin. I " 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Howardson, we do 
 not wish to maintain an influence over her. But 
 we were fond of our brother and we honor the 
 sacred relationship that existed between " 
 
 "I have heard enough of that, sir. If she 
 were your brother s widow you could scarcely 
 manifest so deep an interest in her. Are you 
 willing that I should now bid you good-bye?" 
 
 He bowed and turned about, and I went 
 straightway to the stable to see Stephen. The 
 day was broiling hot, and I found him sitting 
 on his bench, with collar unbuttoned and rolled 
 back, exposing his hairy chest. He did not 
 laugh as I expected he would ; he arose, shook 
 hands with me and sat down without saying a 
 word. A chair was near by, and drawing it 
 forward I sat down beside him and waited 
 for him to say something. After a time he 
 dropped his heavy hand upon my knee and 
 said : "I am your friend." Was it his great 
 voice that shook me so? That he might -not 
 
 18 
 
274 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 see my weakness I turned my eyes away, look 
 ing at misty objects down the street. 
 
 "And when I say I m a man s friend, I mean 
 it. You understand me." 
 
 "Yes, and I thank you." 
 
 "That s all right. I went over to see Tommy 
 White this morning and I told him I didn t 
 think it was fair for me to keep silent any 
 longer on a certain subject." 
 
 "Concerning his brother?" I eagerly in 
 quired. 
 
 "Exactly. How did you know?" 
 
 "I met Mr. White a few minutes ago and he 
 requested me to promise him that I would not 
 permit you to tell me anything about his 
 brother." 
 
 "Yes, I understand. But I m going to tell 
 you, because I believe it is my duty. Something 
 occurred once and I promised White that I 
 would never tell Zaleme, but I couldn t read 
 the future and therefore I didn t promise not 
 to tell you. About two weeks before Calvin 
 White started out on his last trip, he forged my 
 name and got a thousand dollars out of the 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 275 
 
 bank. He thought I was a good, easy, drink 
 ing sort of a fellow, and would never discover 
 the crime ; but I did, and in mighty short order. 
 Well, I went to Tommy and told him to send 
 for his brother. We were in the Side-Board 
 at the time. He did so, and when Cal came 
 I opened the false check and spread it out on 
 the table. You didn t reckon I d get this so 
 soon said I, but the cashier of the bank became 
 a little suspicious of the signature after the 
 money was paid. Cal turned as pale as salt 
 and Tommy wanted to know what was the 
 matter. Nothing at all, Tommy/ said I, 
 nothing only your brother has forged my name 
 for a thousand dollars. Cal put his head on 
 the table and blubbered and Tommy got up 
 and walked about the room with his hands 
 behind him ; and after a while he came up to me 
 and said: Stephen, are you going to see an 
 old family ruined? and then it was my time 
 and I said : Tommy, am I going to see my 
 brother s daughter marry a thief? Tommy 
 staggered back, and Cal groaned. I didn t have 
 it in my heart to turn him over to the law, 
 
276 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 especially when he got down on his knees and 
 begged me so hard. They said they would 
 make the money good. Just then we heard 
 someone coming down the alley, and we 
 all hushed up, just as the cashier of the bank 
 stepped up into the door. Cal looked like a 
 ghost, for he and the cashier were enemies. Mr. 
 Acklin, said the cashier, making no bones 
 about it, what about that check ? You told our 
 young man that you d let us know. Oh, this 
 check? said I, winking at Cal to keep quiet. 
 Why, it is as good as gold. I know all 
 about that, said he, but is it straight? As 
 any string, I swore, and asked him to sit down 
 and have something, but he frowned and said, 
 No, thank you, I never drink. And out he 
 walked. Well, sir, I always liked the White 
 boys, and they begged me so hard that I not 
 only swore that I wouldn t tell my brother, but 
 swore I wouldn t say a word to my niece. I 
 had faith in his repentance, but I was sorry of 
 my oath as far as Zaleme was concerned, and I 
 lowed to myself that I would tell her about 
 the time I saw them making preparations for 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LIGHT. 277 
 
 the wedding. But it wasn t to be, for he got 
 killed soon afterwards and that ended it, in a 
 manner. But I told Tommy that you ought to 
 know it, ought under the circumstances to tell 
 Zaleme, and he begged me not to tell you, but 
 I want to say that I m not as soft as I used 
 to be. I find the world hard, and from this 
 time on I am going to act accordingly. Of 
 course no effort has ever been made to pay back 
 the thousand. I could take White s printing 
 office, but the party is in need of a paper and 
 he knows more about fixing up campaign lies 
 than I do." 
 
 He leaned back and bellowed. He laughed 
 until everything near us seemed to shake, and 
 wiping his eyes with a red silk handkerchief, 
 big enough for a weather signal, he remarked 
 that he must be the damnedest fool on the 
 earth. "But are you going to tell Zaleme? * 
 he asked, and our eyes met. 
 
 "No. I don t care to take that kind of an 
 advantage." 
 
 He gripped my shoulder. "That s it, be 
 sportsmanlike. It will all come right, I think. 
 
278 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 But no one can tell anything about that woman. 
 I have studied her ever since she was a child 
 but I ll be blamed if I can get at her. I found 
 out something the other day, and it weakened 
 me a little with Tommy and his sister. Zaleme 
 has a farm up the creek left her by her aunt 
 and took up the notion of selling it to build a 
 big monument to Cal, over on old Major 
 White s place, and Tommy and Rhoda, as the 
 active managers of the scheme, would get a 
 good slice out of the investment money more 
 than half, I bet you. And that is the reason 
 they want to keep their influence over her." 
 
 It was all clear enough now, and my blood 
 arose against Editor White. I told Stephen 
 that I should like to thrash the scoundrel. 
 
 "Oh, no, don t hurt him. Tommy s a first 
 rate hand to spend an evening with; and he s 
 got a pretty fair voice, too not strong, but 
 a good deal of music in it first and last." 
 
 I left him laughing on his bench I looked 
 back and saw him shaking. And now the long 
 and eventless afternoon was before me. In 
 my room I wrote a letter to Zaleme, but upon 
 
STEPHEN SHEDS LPGHT. 279 
 
 reading it and finding that I had really said 
 nothing, tore it to pieces. Later I wrote another 
 letter, intending to make it more moderate in 
 tone, but discovering it to be more vehement, 
 I tore that, also, and was about to go out when 
 a boy announced that Miss White wished to 
 see me in the parlor. She was the same blood 
 less creature. 
 
 She gave me her cool strip of a hand and sat 
 down with a sigh, and her breath seemed to 
 chill the room, as if on a winter s day some one 
 had raised a window. 
 
 "I was so afraid that I might miss you." 
 
 "My train doesn t leave until after ten 
 o clock tonight." 
 
 "Yes, but you know you men are so hard 
 to find. And I didn t know but you might 
 be off somewhere with Mr. Stephen. Isn t he 
 genial isn t he communicative? And I sup 
 pose you were with him. But not in that place 
 called the Side-Board, I hope. Really, now, 
 were you there and it is there, I m told, that 
 he is the most genial most communicative. 
 Were you there ?" 
 
28o IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "No, I went to see him at his stable." 
 
 "And I suppose that as usual, he had a crowd 
 about him. Were there really many present?" 
 
 "He was alone when I found him and alone 
 when I left him." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" she said, spreading her fan. 
 "One of his very quiet days. They are rare, 
 he has so many friends. My brother Calvin 
 was deeply attached to him: Did he tell you so ? 
 Did he say anything at all about him?" 
 
 "What is it you wish to know, Miss White? 
 But I can perhaps save you the trouble of fur 
 ther questions when I tell you that the monu 
 ment is not likely to be raised." 
 
 She could not turn paler, and she blushed; 
 and with no word, not even a parting glance, 
 she shut up her fan and walked out, and in my 
 restless sleep that night, on the train, I saw 
 her white face, and above her head hung a cross 
 as red as blood. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 OLD SAM PRESENTS A BUNDLE. 
 
 Once more to breathe the broad air of Texas, 
 to feel the inspiration of her freedom and her 
 vastness ! Nurtured upon that land who would 
 not willingly give his life to maintain his coun 
 try s honor? Ah, bountiful domain, majestic 
 spread of earth, how deep a love hast thou 
 made thy sons and daughters feel for thee ! 
 
 It was early morning when I arrived at Rip- 
 lar, the end of a journey through a hot night, 
 a blazing day, and out of the edge of another 
 darkness; and I walked about the old town in 
 the yellow lights of lamps burning low, waiting 
 for sunrise and old Sam Hall. And they came 
 as if by prearrangement, Sam walking down 
 the street with the sun, from a hilltop, stream 
 ing after him. He took my hand and looked 
 281 
 
282 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 into my eyes, probed me, shook his head with 
 satisfaction, and said : "Lucian, you are true 
 you don t change." I did not attempt 
 to tell him anything; he asked no ques 
 tions; he took my arm and we walked 
 about talking lightly until the town began to 
 stir, when our conversation was intercepted by 
 men who halted to shake hands and to bid me 
 welcome. Old man Carson was among the 
 number. He had come in early, he said, to buy 
 some turnip seed. His shirt sleeves were still 
 rolled high upon his hairy arm and in his old 
 eye a mischief shone, like the sudden gleaming 
 of a live coal in ashes long since dead. He 
 drew me aside and asked if I had brought his 
 niece back with me, and giving me a dig in 
 the side with his thumb, he showed his yellow 
 teeth and laughed. "If you ain t ready I reckon 
 you will be in time," he said. "Didn t take 
 me long to see how the land lay." 
 
 Was it impossible to keep my heart concealed 
 from an eye so dull? "My sister wrote that 
 you were there on important business," he 
 went on, with another laugh. "But I haven t 
 
PRESENTS A BUNDLE. 283 
 
 said anything about it and there s no harm 
 done. Well, come out and stay all night with 
 me." 
 
 "Sam," said I, when the old man had passed 
 on, "do I wear my heart on my sleeve?" . 
 
 "You carry it in your hand, Lucian, and 
 your hand is open." 
 
 At breakfast I spoke of the campaign and the 
 probable effect of my temporary withdrawal 
 from the fight. Sam looked serious. "Then I 
 am as good as defeated," said I, laughing; and 
 he replied: "No, you are as good as elected. 
 Everybody concedes it." 
 
 "Then why did you look so serious?" 
 
 "Over a duty you are compelled to perform." 
 
 "It must be of a grave nature." 
 
 "It may be, indeed." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "I will tell you when we go to the office. 
 I have a bundle for you." 
 
 "A bundle?" 
 
 "Yes, a present one that you can use." 
 
 I did not ask another question; under his 
 watchful eye there was on my part no show of 
 
284 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 curiosity and I felt that applause was added to 
 his deep friendship for me. We met a number 
 of persons after breakfast and did not go 
 straightway to the office. I did not speak of it 
 but Sam did. 
 
 "There s time enough," said he. "The train 
 does not leave here till noon." 
 
 With the serious duty,! had to perform, the 
 bundle which could be made useful and the 
 train which did not leave till noon he had built 
 up a mystery, but I walked about with him 
 and was not impatient. My mind was on a 
 bridge, with three stone arches, looking up 
 toward a red brick house, and the shrubbery 
 in the garden stood above the fence, and a 
 breeze just strong enough to make a murmur 
 among the leaves of an old hickory tree, floated 
 a perfume from a vine in the yard. That eye 
 of the mind, how clear! And even when age 
 has come it does not need a lens to magnify, 
 for it gazes upon objects dear, and bright 
 with everlasting love. I could see her father, 
 with his big black books piled up before him 
 upon a chair ; and now for the first time I could 
 
PRESENTS A BUNDLE. 285 
 
 see him laugh over the great joke he had played 
 upon me. I saw her walking dreamily in the 
 orchard, as if she were led along; she shrank 
 back, and I saw a little monument under the 
 apple tree and and there was a snake coiled 
 about it, black, and with evil glitter in its eye. 
 
 "Read that," said Sam. We were in the 
 office, and he had spread a newspaper upon the 
 table; and I read the words: "Lucian How- 
 ardson may re-enter the race again but it is 
 doubtful. He is at present undergoing treat 
 ment in a sanitarium for drunkenness." 
 
 "Ah, and the bundle the present," said I, 
 and Sam placed a package before me. I took 
 it up, unrolled it; and a horsewhip fell upon 
 the table, a whip, black, like the serpent coiled 
 about the monument. "This paper, as you see," 
 said Sam, "is published in Doyland, thirty-five 
 miles from here and a train leaves at noon." 
 
 We were on the train, speeding across a 
 country growing brown in the fierce heat of a 
 summer sun, and Sam was talking of the man 
 who had committed the offense against me. His 
 name was Harrison Redmon, brother of Band- 
 
286 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 ridge Redmon, a campaign orator, a man who 
 had killed two gamblers one night in San An 
 tonio. We would give him a good subject for 
 an oration, much better than his brother s scan 
 dalous newspaper had furnished. 
 
 At the door of the editor s office I unwrapped 
 my blacksnake whip and held it behind me. Sam 
 opened the door and I followed him into a 
 room. A man with a wrench was tightening 
 the bolts of a job press and he looked up at 
 us. Sam asked if Mr. Redmon were in and 
 the man nodded towards a door. "You d better 
 come in with us," said Sam. "He might need 
 you." The man followed with the wrench 
 in his hand. In another room a large man, 
 with a red face, sat behind a table. He started 
 to get up, but I commanded him not to move, 
 and he sat back in his chair and was still, gaz 
 ing at me. 
 
 "I suppose you know who I am?" 
 
 A yellow wave rolled across his red face. 
 
 He said that he knew me and began to beg. 
 
 Just then Sam cried, "Look out," and the 
 
 wrench whirred past my head, and went 
 
PRESENTS A BUNDLE. 267 
 
 through a window ; and the next moment there 
 was a bright gleam, a blow, and the wrench 
 flinger was on the floor, clubbed to sleep by 
 Sam s pistol. The big man was on his feet, 
 and I wrapped my whip about his shoulders; 
 his shirt stuck to his back and I saw the red 
 oozing through. He snatched at a drawer, and 
 I knocked him down with the butt end of the 
 whip. 
 
 The next day there was a trial before a 
 magistrate, and our enemies appeared against 
 us, with bandages about their heads. The 
 magistrate, one of my supporters, imposed a 
 light fine, and as I went out the crowd of 
 idlers pressed forward to shake hands with 
 me. Redmon came up. "You think you ve got 
 out of it pretty easy, don t you? Well let me 
 say you haven t. You ll hear from my brother 
 Dandridge." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHAT HE CALLED MY GRACEFUL WORK. 
 
