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diff --git a/42914-8.txt b/42914-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 52d00d8..0000000 --- a/42914-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9427 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gladiator, by Philip Wylie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Gladiator - -Author: Philip Wylie - -Release Date: June 11, 2013 [EBook #42914] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADIATOR *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - GLADIATOR - - Philip Wylie - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence - that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - -I - - -Once upon a time in Colorado lived a man named Abednego Danner and his -wife, Matilda. Abednego Danner was a professor of biology in a small -college in the town of Indian Creek. He was a spindling wisp of a man, -with a nature drawn well into itself by the assaults of the world and -particularly of the grim Mrs. Danner, who understood nothing and -undertook all. Nevertheless these two lived modestly in a frame house on -the hem of Indian Creek and they appeared to be a settled and peaceful -couple. - -The chief obstacle to Mrs. Danner's placid dominion of her hearth was -Professor Danner's laboratory, which occupied a room on the first floor -of the house. It was the one impregnable redoubt in her domestic -stronghold. Neither threat nor entreaty would drive him and what she -termed his "stinking, unchristian, unhealthy dinguses" from that room. -After he had lectured vaguely to his classes on the structure of the -_Paramecium caudatum_ and the law discovered by Mendel, he would shut -the door behind himself, and all the fury of the stalwart, black-haired -woman could not drive him out until his own obscure ends were served. - -It never occurred to Professor Danner that he was a great man or a -genius. His alarm at such a notion would have been pathetic. He was so -fascinated by the trend of his thoughts and experiments, in fact, that -he scarcely realized by what degrees he had outstripped a world that -wore picture hats, hobble skirts, and straps beneath its trouser legs. -However, as the century turned and the fashions changed, he was carried -further from them, which was just as well. - -On a certain Sunday he sat beside his wife in church, singing snatches -of the hymns in a doleful and untrue voice and meditating, during the -long sermon, on the structure of chromosomes. She, bolt upright and -overshadowing him, like a coffin in the pew, rigid lest her black silk -rustle, thrilled in some corner of her mind at the picture of hell and -salvation. - -Mr. Danner's thoughts turned to Professor Mudge, whose barren pate -showed above the congregation a few rows ahead of him. There, he said to -himself, sat a stubborn and unenlightened man. And so, when the weekly -tyranny of church was ended, he asked Mudge to dinner. That he -accomplished by an argument with his wife, audible the length of the -aisle. - -They walked to the Danner residence. Mrs. Danner changed her clothes -hurriedly, basted the roast, made milk sauce for the string beans, and -set three places. They went into the dining-room. Danner carved, the -home-made mint jelly was passed, the bread, the butter, the gravy; and -Mrs. Danner dropped out of the conversation, after guying her husband on -his lack of skill at his task of carving. - -Mudge opened with the usual comment. "Well, Abednego, how are the -blood-stream radicals progressing?" - -His host chuckled. "Excellently, thanks. Some day I'll be ready to jolt -you hidebound biologists into your senses." - -Mudge's left eyebrow lifted. "So? Still the same thing, I take it? Still -believe that chemistry controls human destiny?" - -"Almost ready to demonstrate it," Danner replied. - -"Along what lines?" - -"Muscular strength and the nervous discharge of energy." - -Mudge slapped his thigh. "Ho ho! Nervous discharge of energy. You assume -the human body to be a voltaic pile, eh? That's good. I'll have to tell -Gropper. He'll enjoy it." - -Danner, in some embarrassment, gulped a huge mouthful of meat. "Why -not?" he said. "Look at the insects--the ants. Strength a hundred times -our own. An ant can carry a large spider--yet an ant is tissue and -fiber, like a man. If a man could be given the same sinews--he could -walk off with his own house." - -"Ha ha! There's a good one. Maybe you'll do it, Abednego." - -"Possibly, possibly." - -"And you would make a splendid piano-mover." - -"Pianos! Pooh! Consider the grasshoppers. Make a man as strong as a -grasshopper--and he'll be able to leap over a church. I tell you, there -is something that determines the quality of every muscle and nerve. Find -it--transplant it--and you have the solution." - -Mirth overtook Professor Mudge in a series of paroxysms from which he -emerged rubicund and witty. "Probably your grasshopper man will look -like a grasshopper--more insect than man. At least, Danner, you have -imagination." - -"Few people have," Danner said, and considered that he had acquitted -himself. - -His wife interrupted at that point. "I think this nonsense has gone far -enough. It is wicked to tamper with God's creatures. It is wicked to -discuss such matters--especially on the Sabbath. Abednego, I wish you -would give up your work in the laboratory." - -Danner's cranium was overlarge and his neck small; but he stiffened it -to hold himself in a posture of dignity. "Never." - -His wife gazed from the defiant pose to the locked door visible through -the parlour. She stirred angrily in her clothes and speared a morsel of -food. "You'll be punished for it." - -Later in the day Mudge and Gropper laughed heartily at the expense of -the former's erstwhile host. Danner read restively. He was forbidden to -work on the Sabbath. It was his only compromise. Matilda Danner turned -the leaves of the Bible and meditated in a partial vacuum of day-dreams. - -On Monday Danner hastened home from his classes. During the night he had -had a new idea. And a new idea was a rare thing after fourteen years of -groping investigation. "Alkaline radicals," he murmured as he crossed -his lawn. He considered a group of ultra-microscopic bodies. He had no -name for them. They were the "determinants" of which he had talked. He -locked the laboratory door behind himself and bent over the microscope -he had designed. "Huh!" he said. An hour later, while he stirred a -solution in a beaker, he said: "Huh!" again. He repeated it when his -wife called him to dinner. The room was a maze of test tubes, bottles, -burners, retorts, instruments. During the meal he did not speak. -Afterwards he resumed work. At twelve he prepared six tadpole eggs and -put them to hatch. It would be his three hundred and sixty-first -separate tadpole hatching. - -Then, one day in June, Danner crossed the campus with unusual haste. -Birds were singing, a gentle wind eddied over the town from the slopes -of the Rocky Mountains, flowers bloomed. The professor did not heed the -reburgeoning of nature. A strange thing had happened to him that -morning. He had peeped into his workroom before leaving for the college -and had come suddenly upon a phenomenon. - -One of the tadpoles had hatched in its aquarium. He observed it eagerly, -first because it embodied his new idea, and second because it swam with -a rare activity. As he looked, the tadpole rushed at the side of its -domicile. There was a tinkle and a splash. It had swum through the plate -glass! For an instant it lay on the floor. Then, with a flick of its -tail, it flew into the air and hit the ceiling of the room. - -"Good Lord!" Danner said. Old years of work were at an end. New years of -excitement lay ahead. He snatched the creature and it wriggled from his -grasp. He caught it again. His fist was not sufficiently strong to hold -it. He left it, flopping in eight-foot leaps, and went to class with -considerable suppressed agitation and some reluctance. The determinant -was known. He had made a living creature abnormally strong. - -When he reached his house and unlocked the door of the laboratory, he -found that four tadpoles, in all, had hatched. Before they expired in -the unfamiliar element of air, they had demolished a quantity of -apparatus. - -Mrs. Danner knocked on the door. "What's been going on in there?" - -"Nothing," her husband answered. - -"Nothing! It sounded like nothing! What have you got there? A cat?" - -"No--yes." - -"Well--I won't have such goings on, and that's all there is to it." - -Danner collected the débris. He buried the tadpoles. One was dissected -first. Then he wrote for a long time in his notebook. After that he went -out and, with some difficulty, secured a pregnant cat. A week later he -chloroformed the tabby and inoculated her. Then he waited. He had been -patient for a long time. It was difficult to be patient now. - -When the kittens were born into this dark and dreary world, Mr. Danner -assisted as sole obstetrician. In their first hours nothing marked them -as unique. The professor selected one and drowned the remainder. He -remembered the tadpoles and made a simple calculation. - -When the kitten was two weeks old and its eyes opened, it was dieting on -all its mother's milk and more besides. The professor considered that -fact significant. Then one day it committed matricide. - -Probably the playful blow of its front paw was intended in the best -spirit. Certainly the old tabby, receiving it, was not prepared for such -violence from its offspring. Danner gasped. The kitten had unseamed its -mother in a swift and horrid manner. He put the cat out of its misery -and tended the kitten with trepidation. It grew. It ate--beefsteaks and -chops, bone and all. - -When it reached three weeks, it began to jump alarmingly. The laboratory -was not large enough. The professor brought it its food with the -expression of a man offering a wax sausage to a hungry panther. - -On a peaceful Friday evening Danner built a fire to stave off the -rigours of a cold snap. He and Mrs. Danner sat beside the friendly -blaze. Her sewing was in her lap, and in his was a book to which he paid -scant attention. The kitten, behind its locked door, thumped and mewed. - -"It's hungry," Mrs. Danner said. "If you must keep a cat, why don't you -feed it?" - -"I do," he answered. He refrained, for politic reasons, from mentioning -what and how much he fed it. The kitten mewed again. - -"Well," she repeated, "it sounds hungry." - -Danner fidgeted. The laboratory was unheated and consequently chilly. -From its gloomy interior the kitten peered beneath the door and saw the -fire. It sensed warmth. The feline affinity for hearths drew it. One paw -scratched tentatively on the door. - -"It's cold," Mrs. Danner said. "Why don't you bring it here? No, I don't -want it here. Take it a cover." - -"It--it has a cover." Danner did not wish to go into that dark room. - -The kitten scratched again and then it became earnest. There was a -splitting, rending sound. The bottom panel of the door was torn away and -it emerged nonchalantly, crossing the room and curling up by the fire. - -For five minutes Mrs. Danner sat motionless. Her eyes at length moved -from the kitten to her husband's quivering face and then to the broken -door. On his part, he made no move. The kitten was a scant six inches -from his foot. Mrs. Danner rose. She went to the door and studied the -orifice, prying at it with her fingers as if to measure the kitten's -strength by her own. Then she turned the key and peered into the gloom. -That required either consummate nerve or great curiosity. After her -inspection she sat down again. - -Ten minutes passed. Danner cleared his throat. Then she spoke. "So. -You've done it?" - -"Done what?" he asked innocently. - -"You've made all this rubbish you've been talking about strength--happen -to that kitten." - -"It wasn't rubbish." - -"Evidently." - -At that crisis Mr. Danner's toe trembled and the kitten, believing it a -new toy, curled its paws over the shoe. There was a sound of tearing -leather, and the shoe came apart. Fortunately the foot inside it was not -hurt severely. Danner did not dare to budge. He heard his wife's -startled inhalation. - -Mrs. Danner did not resume her sewing. She breathed heavily and slow -fire crept into her cheeks. The enormity of the crime overcame her. And -she perceived that the hateful laboratory had invaded her portion of -the house. Moreover, her sturdy religion had been desecrated. Danner -read her thoughts. - -"Don't be angry," he said. Beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. - -"Angry!" The kitten stirred at the sound of her voice. "Angry! And why -not? Here you defied God and man--and made that creature of the devil. -You've overrun my house. You're a wicked, wicked man. And as for that -cat, I won't have it. I won't stand for it." - -"What are you going to do?" - -Her voice rose to a scream. "Do! Do! Plenty--and right here and now." -She ran to the kitchen and came back with a broom. She flung the front -door wide. Her blazing eyes rested for a moment on the kitten. To her it -had become merely an obnoxious little animal. "Scat! You little demon!" -The broom came down on the cat's back with a jarring thud. - -After that, chaos. A ball of fur lashed through the air. What-not, bird -cage, bookcase, morris chair flew asunder. Then the light went out. In -the darkness a comet, a hurricane, ricochetted through the room. Then -there was a crash mightier than the others, followed by silence. - -When Danner was able, he picked himself up and lighted the lamp. His -wife lay on the floor in a dead faint. He revived her. She sat up and -wept silently over the wreck of her parlour. Danner paled. A round -hole--a hole that could have been made by nothing but a solid cannon -shot--showed where the kitten had left the room through the wall. - -Mrs. Danner's eyes were red-rimmed. Her breath came jerkily. With -incredulous little gestures she picked herself up and gazed at the hole. -A draught blew through it. Mr. Danner stuffed it with a rug. - -"What are we going to do?" she said. - -"If it comes back--we'll call it Samson." - -And--as soon as Samson felt the gnawing of appetite, he returned to his -rightful premises. Mrs. Danner fed him. Her face was pale and her hands -trembled. Horror and fascination fought with each other in her soul as -she offered the food. Her husband was in his classroom, nervously trying -to fix his wits on the subject of the day. - -"Kitty, kitty, poor little kitty," she said. - -Samson purred and drank a quart of milk. She concealed her astonishment -from herself. Mrs. Danner's universe was undergoing a transformation. - -At three in the afternoon the kitten scratched away the screen door on -the back porch and entered the house. Mrs. Danner fed it the supper -meat. - -Danner saw it when he returned. It was chasing flies in the yard. He -stood in awe. The cat could spring twenty or thirty feet with ease. Then -the sharp spur of dread entered him. Suppose someone saw and asked -questions. He might be arrested, taken to prison. Something would -happen. He tried to analyze and solve the problem. Night came. The cat -was allowed to go out unmolested. In the morning the town of Indian -Creek rose to find that six large dogs had been slain during the dark -hours. A panther had come down from the mountains, they said. And Danner -lectured with a dry tongue and errant mind. - -It was Will Hoag, farmer of the fifth generation, resident of the -environs of Indian Creek, church-goer, and hard-cider addict, who bent -himself most mercilessly on the capture of the alleged panther. His -chicken-house suffered thrice and then his sheep-fold. After four such -depredations he cleaned his rifle and undertook a vigil from a spot -behind the barn. An old moon rose late and illuminated his pastures with -a blue glow. He drank occasionally from a jug to ward off the evil -effects of the night air. - -Some time after twelve his attention was distracted from the jug by -stealthy sounds. He moved toward them. A hundred yards away his cows -were huddled together--a heap of dun shadows. He saw a form which he -mistook for a weasel creeping toward the cows. As he watched, he -perceived that the small animal behaved singularly unlike a weasel. It -slid across the earth on taut limbs, as if it was going to attack the -cows. Will Hoag repressed a guffaw. - -Then the farmer's short hair bristled. The cat sprang and landed on the -neck of the nearest cow and clung there. Its paw descended. There was a -horrid sound of ripping flesh, a moan, the thrashing of hoofs, a blot -of dribbling blood, and the cat began to gorge on its prey. - -Hoag believed that he was intoxicated, that delirium tremens had -overtaken him. He stood rooted to the spot. The marauder ignored him. -Slowly, unbelievingly, he raised his rifle and fired. The bullet knocked -the cat from its perch. Mr. Hoag went forward and picked it up. - -"God Almighty," he whispered. The bullet had not penetrated the cat's -skin. And, suddenly, it wriggled in his hand. He dropped it. A flash of -fur in the moonlight, and he was alone with the corpse of his Holstein. - -He contemplated profanity, he considered kneeling in prayer. His joints -turned to water. He called faintly for his family. He fell unconscious. - -When Danner heard of that exploit--it was relayed by jeering tongues who -said the farmer was drunk and a panther had killed the cow--his lips set -in a line of resolve. Samson was taking too great liberties. It might -attack a person, in which case he, Danner, would be guilty of murder. -That day he did not attend his classes. Instead, he prepared a -relentless poison in his laboratory and fed it to the kitten in a brace -of meaty chops. The dying agonies of Samson, aged seven weeks, were -Homeric. - -After that, Danner did nothing for some days. He wondered if his formulć -and processes should be given to the world. But, being primarily a man -of vast imagination, he foresaw hundreds of rash experiments. Suppose, -he thought, that his discovery was tried on a lion, or an elephant! Such -a creature would be invincible. The tadpoles were dead. The kitten had -been buried. He sighed wearily and turned his life into its usual -courses. - - - - -II - - -Before the summer was ended, however, a new twist of his life and -affairs started the mechanism of the professor's imagination again. It -was announced to him when he returned from summer school on a hot -afternoon. He dropped his portfolio on the parlour desk, one corner of -which still showed the claw-marks of the miscreant Samson, and sat down -with a comfortable sigh. - -"Abednego." His wife seldom addressed him by his first name. - -"Yes?" - -"I--I--I want to tell you something." - -"Yes?" - -"Haven't you noticed any difference in me lately?" - -He had never noticed a difference in his wife. When they reached old -age, he would still be unable to discern it. He shook his head and -looked at her with some apprehension. She was troubled. "What's the -matter?" - -"I suppose you wouldn't--yet," she said. "But--well--I'm with child." - -The professor folded his upper lip between his thumb and forefinger. -"With child? Pregnant? You mean--" - -"I'm going to have a baby." - -Soon after their marriage the timid notion of parenthood had escaped -them. They had, in fact, avoided its mechanics except on those rare -evenings when tranquillity and the reproductive urge conspired to imbue -him with courage and her with sinfulness. Nothing came of that -infrequent union. They never expected anything. - -And now they were faced with it. He murmured: "A baby." - -Faint annoyance moved her. "Yes. That's what one has. What are we going -to do?" - -"I don't know, Matilda. But I'm glad." - -She softened. "So am I, Abednego." - -Then a hissing, spattering sound issued from the kitchen. "The beans!" -Mrs. Danner said. The second idyl of their lives was finished. - -Alone in his bed, tossing on the humid muslin sheets, Danner struggled -within himself. The hour that was at hand would be short. The logical -step after the tadpoles and the kitten was to vaccinate the human mammal -with his serum. To produce a super-child, an invulnerable man. As a -scientist he was passionately intrigued by the idea. As a husband he -was dubious. As a member of society he was terrified. - -That his wife would submit to the plan or to the step it necessitated -was beyond belief. She would never allow a sticky tube of foreign animal -matter to be poured into her veins. She would not permit the will of God -to be altered or her offspring to be the subject of experiment. Another -man would have laughed at the notion of persuading her. Mr. Danner never -laughed at matters that involved his wife. - -There was another danger. If the child was female and became a woman -like his wife, then the effect of such strength would be awful indeed. -He envisioned a militant reformer, an iron-bound Calvinist, remodelling -the world single-handed. A Scotch Lilith, a matronly Gabriel, a -she-Hercules. He shuddered. - -A hundred times he denied his science. A hundred and one times it begged -him to be served. Each decision to drop the idea was followed by an -effort to discover means to inoculate her without her knowledge. To his -wakeful ears came the reverberation of her snores. He rose and paced the -floor. A scheme came to him. After that he was lost. - -Mrs. Danner was surprised when her husband brought a bottle of -blackberry cordial to her. It was his first gift to her in more than a -year. She was fond of cordial. He was not. She took a glass after supper -and then a second, which she drank "for him." He smiled nervously and -urged her to drink it. His hands clenched and unclenched. When she -finished the second glass, he watched her constantly. - -"I feel sleepy," she said. - -"You're tired." He tried to dissemble the eagerness in his voice. "Why -don't you lie down?" - -"Strange," she said a moment later. "I'm not usually so--so--misty." - -He nodded. The opiate in the cordial was working. She lay on the couch. -She slept. The professor hastened to his laboratory. An hour later he -emerged with a hypodermic syringe in his hand. His wife lay limply, one -hand touching the floor. Her stern, dark face was relaxed. He sat beside -her. His conscience raged. He hated the duplicity his task required. His -eyes lingered on the swollen abdomen. It was cryptic, enigmatic, filled -with portent. He jabbed the needle. She did not stir. After that he -substituted a partly empty bottle of cordial for the drugged liquor. It -was, perhaps, the most practical thing he had ever done in his life. - -Mrs. Danner could not explain herself on the following morning. She -belaboured him. "Why didn't you wake me and make me go to bed? Sleeping -in my clothes! I never did such a thing in my life." - -"I couldn't wake you. I tried." - -"Rubbish." - -"You were sleeping so hard--you refused to move." - -"Sometimes, old as you are, I'd like to thrash you." - -Danner went to the college. There was nothing more to do, nothing more -to require his concentration. He could wait--as he had waited before. He -trembled occasionally with the hope that his child would be a boy--a -sane, healthy boy. Then, in the end, his work might bear fruit. "The -_Euglena viridis_," he said in flat tones, "will be the subject of -to-morrow's study. I want you gentlemen to diagram the structure of the -_Euglena viridis_ and write five hundred words on its vital principles -and processes. It is particularly interesting because it shares -properties that are animal with properties that are vegetable." - -September, October, November. Chilly winds from the high mountains. The -day-by-day freezing over of ponds and brooks. Smoke at the tops of -chimneys. Snow. Thanksgiving. And always Mrs. Danner growing with the -burden of her offspring. Mr. Danner sitting silent, watching, wondering, -waiting. It would soon be time. - -On Christmas morning there entered into Mrs. Danner's vitals a pain that -was indefinable and at the same time certain. It thrust all thought from -her mind. Then it diminished and she summoned her husband. "Get the -doctor. It's coming." - -Danner tottered into the street and executed his errand. The doctor -smiled cheerfully. "Just beginning? I'll be over this afternoon." - -"But--good Lord--you can't leave her like--" - -"Nonsense." - -He came home and found his wife dusting. He shook his head. "Get Mrs. -Nolan," she said. Then she threw herself on the bed again. - -Mrs. Nolan, the nearest neighbour, wife of Professor Nolan and