 With so much vigor did I re-enter the cam 
 paign that an old man, meeting me, declared 
 that he had never known rest to do a person 
 so much good. Rest! It was her command 
 that had made me strong. 
 
 In Texas, the horsewhipping of a liar and a 
 scoundrel serves one as a sort of moral re 
 juvenation, as a revival in the fall of the year 
 serves to reinforce an old-time Methodist s re 
 ligion. The press was full of the affair, and it 
 was only our most shameless enemies that 
 condemned the act as cowardly. Old Sam 
 traveled with me, as proud a man as ever I 
 have seen, not only the manager of my cam 
 paign but my protector as well. He looked 
 
 years younger, and there was a sort of music 
 
 288 
 
MY GRACEFUL WORK. 289 
 
 in his laugh, like the uncertain notes of an 
 accordion long since out of use. And during 
 nearly a week he had forgotten to refer to his 
 dead heart; but one day he halted and point 
 ing to a heap of black ashes where trash had 
 been burnt in front of a store, said to me : "It 
 is just like that, Lucian dead, always black 
 and never shows signs of growing brighter." 
 But the next moment he was humming a tune, 
 doubtless with his mind upon Dandridge Red- 
 mon. The honey that Samson found in the 
 carcass of the lion was not sweeter to that 
 mighty man than the threat of danger, coming 
 out of our recent adventure, was to my friend. 
 But why didn t I hear from the scoundrel s 
 brother ? 
 
 Haney met us at the hotel, and in my room 
 he talked blithely of our certain success. Sam 
 fell asleep on a lounge. Haney went out and 
 Sam opened his eyes. "That fellow can put me 
 to sleep any time," said he. "And I ll tell you 
 what, he will dictate the distribution of your 
 political favors. I know him." 
 
 The bell boy brought in a card, bearing the 
 
 
290 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 name of John Weatherby ; and when I read out 
 the name old Sam smiled and said that we now 
 were to hear from Dandridge Redmon. And so 
 it proved. Weatherby came in, and, being a 
 "friend," shook hands with us and then 
 straightened himself and pretentiously pulled at 
 his mustache; then he bowed theatrically, pre 
 sented a communication and coughed from 
 time to time as I was reading it a document 
 much beyond the conventional length, setting 
 forth grievances like a petition. But finally 
 the point was reached. I was to consent to be 
 shot at or horse-whipped. 
 
 "Mr. Weatherby," said I, handing the paper 
 to Sam, "does your friend suppose that I am 
 fool enough to disqualify myself before the 
 voters of this State?" 
 
 "Ah, which means that you won t fight. Is 
 that it?" 
 
 "Not by a damned sight!" Sam exclaimed, 
 crumpling the paper and throwing it into the 
 fireplace. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Weatherby, pull 
 ing at his mustache and bowing to Sam, "but 
 
MY GRACEFUL WORK. 291 
 
 if you have breath to spare you d better expend 
 it in offering thanks that you are not included 
 in this this reprisal." 
 
 "What s that!" Sam cried, starting up; but 
 I put my hand on his shoulder. "You may 
 manage the campaign, Sam," said I, "but you 
 must let me manage this affair." 
 
 "You don t seem to put much spirit into 
 the way you take care of it," said our visitor. 
 
 "Perhaps I don t transact business to your 
 liking, but I must be permitted to employ my 
 own method." 
 
 "Ah, and which means " 
 
 "That you may tell your friend Redmon, the 
 murderer, to go to the devil." 
 
 Weatherby began to back toward the door, 
 bowing and pulling at his mustache, and Sam 
 cried out with a laugh : "Oh, if you were to 
 shave the bristles off your lip you couldn t 
 carry a challenge at all, could you? But go 
 on if you are going and don t wear out the 
 man s carpet." 
 
 Weatherby shut the door gently but he 
 walked hard as he went down the hall and we 
 
292 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 heard him clearing his rough throat on the 
 stairway. 
 
 "Well," said Sam, straightening himself 
 upon the lounge, "I reckon that was ante-bel 
 lum enough. What are you going to do, Lu- 
 cian?" 
 
 "I was thinking of writing a letter." 
 
 "About this affair, I mean. But you have 
 written to her several times since you came 
 home, haven t you?" 
 
 "I have written many times but I have sent 
 only one letter." 
 
 "And you have not heard from her." 
 
 "No, it is hardly time for a letter to reach me, 
 as it would have to be forwarded from Riplar." 
 
 "I haven t asked you to tell me anything, we 
 have been so busy, but I wish now during this 
 lull in our affairs," he said, laughing; "I wish 
 you would tell me of your visit all about it." 
 
 In recalling it all I found a sort of pleasure 
 and I gave it to him in full detail; and when 
 I had led him to the grave beneath the apple 
 tree, he bounded to his feet and cried out: 
 "Stop, Lucian!" But the next moment he 
 
MY GRACEFUL WORK. 293 
 
 said: "Go on, please." And when I had 
 reached the end, he exclaimed : "Good for that 
 big fellow. I want to meet him and you must 
 write and tell him that I m his friend. But as 
 I asked just now, what are you going to do 
 about this present emergency?" 
 "I am going to let it shape itself." 
 "That s about the best thing you can do." 
 He lay down again upon the lounge and as if 
 his mind had been soothed, dropped off to 
 sleep. And soon I was lost in the oblivion of 
 a letter to Zaleme. Sam was still asleep when 
 the letter was done, and he had lost so much 
 of needed rest of late that I went out on tip-toe 
 so as not to disturb him. The clerk downstairs 
 told me that the mail had already been taken to 
 the post-office. "But if you make haste," said 
 he, "you can catch the train at the depot and 
 give your letter to the postal clerk on the 
 
 car." 
 
 I followed his advice, posted the letter and 
 was returning when, not far from the tavern, 
 a man stepped out from a doorway and stood 
 in front of me. Near by I saw Weatherby 
 
294 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 and then I knew that I was face to face with 
 Dandridge Redmon. It was some time before 
 he spoke he stood looking hard at me, holding 
 one hand behind him. And then he asked : 
 
 "Are you armed?" 
 
 "I am not." 
 
 Instantly the lash of a wagoner s whip flew 
 high in the air. I threw up my hand, caught 
 the whip midway of the lash, jerked it out of 
 his hand, swung it about and at a moment 
 when he had snatched out a pistol, I knocked 
 him down, stamped upon his wrist, kicked the 
 pistol into the gutter and reversing the whip, 
 I lashed him almost raw knocked him down 
 again and again as he attempted to get up 
 lashed him till his tongue lolled out. And in 
 the crowd that had gathered stood a man with 
 a smile on his face, with one hand in his 
 pocket and with a finger of the other hand 
 pointing into the face of Weatherby old Sam. 
 He scolded me for having sneaked off from 
 him, but he was delighted with what he termed 
 my graceful work. "But where," said he, "did 
 
MY GRACEFUL WORK. 295 
 
 you acquire such dexterity ? How did you man 
 age to catch the lash of that whip?" 
 
 "It was purely an accident, Sam. I couldn t 
 do it again in a year." 
 
 "That s all right, but it will pass for skill ; 
 and," he added when we were at the door of 
 the tavern, "it will surely prove the end of our 
 trouble. They have tried us with argument, 
 lies and brute force, and from now on the 
 sailing will be smooth." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 
 
 Sam was walking up and down the room, 
 still elated over my "graceful work/ and I was 
 at the window gazing into the fire-towers of a 
 cloudy sunset when a letter was brought to 
 me. It was from Zaleme, and Sam must have 
 seen the leap of my heart for he moved noise 
 lessly across the room and sat down, as far 
 from me as he could get. Ah, what a thrill 
 there can be in the sight of one s name, traced 
 in purple ink ! Long I held the letter, unopened, 
 with a red glow from the west falling upon it. 
 My mind flew back like an eager bird and 
 hovered over the house, over her as she must 
 have sat, writing to me ; my soul was searching 
 
 for some balm to stay its trembling. But cold 
 296 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 297 
 
 at my heart lay the fear that she had repented 
 of her words of encouragement, that again she 
 was under the influence of that hypnotizing 
 specter. I opened the letter and a perfume 
 arose and with it a mist and through the mist 
 I saw a purple word, here and there, but I had 
 to wait before I could read. "What did I tell 
 you when you left me? I have tried so hard 
 to recall the words at our parting but cannot. 
 I know that I told you that when I change at all 
 it must be slowly. This morning when I awoke 
 I wondered if it had not all been a dream 
 your visit here, and it made me sad to think so ; 
 but soon I realized it all and then I was sadder 
 than if it had been but a dream, so little do 
 I understand myself of late. Didn t I say to 
 you and do you speak of reason ! Yes I did, 
 but I ought not to have done so. But my heart 
 did not reproach you, for now as I look 
 back it seems that my heart was glad 
 dest when you showed no reason. I 
 ought to scratch this out but I will not. Rhoda 
 was here all day yesterday. She asked me if I 
 had written to you and appeared relieved when 
 
298 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I told her no. She was never more affectionate 
 and she wanted me to go and sit with her where 
 the little grave is, but I wouldn t. Then she 
 reproached me, but very gently, with her tired 
 head on my shoulder. She asked me if I had 
 forgotten her brother and I told her no. She 
 said that she had read romances in vain trying 
 to find a love as devoted as the love he gave 
 to me. It was surely a gift from heaven, she 
 said, and I ought to cherish it always. And I 
 am thankful for such a love. I believe he died 
 with my name on his lips and with my image 
 in his heart. I ought not to write thus to you, 
 perhaps, but I must write as I feel. I wish you 
 could have known him, he was so pure and 
 I should not say it, I know but almost holy. 
 I don t believe that he ever had an evil thought. 
 Uncle Stephen, who is a shrewd judge of men, 
 was devoted to him was, yes, but the last 
 time he was out here, the day after you left, 
 I think, he shocked me by asking how long 
 I intended to walk up and down the lane with 
 that fellow s ghost. That was so unlike my 
 uncle. Is it possible that you could have em- 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 299 
 
 bittered his mind against Calvin, whom you did 
 not know? No, I won t believe it, but to tell 
 you the truth, Rhoda hinted at something of 
 the sort. Day before yesterday I walked to 
 town, and when half way I heard some one 
 laughing. I looked up and saw the culprit, a 
 little boy, sitting on a fence. I asked him why 
 he laughed and he replied that it was because 
 I was talking to myself. Had I been talking 
 to your spirit, walking beside me ? I am going 
 to tell you of an awful dream I had the other 
 night. I dreamed that I was out in the orchard. 
 The sun was bright and the air was sweet. I 
 had not been thinking of the little grave, but 
 suddenly I found myself under the tree; and I 
 was about to ask pardon of the grave for hav 
 ing neglected it in my thoughts, when suddenly 
 I saw a snake coiled about the monument. Its 
 eyes glittered and out came its forked tongue, 
 and I ran to the house badly frightened. I met 
 my father and told him and he went out and 
 killed the snake, but its blood was left on the 
 white marble and could not be washed off. And 
 the next morning I was afraid to go out in the 
 
300 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 orchard afraid that I might in reality see the 
 snake. Don t you see how foolishly I am writ 
 ing to you ? But how perfectly a woman gives 
 her confidence to a man when she writes fool 
 ishly to him ; she is giving him a part of herself. 
 If you receive this letter you may know that I 
 did not read it over, for I know that if I should, 
 it would not be sent, it is so rambling. There 
 was a time when I fancied that I could write 
 a sensible letter, but this one does not prove 
 it. Rhoda says that I am sometimes simple 
 to keep from being serious. Do you know, or 
 can you possibly suspect, that during all this 
 ^time I am striving to recall the exact words I 
 spoke to you at the moment of our parting? 
 But no matter, you surely will not misunder 
 stand me. I am going to be true to myself for 
 then I shall be true to all others. I have felt 
 the glory of being loved. But is there not 
 a greater glory, the glory of loving? Is not 
 hunger for love a selfishness? In your let 
 ter you ask me to study my own heart. I 
 do, but I find many strange charac 
 ters, like those cut upon ancient stone, a 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 301 
 
 language unknown to me. And now I must 
 learn these strange characters. But where is 
 the key to this mystic language ? Whither shall 
 I turn to find it ? For hours at a time I have sat 
 striving to gather my forces, if I have any 
 seeking to become a reasoning creature; and 
 between me and that which I would seek, there 
 arises a cross and it is red against a gray wall. 
 It all comes back to me, the late hour, the 
 lantern, the oath, with his burning hand clasp 
 ing mine. His pale, eager face sends a pain to 
 my heart and thus I muse and my reason is 
 gone. Oh, I know that not in this world has 
 there been such a love as his. * * * 
 When you write again tell me about your work 
 give me the strong points you make in your 
 speeches. A newspaper dispatch says that you 
 have carried the most of the primary elections. 
 Why didn t you tell me this? It would have 
 seemed so much better coming from you." 
 
 That was all, and I read it over and over 
 again, to breathe the sweetness of a hope, here 
 and there ; and in it there was only hope while 
 my heart was straining to catch the light of 
 
302 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 revelation. Once there was almost a flash, a 
 flame when she spoke of the greater glory of 
 loving; and quickly I turned back, but the sen 
 tence had lost its brightness. And then hope, 
 which at first had been so buoyant, began slowly 
 to sink. I had drawn upon the words until they 
 were sapped of their meaning. I turned about 
 and looked at Sam. 
 
 "Bad news, Lucian?" 
 
 "No news at all only words." 
 
 "But with her, words may be full of mean- 
 ing." 
 
 "They must indeed when she fills a grave 
 with them and lets them hold her heart down 
 to the earth. I wish I had dug them up." 
 
 "No, you don t wish that; you are afraid 
 of them you would sooner dig into the tomb 
 of Shakespeare, gazing at the curse cut into the 
 stone." 
 
 "Yes, Sam, I acknowledge it. Wouldn t you 
 be afraid?" 
 
 "Yes. She is a strange creature and she 
 may be going through a strange evolution. 
 Don t disturb it wait." 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 303 
 
 "It is impossible. I can t wait." 
 He looked at me with his grim, three-cor 
 nered smile. "You remind me of a man who 
 was going to be hanged. When the judge pro 
 nounced sentence he swore that he couldn t 
 stand it. But he did." 
 