mother of -four children, was delighted. This particular Christmas was going to be -a day of some excitement. She prepared hot water and bustled with -unessential occupation. Danner sat prostrate in the parlour. He had done -it. He had done more--and that would be known later. Perhaps it would -fail. He hoped it would fail. He wrung his hands. The concept of another -person in his house had not yet occurred to him. Birth was his wife's -sickness--until it was over. - -The doctor arrived after Danner had made his third trip. Mrs. Nolan -prepared lunch. "I love to cook in other people's kitchens," she said. -He wanted to strike her. Curious, he thought. At three-thirty the -industry of the doctor and Mrs. Nolan increased and the silence of the -two, paradoxically, increased with it. - -Then the early twilight fell. Mrs. Danner lay with her lank black -hair plastered to her brow. She did not moan. Pain twisted and -convulsed her. Downstairs Danner sat and sweated. A cry--his wife's. -Another--unfamiliar. Scurrying feet on the bare parts of the floor. He -looked up. Mrs. Nolan leaned over the stair well. - -"It's a boy, Mr. Danner. A beautiful boy. And husky. You never saw such -a husky baby." - -"It ought to be," he said. They found him later in the back yard, -prancing on the snow with weird, ungainly steps. A vacant smile lighted -his features. They didn't blame him. - - - - -III - - -Calm and quiet held their negative sway over the Danner ménage for an -hour, and then there was a disturbed fretting that developed into a -lusty bawl. The professor passed a fatigued hand over his brow. He was -unaccustomed to the dissonances of his offspring. Young Hugo--they had -named him after a maternal uncle--had attained the age of one week -without giving any indication of unnaturalness. - -That is not quite true. He was as fleshy as most healthy infants, but -the flesh was more than normally firm. He was inordinately active. His -eyes had been gray but, already, they gave promise of the inkiness they -afterwards exhibited. He was born with a quantity of black hair--hair so -dark as to be nearly blue. Abednego Danner, on seeing it, exercised the -liberty which all husbands take, and investigated rumours of his wife's -forbears with his most secret thoughts. The principal rumour was that -one of her lusty Covenanter grandsires had been intrigued by a squaw to -the point of forgetting his Psalms and recalling only the Song of -Solomon. - -However that may have been, Hugo was an attractive and virile baby. -Danner spent hours at the side of his crib speculating and watching for -any sign of biological variation. But it was not until a week had passed -that he was given evidence. By that time he was ready to concede the -failure of his greatest experiment. - -The baby bawled and presently stopped. And Mrs. Danner, who had put it -to breast, suddenly called her husband. "Abednego! Come here! Hurry!" - -The professor's heart skipped its regular timing and he scrambled to the -floor above. "What's the matter?" - -Mrs. Danner was sitting in a rocking-chair. Her face was as white as -paper. Only in her eyes was there a spark of life. He thought she was -going to faint. "What's the matter?" he said again. - -He looked at Hugo and saw nothing terrifying in the ravishing hunger -which the infant showed. - -"Matter! Matter! You know the matter!" - -Then he knew and he realized that his wife had discovered. "I don't. You -look frightened. Shall I bring some water?" - -Mrs. Danner spoke again. Her voice was icy, distant, terrible. "I came -in to feed him just a minute ago. He was lying in his crib. I tried -to--to hug him and he put his arms out. As God lives, I could not pull -that baby to me! He was too strong, Abednego! Too strong. Too strong. I -couldn't unbend his little arms when he stiffened them. I couldn't -straighten them when he bent them. And he pushed me--harder than you -could push. Harder than I could push myself. I know what it means. You -have done your horrible thing to my baby. He's just a baby, Abednego. -And you've done your thing to him. How could you? Oh, how could you!" - -Mrs. Danner rose and laid the baby gently on the chair. She stood before -her husband, towering over him, raised her hand, and struck with all her -force. Mr. Danner fell to one knee, and a red welt lifted on his face. -She struck him again and he fell against the chair. Little Hugo was -dislodged. One hand caught a rung of the chair back and he hung -suspended above the floor. - -"Look!" Mrs. Danner screamed. - -As they looked, the baby flexed its arm and lifted itself back into the -chair. It was a feat that a gymnast would have accomplished with -difficulty. Danner stared, ignoring the blows, the crimson on his cheek. -For once in his lifetime, he suddenly defied his wife. He pointed to the -child. - -"Yes, look!" His voice rang clearly. "I did it. I vaccinated you the -night the cordial put you to sleep. And there's my son. He's strong. -Stronger than a lion's cub. And he'll increase in strength as he grows -until Samson and Hercules would be pygmies beside him. He'll be the -first of a new and glorious race. A race that doesn't have to -fear--because it cannot know harm. No man can hurt him, no man can -vanquish him. He will be mightier than any circumstances. He, son of a -weak man, will be stronger than the beasts, even than the ancient -dinosaurs, stronger than the tides, stronger than fate--strong as God is -strong. And you--you, Matilda--mother of him, will be proud of him. He -will be great and famous. You can knock me down. You can knock me down a -thousand times. I have given you a son whose little finger you cannot -bend with a crow-bar. Oh, all these years I've listened to you and -obeyed you and--yes, I've feared you a little--and God must hate me for -it. Now take your son. And my son. You cannot change him. You cannot -bend him to your will. He is all I might have been. All that mankind -should be." Danner's voice broke and he sobbed. He relented. "I know -it's hard for you. It's against your religion--against your love, even. -But try to like him. He's no different from you and me--only stronger. -And strength is a glorious thing, a great thing. Then--afterwards--if -you can--forgive me." He collapsed. - -Blood pounded in her ears. She stared at the huddled body of her -husband. He had stood like a prophet and spoken words of fire. She was -shaken from her pettiness. For one moment she had loved Danner. In that -same instant she had glimpsed the superhuman energy that had driven him -through the long years of discouragement to triumph. She had seen his -soul. She fell at his feet, and when Danner opened his eyes, he found -her there, weeping. He took her in his arms, timidly, clumsily. "Don't -cry, Mattie. It'll be all right. You love him, don't you?" - -She stared at the babe. "Of course I love him. Wash your face, -Abednego." - -After that there was peace in the house, and with it the child grew. -During the next months they ignored his peculiarities. When they found -him hanging outside his crib, they put him back gently. When he smashed -the crib, they discussed a better place for him to repose. No hysteria, -no conflict. When, in the early spring, young Hugo began to recognize -them and to assert his feelings, they rejoiced as all parents rejoice. - -When he managed to vault the sill of the second-story window by some -antic contortion of his limbs, they dismissed the episode. Mrs. Danner -had been baking. She heard the child's voice and it seemed to come from -the yard. Startled, incredulous, she rushed upstairs. Hugo was not in -his room. His wail drifted through the window. She looked out. He was -lying in the yard, fifteen feet below. She rushed to his side. He had -not been hurt. - -Danner made a pen of the iron heads and feet of two old beds. He wired -them together. The baby was kept in the inclosure thus formed. The days -warmed and lengthened. No one except the Danners knew of the prodigy -harboured by their unostentatious house. But the secret was certain to -leak out eventually. - -Mrs. Nolan, the next-door neighbour, was first to learn it. She had -called on Mrs. Danner to borrow a cup of sugar. The call, naturally, -included a discussion of various domestic matters and a visit to the -baby. She voiced a question that had occupied her mind for some time. - -"Why do you keep the child in that iron thing? Aren't you afraid it will -hurt itself?" - -"Oh, no." - -Mrs. Nolan viewed young Hugo. He was lying on a large pillow. Presently -he rolled off its surface. "Active youngster, isn't he?" - -"Very," Mrs. Danner said, nervously. - -Hugo, as if he understood and desired to demonstrate, seized a corner of -the pillow and flung it from him. It traversed a long arc and landed on -the floor. Mrs. Nolan was startled. "Goodness! I never saw a child his -age that could do that!" - -"No. Let's go downstairs. I want to show you some tidies I'm making." - -Mrs. Nolan paid no attention. She put the pillow back in the pen and -watched while Hugo tossed it out. "There's something funny about that. -It isn't normal. Have you seen a doctor?" - -Mrs. Danner fidgeted. "Oh, yes. Little Hugo's healthy." - -Little Hugo grasped the iron wall of his miniature prison. He pulled -himself toward it. His skirt caught in the floor. He pulled harder. The -pen moved toward him. A high soprano came from Mrs. Nolan. "He's moved -it! I don't think I could move it myself! I tell you, I'm going to ask -the doctor to examine him. You shouldn't let a child be like that." - -Mrs. Danner, filled with consternation, sought refuge in prevarication. -"Nonsense," she said as calmly as she could. "All we Douglases are like -that. Strong children. I had a grandfather who could lift a cider keg -when he was five--two hundred pounds and more. Hugo just takes after -him, that's all." - -Mrs. Nolan was annoyed. Partly because she was jealous of Hugo's -prowess--her own children had been feeble and dull. Partly because she -was frightened--no matter how strong a person became, a baby had no -right to be so powerful. Partly because she sensed that Mrs. Danner was -not telling the whole truth. She suspected that the Danners had found a -new way to raise children. "Well," she said, "all I have to say is that -it'll damage him. It'll strain his little heart. It'll do him a lot of -harm. If I had a child like that, I'd tie it up most of the time for the -first few years." - -"Kate," Mrs. Danner said unpleasantly, "I believe you would." - -Mrs. Nolan shrugged. "Well--I'm glad none of my children are freaks, -anyhow." - -"I'll get your sugar." - -In the afternoon the minister called. He talked of the church and the -town until he felt his preamble adequate. "I was wondering why you -didn't bring your child to be baptized, Mrs. Danner. And why you -couldn't come to church, now that it is old enough?" - -"Well," she replied carefully, "the child is rather--irritable. And we -thought we'd prefer to have it baptized at home." - -"It's irregular." - -"We'd prefer it." - -"Very well. I'm afraid--" he smiled--"that you're a -little--ah--unfamiliar with the upbringing of children. Natural--in the -case of the first-born. Quite natural. But--ah--I met Mrs. Nolan to-day. -Quite by accident. And she said that you kept the child--ah--in an iron -pen. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to me--" - -"Did it?" Mrs. Danner's jaw set squarely. - -But the minister was not to be turned aside lightly. "I'm afraid, if -it's true, that we--the church--will have to do something about it. You -can't let the little fellow grow up surrounded by iron walls. It will -surely point him toward the prison. Little minds are tender -and--ah--impressionable." - -"We've had a crib and two pens of wood," Mrs. Danner answered tartly. -"He smashed them all." - -"Ah? So?" Lifted eyebrows. "Temper, eh? He should be punished. -Punishment is the only mould for unruly children." - -"You'd punish a six-months-old baby?" - -"Why--certainly. I've reared seven by the rod." - -"Well--" a blazing maternal instinct made her feel vicious. "Well--you -won't raise mine by a rod. Or touch it--by a mile. Here's your hat, -parson." Mrs. Danner spent the next hour in prayer. - -The village is known for the speed of its gossip and the sloth of its -intelligence. Those two factors explain the conditions which preluded -and surrounded the dawn of consciousness in young Hugo. Mrs. Danner's -extemporaneous fabrication of a sturdy ancestral line kept the more -supernatural elements of the baby's prowess from the public eye. It -became rapidly and generally understood that the Danner infant was -abnormal and that the treatment to which it was submitted was not usual. -At the same time neither the gossips of Indian Creek nor the slightly -more sage professors of the college exercised the wit necessary to -realize that, however strong young Hugo might become, it was neither -right nor just that his cradle days be augurs of that eventual estate. -On the face of it the argument seemed logical. If Mrs. Danner's forbears -had been men of peculiar might, her child might well be able to chin -itself at three weeks and it might easily be necessary to confine it in -a metal pen, however inhumane the process appeared. - -Hugo was sheltered, and his early antics, peculiar and startling as they -were to his parents, escaped public attention. The little current of -talk about him was kept alive only because there was so small an array -of topics for the local burghers. But it was not extraordinarily -malicious. Months piled up. A year passed and then another. - -Hugo was a good-natured, usually sober, and very sensitive child. -Abednego Danner's fear that his process might have created muscular -strength at the expense of reason diminished and vanished as Hugo -learned to walk and to talk, and as he grasped the rudiments of human -behaviour. His high little voice was heard in the house and about its -lawns. - -They began to condition him. Throughout his later life there lingered in -his mind a memory of the barriers erected by his family. He was told not -to throw his pillow, when words meant nothing to him. Soon after that, -he was told not to throw anything. When he could walk, he was forbidden -to jump. His jumps were shocking to see, even at the age of two and a -half. He was carefully instructed on his behaviour out of doors. No move -of his was to indicate his difference from the ordinary child. - -He was taught kindness and respect for people and property. His every -destructive impulse was carefully curbed. That training was possible -only because he was sensitive and naturally susceptible to advice. -Punishment had no physical terror for him, because he could not feel it. -But disfavour, anger, vexation, or disappointment in another person -reflected itself in him at once. - -When he was four and a half, his mother sent him to Sunday school. He -was enrolled in a class that sat near her own, so she was able to keep a -careful eye on him. But Hugo did not misbehave. It was his first contact -with a group of children, his first view of the larger cosmos. He sat -quietly with his hands folded, as he had been told to sit. He listened -to the teacher's stories of Jesus with excited interest. - -On his third Sunday he heard one of the children whisper: "Here comes -the strong boy." - -He turned quickly, his cheeks red. "I'm not. I'm not." - -"Yes, you are. Mother said so." - -Hugo struggled with the two hymn books on the table. "I can't even lift -these books," he lied. - -The other child was impressed and tried to explain the situation later, -taking the cause of Hugo's weakness against the charge of strength. But -the accusation rankled in Hugo's young mind. He hated to be -different--and he was beginning to realize that he was different. - -From his earliest day that longing occupied him. He sought to hide his -strength. He hated to think that other people were talking about him. -The distinction he enjoyed was odious to him because it aroused -unpleasant emotions in other people. He could not realize that those -emotions sprang from personal and group jealousy, from the hatred of -superiority. - -His mother, ever zealous to direct her son in the path of righteousness, -talked to him often about his strength and how great it would become and -what great and good deeds he could do with it. Those lectures on -virtuous crusades had two uses: they helped check any impulses in her -son which she felt would be harmful to her and they helped her to -become used to the abnormality in little Hugo. In her mind, it was like -telling a hunchback that his hump was a blessing disguised. Hugo was -always aware of the fact that her words connoted some latent evil in his -nature. - -The motif grew in Mrs. Danner's thoughts until she sought a definite -outlet for it. One day she led her child to a keg filled with sand. "All -of us," she said to her son, "have to carry a burden through life. One -of your burdens will be your strength. But that might can make right. -See that little keg?" - -"Mmmmm." - -"That keg is temptation. Can you say it?" - -"Temshun." - -"Every day in your life you must bear temptation and throw it from you. -Can you bear it?" - -"Huh?" - -"Can you pick up that keg, Hugo?" - -He lifted it in his chubby arms. "Now take it to the barn and back," his -mother directed. Manfully he walked with the keg to the barn and back. -He felt a little silly and resentful. "Now--throw temptation as far away -from you as you can." - -Mrs. Danner gasped. The distance he threw the keg was frightening. - -"You musn't throw it so far, Hugo," she said, forgetting her allegory -for an instant. - -"You said as far as I can. I can throw it farther, too, if I wanna." - -"No. Just throw it a little way. When you throw it far, it doesn't look -right. Now--fill it up with sand, and we'll do it over." - -Hugo was perplexed. A vague wish to weep occupied him as he filled the -keg. The lesson was repeated. Mrs. Danner had excellent Sunday-school -instincts, even if she had no real comprehension of ethics. Some days -later the burden of temptation was exhibited, in all its dramatic -passages, to Mrs. Nolan and another lady. Again Hugo was resentful and -again he felt absurd. When he threw the keg, it broke. - -"My!" Mrs. Nolan said in a startled tone. - -"How awful!" the other woman murmured. "And he's just a child." - -That made Hugo suddenly angry and he jumped. The woman screamed. Mrs. -Nolan ran to tell whomever she could find. Mrs. Danner whipped her son -and he cried softly. - -Abednego Danner left the discipline of his son to his wife. He watched -the child almost furtively. When Hugo was five, Mr. Danner taught him to -read. It was a laborious process and required an entire winter. But Hugo -emerged with a new world open to him--a world which he attacked with -interest. No one bothered him when he read. He could be found often on -sunny days, when other children were playing, prone on the floor, -puzzling out sentences in the books of the family library and trying to -catch their significance. During his fifth year he was not allowed to -play with other children. The neighbourhood insisted on that. - -With the busybodyness and contrariness of their kind the same neighbours -insisted that Hugo be sent to school in the following fall. When, on the -opening day, he did not appear, the truant officer called for him. Hugo -heard the conversation between the officer and his mother. He was -frightened. He vowed to himself that his abnormality should be hidden -deeply. - -After that he was dropped into that microcosm of human life to which so -little attention is paid by adults. School frightened and excited Hugo. -For one thing, there were girls in school--and Hugo knew nothing about -them except that they were different from himself. There were -teachers--and they made one work, whether one wished to work or not. -They represented power, as a jailer represents power. The children -feared teachers. Hugo feared them. - -But the lesson of Hugo's first six years was fairly well planted. He -blushingly ignored the direct questions of those children whom his fame -had reached. He gave no reason to anyone for suspecting him of -abnormality. He became so familiar to his comrades that their curiosity -gradually vanished. He would not play games with them--his mother had -forbidden that. But he talked to them and was as friendly as they -allowed him to be. His sensitiveness and fear of ridicule made him a -voracious student. He liked books. He liked to know things and to learn -them. - -Thus, bound by the conditionings of his babyhood, he reached the spring -of his first year in school without accident. Such tranquillity could -not long endure. The day which his mother had dreaded ultimately -arrived. A lanky farmer's son, older than the other children in the -first grade, chose a particularly quiet and balmy recess period to -plague little Hugo. The farmer's boy was, because of his size, the bully -and the leader of all the other boys. He had not troubled himself to -resent Hugo's exclusiveness or Hugo's reputation until that morning when -he found himself without occupation. Hugo was sitting in the sun, his -dark eyes staring a little sadly over the laughing, rioting children. - -The boy approached him. "Hello, strong man." He was shrewd enough to -make his voice so loud as to be generally audible. Hugo looked both -harmless and slightly pathetic. - -"I'm not a strong man." - -"Course you're not. But everybody thinks you are--except me. I'm not -afraid of you." - -"I don't want you to be afraid of me. I'm not afraid of you, either." - -"Oh, you aren't, huh? Look." He touched Hugo's chest with his finger, -and when Hugo looked down, the boy lifted his finger into Hugo's face. - -"Go away and let me alone." - -The tormentor laughed. "Ever see a fish this long?" - -His hands indicated a small fish. Involuntarily Hugo looked at them. -The hands flew apart and slapped him smartly. Several of the children -had stopped their play to watch. The first insult made them giggle. The -second brought a titter from Anna Blake, and Hugo noticed that. Anna -Blake was a little girl with curly golden hair and blue eyes. Secretly -Hugo admired her and was drawn to her. When she laughed, he felt a -dismal loneliness, a sudden desertion. The farmer's boy pressed the -occasion his meanness had made. - -"I'll bet you ain't even strong enough to fight little Charlie Todd. -Commere, Charlie." - -"I am," Hugo replied with slow dignity. - -"You're a sissy. You're a-scared to play with us." - -The ring around Hugo had grown. He felt a tangible ridicule in it. He -knew what it was to hate. Still, his inhibitions, his control, held him -in check. "Go away," he said, "or I'll hurt you." - -The farmer's boy picked up a stick and put it on his shoulder. "Knock -that off, then, strong man." - -Hugo knew the dare and its significance. With a gentle gesture he -brushed the stick away. Then the other struck. At the same time he -kicked Hugo's shins. There was no sense of pain with the kick. Hugo saw -it as if it had happened to another person. The school-yard tensed with -expectation. But the accounts of what followed were garbled. The -farmer's boy fell on his face as if by an invisible agency. Then his -body was lifted in the air. The children had an awful picture of Hugo -standing for a second with the writhing form of his attacker above his -head. Then he flung it aside, over the circle that surrounded him, and -the body fell with a thud. It lay without moving. Hugo began to whimper -pitifully. - -That was Hugo's first fight. He had defended himself, and it made him -ashamed. He thought he had killed the other boy. Sickening dread filled -him. He hurried to his side and shook him, calling his name. The other -boy came to. His arm was broken and his sides were purpling where Hugo -had seized him. There was terror in his eyes when he saw Hugo's face -above him, and he screamed shrilly for help. The teacher came. She sent -Hugo to the blacksmith to be whipped. - -That, in itself, was a stroke of genius. The blacksmith whipped grown -boys in the high school for their misdeeds. To send a six-year-old child -was crushing. But Hugo had risen above the standards set by his society. -He had been superior to it for a moment, and society hated him for it. -His teacher hated him because she feared him. Mothers of children, -learning about the episode, collected to discuss it in high-pitched, -hateful voices. Hugo was enveloped in hate. And, as the lash of the -smith fell on his small frame, he felt the depths of misery. He was a -strong man. There was damnation in his veins. - -The minister came and prayed over him. The doctor was sent for and -examined him. Frantic busybodies suggested that things be done to weaken -him--what things, they did not say. And Hugo, suffering bitterly, saw -that if he had beaten the farmer's boy in fair combat, he would have -been a hero. It was the scale of his triumph that made it dreadful. He -did not realize then that if he had been so minded, he could have turned -on the blacksmith and whipped him, he could have broken the neck of the -doctor, he could have run raging through the town and escaped unscathed. -His might was a secret from himself. He knew it only as a curse, like a -disease or a blemish. - -During the ensuing four or five years Hugo's peculiar trait asserted -itself but once. It was a year after his fight with the bully. He had -been isolated socially. Even Anna Blake did not dare to tease him any -longer. Shunned and wretched, he built a world of young dreams and -confections and lived in it with whatever comfort it afforded. - -One warm afternoon in a smoky Indian summer he walked home from school, -spinning a top as he walked, stopping every few yards to pick it up and -to let its eccentric momentum die on the palm of his hand. His pace -thereby was made very slow and he calculated it to bring him to his home -in time for supper and no sooner, because, despite his vigour, chores -were as odious to him as to any other boy. A wagon drawn by two horses -rolled toward him. It was a heavy wagon, piled high with grain-sacks, -and a man sat on its rear end, his legs dangling. - -As the wagon reached Hugo, it jolted over a rut. There was a grinding -rip and a crash. Hugo pocketed his top and looked. The man sitting on -the back had been pinned beneath the rear axle, and the load held him -there. As Hugo saw his predicament, the man screamed in agony. Hugo's -blood chilled. He stood transfixed. A man jumped out of a buggy. A Negro -ran from a yard. Two women hurried from the spot. In an instant there -were six or seven men around the broken wagon. A sound of pain issued -from the mouth of the impaled man. The knot of figures bent at the sides -of the cart and tried to lift. "Have to get a jack," Hugo heard them -say. - -Hugo wound up his string and put it beside his top. He walked -mechanically into the road. He looked at the legs of the man on the -ground. They were oozing blood where the backboard rested on them. The -men gathered there were lifting again, without result. Hugo caught the -side and bent his small shoulders. With all his might he pulled up. The -wagon was jerked into the air. They pulled out the injured man. Hugo -lowered the wagon slowly. - -For a moment no attention was paid to him. He waited pridefully for the -recognition he had earned. He dug in the dirt with the side of his shoe. -A man with a mole on his nose observed him. "Funny how that kid's -strength was just enough to turn the balance." - -Hugo smiled. "I'm pretty strong," he admitted. - -Another man saw him. "Get out of here," he said sharply. "This is no -place for a kid." - -"But I was the one--" - -"I said beat it. And I meant beat it. Go home to your ma." - -Slowly the light went from Hugo's eyes. They did not know--they could -not know. He had lifted more than two tons. And the men stood now, -waiting for the doctor, telling each other how strong they were when the -instant of need came. - -"Go on, kid. Run along. I'll smack you." - -Hugo went. He forgot to spin his top. He stumbled a little as he -walked. - - - - -IV - - -Days, months, years. They had forgotten that Hugo was different. Almost, -for a while, he had forgotten it himself. He was popular in school. He -fostered the unexpressed theory that his strength had been a phenomenon -of his childhood--one that diminished as he grew older. Then, at ten, it -called to him for exercise. - -Each day he rose with a feeling of insufficiency. Each night he retired -unrequited. He read. Poe, the Bible, Scott, Thackeray, Swift, Defoe--all -the books he could find. He thrilled with every syllable of adventure. -His imagination swelled. But that was not sufficient. He yearned as a -New England boy yearns before he runs away to sea. - -At ten he was a stalwart and handsome lad. His brow was high and -surmounted by his peculiarly black hair. His eyes were wide apart, inky, -unfathomable. He carried himself with the grace of an athlete. He -studied hard and he worked hard for his parents, taking care of a cow -and chickens, of a stable and a large lawn, of flowers and a vegetable -garden. - -Then one day he went by himself to walk in the mountains. He had not -been allowed to go into the mountains alone. A _Wanderlust_ that came -half from himself and half from his books led his feet along a narrow, -leafy trail into the forest depths. Hugo lay down and listened to the -birds in the bushes, to the music of a brook, and to the sound of the -wind. He wanted to be free and brave and great. By and by he stood up -and walked again. - -An easy exhilaration filled his veins. His pace increased. "I wonder," -he thought, "how fast I can run, how far I can jump." He quickened his -stride. In a moment he found that the turns in the trail were too -frequent for him to see his course. He ran ahead, realizing that he was -moving at an abnormal pace. Then he turned, gathered himself, and jumped -carefully. He was astonished when he vaulted above the green covering of -the trail. He came down heavily. He stood in his tracks, tingling. - -"Nobody can do that, not even an acrobat," he whispered. Again he tried, -jumping straight up. He rose fully forty feet in the air. - -"Good Jesus!" he exulted. In those lonely, incredible moments Hugo found -himself. There in the forest, beyond the eye of man, he learned that he -was superhuman. It was a rapturous discovery. He knew at that hour that -his strength was not a curse. He had inklings of his invulnerability. - -He ran. He shot up the steep trail like an express train, at a rate that -would have been measured in miles to the hour rather than yards to the -minute. Tireless blood poured through his veins. Green streaked at his -sides. In a short time he came to the end of the trail. He plunged on, -careless of obstacles that would have stopped an ordinary mortal. From -trunk to trunk he leaped a burned stretch. He flung himself from a high -rock. He sped like a shadow across a pine-carpeted knoll. He gained the -bare rocks of the first mountain, and in the open, where the horror of -no eye would tether his strength, he moved in flying bounds to its -summit. - -Hugo stood there, panting. Below him was the world. A little world. He -laughed. His dreams had been broken open. His depression was relieved. -But he would never let them know--he, Hugo, the giant. Except, perhaps, -his father. He lifted his arms--to thank God, to jeer at the world. Hugo -was happy. - -He went home wondering. He was very hungry--hungrier than he had ever -been--and his parents watched him eat with hidden glances. Samson had -eaten thus, as if his stomach were bottomless and his food digested -instantly to make room for more. And, as he ate, Hugo tried to open a -conversation that would lead to a confession to his father. But it -seemed impossible. - -Hugo liked his father. He saw how his mother dominated the little -professor, how she seemed to have crushed and bewildered him until his -mind was unfocused from its present. He could not love his mother -because of that. He did not reason that her religion had made her blind -and selfish, but he felt her blindness and the many cloaks that -protected her and her interests. He held her in respect and he obeyed -her. But often and wistfully he had tried to talk to his father, to make -friends with him, to make himself felt as a person. - -Abednego Danner's mind was buried in the work he had done. His son was a -foreign person for whom he felt a perplexed sympathy. It is significant -that he had never talked to Hugo about Hugo's prowess. The ten-year-old -boy had not wished to discuss it. Now, however, realizing its extent, he -felt he must go to his father. After dinner he said: "Dad, let's you and -me take a walk." - -Mrs. Danner's protective impulses functioned automatically. "Not -to-night. I won't have it." - -"But, mother--" - -Danner guessed the reason for that walk. He said to his wife with rare -firmness: "If the boy wants to walk with me, we're going." - -After supper they went out. Mrs. Danner felt that she had been shut out -of her own son's world. And she realized that he was growing up. - -Danner and his son strolled along the leafy street. They talked about -his work in school. His father seemed to Hugo more human than he had -ever been. He even ventured the first step toward other conversation. -"Well, son, what is it?" - -Hugo caught his breath. "Well--I kind of thought I ought to tell you. -You see--this afternoon--well--you know I've always been a sort of -strong kid--" - -Danner trembled. "I know--" - -"And you haven't said much about it to me. Except to be gentle--" - -"That's so. You must remember it." - -"Well--I don't have to be gentle with myself, do I? When I'm alone--like -in the woods, that is?" - -The older one pondered. "You mean--you like to--ah--let yourself -out--when you're alone?" - -"That's what I mean." The usual constraint between them had receded. -Hugo was grateful for his father's help. "You see, dad, I--well--I went -walkin' to-day--and I--I kind of tried myself out." - -Danner answered in breathless eagerness: "And?" - -"Well--I'm not just a strong kid, dad. I don't know what's the matter -with me. It seems I'm not like other kids at all. I guess it's been -gettin' worse all these years since I was a baby." - -"Worse?" - -"I mean--I been gettin' stronger. An' now it seems like I'm -about--well--I don't like to boast--but it seems like I'm about the -strongest man in the world. When I try it, it seems like there isn't any -stopping me. I can go on--far as I like. Runnin'. Jumpin'." His -confession had commenced in detail. Hugo warmed to it. "I can do things, -dad. It kind of scares me. I can jump higher'n a house. I can run -faster'n a train. I can pull up big trees an' push 'em over." - -"I see." Danner's spine tingled. He worshipped his son then. "Suppose -you show me." - -Hugo looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. The -evening was still duskily lighted by afterglow. "Look out then. I'm -gonna jump." - -Mr. Danner saw his son crouch. But he jumped so quickly that he -vanished. Four seconds elapsed. He landed where he had stood. "See, -dad?" - -"Do it again." - -On the second trial the professor's eyes followed the soaring form. And -he realized the magnitude of the thing he had wrought. - -"Did you see me?" - -Danner nodded. "I saw you, son." - -"Kind of funny, isn't it?" - -"Let's talk some more." There was a pause. "Do you realize, son, that no -one else on earth can do what you just did?" - -"Yeah. I guess not." - -Danner hesitated. "It's a glorious thing. And dangerous." - -"Yeah." - -The professor tried to simplify the biology of his discovery. He -perceived that it was going to involve him in the mysteries of sex. He -knew that to unfold them to a child was considered immoral. But Danner -was far, far beyond his epoch. He put his hand on Hugo's shoulder. And -Hugo set off the process. - -"Dad, how come I'm--like this?" - -"I'll tell you. It's a long story and a lot for a boy your age to know. -First, what do you know about--well--about how you were born?" - -Hugo reddened. "I--I guess I know quite a bit. The kids in school are -always talkin' about it. And I've read some. We're born like--well--like -the kittens were born last year." - -"That's right." Banner knitted his brow. He began to explain the details -of conception as it occurs in man--the biology of ova and spermatazoa, -the differences between the anatomy of the sexes, and the reasons for -those differences. He drew, first, a botanical analogy. Hugo listened -intently. "I knew most of that. I've seen--girls." - -"What?" - -"Some of them--after school--let you." - -Danner was surprised, and at the same time he was amused. He had -forgotten the details of his young investigation. They are blotted out -of the minds of most adults--to the great advantage of dignity. He did -not show his amusement or his surprise. - -"Girls like that," he answered, "aren't very nice. They haven't much -modesty. It's rather indecent, because sex is a personal thing and -something you ought to keep for the one you're very fond of. You'll -understand that better when you're older. But what I was going to tell -you is this. When you were little more than a mass of plasm inside your -mother, I put a medicine in her blood that I had discovered. I did it -with a hypodermic needle. That medicine changed you. It altered the -structure of your bones and muscles and nerves and your blood. It made -you into a different tissue from the weak fibre of ordinary people. -Then--when you were born--you were strong. Did you ever watch an ant -carry many times its weight? Or see a grasshopper jump fifty times its -length? The insects have better muscles and nerves than we have. And I -improved your body till it was relatively that strong. Can you -understand that?" - -"Sure. I'm like a man made out of iron instead of meat." - -"That's it, Hugo. And, as you grow up, you've got to remember that. -You're not an ordinary human being. When people find that out, -they'll--they'll--" - -"They'll hate me?" - -"Because they fear you. So you see, you've got to be good and kind and -considerate--to justify all that strength. Some day you'll find a use -for it--a big, noble use--and then you can make it work and be proud of -it. Until that day, you have to be humble like all the rest of us. You -mustn't show off or do cheap tricks. Then you'd just be a clown. Wait -your time, son, and you'll be glad of it. And--another thing--train your -temper. You must never lose it. You can see what would happen if you -did? Understand?" - -"I guess I do. It's hard work--doin' all that." - -"The stronger, the greater, you are, the harder life is for you. And -you're the strongest of them all, Hugo." - -The heart of the ten-year-old boy burned and vibrated. "And what about -God?" he asked. - -Danner looked into the darkened sky. "I don't know much about Him," he -sighed. - -Such was the soundest counsel that Hugo was given during his youth. -Because it came to him accompanied by unadulterated truths that he was -able to recognize, it exerted a profound effect on him. It is surprising -that his father was the one to give it. Nevertheless, Professor Danner -was the only person in all of Indian Creek who had sufficient -imagination to perceive his son's problems and to reckon with them in -any practical sense. - -Hugo was eighteen before he gave any other indication of his strength -save in that fantastic and Gargantuan play which he permitted himself. -Even his play was intruded upon by the small-minded and curious world -before he had found the completeness of its pleasure. Then Hugo fell -into his coma. - -Hugo went back to the deep forest to think things over and to become -acquainted with his powers. At first, under full pressure of his sinews, -he was clumsy and inaccurate. He learned deftness by trial and error. -One day he found a huge pit in the tangled wilderness. It had been an -open mine long years before. Sitting on its brink, staring into its pool -of verdure, dreaming, he conceived a manner of entertainment suitable -for his powers. - -He jumped over its craggy edge and walked to its centre. There he -selected a high place, and with his hands he cleared away the growth -that covered it. Next he laid the foundations of a fort, over which he -was to watch the fastnesses for imaginary enemies. The foundations were -made of boulders. Some he carried and some he rolled from the floor of -the man-made canyon. By the end of the afternoon he had laid out a -square wall of rock some three feet in height. On the next day he added -to it until the four walls reached as high as he could stretch. He left -space for one door and he made a single window. He roofed the walls with -the trunks of trees and he erected a turret over the door. - -For days the creation was his delight. After school he sped to it. Until -dark he strained and struggled with bare rocks. When it was finished, it -was an edifice that would have withstood artillery fire creditably. Then -Hugo experimented with catapults, but he found no engine that could hurl -the rocks he used for ammunition as far as his arms. He cached his -treasures in his fortress--an old axe, the scabbard of a sword, tops and -marbles, two cans of beans for emergency rations--and he made a flag of -blue and white cloth for himself. - -Then he played in it. He pretended that Indians were stalking him. An -imaginary head would appear at the rim of the pit. Hugo would see it -through a chink. Swish! Crash! A puff of dust would show where rock met -rock--with the attacker's head between. At times he would be stormed on -all sides. To get the effect he would leap the canyon and hurl boulders -on his own fort. Then he would return and defend it. - -It was after such a strenuous sally and while he was waiting in high -excitement for the enemy to reappear that Professors Whitaker and Smith -from the college stumbled on his stronghold. They were walking together -through the forest, bent on scaling the mountain to make certain -observations of an ancient cirque that was formed by the seventh great -glacier. As they walked, they debated matters of strata curvature. -Suddenly Whitaker gripped Smith's arm. "Look!" - -They stared through the trees and over the lip of Hugo's mine. Their -eyes bulged as they observed the size and weight of the fortress. - -"Moonshiners," Smith whispered. - -"Rubbish. Moonshiners don't build like that. It's a second Stonehenge. -An Indian relic." - -"But there's a sign of fresh work around it." - -Whitaker observed the newly turned earth and the freshly bared rock. -"Perhaps--perhaps, professor, we've fallen upon something big. A lost -race of Indian engineers. A branch of the Incas--or--" - -"Maybe they'll be hostile." - -The men edged forward. And at the moment they reached the edge of the -pit, Hugo emerged from his fort. He saw the men with sudden fear. He -tried to hide. - -"Hey!" they said. He did not move, but he heard them scrambling slowly -toward the spot where he lay. - -"Dressed in civilized clothes," the first professor said in a loud voice -as his eye located Hugo in the underbrush. "Hey!" - -Hugo showed himself. "What?" - -"Who are you?" - -"Hugo Danner." - -"Oh--old Danner's boy, eh?" - -Hugo did not like the tone in which they referred to his father. He made -no reply. - -"Can you tell us anything about these ruins?" - -"What ruins?" - -They pointed to his fort. Hugo was hurt. "Those aren't ruins. I built -that fort. It's to fight Indians in." - -The pair ignored his answer and started toward the fort. Hugo did not -protest. They surveyed its weighty walls and its relatively new roof. - -"Looks recent," Smith said. - -"This child has evidently renovated it. But it must have stood here for -thousands of years." - -"It didn't. I made it--mostly last week." - -They noticed him again. Whitaker simpered. "Don't lie, young man." - -Hugo was sad. "I'm not lying. I made it. You see--I'm strong." It was as -if he had pronounced his own damnation. - -"Tut, tut." Smith interrupted his survey. "Did you find it?" - -"I built it." - -"I said"--the professor spoke with increasing annoyance--"I said not to -tell me stories any longer. It's important, young man, that we know just -how you found this dolmen and in what condition." - -"It isn't a dolly--whatever you said--it's a fort and I built it and I'm -not lying." - -The professor, in the interests of science, made a grave mistake. He -seized Hugo by the arms and shook him. "Now, see here, young man, I'll -have no more of your impertinent lip. Tell me just what you've done to -harm this noble monument to another race, or, I swear, I'll slap you -properly." The professor had no children. He tried, at the same time, -another tack, which insulted Hugo further. "If you do, I'll give you a -penny--to keep." - -Hugo wrenched himself free with an ease that startled Smith. His face -was dark, almost black. He spoke slowly, as if he was trying to piece -words into sense. "You--both of you--you go away from here and leave me -or I'll break your two rotten old necks." - -Whitaker moved toward him, and Smith interceded. "We better leave -him--and come back later." He was still frightened by the strength in -Hugo's arms. "The child is mad. He may have hydrophobia. He might bite." -The men moved away hastily. Hugo watched them climb the wall. When they -reached the top, he called gently. They wheeled. - -And Hugo, sobbing, tears streaming from his face, leaped into his fort. -Rocks vomited themselves from it--huge rocks that no man could budge. -Walls toppled and crashed. The men began to move. Hugo looked up. He -chose a stone that weighed more than a hundred pounds. - -"Hey!" he said. "I'm not a liar!" The rock arched through the air and -Professors Whitaker and Smith escaped death by a scant margin. Hugo lay -in the wreck of the first thing his hands had built, and wept. - -After a little while he sprang to his feet and chased the retreating -professors. When he suddenly appeared in front of them, they were -stricken dumb. "Don't tell any one about that or about me," he said. "If -you do--I'll break down your house just like I broke mine. Don't even -tell my family. They know it, anyhow." - -He leaped. Toward them--over them. The forest hid him. Whitaker wiped -clammy perspiration from his brow. "What was it, Smith?" - -"A demon. We can't mention it," he repeated, thinking of the warning. -"We can't speak of it anyway. They'll never believe us." - - - - -V - - -Extremely dark of hair, of eyes and skin, moderately tall, and shaped -with that compact, breath-taking symmetry that the male figure sometimes -assumes, a brilliantly devised, aggressive head topping his broad -shoulders, graceful, a man vehemently alive, a man with the promise of a -young God. Hugo at eighteen. His emotions ran through his eyes like hot -steel in a dark mould. People avoided those eyes; they contained a -statement from which ordinary souls shrank. - -His skin glowed and sweated into a shiny red-brown. His voice was deep -and alluring. During twelve long and fierce years he had fought to know -and control himself. Indian Creek had forgotten the terrible child. - -Hugo's life at that time revolved less about himself than it had during -his first years. That was both natural and fortunate. If his classmates -in school and the older people of the town had not discounted his early -physical precocity, even his splendid vitality might not have been -sufficient to prevent him from becoming moody and melancholy. - -But when with the passage of time he tossed no more bullies, carried no -more barrels of temptation, built no more fortresses, and grew so -handsome that the matrons of Indian Creek as well as the adolescent -girls in high school followed him with wayward glances, when the men -found him a gay and comprehending companion for any sport or adventure, -when his teachers observed that his intelligence was often -embarrassingly acute, when he played on three teams and was elected an -officer in his classes each year, then that half of Hugo which was -purely mundane and human dominated him and made him happy. - -His adolescence, his emotions, were no different from those of any young -man of his age and character. If his ultimate ambitions followed another -trajectory, he postponed the evidence of it. Hugo was in love with Anna -Blake, the girl who had attracted him when he was six. The residents of -Indian Creek knew it. Her family received his calls with the winking -tolerance which the middle class grants to young passion. And she was -warm and tender and flirtatious and shy according to the policies that -she had learned from custom. - -The active part of Hugo did not doubt that he would marry her after he -had graduated from the college in Indian Creek, that they would settle -somewhere near by, and that they would raise a number of children. His -subconscious thoughts made reservations that he, in moments when he was -intimate with himself, would admit frankly. It made him a little ashamed -of himself to see that on one night he would sit with Anna and kiss her -ardently until his body ached, and on another