 There came a rap at the door. Sam opened 
 it and admitted Hotze. He grabbed my hand 
 and wrenched it. He swore that we couldn t 
 lose him, a fact with which Sam was not slow 
 to agree. Hotze was fresh from a district which 
 had been antagonistic to me, but which had 
 been completely won over by good work among 
 the "boys." "And say," he went on, "I arrived 
 just in time to hear the whole town laugh over 
 your horse-whipping of that fellow. Do you 
 know he would have shot me once if I d let 
 him? It s a fact. What did I do? I kept out 
 of his way, of course. I don t want to kill a 
 man even to keep him from killing me; and 
 when the worst comes to the worst, I keep out 
 of a fellow s way. That s all. Yes, sir, the 
 whole town is laughing, and they have to sweep 
 people out of the office down stairs want to 
 
304 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 come up here to see you. But that s right let 
 em stay out. We don t want to be too familiar. 
 By the way, Hall, I have found out what made 
 you laugh so when I spoke of St. George and 
 the dragoon. I ought to have said dragon. 
 But if you let a little thing like that tickle you, 
 why you ll laugh yourself to death if you run 
 with me. Well, Howardson, there s no if or and 
 about it, we are going to get there. I was never 
 as sure of anything in my life. It would take 
 a mighty bad break to beat us now. Recollect 
 that fellow Briggs, of San Antonio fellow 
 that come up to tell you that he was your open 
 faced enemy? Well, he s shouting for you 
 now. Oh, the thing s cut and dried. And 
 Hall, I am free to say that a good deal of the 
 credit is due to you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Sam, warming toward 
 him. "Yes," he added, "I think we are all 
 right; and we are going to remember our 
 friends." 
 
 "The only way to do, Hall. Statesmanship s 
 all right, you understand, but the statesman 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 305 
 
 has got to burn patronage in his fire box, so 
 to speak, or his steam will go down/ 
 
 And Old Sam agreed with him. Surely my 
 friend was growing more tolerant. There had 
 been a time when such a statement would have 
 stung him. Had this oil-oozing politician won 
 him with a word of commendation? Was his 
 heart so set on my success that praise for his 
 services to me had melted his resentment and 
 his prejudices? Ah, being a true friend how 
 rare he was. How old-fashioned, how romantic 
 is unselfish friendship! How strongly does it 
 draw upon today s cold and materialistic in 
 credulity ! Was the past less wise and therefore 
 nobler than the present ? Man was never more 
 heroic than he is today, never more willing 
 to shed his blood ; but being shrewder, a closer 
 questioner of self, a keener inquirer into the 
 motives of other men, he is not so disinterested 
 a friend. Thus I mused as I looked at Sam, 
 who surely was not a man of today. Nature 
 and years of sorrow had stamped him the 
 enemy of such a man as Hotze, but now he was 
 so wrapped up in my affairs, so grateful for an 
 
 20 
 
3 o6 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 acknowledgment that something was due to 
 his foresight and his skill as a manager, that 
 he was willing to trample upon nature. Hotze 
 went out and I said to Sam : "You have over 
 looked your antipathy to that fellow, and all 
 because " 
 
 "Of vanity," he quietly interposed. "He 
 flattered me and I was too weak to resist." 
 
 "Are we all so weak as that?"> 
 
 "Yes. There is only one man who is strong 
 toward the world, the man in love, and he has 
 been robbed of his reason. But, Lucian, I doubt 
 the existence of love as men know it. It is 
 not love, it is disease, poison. I believe that 
 it becomes not only a mental but a physical ail 
 ment. But we won t talk about it, for of neces 
 sity we must thresh the same old straw. God, 
 I wish it were all threshed so fine it would blow 
 away." 
 
 Late at night he came to my room to deliver 
 a telegram ; and he found me standing beneath 
 the gas lamp, reading my letter. And when 
 he came in early the next morning he caught 
 up the telegram from the table and cried out : 
 
PUZZLING OVER WORDS. 307 
 
 "What, haven t you opened this yet?" I had 
 not; during all the night my mind had been 
 searching for rest-spots in her letter. He tore 
 open the dispatch, glanced at it and announced 
 that we had carried another primary election. 
 "It was one that had been in doubt, too, Lu- 
 
 cian." 
 
 "Yes ? That is something to be thankful for. 
 Wait a moment. What would your heart tell 
 you that this sentence means?" 
 
 He looked at me with his old smile, and 
 remarked : "A dead heart cannot interpret." 
 
 "But your experience is not dead. Let me 
 have its judgment." 
 
 I read the sentence to him and he shook his 
 head. "I don t know. It might mean anything 
 and it might mean nothing. Heart might give 
 to it a direct meaning, but experience says it 
 does not know." 
 
 "Sam, I am going to San Antonio today I 
 am going to see if that cross is red upon the 
 wall." 
 
 "Lucian, honestly you are not well. You 
 have gone through too much of late. You are 
 
 
308 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 unstrung. Go with me to Riplar and let us 
 try to rest. Won t you?" 
 
 "No, I am going first to the Alamo, to see if 
 that cross is red upon the wall." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 GAZING INTO THE OLD CORNER. 
 
 I arrived in San Antonio late at night. There 
 were but few persons in the lobby of the hotel. 
 Two of them came forward, shook hands with 
 me and then kindly permitted me to go to my 
 room. I arose early the next morning and sat 
 at the window, waiting for the first rays of the 
 sun to fall upon the Alamo. But when the 
 first rays came they fell upon a letter which I 
 held low upon the window sill. I was still 
 striving to extract a balm with which to anoint 
 a suffering heart. Old Sam had spoken the 
 truth. I was not well. I had begun to lose 
 faith in Zaleme. She did not know her own 
 mind, and this argued a weakness of character. 
 Or was it strength instead of weakness? I 
 put the letter into my pocket and sat gazing 
 
 at the Alamo, now bathed in light. When first 
 309 
 
310 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I had looked from that window, my fancy had 
 "vitoscoped" the battle; I saw the heroes 
 fighting hand to hand with the Mexicans that 
 climbed upon the walls. The Mexicans fell 
 until the ground was covered with them, but 
 others advanced out of Santa Anna s horde 
 till the heroes were crushed. I heard the blood 
 drip, drip. But now I could see nothing but 
 the old walls, gray in the sun. Was my fancy 
 dead? And then I started, for on the wall 
 appeared a red cross. I got up, walked about 
 the room, tried to read a newspaper, read my 
 letter, looked again at the old wall, to find that 
 it was gray with no sign of red. Some one 
 knocked. I opened the door and Quailes seized 
 my hand. He started back and asked me if I 
 were ill. 
 
 "No, hard work," I answered. 
 
 "Well, your work is about over and you ll 
 soon be all right. Well, sir, I am devilish glad 
 to see you," said he, sitting down. "And you 
 don t know how much good it does me every 
 time I see that we have carried a primary. And 
 we ve got enough to make a dead sure thing 
 
THE OLD CORNER. 311 
 
 in the legislature. But you don t seem as keen 
 for the office as you were. By the way I met 
 the Doctor some time ago and he told me that 
 you had been to his father s home in Kentucky." 
 
 "Yes, I had business up " 
 
 "You bet you did. I knew that the first day 
 you met her in the Alamo. It s all right 
 I won t say anything about it. But say, how 
 do you stand? That s all right. Of course 
 you ll win there just as you will in the legis 
 lature. Well, sir, as soon as I introduced you 
 to her I said to myself : As little as you think 
 of it you may be talking to fate right now. I 
 saw you were hit hard, Senator." 
 
 "But did you see that she was hit hard ? Tell 
 me, did you see that?" 
 
 "Well, I don t know as to that. Women 
 govern themselves better than men, and you 
 can t always tell how hard they are hit. I 
 don t believe they are as quick as men. But if 
 you want her she s yours that s all there is to 
 it. Why, look what a fight I ve had even 
 after all hands acknowledged that she stood 
 there gazing into the eye of fate. I thought 
 
3 i2 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 your letter had fixed it all right, and it would 
 with a woman of reason, but my girl s mother 
 is not in the habit of reasoning. She is swayed 
 by prejudice alone. Shortly after you left here 
 some one told her that I had been drunk. I 
 went to her. I saw that she was mad because 
 I denied it and then I acknowledged it. Then 
 you ought to have seen her. She ordered me 
 out of the house. I said to her, Madam, said 
 I, you have been misinformed. I acknowl 
 edged a falsehood just to please you I thought 
 you would compliment me for self-abnegation. 
 But I want to tell you right now that I was 
 not drunk. But she insisted on my going and 
 I went; but I didn t let it drop. I sent her 
 credentials depositions of the mayor, chief of 
 police, city physician, city clerk all of them, 
 and it had effect." 
 
 "It is a good thing they happened to know, 
 Quailes." 
 
 He winked. "Or at least it is a good thing 
 they happened to be candidates for re-election. 
 Yes, sir, the old woman forgave me with most 
 Christian-like gentleness, but she didn t want 
 
THE OLD CORNER. 313 
 
 me to marry her daughter. Now what the 
 deuce did I want with her forgiveness unless 
 she gave me the girl ? Why, I wouldn t give 
 her ten cents for all the forgiveness she could 
 scrape up in a year. Well, what did I do? I 
 went over the files of the paper and got figures 
 showing from the primaries the number of 
 votes you would have on joint ballot and I 
 sent them to her together with a letter reading 
 something after this fashion : You have in 
 your possession a letter concerning the integrity 
 of my character. It was written by a man which 
 the enclosed figures will inform you will be 
 elected to the U. S. Senate at the forthcoming 
 session of the legislature. Who knows but that 
 I may be called upon to serve this Senator as 
 private secretary? And who knows but that 
 a certain lady might wish to visit her daughter 
 in Washington, where she might be introduced 
 into society by a Senator ? What did she do ? 
 What could she do ? The mails were too slow. 
 She telegraphed. And so it is all settled again. 
 But let us say a word about that private sec 
 retary business. That s a job I don t want. I m 
 
314 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 a newspaper man. And as I intimated to you 
 on a former occasion I am the best in the 
 State. By the way, I met Dandridge Redmon 
 last night. He was in a gambling house where 
 he had killed two men not a great while ago. 
 He strutted about as if he thought every one 
 was afraid of him. He said that he would meet 
 you again one of these days and wouldn t hit 
 you with a whip, either. And then I went up to 
 him. You may not know it, not having seen 
 me tried, but I am about as game as they 
 make em. And why not? Haven t I got a 
 right to be, and doesn t it stand me in hand? 
 I walked up to him and said : You big brute, 
 you had a pistol the last time you met him. 
 Why didn t you use it? Who are you? he 
 asked and I gave him my card. He looked 
 at it and tried to smile. He had heard of me. 
 He knew I was a game cock and would stay in 
 the pit. He slunk out. And you bet he ll 
 never molest you. He was glad enough the 
 other day to get off with his life. Do you want 
 me to interview you or have you had enough ?" 
 "I would like to rest," I answered. "I don t 
 
THE OLD CORNER. 3*5 
 
 want to see any one don t want any one to 
 know I m in town and keep that recent con 
 vert, Briggs, away if you can." 
 
 "All right, I ll fix him. He owes the hotel 
 a bill, and I ll tell him they want the money. 
 He won t come round." Quailes sat looking 
 at me and after a time he remarked : "You are 
 going to make a record in the Senate." 
 
 "No, I think not, Quailes. Since the fire 
 of my yearning has paled, I see that I am more 
 of a sentimentalist than a political enonomist 
 or a statesman. I have read great books as a 
 duty and lesser ones as a delight." 
 
 "That reminds me of an objection a fellow 
 offered concerning you the other day. He 
 called you a poet. I told him you were my 
 friend and that I didn t want to hear anything 
 like that from him. Poetry, why hang their 
 hides on a fence, to me a mind that has no 
 poetry in it is as barren as a wind-swept prairie. 
 But the average voter thinks poetry means 
 effeminacy. He thinks that verses belong to 
 women when the fact is that a true poet is the 
 bravest man alive; he is ready to give his life 
 
Si6 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 for his belief. But you did publish a volume 
 of verses didn t you, Lucian?" 
 
 "Yes, for private circulation. And I have 
 grieved over the fact, when the politician was 
 strongest within me, but since those grim old 
 walls out there have arisen in my dreams " 
 
 "You mean since you met Zaleme Acklin?" 
 
 "Yes, that is exactly what I do mean. Since 
 I have known her, my verses have ceased to 
 be so contemptible in my sight. I don t say 
 that I have written poetry of " 
 
 "No, and don t say it where the politicians 
 are likely to get hold of it. I tried to pick up 
 a copy but couldn t had to go about it in a 
 quiet way, you know. You got any on hand ?" 
 
 "I sent the last copy to Zaleme but a few 
 days ago; and I haven t heard yet what she 
 thinks of it. I shall be either lifted or lowered 
 in her opinion; it was a risk to run, but I was 
 bold one of your brave poets. Here and 
 there the worst writer of verses may reveal 
 himself, and when he does he is for one 
 moment if for no more a true poet, one of 
 God s children, crying to the Father." 
 
THE OLD CORNER. 317 
 
 "You are right, Lucian; you are not so 
 much of a politician. But come on and let s go 
 to breakfast." 
 
 When we had eaten breakfast he left me; 
 he knew that I wanted to go alone to the 
 Alamo. And I stood in the room where Bowie s 
 blood had laid the dust. Visitors had begun to 
 arrive, and some of them were about me; I 
 heard the low hum of their talk, but I did not 
 turn to look at them. I was gazing into the 
 corner, at the wall whereon the cross had been 
 drawn, but there was no stain of red. I knew 
 that it could not be there, that imagination s 
 finger must trace it upon the mind. But ah, 
 this imagination, when the nerves are taut and 
 tingling and the mind is almost diseased ! How 
 much worse than reality, for we accept the real 
 and cease to speculate. Out of the hum behind 
 me into my startled ears came leaping the 
 words "The Red Cross." I wheeled about, 
 almost treading upon the foot of an old gentle 
 man. "I beg your pardon," said I, bowing to 
 him. "But didn t I hear you speak of a red 
 cross?" 
 
3 i8 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Not of a red cross no, sir; tjut of the so 
 ciety of The Red Cross, as a member of which 
 I have served on the battlefield." 
 