he would deliberately plan -to desert her. His idealism at that time was very great and untried and -it did not occur to him that all men are so deliberately calculating in -the love they disguise as absolute. - -Anna had grown into a very attractive woman. Her figure was rounded and -tall. Her hair was darker than the waxy curls of her childhood, and a -vital gleam had come into it. Her eyes were still as blue and her voice, -shorn of its faltering youngness, was sweet and clear. She was -undoubtedly the prettiest girl in high school and the logical -sweet-heart for Hugo Danner. A flower ready to be plucked, at eighteen. - -When Hugo reached his senior year, that readiness became almost an -impatience. Girls married at an early age in Indian Creek. She looked -down the corridor of time during which he would be in college, she felt -the pressure of his still slumbering passion, and she sensed his -superiority over most of the town boys. Only a very narrow critic would -call her resultant tactics dishonourable. They were too intensely human -and too clearly born of social and biological necessity. - -She had let him kiss her when they were sixteen. And afterwards, before -she went to sleep, she sighed rapturously at the memory of his warm, -firm lips, his strong, rough arms. Hugo had gone home through the -dizzily spinning dusk, through the wind-strummed trees and the fragrant -fields, his breath deep in his chest, his eyes hot and somewhat -understanding. - -Gradually Anna increased that license. She knew and she did not know -what she was doing. She played a long game in which she said: "If our -love is consummated too soon, the social loss will be balanced by a -speedier marriage, because Hugo is honourable; but that will never -happen." Two years after that first kiss, when they were floating on the -narrow river in a canoe, Hugo unfastened her blouse and exposed the -creamy beauty of her bosom to the soft moonlight and she did not -protest. That night he nearly possessed her, and after that night he -learned through her unspoken, voluptuous suggestion all the technique of -love-making this side of consummation. - -When, finally, he called one night at her house and found that she was -alone and that her parents and her brother would not return until the -next day, they looked at each other with a shining agreement. He turned -the lights out and they sat on the couch in the darkness, listening to -the passing of people on the sidewalk outside. He undressed her. He -whispered halting, passionate phrases. He asked her if she was afraid -and let himself be laughed away from his own conscience. Then he took -her and loved her. - -Afterwards, going home again in the gloom of late night, he looked up at -the stars and they stood still. He realized that a certain path of life -had been followed to its conclusion. He felt initiated into the adult -world. And it had been so simple, so natural, so sweet.... He threw a -great stone into the river and laughed and walked on, after a while. - -Through the summer that followed, Hugo and Anna ran the course of their -affair. They loved each other violently and incessantly and with no -other evil consequence than to invite the open "humphs" of village -gossips and to involve him in several serious talks with her father. -Their courtship was given the benefit of conventional doubt, however, -and their innocence was hotly if covertly protested by the Blakes. Mrs. -Danner coldly ignored every fragment of insinuation. She hoped that Hugo -and Anna would announce their engagement and she hinted that hope. Hugo -himself was excited and absorbed. Occasionally he thought he was -sterile, with an inclination to be pleased rather than concerned if it -was true. - -He added tenderness to his characteristics. And he loved Anna too much. -Toward the end of that summer she lost weight and became irritable. They -quarrelled once and then again. The criteria for his physical conduct -being vague in his mind, Hugo could not gauge it correctly. And he did -not realize that the very ardour of his relation with her was abnormal. -Her family decided to send her away, believing the opposite of the truth -responsible for her nervousness and weakness. A week before she left, -Hugo himself tired of his excesses. - -One evening, dressing for a last passionate rendezvous, he looked in his -mirror as he tied his scarf and saw that he was frowning. Studying the -frown, he perceived with a shock what made it. He did not want to see -Anna, to take her out, to kiss and rumple and clasp her, to return -thinking of her, feeling her, sweet and smelling like her. It annoyed -him. It bored him. He went through it uneasily and quarrelled again. Two -days later she departed. - -He acted his loss well and she did not show her relief until she sat on -the train, tired, shattered, and uninterested in Hugo and in life. Then -she cried. But Hugo was through. They exchanged insincere letters. He -looked forward to college in the fall. Then he received a letter from -Anna saying that she was going to marry a man she had met and known for -three weeks. It was a broken, gasping, apologetic letter. Every one was -outraged at Anna and astounded that Hugo bore the shock so courageously. - -The upshot of that summer was to fill his mind with fetid memories, -which abated slowly, to make him disgusted with himself and tired of -Indian Creek. He decided to go to a different college, one far away from -the scene of his painful youth and his disillusioned maturity. He chose -Webster University because of the greatness of its name. If Abednego -Danner was hurt at his son's defection from his own college, he said -nothing. And Mrs. Danner, grown more silent and reserved, yielded to her -son's unexpected decision. - -Hugo packed his bags one September afternoon, with a feeling of -dreaminess. He bade farewell to his family. He boarded the train. His -mind was opaque. The spark burning in it was one of dawning adventure -buried in a mass of detail. He had never been far from his native soil. -Now he was going to see cities and people who were almost foreign, in -the sophisticated East. But all he could dwell on was a swift cinema of -a defeated little boy, a strong man who could never be strong, a -surfeited love, a truant and dimly comprehensible blonde girl, a muddy -street and a red station, a clapboard house, a sonorous church with -hushed puppets in the pews, fudge parties, boats on the little river, -cold winter, and ice over the mountains, and a fortress where once upon -a time he had felt mightier than the universe. - - - - -VI - - -The short branch line to which Hugo changed brought him to the fringe of -the campus. The cars were full of boys, so many of them that he was -embarrassed. They all appeared to know each other, and no one spoke to -him. His dreams on the train were culminated. He had decided to become a -great athlete. With his mind's eye, he played the football he would -play--and the baseball. Ninety-yard runs, homers hit over the fence into -oblivion. Seeing the boys and feeling their lack of notice of him -redoubled the force of that decision. Then he stepped on to the station -platform and stood facing the campus. He could not escape a rush of -reverence and of awe; it was so wide, so green and beautiful. Far away -towered the giant arches of the stadium. Near by were the sharp Gothic -points of the chapel and the graduate college. Between them a score or -more of buildings rambled in and out through the trees. - -"Hey!" - -Hugo turned a little self-consciously. A youth in a white shirt and -white trousers was beckoning to him. "Freshman, aren't you?" - -"Yes. My name's Danner. Hugo Danner." - -"I'm Lefty Foresman. Chuck!" A second student separated himself from the -bustle of baggage and young men. "Here's a freshman." - -Hugo waited with some embarrassment. He wondered why they wanted a -freshman. Lefty introduced Chuck and then said: "Are you strong, -freshman?" - -For an instant he was stunned. Had they heard, guessed? Then he realized -it was impossible. They wanted him to work. They were going to haze him. -"Sure," he said. - -"Then get this trunk and I'll show you where to take it." - -Hugo was handed a baggage check. He found the official and located the -trunk. Tentatively he tested its weight, as if he were a normally husky -youth about to undertake its transportation. He felt pleased that his -strength was going to be tried so accidentally and in such short order. -Lefty and Chuck heaved the trunk on his back. "Can you carry it?" they -asked. - -"Sure." - -"Don't be too sure. It's a long way." - -Peering from beneath the trunk under which he bent with a fair -assumption of human weakness, Hugo had his first close glimpse of -Webster. They passed under a huge arch and down a street lined with -elms. Students were everywhere, carrying books and furniture, moving in -wheelbarrows and moving by means of the backs of other freshmen. The two -who led him were talking and he listened as he plodded. - -"Saw Marcia just before I left the lake--took her out one night--and got -all over the place with her--and then came down--she's coming to the -first prom with me--and Marj to the second--got to get some beer -in--we'll buzz out and see if old Snorenson has made any wine this -summer. Hello, Eddie--glad to see you back--I've elected the dean's -physics, though, God knows, I'll never get a first in them and I need it -for a key. That damn Frosh we picked up sure must have been a -porter--hey, freshmen! Want a rest?" - -"No, thanks." - -"Went down to the field this afternoon--looks all right to me. The team, -that is. Billings is going to quarter it now--and me after that--hope to -Christ I make it--they're going to have Scapper and Dwan back at Yale -and we've got a lot of work to do. Frosh! You don't need to drag that -all the way in one yank. Put it down, will you?" - -"I'm not tired. I don't need a rest." - -"Well, you know best--but you ought to be tired. I would. Where do you -come from?" - -"Colorado." - -"Huh! People go to Colorado. Never heard of any one coming from there -before. Whereabouts?" - -"Indian Creek." - -"Oh." There was a pause. "You aren't an Indian, are you?" It was asked -bluntly. - -"Scotch Presbyterian for twenty generations." - -"Well, when you get through here, you'll be full of Scotch and emptied -of the Presbyterianism. Put the trunk down." - -Their talk of women, of classes, of football, excited Hugo. He was not -quite as amazed to find that Lefty Foresman was one of the candidates -for the football team as he might have been later when he knew how many -students attended the university and how few, relatively, were athletes. -He decided at once that he liked Lefty. The sophistication of his talk -was unfamiliar to Hugo; much of it he could not understand and only -guessed. He wanted Lefty to notice him. When he was told to put the -trunk down, he did not obey. Instead, with precision and ease, he swung -it up on his shoulder, held it with one hand and said in an unflustered -tone: "I'm not tired, honestly. Where do we go from here?" - -"Great howling Jesus!" Lefty said, "what have we here? Hey! Put that -trunk down." There was excitement in his voice. "Say, guy, do that -again." - -Hugo did it. Lefty squeezed his biceps and grew pale. Those muscles in -action lost their feel of flesh and became like stone. Lefty said: "Say, -boy, can you play football?" - -"Sure," Hugo said. - -"Well, you leave that trunk with Chuck, here, and come with me." - -Hugo did as he had been ordered and they walked side by side to the -gymnasium. Hugo had once seen a small gymnasium, ill equipped and badly -lighted, and it had appealed mightily to him. Now he stood in a -prodigious vaulted room with a shimmering floor, a circular balcony, a -varied array of apparatus. His hands clenched. Lefty quit him for a -moment and came back with a man who wore knickers. "Mr. Woodman, this -is--what the hell's your name?" - -"Danner. Hugo Danner." - -"Mr. Woodman is football coach." - -Hugo took the man's hand. Lefty excused himself. Mr. Woodman said: -"Young Foresman said you played football." - -"Just on a high-school team in Colorado." - -"Said you were husky. Go in my office and ask Fitzsimmons to give you a -gym suit. Come out when you're ready." - -Hugo undressed and put on the suit. Fitzsimmons, the trainer, looked at -him with warm admiration. "You're sure built, son." - -"Yeah. That's luck, isn't it?" - -Then Hugo was taken to another office. Woodman asked him a number of -questions about his weight, his health, his past medical history. He -listened to Hugo's heart and then led him to a scale. Hugo had lied -about his weight. - -"I thought you said one hundred and sixty, Mr. Danner?" - -The scales showed two hundred and eleven, but it was impossible for a -man of his size and build to weigh that much. Hugo had lied -deliberately, hoping that he could avoid the embarrassment of being -weighed. "I did, Mr. Woodman. You see--my weight is a sort of freak. I -don't show it--no one would believe it--and yet there it is." He did not -go into the details of his construction from a plasm new to biology. - -"Huh!" Mr. Woodman said. Together they walked out on the floor of the -gymnasium. Woodman called to one of the figures on the track who was -making slow, plodding circuits. "Hey, Nellie! Take this bird up and pace -him for a lap. Make it fast." - -A little smile came at the corners of Hugo's mouth. Several of the men -in the gymnasium stopped work to watch the trial of what was evidently a -new candidate. "Ready?" Woodman said, and the runners crouched side by -side. "Set? Go!" - -Nelson, one of the best sprinters Webster had had for years, dashed -forward. He had covered thirty feet when he heard a voice almost in his -ear. "Faster, old man." - -Nelson increased. "Faster, boy, I'm passing you." The words were spoken -quietly, calmly. A rage filled Nelson. He let every ounce of his -strength into his limbs and skimmed the canvas. Half a lap. Hugo ran at -his side and Nelson could not lead him. The remaining half was not a -race. Hugo finished thirty feet in the lead. - -Woodman, standing on the floor, wiped his forehead and bawled: "That the -best you can do, Nellie?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"What in hell have you been doing to yourself?" - -Nelson drew a sobbing breath. "I--haven't--done--a thing. Time--that -man. He's--faster than the intercollegiate mark." - -Woodman, still dubious, made Hugo run against time. And Hugo, eager to -make an impression and unguided by a human runner, broke the world's -record for the distance around the track by a second and three-fifths. -The watch in Woodman's hands trembled. - -"Hey!" he said, uncertain of his voice, "come down here, will you?" - -Hugo descended the spiral iron staircase. He was breathing with ease. -Woodman stared at him. "Lessee you jump." - -Hugo was familiar with the distances for jumping made in track meets. He -was careful not to overdo his effort. His running jump was twenty-eight -feet, and his standing jump was eleven feet and some inches. Woodman's -face ran water. His eyes gleamed. "Danner," he said, "where did you get -that way?" - -"What way?" - -"I mean--what have you done all your life?" - -"Nothing. Gone to school." - -"Two hundred and eleven pounds," Woodman muttered, "run like an Olympic -champ--jump like a kangaroo--how's your kicking?" - -"All right, I guess." - -"Passing?" - -"All right, I guess." - -"Come on outside. Hey, Fitz! Bring a ball." - -An hour later Fitzsimmons found Woodman sitting in his office. Beside -him was a bottle of whisky which he kept to revive wounded gladiators. -"Fitz," said Woodman, looking at the trainer with dazed eyes, "did you -see what I saw?" - -"Yes, I did, Woodie." - -"Tell me about it." - -Fitzsimmons scratched his greying head. "Well, Woodie, I seen a young -man--" - -"Saw, Fitz." - -"I saw a young man come into the gym an' undress. He looked like an -oiled steam engine. I saw him go and knock hell out of three track -records without even losing his breath. Then I seen him go out on the -field an' kick a football from one end to the other an' pass it back. -That's what _I_ seen." - -Woodman nodded his head. "So did I. But I don't believe it, do you?" - -"I do. That's the man you--an' all the other coaches--have been wantin' -to see. The perfect athlete. Better in everything than the best man at -any one thing. Just a freak, Woodie--but, God Almighty, how New Haven -an' Colgate are goin' to feel it these next years!" - -"Mebbe he's dumb, Fitz." - -"Mebbe. Mebbe not." - -"Find out." - -Fitz wasted no time. He telephoned to the registrar's office. "Mr. H. -Danner," said the voice of a secretary, "passed his examinations with -the highest honours and was admitted among the first ten." - -"He passed his entrance exams among the first ten," Fitzsimmons -repeated. - -"God!" said Woodman, "it's the millennium!" And he took a drink. - - * * * * * - -Late in the afternoon of that day Hugo found his room in Thompson -Dormitory. He unpacked his carpet-bag and his straw suitcase. He checked -in his mind the things that he had done. It seemed a great deal for one -day--a complete alteration of his life. He had seen the dean and -arranged his classes: trigonometry, English, French, Latin, biology, -physics, economics, hygiene. With a pencil and a ruler he made a -schedule, which he pinned on the second-hand desk he had bought. - -Then he checked his furniture: a desk, two chairs, a bed, bed-clothes, a -rug, sheets and blankets, towels. He hung his clothes in the closet. For -a while he looked at them attentively. They were not like the clothes of -the other students. He could not quite perceive the difference, but he -felt it, and it made him uncomfortable. The room to which he had been -assigned was pleasant. It looked over the rolling campus on two sides, -and both windows were framed in the leaves of nodding ivy. - -It was growing dark. From a dormitory near by came the music of a banjo. -Presently the player sang and other voices joined with him. A warm and -golden sun touched the high clouds with lingering fire. Voices cried -out, young and vigorous. Hugo sighed. He was going to be happy at -Webster. His greatness was going to be born here. - -At that time Woodman called informally on Chuck and Lefty. They were in -a heated argument over the decorative arrangement of various liquor -bottles when he knocked. "Come in!" they shouted in unison. - -"Hello!" - -"Oh, Woodie. Come in. Sit down. Want a drink--you're not in training?" - -"No, thanks. Had one. And it would be a damn sight better if you birds -didn't keep the stuff around." - -"It's Chuck's." Lefty grinned. - -"All right. I came to see about that bird you brought to me--Danner." - -"Was he any good?" - -Woodman hesitated. "Fellows, if I told you how good he was, you wouldn't -believe me. He's so good--I'm scared of him." - -"Whaddaya mean?" - -"Just that. He gave Nellie thirty feet in a lap on the track." - -"Great God!" - -"He jumped twenty-eight and eleven feet--running and standing. He kicked -half a dozen punts for eighty and ninety yards and he passed the same -distance." - -Lefty sat down on the window seat. His voice was hoarse. "That--can't be -done, Woodie." - -"I know it. But he did it. But that isn't what makes me frightened. How -much do you think he weighs?" - -"One fifty-five--or thereabouts." - -Woodie shook his head. "No, Lefty, he weighs two hundred and eleven." - -"Two eleven! He can't, Woodie. There's something wrong with your -scales." - -"Not a thing." - -The two students stared at each other and then at the coach. They were -able to grasp the facts intellectually, but they could not penetrate the -reactions of their emotions. At last Lefty said: "But that -isn't--well--it isn't human, Woodie." - -"That's why I'm scared. Something has happened to this bird. He has a -disease of some kind--that has toughened him. Like Pott's disease, that -turns you to stone. But you wouldn't think it. There's not a trace of -anything on the surface. I'm having a blood test made soon. Wait till -to-morrow when you see him in action. It'll terrify you. Because you'll -have the same damned weird feeling I have--that he isn't doing one tenth -of what he can do--that he's really just playing with us all. By God, if -I was a bit superstitious, I'd throw up my job and get as much distance -between me and that bird as I could. I'm telling you simply to prepare -you. There's something mighty funny about him, and the sooner we find -out, the better." - -Mr. Woodman left the dormitory. Lefty and Chuck stared at each other for -the space of a minute, and then, with one accord, they went together to -the registrar's office. There they found Hugo's address on the campus, -and in a few minutes they were at his door. - -"Come in," Hugo said. He smiled when he saw Lefty and Chuck. "Want some -more trunks moved?" - -"Maybe--later." They sat down, eying Hugo speculatively. Lefty acted as -spokesman. "Listen here, guy, we've just seen Woodie and he says you're -phenomenal--so much so that it isn't right." - -Hugo reddened. He had feared that his exhibition was exaggerated by his -eagerness to impress the coach. He said nothing and Lefty continued: -"You're going to be here for four years and you're going to love this -place. You're going to be willing to die for it. All the rest of your -life the fact that you went to old Webster is going to make a -difference. But there's one thing that Webster insists on--and that's -fair play. And honesty--and courage. You've come from a little town in -the West and you're a stranger here. Understand, this is all in a spirit -of friendship. So far--we like you. We want you to be one of us. To -belong. You have a lot to learn and a long way to go. I'm being frank -because I want to like you. For instance, Chuck here is a millionaire. -My old man is no dead stick in the Blue Book. Things like that will be -different from what you've known before. But the important thing is to -be a square shooter. Don't be angry. Do you understand?" - -Hugo walked to the window and looked out into the thickened gloom. He -had caught the worry, the repression, in Lefty's voice. The youth, his -merry blue eyes suddenly grave, his poised self abnormally disturbed, -had suggested a criticism of some sort. What was it? Hugo was hurt and a -little frightened. Would his college life be a repetition of Indian -Creek? Would the athletes and the others in college of his own age fear -and detest him--because he was superior? Was that what they meant? He -did not know. He was loath to offend Lefty and Chuck. But there seemed -no alternative to the risk. No one had talked to him in that way for a -long time. He sat on his bed. "Fellows," he said tersely, "I don't think -I know what you're driving at. Will you tell me?" - -The roommates fidgeted. They did not know exactly, either. They had come -to fathom the abnormality in Hugo. Chuck lit a cigarette. Lefty smiled -with an assumed ease. "Why--nothing, Danner. You see--well--I'm -quarterback of the football team. And you'll probably be on it this -year--we haven't adopted the new idea of keeping freshmen off the -varsity. Just wanted to tell you those--well--those principles." - -Hugo knew he had not been answered. He felt, too, that he would never in -his life give away his secret. The defences surrounding it had been too -immutably fixed. His joy at knowing that he had been accepted so soon as -a logical candidate for the football team was tempered by this -questioning. "I have principles, fellows." - -"Good." Lefty rose. "Guess we'll be going. By the way, Woodie said you -smashed a couple of track records to-day. Where'd you learn?" - -"Nowhere." - -"How come, then?" - -"Just--natural." - -Lefty summoned his will. "Sure it isn't--well--unhealthy. Woodie says -there are a couple of diseases that make you--well--get tough--like -stone." - -Hugo realized the purpose of the visit. "Then--be sure I haven't any -diseases. My father had an M.D." He smiled awkwardly. "Ever since I was -a kid, I've been stronger than most people. And I probably have a little -edge still. Just an accident, that's all. Is that what you were -wondering about?" - -Lefty smiled with instant relief. "Yes, it is. And I'm glad you take it -that way. Listen--why don't you come over to the Inn and take dinner -with Chuck and me? Let commons go for to-night. What say?" - - * * * * * - -At eleven Hugo wound his alarm clock and set it for seven. He yawned -and smiled. All during supper he had listened to the glories of Webster -and the advantages of belonging to the Psi Delta fraternity, to -descriptions of parties and to episodes with girls. Lefty and Chuck had -embraced him in their circle. They had made suggestions about what he -should wear and whom he should know; they had posted him on the -behaviour best suited for each of his professors. They liked him and he -liked them, immensely. They were the finest fellows in the world. -Webster was a magnificent university. And he was going to be one of its -most glorious sons. - -He undressed and went to bed. In a moment he slept, drawing in deep, -swift breaths. His face was smiling and his arm was extended, whether to -ward off shadows or to embrace a new treasure could not be told. In the -bright sunshine of morning his alarm jangled and he woke to begin his -career as an undergraduate. - - - - -VII - - -From the day of his arrival Webster University felt the presence of Hugo -Danner. Classes, football practice, hazing, fraternity scouting began on -that morning with a feverish and good-natured hurly-burly that, for a -time, completely bewildered him. Hugo participated in everything. He -went to the classroom with pleasure. It was never difficult for him to -learn and never easier than in those first few weeks. The professors he -had known (and he reluctantly included his own father) were dry-as-dust -individuals who had none of the humanities. And at least some of the -professors at Webster were brilliant, urbane, capable of all -understanding. Their lectures were like tonic to Hugo. - -The number of his friends grew with amazing rapidity. It seemed that he -could not cross the campus without being hailed by a member of the -football team and presented to another student. The Psi Deltas saw to it -that he met the entire personnel of their chapter at Webster. Other -fraternities looked at him with covetous eyes, but Lefty Foresman, who -was chairman of the membership committee, let it be known that the Psi -Deltas had marked Hugo for their own. And no one refused their bid. - -On the second Monday after college opened, Hugo went to the class -elections and found to his astonishment that he received twenty-eight -votes for president. A boy from a large preparatory school was elected, -but twenty-eight votes spoke well for the reputation he had gained in -that short time. On that day, too, he learned the class customs. -Freshmen had to wear black caps, black shoes and socks and ties. They -were not allowed to walk on the grass or to ride bicycles. The ancient -cannon in the center of the class square was defended annually by the -sophomores, and its theft was always attempted by the freshmen. No -entering class had stolen it in eight years. Those things amused Hugo. -They gave him an intimate feeling of belonging to his school. He wrote -to his parents about them. - -Dean Aiken, the newly elected president of the freshman class, -approached Hugo on the matter of the cannon. "We want a gang of good -husky boys to pull it up some night and take it away. Are you with us?" - -"Sure." - -Left to his own considerations, Hugo recalled his promise and walked -across the campus with the object of studying the cannon. It was a -medium-sized piece of Revolutionary War vintage. It stood directly in -the rear of Webster Hall, and while Hugo regarded it, he noticed that -two sophomores remained in the vicinity. He knew that guard, changed -every two hours, would be on duty day and night until Christmas was -safely passed. Well, the cannon was secure. It couldn't be rolled away. -The theft of it would require first a free-for-all with the sophomores -and after a definite victory a mob assault of the gun. Hugo walked -closer to it. - -"Off the grass, freshman!" - -He wheeled obediently. One of the guards approached him. "Get off the -grass and stay off and don't look at that cannon with longing. It isn't -healthy for young freshmen." - -Hugo grinned. "All right, fella. But you better keep a double guard on -that thing while I want it." - -Two nights later, during a heavy rain that had begun after the fall of -dark, Hugo clad himself in a slicker and moved vaguely into the night. -Presently he reached the cannon yard, and in the shelter of an arch he -saw the sophomore guards. They smoked cigarettes, and one of them sang -softly. Day and night a pair of conscripted sentries kept watchful eyes -on the gun. A shout from either of them would bring the whole class -tumbling from its slumber in a very few moments. Hugo moved out of their -vision. The campus was empty. - -He rounded Webster Hall, the mud sucking softly under his feet and the -rain dampening his face. From beneath his coat he took a flare and -lighted the fuse. He heard the two sophomores running toward it in the -thick murk. When they were very close, he stepped on to the stone -flagging, looked up into the cloudy sky, gathered himself, and leaped -over the three stories of Webster Hall. He landed with a loud thud ten -feet from the cannon. When the sophomores returned, after extinguishing -the flare, their cherished symbol of authority had vanished. - -There was din on the campus. First the loud cries of two voices. Then -the screech of raised windows, the babble of more voices, and the rush -of feet that came with new gusts of rain. Flash-lights pierced the -gloom. Where the cannon had been, a hundred and then two hundred figures -gathered, swirled, organized search-parties, built a fire. Dawn came, -and the cannon was still missing. The clouds lifted. In the wan light -some one pointed up. There, on the roof of Webster Hall, with the -numerals of the freshman class painted on its muzzle, was the old -weapon. Arms stretched. An angry, incredulous hum waxed to a steady -pitch and waned as the sophomores dispersed. - -In the morning, theory ran rife. The freshmen were tight-lipped, -pretending knowledge where they had none, exulting secretly. Dean Aiken -was kidnapped at noon and given a third degree, which extorted no -information. The theft of the cannon and its elevation to the roof of -the hall entered the annals of Webster legend. And Hugo, watching the -laborious task of its removal from the roof, seemed merely as pleased -and as mystified as the other freshmen. - -So the autumn commenced. The first football game was played and Hugo -made a touchdown. He made another in the second game. They took him to -New York in November for the dinner that was to celebrate the entrance -of a new chapter to Psi Delta. - -His fraternity had hired a private car. As soon as the college towers -vanished, the entertainment committee took over the party. Glasses were -filled with whisky and passed by a Negro porter. Hugo took his with a -feeling of nervousness and of excited anticipation. The coach had given -him permission to break training--advised it, in fact. And Hugo had -never tasted liquor. He watched the others, holding his glass gingerly. -They swallowed their drinks, took more. The effect did not seem to be -great. He smelled the whisky, and the smell revolted him. - -"Drink up, Danner!" - -"Never use the stuff. I'm afraid it'll throw me." - -"Not you. Come on! Bottoms up!" - -It ran into his throat, hot and steaming. He swallowed a thousand -needles and knew the warmth of it in his stomach. They gave another -glass to him and then a third. Some of the brothers were playing cards. -Hugo watched them. He perceived that his feet were loose on their ankles -and that his shoulders lurched. It would not do to lose control of -himself, he thought. For another man, it might be safe. Not for him. He -repeated the thought inanely. Some one took his arm. - -"Nice work in the game last week. Pretty." - -"Thanks." - -"Woodie says you're the best man on the team. Glad you went Psi Delt. -Best house on the campus. Great school, Webster. You'll love it." - -"Sure," Hugo said. - -The railroad coach was twisting and writhing peculiarly. Hugo suddenly -wanted to be in the air. He hastened to the platform of the car and -stood on it, squinting his eyes at the countryside. When they reached -the Grand Central Terminal he was cured of his faintness. They rode to -the theatre in an omnibus and saw the matinée of a musical show. Hugo -had never realized that so many pretty girls could be gathered together -in one place. Their scant, glittering costumes flashed in his face. He -wanted them. Between the acts the fraternity repaired in a body to the -lavatory and drank whisky from bottles. - -Hugo began to feel that he was living at last. He was among men, -sophisticated men, and learning to be like them. Nothing like the -_camaraderie_, the show, the liquor, in Indian Creek. He was wearing the -suit that Lefty Foresman had chosen for him. He felt well dressed, cool, -capable. He was intensely well disposed toward his companions. When the -show was over, he stood in the bright lights, momentarily depressed by -the disappearance of the long file of girls. Then he shouldered among -his companions and went out of the theatre riotously. - -Two long tables were drawn up at the Raven, a restaurant famous for its -roast meats, its beer, and its lack of scruples about the behaviour of -its guests. The Psi Deltas took their places at the tables. The -dining-room they occupied was private. Hugo saw as if in a dream the -long rows of silverware, the dishes of celery and olives, and the ranks -of shining glasses. They sat. Waiters wound their way among them. There -was a song. The toastmaster, a New York executive who had graduated from -Webster twenty years before, understood the temper of his charge. He was -witty, ribald, genial. - -He made a speech, but not too long a speech. He called on the president -of a bank, who rose totteringly and undid the toastmaster's good offices -by making too long a speech. Its reiterated "dear old Websters" were -finally lost in the ring and tinkle of glassware and cutlery. - -At the end of the long meal Hugo realized that his being had undergone -change. Objects approached and receded before his vision. The voice of -the man sitting beside him came to his ears as if through water. His -mind continually turned upon itself in a sort of infatuated examination. -His attention could not be held even on his own words. He decided that -he was feverish. Then some one said: "Well, Danner, how do you like -being drunk?" - -"Drunk?" - -"Sure. You aren't going to tell me you're sober, are you?" - -When the speaker had gone, Hugo realized that it was Chuck. There had -been no feeling of recognition. "I'm drunk!" he said. - -"Some one give Danner a drink. He has illusions." - -"Drunk! Why, this man isn't drunk. It's monstrous. He has a weakened -spine, that's all." - -"I'm drunk," Hugo repeated. He knew then what it was to be drunk. The -toastmaster was rising again. Hugo saw it dimly. - -"Fellows!" A fork banged on a glass. "Fellows!" There was a slow -increase in silence. "Fellows! It's eleven o'clock now. And I have a -surprise for you." - -"Surprise! Hey, guys, shut up for the surprise!" - -"Fellows! What I was going to say is this: the girls from the show we -saw this afternoon are coming over here--all thirty of 'em. We're going -up to my house for a real party. And the lid'll be off. Anything -goes--only anybody that fights gets thrown out straight off without an -argument. Are you on?" - -The announcement was greeted by a stunned quiet which grew into a bellow -of approval. Plates and glasses were thrown on the floor. Lefty leaped -on to the table and performed a dance. The proprietor came in, looked, -and left hastily, and then the girls arrived. - -They came through the door, after a moment of reluctant hesitation, like -a flood of brightly colored water. They sat down in the laps of the -boys, on chairs, on the edge of the disarrayed tables. They were served -with innumerable drinks as rapidly as the liquor could be brought. They -were working, that night, for the ten dollars promised to each one. But -they were working with college boys, which was a rest from the stream of -affluent and paunchy males who made their usual escort. Their gaiety was -better than assumed. - -Hugo had never seen such a party or dreamed of one. His vision was -cleared instantly of its cobwebs. He saw three boys seize one girl and -turn her heels over head. A piano was moved in. She jumped up and -started dancing on the table. Then there was a voice at his side. - -"Hello, good-looking. I could use that drink if you can spare it." - -Hugo looked at the girl. She had brown hair that had been curled. Her -lips and cheeks were heavily rouged and the corners of her mouth turned -down in a sort of petulance or fatigue. But she was pretty. And her -body, showing whitely above her evening dress, was creamy and warm. He -gave the drink to her. She sat in his lap. - -"Gosh," he whispered. She laughed. - -"I saw her first," some one said, pulling at the girl's arm. - -"Go 'way," Hugo shouted. He pushed the other from them. "What's your -name?" - -"Bessie. What's yours?" - -"Hugo." - -The girl accepted two glasses from a waiter. They drained them, looking -at each other over the rims. "Got any money, Hugo?" - -Hugo had. He carried on his person the total of his cash assets. Some -fifty dollars. "Sure. I have fifty dollars," he answered. - -He felt her red lips against his ear. "Let's you and me duck this party -and have a little one of our own. I've got an apartment not far from -here." - -He could hear the pounding of his heart. "Let's." - -They moved unostentatiously from the room. Outside, in the hall, she -took his hand. They ran to the front door. - -There was the echo of bedlam in his whirling mind when they walked -through the almost deserted street. She called to a taxi and they were -driven for several blocks. At a cheap dance hall they took a table and -drank more liquor. When his head was turned, she narrowed her eyes and -calculated the effect of the alcohol against the dwindling of his purse. -They danced. - -"Gee, you're a swell dancer." - -"So are you, Bessie." - -"Still wanna go home with Bessie?" - -"Mmmm." - -"Let's go." - -Another taxi ride. The lights seethed past him. A dark house and three -flights of rickety stairs. The gritty sound of a key in a lock. A little -room with a table, a bed, two chairs, a gas-light turned low, a -disheveled profusion of female garments. - -"Here we are. Sit down." - -Hugo looked at her tensely. He laughed then, with a harsh sound. She -flew into his arms, returning his searching caresses with startling -frankness. Presently they moved across the room. He could hear the -noises on the street at long, hot intervals. - - * * * * * - -Hugo opened his eyes and the light smote them with pain. He raised his -head wonderingly. His stomach crawled with a foul nausea. He saw the -dirty room. Bessie was not in it. He staggered to the wash-bowl and was -sick. He noticed then that her clothes were missing. The fact impressed -him as one that should have significance. He rubbed his head and eyes. -Then he thought accurately. He crossed the room and felt in his trousers -pockets. The money was gone. - -At first it did not seem like a catastrophe. He could telegraph to his -father for more money. Then he realized that he was in New York, without -a ticket back to the campus, separated from his friends, and not knowing -the address of the toastmaster. He could not find his fraternity -brothers and he could not get back to school without more money. -Moreover, he was sick. - -He dressed with miserable slowness and went down to the street. Served -him right. He had been a fool. He shrugged. A sharp wind blew out of a -bright sky. - -Maybe, he thought, he should walk back to Webster. It was only eighty -miles and that distance could be negotiated in less than two hours by -him. But that was unwise. People would see his progress. He sat down in -Madison Square Park and looked at the Flatiron Building with a leisurely -eye. A fire engine surged up the street. A man came to collect the trash -in a green can. A tramp lay down and was ousted by a policeman. - -By and by he realized that he was hungry. A little man with darting eyes -took a seat beside him. He regarded Hugo at short intervals. At length -he said. "You got a dime for a cup of coffee?" His words were blurred by -accent. - -"No. I came here from school last night and my money was stolen." - -"Ah," there was a tinge of discouragement in the other's voice. "And -hungry, perhaps?" - -"A little." - -"Me--I am also hungry. I have not eaten since two days." - -That impressed Hugo as a shameful and intolerable circumstance. "Let's -go over there"--he indicated a small restaurant--"and eat. Then I'll -promise to send the money by mail. At least, we'll be fed that way." - -"We will be thrown to the street on our faces." - -"Not I. Nobody throws me on my face. And I'll look out for you." - -They crossed the thoroughfare and entered the restaurant. The little man -ordered a quantity of food, and Hugo, looking guiltily at the waiter, -duplicated the order. They became distantly acquainted during the -filched repast. The little man's name was Izzie. He sold second-hand -rugs. But he was out of work. Eventually they finished. The waiter -brought the check. He was a large man, whose jowls and hips and -shoulders were heavily weighted with muscle. - -Hugo stood up. "Listen, fellow," he began placidly, "my friend and I -haven't a cent between us. I'm Hugo Danner, from Webster University, and -I'll mail you the price of this feed to-morrow. I'll write down my name -and--" - -He got no further. The waiter spoke in a thick voice. "So! One of them -guys, eh? Tryin' to get away with it when I'm here, huh? Well, I tell -you how you're gonna pay. You're gonna pay this check with a bloody -mush, see?" His fist doubled and drew back. Hugo did not shift his -position. The fist came forward, but an arm like stone blocked it. -Hugo's free hand barely flicked to the waiter's jaw. He rolled under the -table. "Come on," he said, but Izzie had already vanished through the -door. - -Hugo walked hurriedly up the street and turned a corner. A hand tugged -at his coat. He turned and was confronted by Izzie. "I seen you through -the window. Jeest, guy, you kin box. Say, I know where you kin clean -up--if you got the nerve." - -"Clean up? Where?" - -"Come on. We better get out of here anyhow." - -They made their way toward the river. The city changed character on the -other side of the elevated railroad, and presently they were walking -through a dirty, evil-smelling, congested neighborhood. - -"Where are we going, Izzie?" - -"Wait a minute, Mr. Danner." - -"What's the idea?" - -"You wait." - -Another series of dirty blocks. Then they came to a bulky building that -spread a canopy over the sidewalk. "Here," Izzie said, and pointed. - -His finger indicated a sign, which Hugo read twice. It said: "Battling -Ole Swenson will meet all comers in this gymnasium at three this -afternoon and eight to-night. Fifty dollars will be given to any man, -black or white, who can stay three rounds with him, and one hundred -dollars cash money to the man who knocks out Battling Ole Swenson, the -Terror of the Docks." - -"See," Izzie said, rubbing his hands excitedly, "mebbe you could do it." - -A light dawned on Hugo. He smiled. "I can," he replied. "What time is -it?" - -"Two o'clock." - -"Well, let's go." - -They entered the lobby of the "gymnasium." "Mr. Epstein," Izzie called, -"I gotta fighter for the Swede." - -Mr. Epstein was a pale fat man who ignored the handicap of the dank -cigar in his mouth and roared when he spoke. He glanced at Hugo and then -addressed Izzie. "Where is he?" - -"There." - -Epstein looked at Hugo and then was shaken by laughter. "There, you -says, and there I looks and what do I see but a pink young angel face -that Ole would swallow without chewing." - -Hugo said: "I don't think so. I'm willing to try." - -Epstein scowled. "Run away from here, kid, before you get hurt. Ole -would laugh at you. This isn't easy money. It takes a man to get a look -at it." - -Izzie stamped impatiently. "I tell you, Mr. Epstein, I seen this boy -fight. He's the goods. He can beat your Ole. I bet he can." His voice -caught and he glanced nervously at Hugo. "I bet ten dollars he can." - -"How much?" Epstein bellowed. - -"Well--say twenty dollars." - -"How much?" - -"Fifty dollars. It's all I got, Epstein." - -"All right--go in and sign up and leave your wad. Kid," he turned to -Hugo, "you may think you're husky, but Ole is a killer. He's six nine in -his socks and he weighs two hundred and eighty. He'll mash you." - -"I don't think so," Hugo repeated. - -"Well, you'll be meat. We'll put you second on the list. And the -lights'll go out fast enough for yuh." - -Hugo followed Izzie and reached him in time to see a fifty-dollar bill -peeled from a roll which was extracted with great intricacy from Izzie's -clothes. "I thought you hadn't eaten for two days!" - -"It's God's truth," Izzie answered uneasily. "I was savin' this -dough--an' it's lucky, too, isn't it?" - -Hugo did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. He said: "And you'd -have let me take a poke in the jaw from that waiter. You're a hell of a -guy, Izzie." - -Izzie moved his eyes rapidly. "I ain't so bad. I'm bettin' on you, ain't -I? An' I got you a chancet at the Swede, didn't I?" - -"How'd you know that waiter couldn't kill me?" - -"Well--he didn't. Anyhow, what's a poke in the jaw to a square meal, -eh?" - -"When the other fellow gets the poke and you get the meal. All right, -Izzie. I wish I thought Ole was going to lick me." - -Hugo wrote his name under a printed statement to the effect that the -fight managers were not responsible for the results of the combat. The -man who led him to a dressing-room was filled with sympathy and advice. -He told Hugo that one glance at Ole would discourage his reckless -avarice. But Hugo paid no attention. The room was dirty. It smelled of -sweat and rubber sneakers. He sat there for half an hour, reading a -newspaper. Outside, somewhere, he could hear the mumble of a gathering -crowd, punctuated by the voices of candy and peanut-hawkers. - -At last they brought some clothes to him. A pair of trunks that flapped -over his loins, ill-fitting canvas shoes, a musty bath robe. When the -door of his room opened, the noise of the crowd was louder. Finally it -was hushed. He heard the announcer. It was like the voice of a minister -coming through the stained windows of a church. It rose and fell. Then -the distant note of the gong. After that the crowd called steadily, -sometimes in loud rage and sometimes almost in a whisper. - -Finally they brought Ole's first victim into Hugo's cell. He was a man -with the physique of a bull. His face was cut and his eyes were -darkening. One of the men heaving his stretcher looked at Hugo. - -"Better beat it, kid, while you can still do it on your own feet. You -ain't even got the reach for Ole. He's a grizzly, bo. He'll just about -kill you." - -Hugo tightened his belt and swung the electric light back and forth with -a slow-moving fist. Another man expertly strapped his fists with -adhesive tape. - -"When do I go out?" Hugo asked. - -"You mean, when do you get knocked out?" the second laughed. - -"Fight?" - -"Well, if you're determined to get croaked, you do it now." - -In the arena it was dazzling. A bank of noisy people rose on all sides -of him. Hugo walked down the aisle and clambered into the ring. Ole was -one of the largest men he had ever seen in his life. There was no doubt -of his six feet nine inches and his two hundred and eighty pounds. Hugo -imagined that the man was not a scientific fighter. A bruiser. Well, he -knew nothing of fighting, either. - -A man in his shirt sleeves stood up in the ring and bellowed, "The next -contestant for the reward of fifty dollars to stay three rounds with -battling Ole and one hundred dollars to knock him out is Mr. H. Smith." -They cheered. It was a nasty sound, filled with the lust for blood. Hugo -realized that he was excited. His knees wabbled when he rose and his -hand trembled as he took the monstrous paw of the Swede and saw his -unpleasant smile. Hugo's heart was pounding. For one instant he felt -weak and human before Battling Ole. He whispered to himself: "Quit it, -you fool; you know better; you can't even be hurt." It did not make him -any more quiet. - -Then they were sitting face to face. A bell rang. The hall became silent -as the mountainous Swede lumbered from his corner. He towered over Hugo, -who stood up and went out to meet him like David approaching Goliath. To -the crowd the spectacle was laughable. There was jeering before they -met. "Where's your mamma?" "Got your