 I apologized to him and went out into the 
 chapel, down to the window beneath which 
 Zaleme and I had stood, listening to the lisping 
 wind. It was here that she had said she would 
 demand a love so desperate that he would kill 
 himself if he believed that she did not love him. 
 But in this letter and the soft light fell upon 
 it she had written of the greater glory of 
 loving. I felt that I was being studied and 
 commented upon, and looking up I saw two 
 men gazing at me, and my acute ear had caught 
 what one of them was saying: "He s got the 
 figures of the campaign right there in his hand." 
 Yes, figures of speech in the heart s campaign ! 
 As I was going out I glanced into Bowie s 
 room, and there in a glimpse was the red cross. 
 I hastened into the room, stood in the corner, 
 passed my hand over the wall, gazed closer 
 and there was a dim spot of red, the fading 
 blood of a hero. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MET HER IN THE ROAD. 
 
 Turn whither I might there was no rest to be 
 found. Ambition, the great nerve tonic, was 
 dead. But would it not rise again, if the heart 
 should find ease in the possession of the object 
 which had caused its distress? No matter, it 
 was dead now, and to muse upon its probable 
 resurrection in the future could offer no relief 
 to present weariness. If a man could forget 
 his mind his heart! If he could take off his 
 head after the manner of the dancing skeleton, 
 scour it of unwholesome thoughts and tanta 
 lizing fancies throw it from him and lie down 
 to refreshing sleep, and if upon awaking he 
 could take it up and readjust it, how much fitter 
 would he be for the tedious affairs of this life ! 
 
 I permitted even such nonsense as this to seep 
 319 
 
320 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 through my mind, so foolishly speculative can 
 a man become when under a weight that is 
 bearing him down to the ground. I could 
 find no rest and no affinity except with 
 Old Sam, so I returned to Riplar. He 
 was asleep in the office when I arrived, and 
 he sat up, his grayish hair bristling, and he 
 said that he had been dreaming. He hung his 
 head low and sat rubbing his eyes as I often 
 found myself doing, trying forgetfully to wipe 
 out a vision ; and after a time he remarked : 
 "Lucian, I was dreaming of Lucy Hedges." 
 Years had passed since I heard him utter the 
 name of the woman who had blighted his life. 
 "She is in town," he added. 
 
 "What, you don t mean it !" 
 
 "I am not in the habit of joking about her, 
 Lucian. Yes, she is here and I have seen 
 her. Her husband is dead and she has come 
 back, so I understand, to live with her mother. 
 I met her in the road near old Carson s house 
 her mother, you know, lives just beyond and 
 for a moment I thought I saw a ghost, but she 
 smiled and spoke to me. My my blood urged 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 321 
 
 me to cry out, Out with your grinning! but 
 I merely bowed to her and passed on. And 
 just now I dreamed that I met her again, and 
 this time I did not merely bow and pass on. 
 I raised my hand above her head and denounced 
 her, and I saw her kneel upon the ground ; and 
 Lucian, if I meet her again I will denounce her 
 as a murderess." 
 
 "No, Sam, I wouldn t do that." 
 
 Then came his sharp smile. "Oh, no, you 
 wouldn t you would simply cut her throat. 
 That s what you would do, and before God 
 it is what I ought to do." He arose and 
 walked about the room. "I understand," he 
 went on, "that she expects to live here per 
 manently, and if that is the case I shall have 
 to leave. I have already spoken to a man with 
 regard to the sale of my effects. Don t advise 
 me, Lucian; I can t live here." 
 
 I knew that his mind was set and I did not 
 advise him. I agreed with him. 
 
 "Where do you expect to go, Sam?" 
 
 "Mexico in the mountains, as high up 
 
 above her as I can get. But I want to see her 
 21 
 
322 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 one more time for a few moments. I want 
 to show her that even though she killed my 
 heart my mind is still alive and I am going 
 to pronounce upon her the worst curse that 
 ever came from the lips of man. The curse of 
 excommunication, in the dark ages, would look 
 pale beside it." He walked up and down, mut 
 tering to himself, making motions as if dealing 
 a death blow with a knife. After a while he 
 grew calmer and then he said: "I expected 
 you home and I told them not to forward your 
 mail. In your desk you will find a letter from 
 Kentucky." 
 
 And now I forgot his troubles and the 
 woman who had trampled his heart under her 
 feet. I snatched out the letter and the first 
 reading eased my heart a little, but doubt arose 
 with the second reading and increased with 
 the third. "You did not tell me that you 
 had written a book of poems," she said. "Were 
 you ashamed of your earlier fancies? You 
 should not have been. But the little book has 
 fastened a fib upon you. When we came to the 
 flowery bank in the woods near Uncle Car- 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 323 
 
 son s house, you burst out in blank verse ; and 
 you told me that it was from one of the oldest 
 dramatists, but I find the poem in this volume. 
 If you are ashamed to own your own verses 
 you ought to be ashamed to recite them. But 
 I should not say this. Why do I so persist 
 ently overlook the fact that you are a man with 
 a reputation and are dignified at times ! Don t 
 misunderstand me, please. You are a true poet, 
 in my opinion, and your book has given me a 
 rainbow glimpse of your soul." 
 
 Now what did she mean by that? A rain 
 bow glimpse! A glimpse of promise? Then 
 why didn t she say so? In her opinion I was 
 a true poet. Did she mean that others might 
 think ill of my muse others more capable of 
 judging but that she would ignore all pro 
 tests against me? 
 
 The letter continued: "Did you say any 
 thing to hurt Rhoda s feelings ? She intimated 
 as much, but I can t believe you did. And now 
 I must confess something. She is beginning 
 to wear upon me, to weary me. Oh, she is so 
 painfully sensitive. Sometimes she sheds tears 
 
324 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 at the tenderest word. She makes too free 
 a gift of her tears. Somehow I can t help but 
 suspect them. She wants me to do something 
 that would involve the sale of my farm. I 
 wonder if she is really disinterested? 
 You have made an everlasting friend of 
 Uncle Stephen. You remember mother s 
 wild grape wine? She declared that he 
 shouldn t have any more, but he came out 
 last Sunday and drank it all. And then he said 
 to me that he had told you something and that 
 you are at liberty to tell me. It must be some 
 thing about Calvin White. What was it? But 
 it could be nothing bad, for he walked the earth 
 a god among men. Rhoda is constantly afraid 
 that I may do his memory an injustice, as if 
 such a thing on my part were possible * * * 
 It seems so long since you were here; and I 
 could reproach myself for having told you to 
 go, but it had to be ; you had too long suffered 
 the withdrawal of your energies from the field 
 of contest for a great prize. It was and is 
 my earnest wish that you should win. If you 
 fail, and especially should you fail through any 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 325 
 
 lack of effort on your part, it will be a deep 
 grief to me. You told me that it had long been 
 the ambition of your life, therefore, it was not 
 just to your future that you should relax. Jan 
 uary is not a great way off, and then you will 
 step forth a victor. Mother does not feel dis 
 posed to visit Texas again so soon, traveling is 
 so tiresome to her, but I am coming." 
 
 I put the letter into my pocket and a few 
 moments later when I was taking it out, Old 
 Sam remarked : "Lucian, I was just thinking 
 that not on the face of the earth are there two 
 completer fools than we are. And worst of all, 
 I am a revengeful fool." He came over to 
 where I sat, and bgan to make gestures at me 
 with his long finger, like a man "pop" shooting 
 with a pistol. "Yes, I am revengeful and it 
 does something within me surely not a heart 
 but it does me good somewhere when I think 
 of the curse I am going to pronounce upon that 
 woman. I would do it, Lucian, if I were dying 
 and knew that my soul would be sent to the 
 most sulphurous pit in hell. I swear that I 
 could walk with bare feet in her blood and 
 
326 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 never flinch. Isn t that brutish? But I could 
 do it. Look at the years that have been dead 
 years to me! And do you think that I am 
 going to smirk and forgive her? I ought to 
 cut her throat. Oh, that s exactly what I ought 
 to do and when I meet her again I ll have no 
 knife about me. But look how strong these 
 ringers are. See this !" He set his teeth and 
 went through violent motions, as if strangling 
 her. "Couldn t I choke her to death in a min 
 ute ? She couldn t cry out, but she could gurgle 
 and that would make me laugh." 
 
 "Don t, Sam you must not talk that way." 
 
 "Oh, it s easy to say that. But wait till you 
 have suffered as much as I have. And you 
 may, old fellow; it s in the cards you may." 
 
 "I know it, Sam, and not for a moment do 
 I lose sight of the fact. Surely she does not 
 know her own mind. Then how can I find rest 
 in the study of her heart? I believe, however, 
 that she is ambitious; my election will have 
 weight." 
 
 "I wouldn t like to think so," said Sam. 
 
 "And I shudder to feel it so, but all the 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 327 
 
 same I am afraid it is true. And I am going 
 to win, Sam." 
 
 "I know it. And I wish I could stay to wit 
 ness your triumph, but I can t." 
 
 "When do you expect to start for Mexico ?" 
 
 "Just as soon as arrangements can possibly 
 be made. But the most important thing to me 
 is seeing her again. Now don t you be afraid 
 I am not going to murder her." 
 
 At another time a time before I had met 
 Zaleme I could not have restrained a lament 
 over his departure; we had been associated so 
 long and were such close friends, but now I 
 could not fasten my mind upon him or his 
 trouble, and surely I could calmly have viewed 
 a great calamity, out of failure to grasp its 
 meaning. My nature had been changed. 
 
 During all that day I puzzled over my letter, 
 though surely it was plain enough, or would 
 have been to an unclouded eye ; and more than 
 once during the night did I get up to search 
 for secreted meanings among those purple 
 words. 
 
 Sam was not at breakfast when I went down 
 
328 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 stairs the next morning; and I waited a long 
 time at the office, wishing that he would come, 
 but he did not, and I walked forth, aimlessly 
 at first ; and then turned toward Carson s house. 
 But not desiring to meet the old man, so full of 
 indelicate gibes he surely would be, I turned 
 off into the woods, going straightway to the 
 bank whereon Zaleme and I had sat. The 
 bank was brown, the heat had killed the 
 flowers ; and I passed on, looking for a shadier 
 place where I might sit down to worry again 
 over my letter. Near the roadside was a 
 branching oak and beneath it, in a corner of the 
 rail fence, the grass was green and inviting. 
 I sat down and my mind flew away to an old 
 stone bridge and a garden where the shrubbery 
 stood high above the wall. Suddenly I started ; 
 a voice had aroused me Sam s voice. And 
 looking through the fence I saw him standing 
 only a few feet distant from me, and near him 
 stood a woman gazing into his eyes. I ought 
 to have come out of my hiding place, but I was 
 fascinated by the scene and did not move. 
 "Madam, I wanted to see you once more," 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 329 
 
 said Sam. His hat was off, his hair looked 
 white and his face was paler than I ever had 
 seen it. 
 
 "Yes," she quietly replied, looking at him. 
 The years had been gentle with her, though 
 poverty had left its mark, for she was poorly 
 attired, but she looked strong, and stood as if 
 gracefully she had stepped out of the past. 
 
 "Madam, you have come back here to live, 
 and I am going to Mexico." 
 
 "Are you going so far, Sam?" 
 
 He started and I did, too, for I saw that she 
 was suffering. 
 
 "Yes, the further from you the better. But 
 I was determined to see you again, and I went 
 to your mother s house this morning to look for 
 you, and when I learned that you had come 
 this way I was glad, for I wanted to see you 
 alone. Do you know why?" 
 
 "To reproach me." 
 
 "Oh, you draw it mild. No, not to reproach 
 you. Reproach is gentle compared with what 
 I am going to say. Madam, I am going to 
 
330 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 curse you as a woman was never cursed before. 
 Now listen to me." 
 
 "Yes, Sam," she said, wiping her eyes, "yes, 
 but first of all let me say something and then 
 I will listen to your curse. You know I was 
 very young and I heeded the advice of older 
 ones. My father and mother begged and 
 threatened me father swore that he would 
 take your life. They thought that man had 
 money. Poverty had been the curse of their 
 lives. My oldest sister was far away from 
 home, and starved to death, they said. And 
 they would save me they had forgotten that 
 there was love in the world they wanted me 
 to be rich. And at last I yielded. But as God 
 is my judge, through all these years you and 
 you alone have been in my heart. Once in the 
 night he heard me praying for you, and he beat 
 me. But I was afraid to leave him; he swore 
 he would kill me. And and Sam, I named my 
 little boy for you named him secretly, called 
 your name when no one was near and when 
 they buried him, I went alone to the grave at 
 night and wrote Little Sam on the board ; and 
 
MET HER IN THE ROAD. 331 
 
 whenever the rain would wash it off I would 
 write it on again. And he found it out and 
 beat me. But his day came. He died, and I 
 came home walked nearly all the way, to see 
 you, Sam, to ask you to forgive me." 
 
 "My God, Lucy," was all he said, and he 
 stood as if struggling against a great wind, and 
 the tears were streaming from his eyes. 
 
 "Sam," she said, "even if you cursed me 
 your voice would be sweet to me after all those 
 hard and cruel years. Oh, I have looked away 
 back upon a love that was a religion to me, and 
 you were the prophet of that religion the 
 saint." 
 
 Poor old Sam was on his knees, with her 
 hand pressed to his lips ; and she put her arms 
 about him and raised him to his feet, and 
 they stood there, weeping. I saw him take 
 her to his weary bosom saw him lead her 
 away, and a mist in my eyes shut them from 
 view. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HAPPINESS WAS MAKING ITS ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 I did not see Sam again during the day, but 
 late at night I found him in the office, at the 
 window, with the moon upon him; and his 
 mind was not clothed in life s dull garment, 
 but was wrapped in the fabulous gauzes that 
 are woven in the loom of the soul. He did not 
 utter a word when I entered the room, and in 
 silence I lighted the lamp and sat down. Slowly 
 he turned his face toward me, and it was 
 like a face of one who, after years of doubt 
 and embittered controversy, has meekly ac 
 cepted the gospel of Christ. 
 
 "Lucian." 
 
 "Yes, Sam." 
 
 Another silence fell and I thought that he 
 332 
 
ARRANGEMENTS MAKING/ 333 
 
 must be dreaming again, but he spoke and his 
 voice was soft. 
 
 "I have seen her again." 
 
 "Yes, I know it." 
 
 "You know it! Who told you?" 
 
 "I saw you I was under the big oak tree 
 and heard all that was said; and I did not 
 condemn myself for weakness when I shed 
 tears with you." 
 