bottle, baby?" "Put the poor little -bastard back in his carriage." "What's this--a fight or a freak show?" -Laughter. - -It was like cold water to Hugo. His face set. He looked at Ole. The -Swede's fist moved back like the piston of a great engine into which -steam has been let slowly. Then it came forward. Hugo, trained to see -and act in keeping with his gigantic strength, dodged easily. "Atta -boy!" "One for Johnny-dear!" The fist went back and came again and -again, as if that piston, gathering speed, had broken loose and was -flailing through the screaming air. Hugo dodged like a beam of light, -and the murderous weapon never touched him. The spectators began to -applaud his speed. He could beat the Swede's fist every time. "Run him, -kiddo!" "It's only three rounds." - -The bell. Ole was panting. As he sat in his corner, his coal-scuttle -gloves dangling, he cursed in his native tongue. Too little to hit. -Bell. The second round was the same. Hugo never attempted to touch the -Swede. Only to avoid him. And the man worked like a Trojan. Sweat -seethed over his big, blank face. His small eyes sharpened to points. He -brought his whole carcass flinging through the air after his fist. But -every blow ended in a sickening wrench that missed the target. The crowd -grew more excited. During the interval between the second and third -rounds there was betting on the outcome. Three to one that Ole would -connect and murder the boy. Four to one. One to five that Hugo would win -fifty dollars before he died beneath the trip-hammer. - -The third round opened. The crowd suddenly tired of the sport. A shrill -female voice reached Hugo's cold, concentrated mind: "Keep on running, -yellow baby!" - -So. They wanted a killing. They called him yellow. The Swede was on him, -elephantine, sweating, sucking great, rumbling breaths of air, swinging -his fists. Hugo studied the motion. That fist to that side, up, down, -now! - -Like hail they began to land upon the Swede. Bewilderingly, everywhere. -No hope of guarding. Every blow smashed, stung, ached. No chance to -swing back. Cover up. His arms went over his face. He felt rivets drive -into his kidneys. He reached out and clinched. They rocked in each -other's arms. Dazed by that bitter onslaught of lightning blows, Ole -thought only to lock Hugo in his arms and crush him. When they clinched, -the crowd, grown instantly hysterical, sank back in despair. It was -over. Ole could break the little man's back. They saw his arms spring -into knots. Jesus! Hugo's fist shot between their chests and Ole was -thrown violently backward. Impossible. He lunged back, crimson to kill, -one hand guarding his jaw. "Easy, now, for the love of God, easy," Hugo -said to himself. There. On the hand at the chin. Hugo's gloves went out. -Lift him! It connected. The Swede left the floor and crumpled slowly, -with a series of bumping sounds. And how the hyenas yelled! - -They crowded into his dressing-room afterwards. Epstein came to his side -before he had dressed. "Come out and have a mug of suds, kid. That was -the sweetest fight I ever hope to live to see. I can sign you up for a -fortune right now. I can make you champ in two years." - -"No, thanks," Hugo said. - -The man persisted. He talked earnestly. He handed Hugo a hundred-dollar -bill. Hugo finished his dressing. Izzie wormed his way in. "Fifty -dollars I won yet! Didn't I tole you, Mr. Epstein!" - -"Come here, Izzie!" - -The little man ran to shake Hugo's hand, but it was extended for another -reason. "I want that fifty you won," he said unsmilingly. "When a bird -tracks along for a free feed and lets another guy fight for him and has -a roll big enough to stop up a rainspout, he owes money. That lunch will -set you back just exactly what you won on me." - -There was laughter in the room. Izzie whimpered. "Ain't you got a -hundred all ready that I got for you? Ain't it enough that you got it? -Ain't I got a wife wit' kids yet?" - -"No, it ain't, yet." Hugo snapped the fingers of his extended hand. The -other hand doubled significantly. Izzie gave him the money. He was -almost in tears. The others guffawed. - -"Wait up, bo. Give us your address if you ever change your mind. You can -pick up a nice livin' in this game." - -"No, thanks. All I needed was railroad fare. Thank you, -gentlemen--and--good-by." - -No one undertook to hinder Hugo's departure. - - - - -VIII - - -Greatness seemed to elude Hugo, success such as he had earned was -inadequate, and his friendships as well as his popularity were tinged -with a sort of question that he never understood. By the end of winter -he was well established in Webster as a great athlete. Psi Delta sang -his praises and was envied his deeds. Lefty and Chuck treated him as a -brother. And, Hugo perceived, none of that treatment and none of that -society was quite real. He wondered if his personality was so meagre -that it was not equal to his strength. He wondered if his strength was -really the asset he had dreamed it would be, and if, perhaps, other -people were not different from him in every way, so that any close human -contact was impossible to him. - -It was a rather tragic question to absorb a man so filled with life and -ambition as he. Yet every month had raised it more insistently. He saw -other men sharing their inmost souls and he could never do that. He saw -those around him breaking their hearts and their lungs for the -university, and, although it was never necessary for him to do that, he -doubted that he could if he would. Webster was only a school. A -sentiment rather than an ideal, a place rather than a goal of dreams. He -thought that he was cynical. He thought that he was inhuman. It worried -him. - -His love was a similar experience. He fell in love twice during that -first year in college. Once at a prom with a girl who was related to -Lefty--a rich, socially secure girl who had studied abroad and who -almost patronized her cousin. - -Hugo had seen her dancing, and her long, slender legs and arms had -issued an almost tangible challenge to him. She had looked over Lefty's -shoulder and smiled vaguely. They had met. Hugo danced with her. "I love -to come to a prom," she said; "it makes me feel young again." - -"How old are you?" - -She ignored the obvious temptation to be coy and he appreciated that. -"Twenty-one." - -It seemed reasonably old to Hugo. The three years' difference in their -ages had given her a pinnacle of maturity. - -"And that makes you old," he reflected. - -She nodded. Her name was Iris. Afterwards Hugo thought that it should -have been Isis. Half goddess, half animal. He had never met with the -vanguard of emancipated American womanhood before then. "You're the -great Hugo Danner, aren't you? I've seen your picture in the sporting -sections." She read sporting sections. He had never thought of a woman -in that light. "But you're really much handsomer. You have more sex and -masculinity and you seem more intelligent." - -Then, between the dances, Lefty had come. "She? Oh, she's a sort of -cousin. Flies in all the high altitudes in town. Blue Book and all that. -Better look out, Hugo. She plays rough." - -"She doesn't look rough." - -Both youths watched her. Long, dark hair, willowy body, high, pale -forehead, thin nose, red mouth, smiling like a lewd agnostic and dancing -close to her partner, enjoying even that. "Well, look out, Hugo. If she -wants to play, don't let her play with your heart. Anything else is -quite in the books." - -"Oh." - -She came to the stag line, ignoring a sequence of invitations, and asked -him to dance. They went out on the velvet campus. "I could love you--for -a little while," she said. "It's too bad you have to play football -to-morrow." - -"Is that an excuse?" - -She smiled remotely. "You're being disloyal." Her fan moved delicately. -"But I shan't chide you. In fact, I'll stay over for the game--and I'll -enjoy the anticipation--more, perhaps. But you'll have to win it--to win -me. I'm not a soothing type." - -"It will be easy--to win," Hugo said and she peered through the darkness -with admiration, because he had made his ellipsis of the object very -plain. - -"It is always easy for you to win, isn't it?" she countered with an easy -mockery, and Hugo shivered. - -The game was won. Hugo had made his touchdown. He unfolded a note she -had written on the back of a score card. "At my hotel at ten, then." - -"Then." Someone lifted his eyes to praise him. His senses swam in -careful anticipation. They were cheering outside the dressing-room. A -different sound from the cheers at the fight-arena. Young, hilarious, -happy. - -At ten he bent over the desk and was told to go to her room. The clerk -shrugged. She opened the door. One light was burning. There was perfume -in the air. She wore only a translucent kimono of pale-coloured silk. -She taught him a great many things that night. And Iris learned -something, too, so that she never came back to Hugo, and kept the -longing for him as a sort of memory which she made hallowed in a shorn -soul. It was, for her, a single asceticism in a rather selfish life. - -Hugo loved her for two weeks after that, and then his emotions wearied -and he was able to see what she had done and why she did not answer his -letters. His subdued fierceness was a vehement fire to women. His -fiercer appetite was the cause of his early growth in a knowledge of -them. When most of his companions were finding their way into the -mysteries of sex both unhandily and with much turmoil, he learned well -and abnormally. It became a part of his secret self. Another barrier to -the level of the society that surrounded him. When he changed the name -of Iris to Isis in his thoughts, he moved away from the Psi Deltas, who -would have been incapable of the notion. In person he stayed among them, -but in spirit he felt another difference, which he struggled to -reconcile. - -In March the thaws came, and under the warming sun Hugo made a -deliberate attempt to fall in love with Janice, who was the daughter of -his French professor. She was a happy, innocent little girl, with gold -hair, and brown eyes that lived oddly beneath it. She worshipped Hugo. -He petted her, talked through long evenings to her, tried to be faithful -to her in his most unfettered dreams, and once considered proposing to -her. When he found himself unable to do that, he was compelled to resist -an impulse to seduce her. Ashamed, believing himself unfit for a nice -girl, he untangled that romance as painlessly as he could, separating -himself from Janice little by little and denying every accusation of -waning interest. - -Then for a month he believed that he could never be satisfied by any -woman, that he was superior to women. He read the lives of great lovers -and adulterers and he wished that he could see Bessie, who had taken his -money long before in New York City. She appealed to him then more than -all the others--probably, he thought, because he was drunk and had not -viewed her in sharp perspective. For hours he meditated on women, while -he longed constantly to possess a woman. - -But the habitual routine of his life did not suffer. He attended his -classes and lectures, played on the basketball team, tried tentatively -to write for the campus newspaper, learned to perform indifferently on -the mandolin, and made himself into the semblance of an ideal college -man. His criticism of college then was at its lowest ebb. He spent -Christmas in New York at Lefty Foresman's parents' elaborate home, -slightly intoxicated through the two weeks, hastening to the opera, to -balls and parties, ill at ease when presented to people whose names -struck his ears familiarly, seeing for the first time the exaggeration -of scale on which the very rich live and wondering constantly why he -never met Iris, wishing for and fearing that meeting while he wondered. - -When his first year at college was near to its end, and that still and -respectful silence that marks the passing of a senior class had fallen -over the campus, Hugo realized with a shock that he would soon be on his -way back to Indian Creek. Then, suddenly, he saw what an amazing and -splendid thing that year at college had been. He realized how it had -filled his life to the brim with activities of which he had not dreamed, -how it had shaped him so that he would be almost a stranger in his own -home, how it had aged and educated him in the business of living. When -the time of parting with his new friends drew near, he understood that -they were valuable to him, in spite of his questioning. And they made it -clear that he would be missed by them. At last he shared a feeling with -his classmates, a fond sadness, an illimitable poignancy that was young -and unadulterated by motive. He was perversely happy when he became -aware of it. He felt somewhat justified for being himself and living his -life. - -A day or two before college closed, he received a letter from his -father. It was the third he had received during the year. It said: - - Dear Son-- - - Your mother and I have decided to break the news to you before you - leave for home, because there may be better opportunities for you - in the East than here at Indian Creek. When you went away to - Webster University, I agreed to take care of all your expenses. It - was the least I could do, I felt, for my only son. The two thousand - dollars your mother and I had saved seemed ample for your four - years. But the bills we have received, as well as your own demands, - have been staggering. In March, when a scant six hundred dollars of - the original fund remained, I invested the money in a mine stock - which, the salesman said, would easily net the six thousand dollars - you appeared to need. I now find to my chagrin that the stock is - worthless. I am unable to get back my purchase money. - - It will be impossible during the coming year for me to let you have - more than five hundred dollars. Perhaps, with what you earn this - summer and with the exercise of economy, you can get along. I trust - so. But, anxious as we are to see you again, we felt that, in the - light of such information, you might prefer to remain in the East - to earn what you can. - - We are both despondent over the situation and we wish that we could - do more than tender our regrets. But we hope that you will be able - to find some solution to this situation. Thus, with our very - warmest affection and our fondest hope, we wish you good fortune. - - Your loving father, - - ABEDNEGO DANNER. - -Hugo read the letter down to the last period after the rather tremulous -signature. His emotions were confused. Touched by the earnest and -pathetically futile efforts of his father and by the attempt of that -lonely little man to express what was, perhaps, a great affection, Hugo -was nevertheless aghast at a prospect that he had not considered. He was -going to be thrown into the world on his own resources. And, resting his -frame in his worn chair--a frame capable of smashing into banks and -taking the needed money without fear of punishment--Hugo began to wonder -dismally if he was able even to support himself. No trade, no -occupation, suggested itself. He had already experienced some of the -merciless coldness of the world. The boys would all leave soon. And then -he would be alone, unprovided for, helpless. - -Hugo was frightened. He read the letter again, his wistful thoughts of -his parents diminishing before the reality of his predicament. He -counted his money. Eighty dollars in the bank and twelve in his pockets. -He was glad he had started an account after his experience with Bessie. -He was glad that he had husbanded more than enough to pay his fare to -Indian Creek. Ninety-two dollars. He could live on that for a long time. -Perhaps for the summer. And he would be able to get some sort of job. He -was strong, anyway. That comforted him. He looked out of his window and -tried to enumerate the things that he could do. All sorts of farm work. -He could drive a team in the city. He could work on the docks. He -considered nothing but manual labor. It would offer more. Gradually his -fear that he would starve if left to his own devices ebbed from him, and -it was replaced by grief that he could not return to Webster. Fourteen -hundred dollars--that was the cost of his freshman year. He made a list -of the things he could do without, of the work he could do to help -himself through college. Perhaps he could return. The fear slowly -diminished. He would be a working student in the year to come. He hated -the idea. His fraternity had taken no members from that class of humble -young men who rose at dawn and scrubbed floors and waited on tables to -win the priceless gem of education. Lefty and Chuck would be chilly -toward such a step. They would even offer him money to avoid it. It was -a sad circumstance, at best. - -When that period of tribulation passed, Hugo became a man. But he -suffered keenly from his unwonted fears for some time. The calm and -suave youth who had made love to Iris was buried beneath his frightened -and imaginative adolescence. It wore out the last of his childishness. -Immediately afterwards he learned about money and how it is earned. He -sat there in the dormitory, almost trembling with uncertainty and used -mighty efforts to do the things he felt he must do. He wrote a letter to -his father which began: "Dear Dad--Why in Sam Hill didn't you tell me -you were being reamed so badly by your nit-witted son and I'd have -shovelled out and dug up some money for myself long ago?" On rereading -that letter he realized that its tone was false. He wrote another in -which he apologized with simple sincerity for the condition he had -unknowingly created, and in which he expressed every confidence that he -could take care of himself in the future. - -He bore that braver front through the last days of school. He shook -Lefty's hand warmly and looked fairly into his eyes. "Well, so long, old -sock. Be good." - -"Be good, Hugo. And don't weaken. We'll need all your beef next year. -Decided what you're going to do yet?" - -"No. Have you?" - -Lefty shrugged. "I suppose I've got to go abroad with the family as -usual. They wrote a dirty letter about the allowance I'd not have next -year if I didn't. Why don't you come with us? Iris'll be there." - -Hugo grinned. "No, sir! Iris once is very nice, but no man's equal to -Iris twice." His grin became a chuckle. "And that's a poem which you can -say to Iris if you see her--and tell her I hope it makes her mad." - -Lefty's blue eyes sparkled with appreciation. Danner was a wonderful -boy. Full of wit and not dumb like most of his kind. Getting smooth, -too. Be a great man. Too bad to leave him--even for the summer. -"Well--so long, old man." - -Hugo watched Lefty lift his bags into a cab and roll away in the warm -June dust. Then Chuck: - -"Well--by-by, Hugo. See you next September." - -"Yeah. Take care of yourself." - -"No chance of your going abroad, is there? Because we sure could paint -the old Avenue de l'Opéra red if you did." - -"Not this year, Chuck." - -"Well--don't take any wooden money." - -"Don't do anything you wouldn't eat." - -Hugo felt a lump in his throat. He could not say any more farewells. The -campus was almost deserted. No meals would be served after the next day. -He stared at the vacant dormitories and listened to the waning sound of -departures. A train puffed and fumed at the station. It was filled with -boys. Going away. He went to his room and packed. He'd leave, too. When -his suit-cases were filled, he looked round the room with damp eyes. He -thought that he was going to cry, mastered himself, and then did cry. -Some time later he remembered Iris and stopped crying. He walked to the -station, recalling his first journey in the other direction, his -pinch-backed green suit, the trunk he had carried. Grand old place, -Webster. Suddenly gone dead all over. There would be a train for New -York in half an hour. He took it. Some of the students talked to him on -the trip to the city. Then they left him, alone, in the great vacuum of -the terminal. The glittering corridors were filled with people. He -wondered if he could find Bessie's house. - -At a restaurant he ate supper. When he emerged, it was dark. He asked -his way, found a hotel, registered in a one-dollar room, went out on the -street again. He walked to the Raven. Then he took a cab. He remembered -Bessie's house. An old woman answered the door. "Bessie? Bessie? No girl -by that name I remember." - -Hugo described her. "Oh, that tart! She ran out on me--owin' a week's -rent." - -"When was that?" - -"Some time last fall." - -"Oh." Hugo meditated. The woman spoke again. "I did hear from one of my -other girls that she'd gone to work at Coney, but I ain't had time to -look her up. Owes me four dollars, she does. But Bessie, as you calls -her--her name's Sue--wasn't never much good. Still--" the woman -scrutinized Hugo and giggled--"Bessie ain't the only girl in the world. -I got a cute little piece up here named Palmerlee says only the other -night she's lonely. Glad to interdooce you." - -Hugo thought of his small capital. "No, thanks." - -He walked away. A warm moon was dimly sensible above the lights of the -street. He decided to go to Coney Island and look for the lost Bessie. -It would cost him only a dime, and she owed him money. He smiled a -little savagely and thought that he would collect its equivalent. Then -he boarded the subway, cursing himself for a fool and cursing his -appetite for the fool's master. Why did he chase that particular little -harlot on an evening when his mind should be bent toward more serious -purposes? Certainly not because he had any intention of getting back his -money. Because he wished to surprise her? Because he was angry that she -had cheated him? Or because she was the only woman in New York whom he -knew? He decided it was the last reason. Finally the train reached Coney -Island, and Hugo descended into the fantastic hurly-burly on the street -below. He realized the ridiculousness of his quest as he saw the miles -of thronging people in the loud streets. - -"See the fat woman, see Esmerelda, the beautiful fat woman, she weighs -six hundred pounds, she's had a dozen lovers, she's the fattest woman in -the world, a sensation, dressed in the robes of Cleopatra, robes that -took a bolt of cloth; but she's so fat they conceal nothing, ladies and -gentlemen, see the beautiful fat woman...." A roller coaster circled -through the skies with a noise that was audible above the crowd's -staccato voice and dashed itself at the earth below. A merry-go-round -whirled goldenly and a band struck up a strident march. Hugo smelled -stale beer and frying food. He heard the clang of a bell as a weight was -driven up to it by the shoulders of a young gentleman in a pink shirt. - -"The strongest man in the world, ladies and gentlemen, come in and see -Thorndyke, the great professor of physical culture from Munich, Germany. -He can bend a spike in his bare hands, an elephant can pass over his -body without harming him, he can lift a weight of one ton...." Hugo -laughed. Two girls saw him and brushed close. "Buy us a drink, sport." - -The strongest man in the world. Hugo wondered what sort of strong man he -would make. Perhaps he could go into competition with Dr. Thorndyke. He -saw himself pictured in gaudy reds and yellows, holding up an enormous -weight. He remembered that he was looking for Bessie. Then he saw -another girl. She was sitting at a table, alone. That fact was -significant. He sat beside her. - -"Hello, tough," she said. - -"Hello." - -"Wanna buy me a beer?" - -Hugo bought a beer and looked at the girl. Her hair was black and -straight. Her mouth was straight. It was painted scarlet. Her eyes were -hard and dark. But her body, as if to atone for her face, was made in a -series of soft curves that fitted exquisitely into her black silk dress. -He tortured himself looking at her. She permitted it sullenly. "You can -buy me a sandwich, if you want. I ain't eaten to-day." - -He bought a sandwich, wondering if she was telling the truth. She ate -ravenously. He bought another and then a second glass of beer. After -that she rose. "You can come with me if you wanna." - -Odd. No conversation, no vivacity, only a dull submission that was not -in keeping with her appearance. - -"Have you had enough to eat?" he asked. - -"It'll do," she responded. - -They turned into a side street and moved away from the shimmering lights -and the morass of people. Presently they entered a dingy frame house and -went upstairs. There was no one in the hall, no furniture, only