 He was silent, gazing out upon the moon- 
 flood, and I did not disturb him but waited for 
 him to speak. "I am glad you were there, 
 Lucian. I don t know what to say now, 
 the world is all so new to me again. You 
 won t be offended if I ask you to leave me 
 alone, will you?" 
 
 I took his hand and he laughed softly, and 
 when I told him that I would put out the 
 light, he said, "Yes, if you please." 
 
 Until nearly noon the next day I was en 
 gaged with a delegation in my room at the 
 tavern, and when I went to the office there was 
 Old Sam or young Sam, now walking up 
 
334 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 and down with a flush of happiness on his 
 face and with humor in his smile. 
 
 "What do you want, boy?" I asked, and he 
 laughed as I had not heard him laugh for many 
 a year. "Sit down there, Lucian, and let me 
 tell you how delightful a thing it is to be what 
 the average man would call a fool. Oh, I 
 wouldn t be wise for any amount of money. By 
 Jove, what a beautiful day." 
 
 "Why, Sam, it s drizzling rain." 
 "That so? Well, but isn t it beautiful? To 
 a man with a heart, I might say everything 
 in nature is beautiful calm, storm, rain and 
 shine. Yes, sir, to a man with a heart. And 
 I have a heart now, as fresh, as new as the 
 pair of red top boots the boy used to take to 
 bed with him at night. It was at one time as 
 dead dead as Lazarus, you understand, but 
 like Lazarus it arose from the dead. Lucian, 
 I have done that girl a wrong, all these years. 
 Look at the infamous pressure brought to bear 
 on her her father threatening to kill me, and 
 you know he was a bad man. Why, it was 
 enough to break any woman s child s spirit; 
 
ARRANGEMENTS MAKING. 335 
 
 and remember how young she was. Oh, but 
 you ought to have heard that dear old lady 
 begging my pardon yesterday." 
 
 "What dear old lady?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, her mother. Don t you know her? 
 Of course you do. She brought out the letters 
 that Lucy had written to her from time to time 
 and such letters gems, every one of them; 
 and in each one was breathed her love for me. 
 Just think of what she went through. Why, 
 my suffering was as nothing compared with 
 hers. But how young she looks. Her love 
 kept her youthful and her hope! Women 
 are more hopeful than men, Lucian. By the 
 way, do you know I m worth more financially 
 than I supposed ? Yes, and I ve got a real estate 
 man looking up a house for me. We won t 
 board, you know. And now think of it, the 
 consciousness that she is there all the time, 
 waiting for me! Yes, sir. Ah, but how she 
 has suffered. And how I am going to steal the 
 memory of it out of her mind. You remember 
 I told you it was in the cards that you might 
 go through about what I did. Well, it s also 
 
336 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 in the cards that you may not. I believe I 
 simply know that everything will come out all 
 right. You ll be elected, and you know the 
 rest." He walked up and down the room, 
 halted at the window and said : "I had no idea 
 that girl s mother was so poor. She is poor. 
 And if I had known it don t you suppose I 
 would have left things on her doorstep at night ? 
 Lucian, I ve quit swearing. What could be 
 more useless more foolish than to swear? 
 Well, I must go out now and see that real 
 estate agent." 
 
 He went away in merry mood, and after 
 walking about, musing, I sat down to write 
 to Zaleme. "Sam Hall is soon to marry the 
 woman who trampled upon his heart and killed 
 it. But she has taken it up out of the dust, 
 breathed the breath of love s life upon it and 
 now it is warm. The vulture years, heavy and 
 black, that had settled down upon him, have 
 sullenly flapped their stiffened wings and flown 
 away ; and he is young again. The other day, 
 before this new life came to him, he said 
 to me that it was in the cards that I might 
 
ARRANGEMENTS MAKING. 337 
 
 suffer as he had suffered, treading a desolate 
 road that seemed to be endless. I knew what he 
 meant and now you know; you know that it 
 rests with you. How old the path may be, and 
 yet how new the thorns that beset it! Take 
 all attempts that all men have made to express 
 the agony of every heart, and they would not 
 portray the agony of one heart. And Zaleme 
 I swear to you that I would rather be dead and 
 buried in a road that convicts tread, going to 
 and from their dungeons I would rather be 
 devoured by wolves than to know that year 
 after year I must endure this torment. Morbid ! 
 Yes, I grant that I am. But you see I have 
 not the courage to demand a decisive yes or no. 
 I am struggling to conquer, praying that some 
 thing may happen, but what that something 
 may be or what I hope it to be, I can form 
 no clear idea. Nothing is clear to me. You 
 commanded me to win the fight and I have 
 won it. The final vote has not been cast, it is 
 true, but my opponents acknowledge defeat. 
 They know my strength. But without you this 
 
 victory would be no more to me than a drop of 
 22 
 
338 IN THE ALA MO. 
 
 dew to a man dying for water. And now, as I 
 have done your bidding, why don t you let me 
 come to you again ? Let me dig up that night 
 mare that letter and read it. No, not read 
 it. I would dig it up and bury it ten times as 
 deep. Before you told me of your dream I had 
 seen in my fancy a snake coiled about the monu 
 ment. And I would bury the marble in the 
 grave with the letter, and I would sod the 
 ground and leave nothing to mark the place. 
 Zaleme, in your heart you must feel that no 
 one ever could have worshiped you as I do. 
 You never knew of a love so blinding. At 
 times I clutch myself, shake myself as if I 
 would throw off an insanity that is slowly 
 settling upon me. And yet, if you were dead 
 I should not be so rent as I am now. I 
 could look upon your face and feel that you 
 belonged to me as much as to any one living 
 but ah, the dead ! Can the dead claim the dead ! 
 Don t you see how it all ends, every line of 
 reasoning that I attempt? * * * Yes, 
 your uncle told me something and he said that I 
 was at liberty to tell you, but I cannot. I wish 
 
ARRANGEMENTS MAKING. 339 
 
 he had not told me, for being human I was 
 tempted to tell you. But please do not mention 
 it again. Were you inspired to speak of the 
 greater glory of loving ? Did you write it with 
 the thoughtlessness of an inspiration and did 
 you resist the temptation to erase it because it 
 had been thoughtless? Sometimes it fills my 
 soul with a great light." 
 
 I wrote page after page in the same heedless 
 strain, posted the letter when night had come, 
 and walked out into the starlight to think, to 
 worry; and unconsciously I took the road to 
 Carson s house. I came abreast of the place 
 just as the moon was rising, and I halted to 
 look upon the black shadow lying in the yard, 
 and I thought how bright even those black 
 shadows would become if Zaleme should sud 
 denly step forth from the house. Surely she 
 was the light of the world. 
 
 Further down the road I came upon old man 
 Carson. He was driving a flock of sheep into 
 a field, through a gap which he had made in 
 the fence, and he did not recognize me at first 
 in the moonlight I was so deceiving to his old 
 
340 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 eyes; but when I spoke he cried out, "Oh, it s 
 the Senator." We shook hands and his grip 
 was powerful and he employed it without stint, 
 as if by physical pressure he would assure me of 
 his faith in me and of my election. I helped 
 him to replace the rails and then we walked up 
 the road toward his house. The reconciliation 
 of Sam and Lucy was known throughout the 
 neighborhood, and the old man was free with 
 his opinion: "It do seem strange how things 
 come about, don t it ? Why, you know I never 
 could have figured on them comin together 
 again. But as the good book says you can t 
 bet on what the day may bring forth." In his 
 earlier years he was given to horse-racing, and 
 he meant no irreverence now in associating the 
 word "bet" with the scriptures. "But it ap 
 pears to me," he went on, "that some folks 
 forgive mighty easy. Howsomedever, it s the 
 best thing for Hall and for her, too, for that 
 matter. Oh, she s a good woman, mind you; 
 and everybody speaks of how young she looks. 
 Why is it a woman don t like it when you say 
 another woman looks young? That don t 
 
ARRANGEMENTS MAKING. 341 
 
 necessarily mean that all other women look 
 old, but it seems to strike some of them that 
 way. I spoke about Lucy s lookin young not 
 more than three or four times, and my wife she 
 lowed I d better have it made into a song so 
 I could sing it. Well, the fall of the year is 
 almost upon us, and it will soon be your time to 
 enter into the contest over there at the legis 
 lature. I don t reckon, howsomedever, it will 
 be much of a contest the thing is putty well 
 cut and dried, it seems like to me. Senator, 
 I don t want to tromp on corns, nor nothin 
 of the sort, but I d like to know if you an my 
 niece are goin to marry?" 
 
 "I hope so, Mr. Carson. That s all I can 
 say." 
 
 "And I reckon it s about enough to say. To 
 be the wife of a Senator is mighty fetchin . 
 There ain t many of them that can git away 
 from that fact and stay away, and I reckon my 
 niece is a human bein along with the rest of 
 them. Let me see, now, what is her name?" 
 
 "Why, Zaleme, of course. Is it possible you 
 don t know?" 
 
342 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Zaleme; but why of course? I ve 
 got so much on my mind that I can t recollect 
 all these odd things. It might be of course to 
 you and not to me, you understand. The evenin 
 you first got back here from Kentucky, I asked 
 my wife what the girl s name was and and it 
 seemed to fret her a little ; and she lowed that 
 I could remember a horse s name easy enough, 
 and I lowed I could if I had my money on him. 
 And besides, you know a man ain t apt to give 
 a horse such an odd name, that is, not often, 
 but I have known horses with odd names, but 
 somehow they were easy to recollect." 
 
 He insisted upon my coming in to sit with 
 him until bedtime, but I had grown weary 
 of his talk; and I left him, half fancying that 
 I ought to shake myself lest some of his words 
 were clinging to my garments, to be heard 
 again out on the road. 
 
 I met Sam in the tavern and he told me that 
 he had just closed a trade for a house; and I 
 smiled and said that I was glad, but it was not 
 wholly a truth, for afterward I felt that for a 
 moment I must have been envious of his hap 
 piness. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 GRATEFUL FOR A HEROIC DEED. 
 
 Envy is a sneaking evil. It sneaked into my 
 mind and it sneaked out, unwelcome serpent; 
 and I told Sam and he laughed. What had 
 become of his three-cornered smile? How 
 busy he was with carpenters and painters! I 
 went with him to his house, dreary among 
 scrub oaks; but at a word from the heart s 
 magician dahlias and roses sprang up in waste 
 places. And it was not long before there came 
 the transformation scene. 
 
 Lucy was kept close at home, with women 
 who were sewing for her, but she emerged 
 one night and rode in a carriage; and friends 
 who had not seen her for years came forward 
 to take her hand as she and Sam stood side by 
 side in the church. The next day I halted at 
 343 
 
344 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 Sam s house, announcing myself as a thirsty 
 traveler, and they laughed so merrily in their 
 happiness that the serpent was likely to sneak 
 into my mind again. 
 
 "I m not doing anything today but listening 
 to music," said Sam. "Lucy has been singing 
 to me and I want you to look at that piano; 
 bargain if you ever saw one was sent out 
 last night while we were shaking hands in the 
 church. But didn t you see it when you came 
 home with us? Of course you did, but my 
 mind has been so taken up with music that I 
 almost forgot who did come home with us." 
 
 "Why, Sam," said his wife, smiling upon 
 him and brushing something off his shoulder 
 something doubtless invisible to any eye except 
 the eye of a loving woman "there are things 
 you must not forget not Lucian, for you know 
 we owe so much to him." 
 
 "Yes," Sam cried, "I do especially. I would 
 have died if it hadn t been for Lucian." And 
 his wife gave me her hand out of gratitude, and 
 I accepted it as if the heroic deed were 
 fresh in my memory. "Sam, dear," she said, 
 
GRATEFUL FOR A DEED. 345 
 
 "you d better shut that door for the air is pos 
 itively cool." 
 
 "Is it?" he asked, obeying her and giving 
 me a humorous wink. "Now you ll have to 
 tell me about these things. I am a stranger, 
 you know haven t got used to myself yet. 
 Yes, Lucian, you kept me alive." His wife 
 gave me her grateful hand again, murmured 
 "how good of you," and we all of us were 
 foolish alike. And after a time what a dinner 
 they served, black-eyed peas with corn bread 
 baked by an old negro woman! Now, I hold 
 that the making of corn bread should not be 
 attempted by one not born and reared in the 
 South. It ought to be made by a negress, and 
 to attain perfection in the art she must years 
 ago have become a grandmother. Once I heard 
 an old Tennesseean railing against France and 
 when I reminded him of Lafayette, he ex 
 claimed: "That s all right as far as it goes, 
 but a French cook over here at this hotel put 
 sugar in corn bread." He swore that such an 
 outrage ought to be punishable by law, and as 
 the years pass as we drift further and further 
 
346 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 away from the perfume and the romance of 
 the years gone by, I find myself more ready 
 to subscribe to the old fellow s doctrine. I once 
 saw a private letter in which it was declared 
 that "Old Hickory" swore he would have a 
 Belgian s ears for the crime of boiling snap 
 beans in clear water, that is, without bacon. 
 Sam listened to me as I recounted those melan 
 choly facts and then roared out, "Why, if you 
 weren t already elected, Lucian, such convic 
 tions as you have just expressed would soon 
 turn the tide in your favor." 
 
 Late in the afternoon when I had taken leave 
 of them, Lucy called me back and running to 
 meet me, she thanked me again for having 
 saved her husband s life. I assured her that 
 the corn bread had more than discharged the 
 debt, and Sam laughed, with such an outburst 
 that a mule colt that was following a mare, 
 bestrode by a negro preacher, brayed his de 
 fiance and kicked up his heels. 
 
 At the postoffice a letter was waiting for me, 
 and I shut myself in my room with it; and 
 time ceased to be. "How surprised I was to 
 
GRATEFUL FOR A DEED. 347 
 
 hear that the woman who wronged Mr. Hall 
 has returned and raised his heart from the 
 dead. Don t you remember promising me, 
 while you were here, that I might read a let 
 ter which he had written to you? But I have 
 never read it. Did it contain something about 
 me? Yes, for you intimated as much. And 
 if it was not very bad or if it were very good 
 you will tell me after a while I know. But 
 why don t you tell me what uncle said that you 
 might tell? Oh, it is easy enough to request 
 me not to mention it again, but how can you 
 expect me to be frank and confidential when 
 you keep so much from me ? * * * Some 
 times I don t know what to write to you and 
 at such times I should not know what to say 
 if you were here, not because of a desire to be 
 silent, but because I should be afraid to trust 
 myself to speak. When I am walking over a 
 path long neglected by me, I halt and gaze at 
 a once familiar object and muse. How I have 
 changed since I saw it last/ And then, when 
 I return to the house, I wonder if really I have 
 changed at all. One day you may perhaps 
 
348 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 know what I mean by the greater glory of lov 
 ing. I tore up a letter that I finished just now ; 
 it was to you, and in it I attempted to tell you 
 something, but fearing that I might not be 
 honest with myself, I destroyed it. But if my 
 nature should be wrought upon to the extent 
 of a revolution, or reformation, I might bet 
 ter say, I will tell you of it. Mother noticed 
 the rapid movement of my pen while I was 
 writing to you, and she reminded me of your 
 prominence among men and declared that I 
 was not careful enough with my letters. I re 
 plied that it was impossible for me to be school- 
 mamish with you, but now that I think of it, 
 I m afraid I am, at times. * * * The 
 weather here is growing cooler. I don t know 
 that I ever before so carefully noted the chang 
 ing season. Dad laughed at me yesterday and 
 said that I had my fingers on the pulse of the 
 thermometer. I have never been fond of snow, 
 but now I wish for it the flakes will seem 
 as messages from January, telling of your vic 
 tory. In the letter which I tore up just now, 
 
GRATEFUL FOR A DEED. 349 
 
 I believe there was something about your com 
 ing here again. But no, wait, please." 
 
 Yes, it was plain enough ; she was ambitious. 
 And it stung me to think that Washington 
 could turn the scale in my favor, but I dared 
 not reproach her with it. I was a coward. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ON THE BATTLE GROUND. 
 
 From all parts of the State representative 
 men were speeding toward the capital. How 
 moping had been the weeks since heavy upon 
 me had fallen the conviction that Zaleme was 
 to be won alone by my election. Our corre 
 spondence had suffered no interruption, each 
 posted a letter for the return mail, but I had 
 never ceased to worry over what she sometimes 
 must have meant. Just before leaving Riplar 
 for the scene of contest, I thus wrote to her : 
 "I am going to fight hard, if needs be, not 
 that I may stand upon an eminence with a 
 light falling about me not that I may claim 
 the reward of an ambition that came out of the 
 school reader, borne by the words of Webster 
 
 and of Clay not that, but because I have come 
 350 
 
ON THE BATTLE GROUND. 351 
 
 to believe that thus honored I shall be more 
 worthy of you." A coward still, I was afraid 
 to say that she would deem me fitter for her 
 love. 
 
 Hotze had a brass band engaged to meet me 
 at the railway station, but I dodged him and 
 reached the hotel, not as a laughing stock, but 
 as a sober-minded man. Haney had arranged 
 headquarters, a suite of cheerful rooms, and 
 already had assembled a crowd of friends and 
 supporters. Hotze complained that I had given 
 him the slip. "It s all right," said he, "but I 
 want to tell you that such performances are 
 dangerous. The boys wanted to see you. Say, 
 where s that friend of yours that was with you 
 the last time I saw you?" 
 
 "Sam Hall? Why, there he stands." 
 "That so ? I swear I didn t know him he s 
 so changed. And I don t reckon he d give it 
 to me now quite as raw as he did on one occa 
 sion. Well, we ll make ^ em sick on the first 
 ballot, and then they ll get sicker as time goes 
 on. Brother Quailes, how are you? Just got 
 here?" 
 
352 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 There was something peculiar about the grip 
 which Quailes gave to my hand and shortly 
 afterward, when an opportunity offered, I 
 asked him if anything had happened. 
 
 "Everything has happened," he said, grip 
 ping my hand again. "But sir, do you know 
 that after all my high stepping and scroll work 
 the old lady went stale again ? Yes, sir, and this 
 time I was determined to tree the cause. And 
 I did. The girl confessed that the old lady 
 was dead set on her marrying a fellow that 
 has money no sense, mind you nothing but 
 money. I asked the girl if she cared anything 
 for him and she put her arms around my neck 
 and said she hated him, and that was enough 
 for me. I found out where the fellow was and 
 I went to him. He was buying cotton at the 
 time, on a platform at a railroad station. I 
 went up to him and asked if he could give me 
 a few moments of his valuable time, and he 
 looked at me and asked what I wanted. You 
 seem to be a very pleasant old gentleman, 
 said I. This nettled him and he replied that 
 he wasn t so all-fired old. And then he de- 
 
ON THE BATTLE GROUND. 353 
 
 manded my business. I told him it was impor 
 tant and I took him to one side and said : A 
 man told me the other day that he didn t think 
 you were going to live very long. He said 
 you were trying to take a girl away from a 
 desperate sort of a fellow named Quailes, one 
 of the gamest men in the State, if not the gam- 
 est, and that Quailes is aching to draw off your 
 blood/ Who are you, sir ! he exclaimed, and 
 I said, Oh, I m Quailes, and I want to tell 
 you something while your hearing is good. 
 That little woman doesn t love you she loves 
 me, and I m standing shoulder to shoulder 
 with fate. You know what that means. I 
 don t want to hurt you, as I am about to pro 
 fess religion, and your blood might set me 
 back a little, but this thing has gone far enough. 
 And now I tell you what you do write this 
 sort of a letter to the old lady write it here 
 in my notebook : "My Dear Madam, I do not 
 wish to stand in the way of a young fellow 
 who loves your daughter one of the finest and 
 most affectionate youths in the country so, 
 therefore, I must bid you good-bye." I don t 
 
 23 
 
354 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 know that he was scared, though he was a 
 comparative stranger I think he saw the hu 
 mor of the situation. At all events he wrote 
 the note and I sent it to the dear old lady, and 
 the next day she wired me word to come and 
 I went. She was very pleasant, but I said, 
 Madam, that s all lost on me ; give me the girl/ 
 She did and without any fuss at all we were 
 married, and after this senatorial rush is over 
 I want to present to you the handsomest crea 
 ture you ever saw, and a dame that thinks the 
 world of me and my friends." 
 
 So busy were we all of us that it was long 
 after midnight when we went to bed. And the 
 next day the fight began to assume an earnest 
 look. Apperson s headquarters were in the same 
 tavern as mine, and I met him in the corridor. 
 He halted, shook hands and said : "Well, sir, 
 no matter what the result may be, it cannot al 
 ter the fact that you have made a most bril 
 liant campaign." I thanked him, wondering 
 why Zaleme had not written to me. A letter 
 from her was more than due. She knew that 
 
ON THE BATTLE GROUND. 355 
 
 the contest had begun. Why did she not 
 strengthen me with words of encouragement ? 
 
 The first ballot placed me far in advance of 
 any one competitor, still I fell short of a ma 
 jority of the votes cast, thus failing of election. 
 But my shortage, the wise ones declared, was 
 soon to be made good, albeit there was talk of 
 a "dead-lock." The next day developed no 
 decided change, and the talk of a "dead-lock" 
 was spreading. That night I was closeted for 
 a long time with Haney and a number of ex 
 perienced politicians. "There is only one dan 
 ger," said Haney. "They may spring a dark 
 horse. But even that is not much of a danger. 
 We can hold our ground and wear em out." 
 And I went away wondering why I did not 
 hear from Zaleme. Hotze, who had not been 
 invited to the close caucus, said that he must 
 have a word with me in my room. I tried to 
 beg off but he insisted and I yielded. He was 
 careful to see that the door was tightly closed ; 
 he moved about mysteriously and then sat 
 down. 
 
 "This is going to be a hard fight," said he. 
 
356 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 I nodded assent and he continued: "I have 
 been in so many of them that I know their color 
 in a minute they can t fool papa." 
 
 "Well," said I, wishing that he were at the 
 bottom of the sea, "what do you advise?" 
 
 "I don t know whether you are prepared to 
 hear my advice or not." 
 
 "I don t know either, but out with it." 
 
 "That s all right, but I want to tell you right 
 now that something s got to be done." 
 
 "Well." 
 
 He hemmed and hawed ; he went to the door, 
 came back and said : "They are going to use 
 money. Do you know that?" 
 
 "No, and I don t care." 
 
 "Well, now let me say that you d better care. 
 Do you know what I can do with a thousand 
 dollars?" 
 
 "I know what I can do and I will do it if you 
 don t get out of this room." 
 
 I surely would have kicked him, for he 
 showed a disposition to argue the point with 
 me, but Sam called me from the corridor, to ask 
 if I were engaged ; and when I told him no he 
 
ON THE BATTLE GROUND, 357 
 
 came in, giving to Hotze, who passed him go 
 ing out, a sharp and searching look. 
 
 "I wanted to tell you about that fellow," said 
 my friend. "I hear that he is trying to squeeze 
 money out of both sides. He ought to be 
 kicked into the street, but it would simply raise 
 a howl and do no particular good. Haven t 
 you heard from her yet, Lucian?" he asked, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "No, not a word; and it takes my strength 
 out of this fight." 
 
 "But don t worry it will all come right." 
 He halted at the door and looked back at me, 
 his eye bright and his complexion clear. There 
 was no Old Sam now. "I just wanted to know 
 if you had heard from her. Good night, 
 Lucian." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 The night was almost sleepless, and with 
 my mind far away I could scarcely realize that 
 hundreds of earnest men were struggling in my 
 behalf; to me it was a dull and heavy dream. 
 Impatient of the coming light, I arose in the 
 brown of the morning and walked about the 
 streets ; and on the hilltop, in the lighter-grow 
 ing gray of the fledgling morn arose the pride 
 of the State, the capitol whose monstrous gran 
 ite walls could have defied a mediaeval siege. 
 Therein the fight, my fight, was soon to be re 
 sumed. No, not my fight, but a contest fought 
 by politicians who acknowledged me as their 
 head; but in spirit I was far behind the most 
 apathetic of them. My fight was raging within 
 myself in my tortured mind. 
 358 
 
CONCLUSION. 359 
 
 Upon returning to the tavern the clerk 
 handed several letters to me, and they were 
 without color or life till suddenly my blood 
 leaped, for there was one from Zaleme and 
 I rubbed my murky eyes and looked again and 
 again. Yes, it was postmarked San Antonio. 
 I hastened to my room, but I did not long re 
 main therein, to puzzle and to worry; I was 
 out again, looking for Haney. This is what 
 I had read : 
 
 "Night after night in my dreams I saw the 
 serpent coiled about the marble ; day after day 
 I felt that my nature had changed, that my 
 heart was growing. And oh, I could see you 
 as you turned away to leave me ; and when you 
 looked back a cry arose to my lips, but I smoth 
 ered it. I had striven to be frank with you, but 
 could not be; a new nature was coming and I 
 was forced to wait. Lucian, I have dug up the 
 letter, and now, in its silver coffin, it is here 
 on the desk as I write. The silver is bright 
 for I had wrapped it in lamb s wool and it 
 throws the sunlight into my face the light of 
 a great revelation, I was going to say, but I 
 
360 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 will say nothing now; I will wait just a little 
 longer. And for what? For you. Together 
 we will go at night to the Alamo, and in the 
 corner where the words were written in the 
 corner where I know there is no red cross upon 
 the wall, we will read them. At times you have 
 demanded that the letter should be read, and 
 then you have said, no, as if afraid. But you 
 must fear no longer we must listen to the 
 words spoken by the dead, whatever they may 
 be." 
 
 Yes, I was looking for Haney, and I found 
 him, laboring with a legislator whose mind had 
 not been made up. "Want to see you again," 
 said the politician, speaking to the voter; and 
 then following me into a corner whither I 
 hastily led him, he asked: "Anything wrong?" 
 
 "No, something is right." 
 
 "Good, what is it?" 
 
 "I am going to San Antonio today." 
 
 He gave me a hard look. "What, and do 
 you call that something good. And at this 
 time. You can t mean it. Impossible." 
 
 "But I do mean it. I must go." 
 
CONCLUSION. 361 
 
 "My dear sir, it is almost suicidal to go now 
 even for a week yet, perhaps. You have 
 no such interests anywhere on earth as you 
 have here right now. And you can t af 
 ford " 
 
 "I can t afford to stay here; I can t explain 
 to you, but I must go now." 
 
 "Mr. Howardson, is it possible that you are 
 losing your mind?" 
 
 "It may be possible that I am looking for it." 
 
 "If you leave now, sir, it may be the acci 
 dental signal to spring the dark horse and in 
 my opinion, if he s sprung, with you out of the 
 way, he ll win. Come with me a moment. I 
 want you to talk to three men we have almost 
 won over ; I want you to tell one of them that 
 you did not publish a book of poems. Come 
 on with me." 
 
 "I can t my train will leave within a few 
 minutes." 
 
 He followed me to the curbstone, still urg 
 ing me not to go; and imploringly he put his 
 hand on my arm after I was seated in the 
 carriage. But I left him, with my heart 
 
362 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 aflame, with my soul knocking at the portals of 
 a heaven high above any state house built by 
 man. 
 
 Sam was at the station. I had not forgotten 
 him had inquired for him and had been told 
 that he was out driving with his wife. He 
 took my hand, smiling, and I was surprised 
 that he did not ask for an explanation of my 
 hasty departure surprised, indeed, that he 
 knew I was going. "I heard you talking to 
 Haney," said he, "and I beat you over here. 
 Now don t apologize to me for going. I know. 
 Let everything go to the deuce. I ve stopped 
 swearing, Lucian. But everything will be all 
 right. You take my word for it and I know 
 more than these politicians. Who managed 
 your campaign? Who knew more than the 
 rest of them then all along ? Hold on ; don t 
 be in such a swivit to get on. You ve got 
 plenty of time. I met Hotze this morning and 
 I said to him, said I, Old oil oozer, if I hadn t 
 stopped swearing you d hear some music that 
 would sound like a nest of bumblebees stirred 
 
CONCLUSION. 363 
 
 up. There s the bell. It s all right now. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 Was ever a train so slow ? Did ever a train 
 stop so long at an unimportant station ? Night 
 came and I was still far short of San Antonio. 
 But at last I saw the old town s gleaming 
 lights. I did not know the number of Dr. Ack- 
 lin s house, but at the station I found a cab 
 man who knew where he lived. First, however, 
 I was driven to the home of the Alamo s keeper 
 and there borrowed a key and a lantern. I 
 urged the cabman to speed his horses, but was 
 ever a Jehu so slow ? I looked out, far down 
 the street and could see no house that held a 
 suggestion of the Doctor s place, but the hack 
 turned a corner and there it was, and in the 
 parlor a light was burning. But there was no 
 old-time tune such as had come out of the dark 
 ened room, when with questioning mind, un 
 able to comprehend self, I had accompanied 
 the Doctor home. I did not ring the bell, I 
 tapped upon the parlor door, and and Zaleme 
 opened it ; and I stood there, almost blind, with 
 my hand on the door frame, scarcely seeing 
 
364 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 her ; but she spoke and touched my hand my 
 vision was cleared, and there she stood, pale 
 in the bright light. I did not seek to put my 
 arms about her; I saw the flash of the silver 
 coffin, and a trembling seized me. But how 
 quiet she was ! 
 