a -flickering gas-light. She unlocked a door. "Come in." - -He looked at her again. She took off her hat and arranged her dark hair -so that it looped almost over one eye. Hugo wondered at her silence. "I -didn't mean to rush," he said. - -"Well, I did. Gotta make some more. It'll be"--she hesitated--"two -bucks." - -The girl sat down and wept. "Aw, hell," she said finally, looking at him -with a shameless defiance, "I guess I'm gonna make a rotten tart. I was -in a show, an' I got busted out for not bein' nice to the manager. I -says to myself: 'Well, what am I gonna do?' An' I starts to get hungry -this morning. So I says to myself: 'Well, there ain't but one thing to -do, Charlotte, but to get you a room,' I says, an' here I am, so help me -God." - -She removed her dress with a sweeping motion. Hugo looked at her, filled -with pity, filled with remorse at his sudden surrender to her passionate -good looks, intensely discomfited. - -"Listen. I have a roll in my pocket. I'm damn glad I came here first. I -haven't got a job, but I'll get one in the morning. And I'll get you a -decent room and stake you till you get work. God knows, I picked you up -for what I thought you were, Charlotte, and God knows too that I haven't -any noble nature. But I'm not going to let you go on the street simply -because you're broke. Not when you hate it so much." - -Charlotte shut her eyes tight and pressed out the last tears, which ran -into her rouge and streaked it with mascara. "That's sure white of you." - -"I don't know. Maybe it's selfish. I had an awful yen for you when I sat -down at that table. But let's not worry about it now. Let's go out and -get a decent dinner." - -"You mean--you mean you want me to go out and eat--now?" - -"Sure. Why not?" - -"But you ain't--?" - -"Forget it. Come on." - -Charlotte sniffled and buried her black tresses in her black dress. She -pulled it over the curves of her hips. She inspected herself in a -spotted mirror and sniffled again. Then she laughed. A throaty, gurgling -laugh. Her hands moved swiftly, and soon she turned. "How am I?" - -"Wonderful." - -"Let's go!" - -She tucked her hand under his arm when they reached the street. Hugo -walked silently. He wondered why he was doing it and to what it would -lead. It seemed good, wholly good, to have a girl at his side again, -especially a girl over whom he had so strong a claim. They stopped -before a glass-fronted restaurant that advertised its sea food and its -steaks. She sat down with an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I'm goin' to -eat you out of house and home." - -"Go ahead. I had a big supper, but I'll string along with some pie and -cheese and beer." - -Charlotte studied the menu. "Mind if I have a little steak?" - -Hugo shook his head slowly. "Waiter! A big T-bone, and some lyonnaise -potatoes, and some string beans and corn and a salad and ice cream. -Bring some pie and cheese for me--and a beer." - -"Gosh!" Charlotte said. - -Hugo watched her eat the food. He knew such pity as he had seldom felt. -Poor little kid! All alone, scared, going on the street because she -would starve otherwise. It made him feel strong and capable. Before the -meal was finished, she was talking furiously. Her pathetic life was -unravelled. "I come from Brooklyn ... old man took to drink, an' ma beat -it with a gent from Astoria ... never knew what happened to her.... I -kept house for the old man till he tried to get funny with me.... -Burlesque ... on the road ... the leading man.... He flew the coop when -I told him, and then when it came, it was dead...." Another job ... the -manager ... Coney and her dismissal. "I just couldn't let 'em have it -when I didn't like 'em, mister. Guess I'm not tough like the other -girls. My mother was French and she brought me up kind of decent. -Well...." The little outward turning of her hands, the shrug of her -shoulders. - -"Don't worry, Charlotte. I won't let them eat you. To-morrow I'll set -you up to a decent room and we'll go out and find some jobs here." - -"You don't have to do that, mister. I'll make out. All I needed was a -square and another day." - -Charlotte sighed and smoked a cigarette with her coffee. Then they went -out on the street and mixed with the throng. The voices of a score of -barkers wheedled them. Hugo began to feel gay. He took Charlotte to see -the strong man and watched his feats with a critical eye. He took her on -the roller coaster and became taut and laughing when she screamed and -held him. Then, laughing louder than before, they went through -Steeplechase. She fell in the rolling barrel and he carried her out. -They crossed over moving staircases and lost themselves in a maze, and -slid down polished chutes into fountains of light and excited screaming. -Always, afterwards, her hand found his arm, her great dark eyes looked -into his and laughed. Always they turned toward the other men and girls -with a proud and haughty expression that pointed to Hugo as her man, her -conquest. Later they danced. They drank more beer. - -"Golly," she whispered, as she snuggled against him, "you sure strut a -mean fox trot." - -"So do you, Charlotte." - -"I been doin' it a lot, I guess." - -The brazen crash of a finale. The table. A babble of voices, voices of -people snatching pleasure from Coney Island's gaudy barrel of cheap -amusements. Hugo liked it then. He liked the smell and touch of the -multitude and the incessant hysteria of its presence. After midnight the -music became more aggravating--muted, insinuating. Several of the -dancers were drunk. One of them tried to cut in. Hugo shook his head. - -"Gee!" Charlotte said, "I was sure hopin' you wouldn't let him." - -"Why--I never thought of it." - -"Most fellows would. He's a tough." - -It was an introduction to an unfamiliar world. The "tough" came to their -table and asked for a dance in thick accents. Charlotte paled and -accepted. Hugo refused. "Say, bo, I'm askin' for a dance. I got -concessions here. You can't refuse me, see? I guess you got me wrong." - -"Beat it," Hugo said, "before I take a poke at you." - -The intruder's answer was a swinging fist, which missed Hugo by a wide -margin. Hugo stood and dropped him with a single clean blow. The manager -came up, expostulated, ordered the tough's inert form from the floor, -started the music. - -"You shouldn't ought to have done it, mister. He'll get his gang." - -"The hell with his gang." - -Charlotte sighed. "That's the first time anybody ever stuck up for me. -Jeest, mister, I've been wishin' an' wishin' for the day when somebody -would bruise his knuckles for me." - -Hugo laughed. "Hey, waiter! Two beers." - -When she yawned, he took her out to the boulevard and walked at her side -toward the shabby house. They reached the steps, and Charlotte began to -cry. - -"What's the matter?" - -"I was goin' to thank you, but I don't know how. It was too nice of you. -An' now I suppose I'll never see you again." - -"Don't be silly. I'll show up at eight in the morning and we'll have -breakfast together." - -Charlotte looked into his face wistfully. "Say, kid, be a good guy and -take me to your hotel, will you? I'm scared I'll lose you." - -He held her hands. "You won't lose me. And I haven't got a hotel--yet." - -"Then--come up an' stay with me. Honest, I'm all right. I can prove it -to you. It'll be doin' me a favor." - -"I ought not to, Charlotte." - -She threw her arms around him and kissed him. He felt her breath on his -lips and the warmth of her body. "You gotta, kid. You're all I ever had. -Please, please." - -Hugo walked up the stairs thoughtfully. In her small room he watched her -disrobe. So willingly now--so eagerly. She turned back the covers of the -bed. "It ain't much of a dump, baby, but I'll make you like it." - -Much later, in the abyss of darkness, he heard her voice, sleepy and -still husky. "Say, mister, what's your name?" - -In the morning they went down to the boulevard together. The gay débris -of the night before lay in the street, and men were sweeping it away. -But their spirits were high. They had breakfast together in a quiet -enchantment. Once she kissed him. - -"Would you like to keep house--for me?" he asked. - -"Do you mean it?" She seemed to doubt every instant that good fortune -had descended permanently upon her. She was like a dreamer who -anticipated a sombre awakening even while he clung to the bliss of his -dream. - -"Sure, I mean it. I'll get a job and we'll find an apartment and you can -spend your spare time swimming and lying on the beach." He knew a twinge -of unexpected jealousy. "That is, if you'll promise not to look at all -the men who are going to look at you." He was ashamed of that statement. - -Charlotte, however, was not sufficiently civilized to be displeased. "Do -you think I'd two-time the first gent that ever worried about what I did -in my spare moments? Why, if you brought home a few bucks to most of the -birds I know, they wouldn't even ask how you earned it--they'd be so -busy lookin' for another girl an' a shot of gin." - -"Well--let's go." - -Hugo went to one of the largest side shows. After some questioning he -found the manager. "I'm H. Smith," he said, "and I want to apply for a -job." - -"Doin' what?" - -"This is my wife." The manager stared and nodded. Charlotte took his arm -and rubbed it against herself, thinking, perhaps, that it was a wifely -gesture. Hugo smiled inwardly and then looked at the sprawled form of -the manager. There, to that seamy-faced and dour man who was almost -unlike a human being, he was going to offer the first sale of his -majestic strength. A side-show manager, sitting behind a dirty desk in a -dirty building. - -"A strong-man act," Hugo said. - -Charlotte tittered. She thought that the bravado of her new friend was -over-stepping the limits of good sense. The manager sat up. "I'd like to -have a good strong man, yes. The show needs one. But you're not the -bird. You haven't got the beef. Go over and watch that damned German -work." - -Hugo bent over and fastened one hand on the back of the chair on which -the manager sat. Without evidence of effort he lifted the chair and its -occupant high over his head. - -"For Christ's sake, let me down," the manager said. - -Hugo swung him through the air in a wide arc. "I say, mister, that I'm -three times stronger than that German. And I want your job. If I don't -look strong enough, I'll wear some padded tights. And I'll give you a -show that'll be worth the admission. But I want a slice of the entrance -price--and maybe a separate tent, see? My name is Hogarth"--he winked at -Charlotte--"and you'll never be sorry you took me on." - -The manager, panting and astonished, was returned to the floor. His -anger struggled with his pleasure at Hugo's showmanship. "Well, what -else can you do? Weight-lifting is pretty stale." - -Hugo thought quickly. "I can bend a railroad rail--not a spike. I can -lift a full-grown horse with one--one shoulder. I can chin myself on my -little finger. I can set a bear trap with my teeth--" - -"That's a good number." - -"I can push up just twice as much weight as any one else in the game and -you can print a challenge on my tent. I can pull a boa constrictor -straight--" - -"We'll give you a chance. Come around here at three this afternoon with -your stuff and we'll try your act. Does this lady work in it? That'll -help." - -"Yes," Charlotte said. - -Hugo nodded. "She's my assistant." - -They left the building, and when she was sure they were out of earshot, -Charlotte said: "What do you do, strong boy, fake 'em?" - -"No. I do them." - -"Aw--you don't need to kid me." - -"I'm not. You saw me lift him, didn't you? Well--that was nothing." - -"Jeest! That I should live to see the day I got a bird like you." - -Until three o'clock Hugo and Charlotte occupied their time with feverish -activity. They found a small apartment not far from the sea-shore. It -was clean and bright and it had windows on two sides. Its furniture was -nearly new, and Charlotte, with tears in her eyes, sat in all the -chairs, lay on the bed, took the egg-beater from the drawer in the -kitchen table and spun it in an empty bowl. They went out together and -bought a quantity and a variety of food. They ate an early luncheon and -Hugo set out to gather the properties for his demonstration. At three -o'clock, before a dozen men, he gave an exhibition of strength the like -of which had never been seen in any museum of human abnormalities. - -When he went back to his apartment, Charlotte, in a gingham dress which -she had bought with part of the money he had given her, was preparing -dinner. He took her on his lap. "Did you get the job?" - -"Sure I did. Fifty a week and ten per cent of the gate receipts." - -"Gee! That's a lot of money!" - -Hugo nodded and kissed her. He was very happy. Happier, in a certain -way, than he had ever been or ever would be again. His livelihood was -assured. He was going to live with a woman, to have one always near to -love and to share his life. It was that concept of companionship, above -all other things, which made him glad. - -Two days later, as Hugo worked to prepare the vehicles of his -exhibition, he heard an altercation outside the tent that had been -erected for him. A voice said: "Whatcha tryin' to do there, anyhow?" - -"Why, I was making this strong man as I saw him. A man with the -expression of strength in his face." - -"But you gotta bat' robe on him. What we want is muscles. Muscles, bo. -Bigger an' better than any picture of any strong man ever made. Put one -here--an' one there--" - -"But that isn't correct anatomy." - -"To hell wit' that stuff. Put one there, I says." - -"But he'll be out of drawing, awkward, absurd." - -"Say, listen, do you want ten bucks for painting this sign or shall I -give it to some one else?" - -"Very well. I'll do as you say. Only--it isn't right." - -Hugo walked out of the tent. A young man was bending over a huge sheet -made of many lengths of oilcloth sewn together. He was a small person, -with pale eyes and a white skin. Beside him stood the manager, eyeing -critically the strokes applied to the cloth. In a semi-finished state -was the young man's picture of the imaginary Hogarth. - -"That's pretty good," Hugo said. - -The young man smiled apologetically. "It isn't quite right. You can see -for yourself you have no muscles there--and there. I suppose you're -Hogarth?" - -"Yes." - -"Well--I tried to explain the anatomy of it, but Mr. Smoots says anatomy -doesn't matter. So here we go." He made a broad orange streak. - -Hugo smiled. "Smoots is not an anatomical critic of any renown. I say, -Smoots, let him paint it as he sees best. God knows the other posters -are atrocious enough." - -The youth looked up from his work. "Good God, don't tell me you're -really Hogarth!" - -"Sure. Why not?" - -"Well--well--I--I guess it was your English." - -"That's funny. And I don't blame you." Hugo realized that the young -sign-painter was a person of some culture. He was about Hugo's age, -although he seemed younger on first glance. "As a matter of fact, I'm a -college man." Smoots had moved away. "But, for the love of God, don't -tell any one around here." - -The painter stopped. "Is that so! And you're doing this--to make money?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, I'll be doggoned. Me, too. I study at the School of Design in the -winter, and in the summer I come out here to do signs and lightning -portraits and whatever else I can to make the money for it. Sometimes," -he added, "I pick up more than a thousand bucks in a season. This is my -fourth year at it." - -There was in the young artist's eye a hint of amusement, a suggestion -that they were in league. Hugo liked him. He sat down on a box. "Live -here?" - -"Yes. Three blocks away." - -"Me, too. Why not come up and have supper with--my wife and me?" - -"Are you married?" The artist commenced work again. - -Hugo hesitated. "Yeah." - -"Sure I'll come up. My name's Valentine Mitchel. I can't shake hands -just now. It's been a long time since I've talked to any one who doesn't -say 'deez' and 'doze.'" - -When, later in the day, they walked toward Hugo's home, he was at a loss -to explain Charlotte. The young painter would not understand why he, a -college man, chose so ignorant a mate. On the other hand, he owed it to -Charlotte to keep their secret and he was not obliged to make any -explanation. - -Valentine Mitchel was, however, a young man of some sensitivity. If he -winced at Charlotte's "Pleased to meetcher," he did not show it. Later, -after an excellent and hilarious meal, he must have guessed the -situation. He went home reluctantly and Hugo was delighted with him. He -had been urbane and filled with anecdotes of Greenwich Village and -art-school life, of Paris, whither his struggling footsteps had taken -him for a hallowed year. And with his acceptance of Hugo came an equally -warm pleasure in Charlotte's company. - -"He's a good little kid," Charlotte said. - -"Yes. I'm glad I picked him up." - -The gala opening of Hogarth's Studio of Strength took place a few nights -afterwards. It proved even more successful than Smoots had hoped. The -flamboyant advertising posters attracted crowds to see the man who could -set a bear trap with his teeth, who could pull an angry boa constrictor -into a straight line. Before ranks of gaping faces that were supplanted -by new ranks every hour, Hugo performed. Charlotte, resplendent in a -black dress that left her knees bare, and a red sash that all but -obliterated the dress, helped Hugo with his ponderous props, setting off -his strength by contrast, and sold the pamphlets Hugo had written at -Smoots's suggestion--pamphlets that purported to give away the secret -of Hogarth's phenomenal muscle power. Valentine Mitchel watched the -entire performance. - -When it was over, he said to Hugo: "Now you better beat it back and get -a hot bath. You're probably all in." - -"Yes," Charlotte said. "Come. I myself will bathe you." - -Hugo grinned. "Hell, no. Now we're all going on a bender to celebrate. -We'll eat at Villapigue's and we'll take a moonlight sail." - -They went together, marvelling at his vitality, gay, young, and living -in a world that they managed to forget did not exist. The night was -warm. The days that followed were warmer. The crowds came and the brassy -music hooted and coughed over them night and day. - -There are, in the lives of almost every man and woman, certain brief -episodes that, enduring for a long or a short time, leave in the memory -a sense of completeness. To those moments humanity returns for refuge, -for courage, and for solace. It was of such material that Hugo's next -two months were composed. The items of it were nearly all sensuous: the -sound of the sea when he sat in the sand late at night with Charlotte; -the whoop and bellow of the merry-go-round that spun and glittered -across the street from his tent; the inarticulate breathing and the -white-knuckled clenchings of the crowd as it lifted its face to his -efforts, for each of which he assumed a slow, painful motion that -exaggerated its difficulty; the smell of the sea, intermingled with a -thousand man-made odors; the faint, pervasive scent of Charlotte that -clung to him, his clothes, his house; the pageant of the people, always -in a huge parade, going nowhere, celebrating nothing but the functions -of living, loud, garish, cheap, splendid; breakfasts at his table with -his woman's voluptuousness abated in the bright sunlight to little more -than a reminiscence and a promise; the taste of beer and pop-corn and -frankfurters and lobster and steak; the affable, talkative company of -Valentine Mitchel. - -Only once that he could recall afterwards did he allow his intellect to -act in any critical direction, and that was in a conversation with the -young artist. They were sitting together in the sand, and Charlotte, -browned by weeks of bathing, lay near by. "Here I am," Mitchel said with -an unusual thoughtfulness, "with a talent that should be recognized, -wanting to be an illustrator, able to be one, and yet forced to dawdle -with this horrible business to make my living." - -Hugo nodded. "You'll come through--some winter--and you won't ever -return to Coney Island." - -"I know it. Unless I do it for sentimental reasons some day--in a -limousine." - -"It's myself," Hugo said then, "and not you who is doomed to--well, to -this sort of thing. You have a talent that is at least understandable -and--" he was going to say mediocre. He checked himself--"applicable in -the world of human affairs. My talent--if it is a talent--has no place, -no application, no audience." - -Mitchel stared at Hugo, wondering first what that talent might be and -then recognizing that Hugo meant his strength. "Nonsense. Any male in -his right senses would give all his wits to be as strong as you are." - -It was a polite, friendly thing to say. Hugo could not refrain from -comparing himself to Valentine Mitchel. An artist--a clever artist and -one who would some day be important to the world. Because people could -understand what he drew, because it represented a level of thought and -expression. He was, like Hugo, in the doldrums of progress. But Mitchel -would emerge, succeed, be happy--or at least satisfied with -himself--while Hugo was bound to silence, was compelled never to allow -himself full expression. Humanity would never accept and understand him. -They were not similar people, but their case was, at that instant, -ironically parallel. "It isn't only being strong," he answered -meditatively, "but it's knowing what to do with your strength." - -"Why--there are a thousand things to do." - -"Such as?" - -Mitchel raised himself on his elbows and turned his water-coloured eyes -on the populous beach. "Well--well--let's see. You could, of course, be -a strong man and amuse people--which you're doing. You could--oh, there -are lots of things you could do." - -Hugo smiled. "I've been thinking about them--for years. And I can't -discover any that are worth the effort." - -"Bosh!" - -Charlotte moved close to him. "There's one thing you can do, honey, and -that's enough for me." - -"I wonder," Hugo said with a seriousness the other two did not perceive. - -The increased heat of August suggested by its very intensity a shortness -of duration, an end of summer. Hugo began to wonder what he would do -with Charlotte when he went back to Webster. He worried about her a good -deal and she, guessing the subject of his frequent fits of silence, made -a resolve in her tough and worldly mind. She had learned more about -certain facets of Hugo than he knew himself. She realized that he was -superior to her and that, in almost any other place than Coney Island, -she would be a liability to him. The thought that he would have to -desert her made Hugo very miserable. He knew that he would miss -Charlotte and he knew that the blow to her might spell disaster. After -all, he thought, he had not improved her morals or raised her vision. He -did not realize that he had made both almost sublime by the mere act of -being considerate. "White," Charlotte called it. - -Nevertheless she was not without an intense sense of self-protection, -despite her condition on the night he had found her. She knew that -womankind lived at the expense of mankind. She saw the emotional -respect in which Valentine Mitchel unwittingly held Hugo. He had -scarcely spoken ten serious words to her. She realized that the artist -saw her as a property of his friend. That, in a way, made her valuable. -It was a subtle advantage, which she pressed with all the skill it -required. One night when Hugo was at work and the chill of autumn had -breathed on the hot shore, she told Valentine that he was a very nice -boy and that she liked him very much. He went away distraught, which was -what she had intended, and he carried with him a new and as yet -inarticulate idea, which was what she had foreseen. - -He believed that he loved her. He told himself that Hugo was going to -desert her, that she would be forsaken and alone. At that point, she -recited to him the story of her life and the tale of her rescue by Hugo -and said at the end that she would be very lonely when Hugo was gone. -Because Hugo had loved her, Mitchel thought she contained depths and -values which did not appear. That she contained such depths neither man -really knew then. Both of them learned it much later. Mitchel found -himself in that very artistic dilemma of being in love with his friend's -mistress. It terrified his romantic soul and it involved him -inextricably. - -When she felt that the situation had