 "I expected you tonight, and I was waiting/ 
 she said. "I am walking in a dream, Lucian, 
 but I shall soon be awake." She put on her 
 cloak, I standing there with a cold light daz 
 zling me ; and taking up that light, the casket, 
 she said : "We will go now." 
 
 I did not even hold her hand as the carriage 
 rolled along there was an awe upon me; but 
 my mind was resting, and how thankful I was 
 to be free from that aching heaviness. And yet 
 at times I trembled, when the silver in her lap 
 caught the gleam of an electric light. I did not 
 ask a question, and she spoke not a word. When 
 the carriage halted at the Alamo I helped her 
 out in silence. Just at that moment, a boy ran 
 up and handed a telegram to me, and, signing 
 his book, I tore open the envelope, glanced at 
 the message and thrust it into my pocket. She 
 
CONCLUSION. 365 
 
 asked if it were bad news from the capital and 
 I told her no. 
 
 And now we stood in the corner, with the 
 light of the lantern falling from a niche in the 
 wall. She unlocked the casket, looking up 
 with a smile ; and she said she still was dream 
 ing. She handed the letter, unopened, to me, 
 and bade me read it ; but I shook my head. 
 
 "You must not be afraid now," she said. 
 "No appeal can take that new nature away 
 from me." 
 
 She broke the seal. The letter was brief. 
 She read it quickly, and with beating heart I 
 watched her, and how strange a light was in 
 her eye when she handed the paper to me. 
 There in my hand was the contents of a little 
 grave that had caused me such agony. And 
 these were the words that so long had been in 
 the ground : 
 
 "Zaleme, I am not worthy of you I forged 
 your uncle s name and I am a criminal. But a 
 woman might even forgive this, but you cannot 
 forgive a shallow and treacherous heart. I 
 grew up to believe that I must always love you, 
 
366 IN THE ALAMO. 
 
 and who but a wretch could have suffered a 
 change of feeling, and that, too, in so short a 
 time ? You have always urged frankness ; time 
 and again you have made me promise that I 
 would tell you if I ever changed toward you, 
 even in the slightest degree. I never thought 
 that such a thing was possible, but it was, and 
 that, too, even after the oath. And drugs may 
 be the cause, but be that as it may, another 
 woman you understand, and I do not think 
 that you can care so much, for you wanted to 
 be loved rather than to love; and now I free 
 you from your oath." 
 
 I made no comment, but in silence held the 
 letter out to her, and for a moment she re 
 fused to accept of it, shrinking back, and then 
 she almost snatched it as if in anger. She tore 
 the paper into small bits and I saw them flut 
 tering at her feet as she strove to trample them 
 into the dirt. And now she had clasped her 
 hands across her bosom, and upon her counte 
 nance was that glorified radiance which for a 
 moment had illumined her when together we 
 had stood beneath the apple tree. But even 
 
CONCLUSION. 367 
 
 now there came the cool shudder of a doubt, 
 for I thought of her command that I must go 
 forth and win the fight. 
 
 "Zaleme, I have read your message. Now 
 you read mine." 
 
 I gave her the telegram and looked at her 
 eagerly as she read it, and when she gave me 
 her eyes again, the light within them was di 
 vine, and my heart leaped beyond all earthly 
 bounds she was in my arms, mine completely 
 now ; and we heard the wind lisping about the 
 old battlements. But the telegram : "A dark 
 horse has been sprung elected and your en 
 emies are rejoicing over your defeat. Haney." 
 
 "All for me, Lucian, all for me, and I am 
 so thankful now that you are not elected I 
 should be jealous of the office, there in that 
 city where they change the hearts of men. And 
 now, oh my precious, you know what I mean 
 by the greater glory of loving oh, my own." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 ALICE. Lytton. 
 
 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN 
 LONDON. Duncan. 
 
 ANDERSEN S FAIRY 
 TALES. Andersen. 
 
 ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 ANTIQUARY. Scott. 
 
 ARABIAN NIGHTS EN 
 TERTAINMENTS. 
 
 ARDATH. Corelli. 
 
 AULD LANG SYNE. 
 
 Russell. 
 
 BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 
 Raspe. 
 
 BARRACK ROOM BAL 
 LADS, DEPARTMENT 
 AL DITTIES, AND 
 OTHER VERSE. Kipling. 
 
 BEHIND A MASK. Daudet. 
 
 BETROTHED. Scott. 
 
 BETWEEN TWO OPIN 
 IONS. Loti. 
 
 BEYOND THE CITY. 
 
 Doyle. 
 
 BIG BOW MYSTERY. 
 
 Zangwill. 
 
 BLACK BEAUTY. Sewell. 
 
 24 
 
 BLACK DWARF. Scott. 
 BLACK TULIP. Dumas. 
 BONDMAN. Caine. 
 
 BRIDE OF LAMMER- 
 MOOR. Scott. 
 
 BRYANT S POEMS.Bryant. 
 CALLED BACK. Conway. 
 CAST UP BY THE SEA. 
 
 Baker. 
 
 CAXTONS, THE Lytton. 
 CHANGE OF AIR. Hope. 
 CHILDREN OF THE AB 
 BEY. Roche. 
 CHOUANS. Balzac. 
 CLEOPATRA. Haggard. 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 Heimburg. 
 
 COUNT ROBERT OF 
 PARIS. Scott. 
 
 COWPER S POEMS. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 CRIQUETTE. - Halevy. 
 DANESBURY HOUSE. 
 
 Wood. 
 
 DARK DAYS. Conway. 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 DEEMSTER. Caine. 
 
 DEERSLAYER. Cooper. 
 DESCENT OF MAN. 
 
 Darwin. 
 DESPERATE REMEDIES. 
 
 Hardy. 
 DEVEREUX. Lytton. 
 
T WENTIETH CENTUR Y. 
 
 DIANA OF THE CROSS- 
 WAYS. Meredith. 
 DOCTOR RAMEAU. Ohnet. 
 DOMBEY & SON. Dickens. 
 DONOVAN. Lyall. 
 DOROTHY S DOUBLE. 
 
 Henty. 
 
 EAST LYNNE. Wood. 
 
 ELSIE. Heimburg. 
 
 ERNEST MALTRAVERS. 
 
 Lytton. 
 
 EUGENE ARAM. Lytton. 
 EVOLUTION OF DODD. 
 
 Smith. 
 FAIR MAID OF PERTH. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 FAR FROM THE MAD 
 DING CROWD. Hardy. 
 FIRST VIOLIN. Fothergill. 
 FLOWER GIRL OF PARIS. 
 Schobert. 
 FLOWER OF FRANCE. 
 
 Ryan. 
 FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 FROMONT, Jr. AND RIS- 
 LER, Sr. Daudet. 
 
 GLADIATORS. 
 
 Whyte-Melville. 
 GRAY AND THE BLUE. 
 
 Roe. 
 
 GREAT KEINPLATZ EX 
 PERIMENT. Doyle. 
 GREEN MOUNTAIN 
 
 BOYS. Thompson. 
 
 GRIMM S FAIRY TALES. 
 GRIMM S HOUSEHOLD 
 
 TALES. 
 GULLIVER S TRAVELS. 
 
 Swift. 
 
 GUY MANNERING. Scott. 
 HANDY ANDY. Lover. 
 HANS OF ICELAND. 
 
 Hugo. 
 
 HAROLD. Lytton. 
 
 HEART OF MIDLO 
 THIAN. Scott 
 
 HEIR OF LINNE. 
 
 Buchanan. 
 
 HEIR OF REDCLYFFE. 
 
 Yonge. 
 
 HORTENSE. Heimburg. 
 
 HOUSE OF THE SEVEN 
 GABLES. Hawthorne. 
 
 HOUSE OF THE WOLF. 
 Weyman. 
 
 HOUSE PARTY. Ouida. 
 
 HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE 
 DAME. Hugo. 
 
 HYPATIA. Kingsley. 
 
 IN ALL SHADES. Allen. 
 
 IN LOVE S DOMAINS. 
 
 Ryan. 
 
 INTO MOROCCO. Loti. 
 
 IRONMASTER. Ohnet. 
 
 IRON PIRATE. Pemberton. 
 
 IT S NEVER TOO LATE 
 TO MEND. Reade. 
 
 IVANHOE. Scott. 
 
 JANE EYRE. Bronte. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GEN 
 TLEMAN. Mulock. 
 
 JOSEPH BALSAMO. 
 
 Dumas. 
 
 KARMA. Sinnett. 
 
 KENELM CHILLINGLY. 
 Lytton. 
 
 KENILWORTH. Scott. 
 
 KIDNAPPED. Stevenson. 
 
 KINGS IN EXILE. Daudet 
 
 LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. 
 Lytton. 
 
 LAST OF THE MOHI 
 CANS. Cooper. 
 
 LIGHT OF ASIA. Arnold. 
 
 LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 Kipling. 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY. 
 
 LORNA DOONE. 
 
 Blackmore. 
 
 LUCILE. Meredith. 
 
 LUCRETIA. Lytton. 
 
 MAN OF MARK. Hope. 
 MAROONED. Russell. 
 
 MARRIAGE AT SEA. 
 
 Russell. 
 MARTIN HEWITT. 
 
 Morrison. 
 MASTER OF BALLAN- 
 
 TRAE. Stevenson. 
 
 MASTER OF THE MINE. 
 
 Buchanan. 
 
 MAYOR OF CASTER- 
 BRIDGE. Hardy. 
 MEMOIRS OF A PHYSI 
 CIAN. Dumas. 
 MERZE. Ryan. 
 MICAH CLARKE. Doyle. 
 MICHAEL S CRAG. Allen. 
 MIDDLEMARCH. Eliot. 
 MILL ON THE FLOSS. 
 
 Eliot. 
 
 MINE OWN PEOPLE AND 
 
 IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 
 MONASTERY, THE Scott. 
 MRS. ANNIE GREEN. 
 
 Read. 
 MY LADY NICOTINE. 
 
 Barrie. 
 
 NEW-COMES. Thackeray. 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 
 
 Dickens. 
 NORTH AGAINST 
 
 SOUTH. Verne. 
 
 OLD MORTALITY. Scott. 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 Auerbach. 
 ONE OF THE FORTY. 
 
 Daudet. 
 ORIGIN OF SPECIES. 
 
 Darwin. 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 PAGAN OF THE ALLE- 
 
 GHANIES. Ryan. 
 
 PAUL CLIFFORD. Lytton. 
 
 PATHFINDER. Cooper. 
 
 PELHAM. Lytton. 
 
 PERE GORIOT Balzac. 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 PHANTOM RICKSHAW. 
 
 Kipling. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS. 
 
 Dickens. 
 PILGRIMS OF THE 
 
 RHINE. Lytton. 
 
 PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 
 
 Bunyan. 
 
 PIONEERS. Cooper. 
 
 PIRATE. Scott. 
 
 PLAIN TALES FROM 
 
 THE HILLS. Kipling. 
 
 PRAIRIE. Cooper. 
 
 PRETTY MICHAL. Jokai. 
 
 PRINCE OF THE HOUSE 
 
 OF DAVID. Ingraham. 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 REDGAUNTLET. Scott. 
 REPROACH OF ANNES- 
 LEY. Grey. 
 
 RETURN OF THE NA 
 TIVE. Hardy. 
 RIENZI. Lytton. 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE. 
 
 Defoe. 
 
 ROB ROY. Scott. 
 
 ROMANCE OF TWO 
 
 WORLDS. Corelli. 
 
 ROMOLA. Eliot 
 
 ST. RONAN S WELL. 
 
 Scott. 
 SARCHEDON. 
 
 Whyte-Melville. 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY. 
 
 SCARLET LETTER. 
 
 Hawthorne. 
 SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 
 
 Porter. 
 
 SCOTT S POEMS. Scott. 
 SEA WOLVES. Pemberton. 
 SHADOW OF A CRIME. 
 
 Caine. 
 SIGN OF THE FOUR. 
 
 Doyle. 
 
 SILENCE OF DEAN 
 MAITLAND. Grey. 
 
 SKETCH BOOK. Irving. 
 SOLDIERS THREE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 SONG OF HIAWATHA. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 SON OF HAGAR. Caine. 
 SQUAW ELOUISE. Ryan. 
 STORY OF AN AFRICAN 
 FARM. Schreiner. 
 
 STRANGE STORY. Lytton. 
 STRONGER THAN 
 
 DEATH. Gautier. 
 
 STUDY IN SCARLET. 
 
 Doyle. 
 STUDY OF GENIUS. 
 
 Royse. 
 
 SURGEON S DAUGHTER. 
 Scott. 
 
 SWISS FAMILY ROBIN 
 SON. Wyss. 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKES- 
 PEARE. Lamb. 
 
 TALISMAN. Scott. 
 
 THADDEUS OF WAR 
 SAW. Porter. 
 THELMA. Corelli. 
 THREE MEN IN A BOAT. 
 Jerome. 
 TOILERS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Hugo. 
 TOLD IN THE HILLS. 
 
 Ryan. 
 
 TOM BROWN AT OX 
 FORD. Hughes. 
 TOM BROWN S SCHOOL 
 DAYS. Hughes. 
 TREASURE ISLAND. 
 
 Stevenson. 
 UNCLE TOM S CABIN. 
 
 Stowe. 
 
 UNDER THE DEODARS 
 AND STORY OF THE 
 GADSBYS. Kipling. 
 
 UNDER TWO FLAGS. 
 
 Ouida. 
 UP TERRAPIN RIVER. 
 
 Read. 
 
 VANITY FAIR. Thackeray. 
 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 WAVERLEY. Scott. 
 
 WEE WILLIE WINKIE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 
 WESTWARD HO. Kingsley. 
 WE TWO. Lyall. 
 
 WHAT S BRED IN THE 
 BONE. Allen. 
 
 WHITE COMPANY. Doyle. 
 WOODLANDERS. Hardy. 
 WOODSTOCK. Scott. 
 
 ZANONI. Lytton. 
 
The Rand-McNally 
 New Alpha Library of 12mos. 
 
 The titles selected for this series are quite above the ordinary 
 12 mo lines in literary merit. Only the most popular authors 
 are represented in it. 
 
 In this library the endeavor has been successfully carried out 
 to furnish, at a moderate price, an elegant and comprehensive 
 series of high-class books, suitable for the library shelves. 
 
 They are all in uniform style, being printed in large type from 
 new plates, on extra laid paper, with trimmed edges, and bound 
 in English silk-corded cloth, titles in gold, gold tops. 
 
 ABBE CONSTANTIN. 
 
 Halevy. 
 
 ADAM BEDE. Eliot. 
 
 AESOP S FABLES. 
 AGAINST ODDS. Lynch. 
 ALHAMBRA. Irving. 
 
 ALICE. Lytton. 
 
 ALLAN QUATERMAIN. 
 
 Haggard. 
 
 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN 
 LONDON. Duncan. 
 
 ANDERSEN S FAIRY 
 
 TALES. Andersen. 
 
 ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 ARABIAN NIGHTS EN 
 TERTAINMENTS. 
 ARDATH. Corelli. 
 
 AULD LANG SYNE. 
 
 Russell. 
 BARON MUNCHAUSEN. 
 
 Raspe. 
 
 BARRACK ROOM BAL 
 LADS, DEPARTMENT 
 AL DITTIES, AND 
 OTHER VERSE. Kipling. 
 BEATRICE. Haggard. 
 
 BETROTHED. Scott. 
 
 BEYOND THE CITY. 
 
 Doyle. 
 BIG BOW MYSTERY. 
 
 Zangwill. 
 
 BLACK BEAUTY. Sewell. 
 
 BLACK DWARF. Scott. 
 
 BLACK TULIP. Dumas. 
 
 BONDMAN. Caine. 
 
 BRIDE OF LAMMER- 
 MOOR. Scott. 
 
 BRYANT S POEMS. 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 CALLED BACK. Conway. 
 
 CAST UP BY THE SEA. 
 
 Baker. 
 
 CAXTONS, THE Lytton. 
 
 CHANGE OF AIR. Hope. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE AB 
 BEY. Roche. 
 
 CLEOPATRA. Haggard. 
 
 CLOISTER WENDHUSEN. 
 Heimburg. 
 
 COUNT ROBERT OF 
 PARIS. Scott. 
 
 COUNTRY SWEET 
 HEART. Russell. 
 
 COWPER S POEMS. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 DANESBURY HOUSE. 
 
 Wood. 
 
 DANIRA. Werner. 
 
 DARK DAYS. Conway. 
 
 DAVID COPPERFIELD. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 DEEMSTER. Caine. 
 
 DEERSLAYER. Cooper. 
 
NEW ALPHA LIBRARY. 
 
 DESCENT OF MAN. 
 
 Darwin. 
 
 DESPERATE REMEDIES. 
 Hardy. 
 
 DEVEREUX. Lytton. 
 
 DOCTOR RAMEAU. Ohnet. 
 DOMBEY & SON. Dickens. 
 DONOVAN. Lyall. 
 
 DOROTHY S DOUBLE. 
 
 Henty. 
 
 DUCHESS. The Duchess. 
 EARL S ATONEMENT. 
 
 Clay. 
 
 EAST LYNNE. Wood. 
 
 ELSIE. Heimburg. 
 
 ERNEST MALTRAVERS. 
 
 Lytton. 
 
 EUGENE ARAM. Lytton. 
 FAIR MAID OF PERTH. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 FAR FROM THE MAD 
 DING CROWD. Hardy. 
 FIRST VIOLIN. Fothergill. 
 FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 FROMONT, Jr. AND RIS- 
 LER, Sr. Daudet. 
 
 GREAT KEINPLATZ EX 
 PERIMENT. Doyle. 
 GREEN MOUNTAIN 
 
 BOYS. Thompson. 
 
 GRIMM S FAIRY TALES. 
 GRIMM S HOUSEHOLD 
 
 TALES. 
 GULLIVER S TRAVELS. 
 
 Swift. 
 
 GUY MANNERING. Scott 
 HANDY ANDY. Lover. 
 HANS OF ICELAND. 
 
 Hugo. 
 HARLEQUIN OPAL. 
 
 Hume. 
 HAROLD. Lytton. 
 
 HEIR OF LINNE. 
 
 Buchanan. 
 
 HEIR (XF REDCLYFFE. 
 
 Yonge. 
 
 HIDDEN CHAIN. Russell. 
 
 HIS WILL AND HERS. 
 
 Russell. 
 
 HORTENSE. Heimburg. 
 
 HOUSE OF THE SEVEN 
 GABLES. Hawthorne. 
 
 HOUSE OF THE WOLF. 
 Weyman. 
 
 HOUSE PARTY. Ouida. 
 
 HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE 
 DAME. Hugo. 
 
 HYPATIA. . Kingsley. 
 
 IN ALL SHADES. Allen. 
 
 INTO MOROCCO. Loti. 
 
 IRONMASTER. Ohnet. 
 
 IT S NEVER TOO LATE 
 TO MEND. Reade. 
 
 IVANHOE. Scott. 
 
 JANE EYRE. Bronte. 
 
 JOHN HALIFAX, GEN 
 TLEMAN. Mulock. 
 
 JOSEPH BALSAMO. 
 
 Dumas. 
 
 KARMA. Sinnett. 
 
 KENELM CHILLINGLY. 
 
 Lytton. 
 
 KENILWORTH. Scott 
 
 KIDNAPPED. Stevenson. 
 KINGS IN EXILE. Daudet. 
 LAST DAYS OF POMPEII. 
 
 Lytton. 
 
 LAST OF THE MOHI 
 CANS. Cooper. 
 LIGHT OF ASIA. Arnold. 
 LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 Kipling. 
 LITTLE RKBEL. 
 
 The Duchess. 
 
NEW ALPHA LIBRARY. 
 
 LORNA DOONE. 
 
 Blackmore. 
 
 LUCILE. Meredith. 
 
 LUCRETIA. Lytton. 
 
 MAN OF MARK. Hope. 
 MAROONED. Russell. 
 
 MARRIAGE AT SEA. 
 
 Russell. 
 
 MARVEL. The Duchess. 
 
 MASTER OF BALLAN- 
 
 TRAE. Stevenson. 
 
 MASTER OF THE MINE. 
 
 Buchanan. 
 
 MAYOR OF CASTER- 
 BRIDGE. Hardy. 
 MEMOIRS OF A PHYSI 
 CIAN. Dumas. 
 MICAH CLARKE. Doyle. 
 MICHAEL S CRAG. Allen. 
 MIDDLEMARCH. Eliot. 
 MILL ON THE FLOSS. 
 
 Eliot. 
 
 MINE OWN PEOPLE AND 
 
 IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 
 MISJUDGED. Heimburg. 
 MODERN CIRCE. 
 
 The Duchess. 
 
 MONASTERY, THE Scott. 
 MY LADY NICOTINE. 
 
 Barrie. 
 
 MYSTERY OF A HANSOM 
 
 CAB. Hume. 
 
 NAPOLEON AND MARIE 
 
 LOUISE. Durand. 
 
 NEWCOMES. Thackeray. 
 
 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 NOT WISELY, BUT TOO 
 WELL. Broughton. 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 Auerbach. 
 ORIGIN OF SPECIES. 
 
 Darwin. 
 
 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 PATHFINDER. Cooper. 
 PAUL CLIFFORD. Lytton. 
 PELHAM. Lytton. 
 
 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 
 Scott. 
 PHANTOM RICKSHAW. 
 
 Kipling. 
 PICKWICK PAPERS. 
 
 Dickens. 
 PILGRIMS OF THE 
 
 RHINE. Lytton. 
 
 PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 
 
 Bunyan. 
 
 PIONEERS. Cooper. 
 
 PLAIN TALES FROM THE 
 
 HILLS. Kipling. 
 
 PRAIRIE. Cooper. 
 
 PRICE HE PAID. Werner. 
 
 PRINCE OF THE HOUSE 
 
 OF DAVID. Ingraham. 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 REDGAUNTLET. Scott. 
 RED HOUSE. The Duchess. 
 RED SULTAN. Cobban. 
 REPROACH OF ANNES- 
 LEY. Grey. 
 
 RETURN OF THE NA 
 TIVE. Hardy. 
 RIENZI. Lytton. 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE. 
 
 Defoe. 
 
 ROB ROY. Scott. 
 
 ROMANCE OF TWO 
 
 WORLDS. Corelli. 
 
 ROMOLA. Eliot. 
 
 ST. RONAN S WELL. 
 
 Scott. 
 SCARLET LETTER. 
 
 Hawthorne. 
 SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Porter. 
 
NEW ALPHA LIBRARY. 
 
 SHADOW OF A CRIME. 
 
 Caine. 
 
 SHE. Haggard. 
 
 SIGN OF THE FOUR. 
 
 Doyle. 
 
 SILENCE OF DEAN MAIT- 
 LAND. Grey. 
 
 SKETCH BOOK. Irving. 
 SOLDIERS THREE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 SONG OF HIAWATHA. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 SON OF HAGAR. Caine. 
 STORY OF AN AFRICAN 
 FARM. Schreiner. 
 
 STRANGE STORY. Lytton. 
 STUDY IN SCARLET. 
 
 Doyle. 
 
 SURGEON S DAUGHTER. 
 Scott. 
 
 SWISS FAMILY ROBIN 
 SON. Wyss. 
 TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
 
 Dickens. 
 
 TALES FROM SHAKES 
 PEARE. Lamb. 
 THADDEUS OF WAR 
 SAW. Porter. 
 THELMA. Corelli. 
 THREE MEN IN A BOAT. 
 Jerome. 
 
 TOILERS OF THE SEA. 
 
 Hugo. 
 
 TOM BROWN AT OX 
 FORD. Hughes. 
 TOM BROWN S SCHOOL 
 DAYS. Hughes. 
 TREASURE ISLAND. 
 
 Stevenson. 
 UNCLE TOM S CABIN. 
 
 Stowe. 
 
 UNDER THE DEODARS 
 AND STORY OF THE 
 GADSBYS. Kipling. 
 
 UNDER TWO FLAGS. 
 
 Ouida. 
 
 VANITY FAIR. Thackeray. 
 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 WAVERLEY. Scott. 
 
 WEE WILLIE WINKIE. 
 
 Kipling. 
 
 WESTWARD HO. Kingsley. 
 WE TWO. Lyall. 
 
 WHAT S BRED IN THE 
 BONE. Allen. 
 
 WHITE COMPANY. Doyle. 
 WOODLANDERS. Hardy. 
 WOODSTOCK. Scott. 
 
 Z AN ON I. Lytton. 
 
IN HAMPTON ROADS 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES EUGENE BANKS 
 
 AND 
 
 GEORGE CRAM COOK. 
 
 A dramatic story of war, intrigue, and romance. The human 
 interests that permeate its pages, the subtle workings of a well- 
 defined plot, the wealth of varied sentiment, pathos, humor, passion, 
 and swift, strong action, all contribute to the making of a highly 
 dramatic romance. 
 
 Cloth, i2mo; retail, $1.25. 
 
 SENSE AND SATIRE 
 
 BY WILLIAM L. BREYFOGLE. 
 
 A book that should be in the hands of every writer, minister, 
 toastmaster, after-dinner orator, and all who enjoy something short, 
 sharp, and epigrammatic on a great variety of subjects. 
 
 Cloth, i2mo; retail, $1.50. 
 
 BALDOON 
 
 BY LE ROY HOOKER, 
 AUTHOR OF "ENOCH THE PHILISTINE," ETC. 
 
 Press Comments. 
 
 It is one of the strong, new stories of the people. Albany Argus. 
 
 Baldoon is an oddly but cleverly constructed story. Chicago 
 Chronicle. 
 
 A quaint and entertaining contribution to the domain of fiction, 
 and can be confidently recommended as a book worth reading. 
 Syracuse Herald. 
 
 Mr. Hooker has a delicious touch in setting up his characters and 
 starting them on the course he wishes them to follow, and they richly 
 repay him and the readers. Boston Ideas. 
 
 Cloth, i2mo ; retail, $1.25. 
 
 RAND, McNALLY & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK. (over) 
 
A SOCIETY NOVEL 
 
 Of Chicago and New York: 
 
 The Woman That s Good 
 
 BY HAROLD RICHARD VYNNE 
 
 Author of " Love Letters," " The Girl in the Bachelor s Flat," etc. 
 
 Cloth, I2mo, $1.50. 
 
 There is an intensity of realism in Harold R. Vynne s latest novel that 
 makes it read more like some of those old-time "confessions" -which have never 
 lost their fascination, though manners and times have changed since they were 
 written. This is one of the few books which one can not lay down until he has 
 read them through. Chicago Times-Herald, 
 
 EUGENE NORTON 
 
 A TALE FROM THE SAGE-BRUSH LAND 
 
 BY ANNE SHANNON MONROE 
 
 The first appearance in book form of a gifted young writer from the State 
 of Washington, already widely known for her short stories. Eugene Norton is 
 a tale of modern people of culture and refinement, and yet it is infused with 
 the best spirit of the West. Everything seems to move with perfect naturalness, 
 and yet there is nothing slow with the story any more than there is with the 
 West itself. First the heroine is rich, then she has not even enough to eat. She 
 finds herself by her own will in an insane asylum, though she is not insane she 
 is in fact a newspaper woman investigating the official conduct of the man she 
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 Cloth, price, $1.25. 
 
 El Reshid 
 Some Philosophy of the Hermetics 
 
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 pictures and character studies, and an intense plot, and is a booK not only to 
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 called Mahatma, is evolved. " Some Philosophy of the Hermetics" is a collection 
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 are clear-cut and emphatic, passing from the extreme of poetic expression to the 
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ENOCH THE PHILISTINE 
 
 BY LEROY HOOKER. 
 
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 Striking Egyptian cover design. 
 
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 SENSE AND SATIRE 
 
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 minister, toastmaster, after-dinner orator, and all who 
 enjoy something short, sharp, and epigrammatic on a 
 great variety of subjects. 
 
 Cloth, i2mo; retail, $1.50. 
 
 MISS NUME OF JAPAN 
 
 BY ONOTO WATANNA, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A HALF-CASTE," "NATSU-SAN," ETC. 
 
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 photographs. 
 
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