ripened to the point of action, she -waited for the precise moment. It came swiftly and in a better guise -than she had hoped. On a night in early September, when the crowds had -thinned a little, Hugo was just buckling himself into the harness that -lifted the horse. The spectators were waiting for the dénouement with -bickering patience. Charlotte was standing on the platform, watching him -with expressionless eyes. She knew that soon she would not see Hugo any -more. She knew that he was tired of his small show, that he was chafing -to be gone; and she knew that his loyalty to her would never let him go -unless it was made inevitable by her. The horse was ready. She watched -the muscles start out beneath Hugo's tawny skin. She saw his lips set, -his head thrust back. She worshipped him like that. Unemotionally, she -saw the horse lifted up from the floor. She heard the applause. There -was a bustle at the gate. - -Half a dozen people entered in single file. Three young men. Three -girls. They were intoxicated. They laughed and spoke in loud voices. She -saw by their clothes and their manner that they were rich. Slumming in -Coney Island. She smiled at the young men as she had always smiled at -such young men, friendlily, impersonally. Hugo did not see their -entrance. They came very near. - -"My God, it's Hugo Danner!" - -Hugo heard Lefty's voice and recognized it. The horse was dropped to the -floor. He turned. An expression of startled amazement crossed his -features. Chuck, Lefty, Iris, and three people whom he did not know were -staring at him. He saw the stupefied recognition on the faces of his -friends. One despairing glance he cast at Charlotte and then he went on -with his act. - -They waited for him until it was over. They clasped him to their bosoms. -They acknowledged Charlotte with critical glances. "Come on and join the -party," they said. - -After that, their silence was worse than any questions. They talked -freely and merrily enough, but behind their words was a deep reserve. -Lefty broke it when he had an opportunity to take Hugo aside. "What in -hell is eating you? Aren't you coming back to Webster?" - -"Sure. That is--I think so. I had to do this to make some money. Just -about the time school closed, my family went broke." - -"But, good God, man, why didn't you tell us? My father is an alumnus and -he'd put up five thousand a year, if necessary, to see you kept on the -football team." - -Hugo laughed. "You don't think I'd take it, Lefty?" - -"Why not?" A pause. "No, I suppose you'd be just the God-damned kind of -a fool that wouldn't. Who's the girl?" - -Hugo did not falter. "She's a tart I've been living with. I never knew a -better one--girl, that is." - -"Have you gone crazy?" - -"On the contrary, I've got wise." - -"Well, for Christ's sake, don't say anything about it on the campus." - -Hugo bit his lip. "Don't worry. My business is--my own." - -They joined the others, drinking at the table. Charlotte was telling a -joke. It was not a nice joke. He had not thought of her jokes -before--because Iris and Chuck and Lefty had not been listening to them. -Now, he was embarrassed. Iris asked him to dance with her. They went out -on the floor. - -"Lovely little thing, that Charlotte," she said acidly. - -"Isn't she!" Hugo answered with such enthusiasm that she did not speak -during the rest of the dance. - -Finally the ordeal ended. Lefty and his guests embarked in an automobile -for the city. - -"You know such people," Charlotte half-whispered. Hugo's cheeks still -flamed, but his heart bled for her. - -"I guess they aren't much," he replied. - -She answered hotly: "Don't you be like that! They're nice people. -They're fine people. That Iris even asked me to her house. Gave me a -card to see her." Charlotte could guess what Iris wanted. So could Hugo. -But Charlotte pretended to be innocent. - -He kissed Charlotte good-night and walked in the streets until morning. -Hugo could see no solution. Charlotte was so trusting, so good to him. -He could not imagine how she would receive any suggestion that she go to -New York and get a job, while he returned to college, that he see her -during vacations, that he send money to her. But he knew that a hot -fire dwelt within her and that her fury would rise, her grief, and that -he would be made very miserable and ashamed. She chided him at breakfast -for his walk in the dark. She laughed and kissed him and pushed him -bodily to his work. He looked back as he walked down to the curb. She -was leaning out of the window. She waved her hand. He rounded the corner -with wretched, leaden steps. The morning, concerned with the petty -business of receipts, refurbishings, cleaning, went slowly. When he -returned for lunch it was with the decision to tell her the truth about -his life and its requirements and to let her decide. - -She did not come to the door to kiss him. (She had imagined that lonely -return.) She did not answer his brave and cheerful hail. (She had let -the sound of it ring upon her ear a thousand times.) She was gone. (She -knew he would sit down and cry.) Then, stumbling, he found the two -notes. But he already understood. - -The message from Valentine Mitchel was reckless, impetuous. "Dear -Hugo--Charlotte and I have fallen in love with each other and I've run -away with her. I almost wish you'd come after us and kill me. I hate -myself for betraying you. But I love her, so I cannot help it. I've -learned to see in her what you first saw in her. Good-bye, good luck." - -Hugo put it down. Charlotte would be good to him. In a way, he didn't -deserve her. And when he was famous, some day, perhaps she would leave -him, too. He hesitated to read her note. "Good-bye, darling, I do not -love you any more. C." - -It was ludicrous, transparent, pitiful, and heroic. Hugo saw all those -qualities. "Good-bye, darling, I do not love you any more." She had -written it under Valentine's eyes. But she was shrewd enough to placate -her new lover while she told her sad little story to her old. She would -want him to feel bad. Well, God knew, he did. Hugo looked at the room. -He sobbed. He bolted into the street, tears streaming down his cheeks; -he drew his savings from the bank--seven hundred and eighty-four dollars -and sixty-four cents; he rushed to the haunted house, flung his clothes -into a bag; he sat drearily on a subway for an hour. He paced the smooth -floor of a station. He swung aboard a train. He came to Webster, his -head high, feeling a great pride in Charlotte and in his love for her, -walking in glad strides over the familiar soil. - - - - -IX - - -Hugo sat alone and marvelled at the exquisite torment of his -_Weltschmertz_. Far away, across the campus, he heard singing. Against -the square segment of sky visible from the bay window of his room he -could see the light of the great fire they had built to celebrate -victory--his victory. The light leaped into the darkness above like a -great golden ghost in some fantastic ascension, and beneath it, he knew, -a thousand students were dancing. They were druid priests at a rite to -the god of football. His fingers struggled through his black hair. The -day was fresh in his mind--the bellowing stands, the taut, almost -frightened faces of the eleven men who faced him, the smack and flight -of the brown oval, the lumbering sound of men running, the sucking of -the breath of men and their sharp, painful fall to earth. - -In his mind was a sharp picture of himself and the eyes that watched him -as he broke away time and again, with infantile ease, to carry that -precious ball. He let them make a touchdown that he could have averted. -He made one himself. Then another. The bell on Webster Hall was booming -its pćan of victory. He stiffened under the steady monody. He remembered -again. Lefty barking signals with a strange agony in his voice. Lefty -pounding on his shoulder. "Go in there, Hugo, and give it to them. I -can't." Lefty pleading. And the captain, Jerry Painter, cursing in open -jealousy of Hugo, vying hopelessly with Hugo Danner, the man who was a -god. - -It was not fair. Not right. The old and early glory was ebbing from it. -When he put down the ball, safely across the goal for the winning -touchdown, he saw three of the men on the opposing team lie down and -weep. There he stood, pretending to pant, feigning physical distress, -making himself a hero at the expense of innocent victims. Jackstraws for -a giant. There was no triumph in that. He could not go on. - -Afterwards they had made him speak, and the breathless words that had -once come so easily moved heavily through his mind. Yet he had carried -his advantage beyond the point of turning back. He could not say that -the opponents of Webster might as well attempt to hold back a -Juggernaut, to throw down a siege-gun, to outrace light, as to lay their -hands on him to check his intent. Webster had been good to him. He loved -Webster and it deserved his best. His best! He peered again into the -celebrating night and wondered what that awful best would be. - -He desired passionately to be able to give that--to cover the earth, -making men glad and bringing a revolution into their lives, to work -himself into a fury and to fatigue his incredible sinews, to end with -the feeling of a race well run, a task nobly executed. And, for a year, -that ambition had seemed in some small way to be approaching fruition. -Now it was turned to ashes. It was not with the muscles of men that his -goal was to be attained. They could not oppose him. - -As he sat gloomy and distressed, he wondered for what reason there -burned in him that wish to do great deeds. Humanity itself was too -selfish and too ignorant to care. It could boil in its tiny prejudices -for centuries to come and never know that there could be a difference. -Moreover, who was he to grind his soul and beat his thoughts for the -benefit of people who would never know and never care? What honour, when -he was dead, to lie beneath a slab on which was punily graven some note -of mighty accomplishment? Why could he not content himself with the food -he ate, the sunshine, with wind in trees, and cold water, and a woman? -It was that sad and silly command within to transcend his vegetable self -that made him human. He tried to think about it bitterly: fool man, -grown suddenly more conscious than the other beasts--how quickly he had -become vain because of it and how that vanity led him forever onward! Or -was it vanity--when his aching soul proclaimed that he would gladly -achieve and die without other recognition or acclaim than that which -rose within himself? Martyrs were made of such stuff. And was not that, -perhaps, an even more exaggerated vanity? It was so pitiful to be a man -and nothing more. Hugo bowed his head and let his body tremble with -strange agony. Perhaps, he thought, even the agony was a selfish -pleasure to him. Then he should be ashamed. He felt shame and then -thought that the feeling rose from a wish for it and foundered angrily -in the confusion of his introspection. He knew only and knew but dimly -that he would lift himself up again and go on, searching for some -universal foe to match against his strength. So pitiful to be a man! So -Christ must have felt in Gethsemane. - -"Hey, Hugo!" - -"Yeah?" - -"What the hell did you come over here for?" - -"To be alone." - -"Is that a hint?" Lefty entered the room. "They want you over at the -bonfire. We've been looking all over for you." - -"All right. I'll go. But, honest to God, I've had enough of this -business for to-day." - -Lefty slapped Hugo's shoulders. "The great must pay for their celebrity. -Come on, you sap." - -"All right." - -"What's the matter? Anything the matter?" - -"No. Nothing's the matter. Only--it's sort of sad to be--" Hugo checked -himself. - -"Sad? Good God, man, you're going stale." - -"Maybe that's it." Hugo had a sudden fancy. "Do you suppose I could be -let out of next week's game?" - -"What for? My God--" - -Hugo pursued the idea. "It's the last game. I can sit on the lines. You -fellows all play good ball. You can probably win. If you can't--then -I'll play. If you only knew, Lefty, how tired I get sometimes--" - -"Tired! Why don't you say something about it? You can lay off practice -for three or four days." - -"Not that. Tired in the head, not the body. Tired of crashing through -and always getting away with it. Oh, I'm not conceited. But I know they -can't stop me. You know it. It's a gift of mine--and a curse. How about -it? Let's start next week without me." - -The night ended at last. A new day came. The bell on Webster Hall -stopped booming. Woodie, the coach, came to see Hugo between classes. -"Lefty says you want us to start without you next week. What's the big -idea?" - -"I don't know. I thought the other birds would like a shot at Yale -without me. They can do it." - -Mr. Woodman eyed his player. "That's pretty generous of you, Hugo. Is -there any other reason?" - -"Not--that I can explain." - -"I see." The coach offered Hugo a cigarette after he had helped himself. -"Take it. It'll do you good." - -"Thanks." - -"Listen, Hugo. I want to ask you a question. But, first, I want you to -promise you'll give me a plain answer." - -"I'll try." - -"That won't do." - -"Well--I can't promise." - -Woodman sighed. "I'll ask it anyway. You can answer or not--just as you -wish." He was silent. He inhaled his cigarette and blew the smoke -through his nostrils. His eyes rested on Hugo with an expression of -intense interest, beneath which was a softer light of something not -unlike sympathy. "I'll have to tell you something, first, Hugo. When you -went away last summer, I took a trip to Colorado." - -Hugo started, and Woodman continued: "To Indian Creek. I met your father -and your mother. I told them that I knew you. I did my best to gain -their confidence. You see, Hugo, I've watched you with a more skilful -eye than most people. I've seen you do things, a few little things, that -weren't--well--that weren't--" - -Hugo's throat was dry. "Natural?" - -"That's the best word, I guess. You were never like my other boys, in -any case. So I thought I'd find out what I could. I must admit that my -efforts with your father were a failure. Aside from the fact that he is -an able biology teacher and that he had a number of queer theories years -ago, I learned nothing. But I did find out what those theories were. Do -you want me to stop?" - -A peculiar, almost hopeful expression was on Hugo's face. "No," he -answered. - -"Well, they had to do with the biochemistry of cellular structure, -didn't they? And with the production of energy in cells? And then--I -talked to lots of people. I heard about Samson." - -"Samson!" Hugo echoed, as if the dead had spoken. - -"Samson--the cat." - -Hugo was as pale as chalk. His eyes burned darkly. He felt that his -universe was slipping from beneath him. "You know, then," he said. - -"I don't know, Hugo. I merely guessed. I was going to ask. Now I shall -not. Perhaps I do know. But I had another question, son--" - -"Yes?" Hugo looked at Woodman and felt then the reason for his success -as a coach, as a leader and master of youth. He understood it. - -"Well, I wondered if you thought it was worth while to talk to your -father and discover--" - -"What he did?" Hugo suggested hoarsely. - -Woodman put his hand on Hugo's knee. "What he did, son. You ought to -know by this time what it means. I've been watching you. I don't want -your head to swell, but you're a great boy, Hugo. Not only in beef. You -have a brain and an imagination and a sense of moral responsibility. -You'll come out better than the rest--you would even without your--your -particular talent. And I thought you might think that the rest of -humanity would profit--" - -Hugo jumped to his feet. "No. A thousand times no. For the love of -Christ--no! You don't know or understand, you can't conceive, Woodie, -what it means to have it. You don't have the faintest idea of its -amount--what it tempts you with--what they did to me and I did to myself -to beat it--if I have beaten it." He laughed. "Listen, Woodie. Anything -I want is mine. Anything I desire I can take. No one can hinder. And -sometimes I sweat all night for fear some day I shall lose my temper. -There's a desire in me to break and destroy and wreck that--oh, hell--" - -Woodman waited. Then he spoke quietly. "You're sure, Hugo, that the -desire to be the only one--like that--has nothing to do with it?" - -Hugo's sole response was to look into Woodman's eyes, a look so pregnant -with meaning, so tortured, so humble, that the coach swore softly. Then -he held out his hand. "Well, Hugo, that's all. You've been damn swell -about it. The way I hoped you would be. And I think my answer is plain. -One thing. As long as I live, I promise on my oath I'll never give you -away or support any rumour that hurts your secret." - -Even Hugo was stirred to a consciousness of the strength of the other -man's grip. - -Saturday. A shrill whistle. The thump of leather against leather. The -roar of the stadium. - -Hugo leaned forward. He watched his fellows from the bench. They rushed -across the field. Lefty caught the ball. Eddie Carter interfered with -the first man, Bimbo Gaines with the second. The third slammed Lefty -against the earth. Three downs. Eight yards. A kick. New Haven brought -the ball to its twenty-one-yard line. The men in helmets formed again. A -coughing voice. Pandemonium. Again in line. The voice. The riot of -figures suddenly still. Again. A kick. Lefty with the ball, and Bimbo -Gaines leading him, his big body a shield. Down. A break and a run for -twenty-eight yards. Must have been Chuck. Good old Chuck. He'd be -playing the game of his life. Graduation next spring. Four, seven, -eleven, thirty-two, fifty-five. Hugo anticipated the spreading of the -players. He looked where the ball would be thrown. He watched Minton, -the end, spring forward, saw him falter, saw the opposing quarterback -run in, saw Lefty thrown, saw the ball received by the enemy and moved -up, saw the opposing back spilled nastily. His heart beat faster. - -No score at the end of the first half. The third quarter witnessed the -crossing of Webster's goal. Struggling grimly, gamely, against a team -that was their superior without Hugo, against a team heartened by the -knowledge that Hugo was not facing it, Webster's players were being -beaten. The goal was not kicked. It made the score six to nothing -against Webster. Hugo saw the captain rip off his headgear and throw it -angrily on the ground. He understood all that was going on in the minds -of his team in a clear, although remote, way. They went out to show -that they could play the game without Hugo Danner. And they were not -showing what they had hoped to show. A few minutes later their opponents -made a second touchdown. - -Thirteen to nothing. Mr. Woodman moved beside Hugo. "They can't do -it--and I don't altogether blame them. They've depended on you too much. -It's too bad. We all have." - -Hugo nodded. "Shall I go in?" - -The coach watched the next play. "I guess you better." - -When Hugo entered the line, Jerry Painter and Lefty spoke to him in -strained tones. "You've got to take it over, Hugo--all the way." - -"All right." - -The men lined up. A tense silence had fallen on the Yale line. They knew -what was going to happen. The signals were called, the ball shot back to -Lefty, Hugo began to run, the men in front rushed together, and Lefty -stuffed the ball into Hugo's arms. "Go on," he shouted. The touchdown -was made in one play. Hugo saw a narrow hole and scooted into it. A man -met his outstretched arm on the other side. Another. Hugo dodged twice. -The crescendo roar of the Webster section came to him dimly. He avoided -the safety man and ran to the goal. In the pandemonium afterwards, Jerry -kicked the goal. - -A new kick-off. Hugo felt a hand on his shoulder. "You've gotta break -this up." Hugo broke it up. He held Yale almost single-handed. They -kicked back. Hugo returned the kick to the middle of the field. He did -not dare to do more. - -Then he stood in his leather helmet, bent, alert, waiting to run again. -They called the captain's signal. He made four yards. Then Lefty's. He -made a first down. Then Jerry's. Two yards. Six yards. Five yards. -Another first down. The stands were insane. Hugo was glad they were not -using him--glad until he saw Jerry Painter's face. It was pale with -rage. Blood trickled across it from a small cut. Three tries failed. -Hugo spoke to him. "I'll take it over, Jerry, if you say so." - -Jerry doubled his fist and would have struck him if Hugo had not stepped -back. "God damn you, Danner, you come out here in the last few minutes -all fresh and make us look like a lot of fools. I tell you, my team and -I will take that ball across and not you with your bastard tricks." - -"But, good God, man--" - -"You heard me." - -"This is your last down." - -There was time for nothing more. Lefty called Jerry's signal, and Jerry -failed. The other team took the ball, rushed it twice, and kicked back -into the Webster territory. Again the tired, dogged players began a -march forward. The ball was not given to Hugo. He did his best, using -his body as a ram to open holes in the line, tripping tacklers with his -body, fighting within the limits of an appearance of human strength to -get his teammates through to victory. And Jerry, still pale and profane, -drove the men like slaves. It was useless. If Hugo had dared more, they -might have succeeded. But they lost the ball again. It was only in the -last few seconds that an exhausted and victorious team relinquished the -ball to Webster. - -Jerry ordered his own number again. Hugo, cold and somewhat furious at -the vanity and injustice of the performance, gritted his teeth. "How -about letting me try, Jerry? I can make it. It's for Webster--not for -you." - -"You go to hell." - -Lefty said: "You're out of your head, Jerry." - -"I said I'd take it." - -For one instant Hugo looked into his eyes. And in that instant the -captain saw a dark and flickering fury that filled him with fear. The -whistle blew. And then Hugo, to his astonishment, heard his signal. -Lefty was disobeying the captain. He felt the ball in his arms. He ran -smoothly. Suddenly he saw a dark shadow in the air. The captain hit him -on the jaw with all his strength. After that, Hugo did not think -lucidly. He was momentarily berserk. He ran into the line raging and -upset it like a row of tenpins. He raced into the open. A single man, -thirty yards away, stood between him and the goal. The man drew near in -an instant. Hugo doubled his arm to slug him. He felt the arm -straighten, relented too late, and heard, above the chaos that was -loose, a sudden, dreadful snap. The man's head flew back and he -dropped. Hugo ran across the goal. The gun stopped the game. But, before -the avalanche fell upon him, Hugo saw his victim lying motionless on the -field. What followed was nightmare. The singing and the cheering. The -parade. The smashing of the goal posts. The gradual descent of silence. -A pause. A shudder. He realized that he had been let down from the -shoulders of the students. He saw Woodman, waving his hands, his face a -graven mask. The men met in the midst of that turbulence. - -"You killed him, Hugo." - -The earth spun and rocked slowly. He was paying his first price for -losing his temper. "Killed him?" - -"His neck was broken-in three places." - -Some of the others heard. They walked away. Presently Hugo was standing -alone on the cinders outside the stadium. Lefty came up. "I just heard -about it. Tough luck. But don't let it break you." - -Hugo did not answer. He knew that he was guilty of a sort of murder. In -his own eyes it was murder. He had given away for one red moment to the -leaping, lusting urge to smash the world. And killed a man. They would -never accuse him. They would never talk about it. Only Woodman, perhaps, -would guess the thing behind the murder--the demon inside Hugo that was -tame, except then, when his captain in jealous and inferior rage had -struck him. - -It was night. Out of deference to the body of the boy lying in the -Webster chapel there was no celebration. Every ounce of glory and joy -had been drained from the victory. The students left Hugo to a solitude -that was more awful than a thousand scornful tongues. They thought he -would feel as they would feel about such an accident. They gave him -respect when he needed counsel. As he sat by himself, he thought that he -should tell them the truth, all of them, confess a crime and accept the -punishment. Hours passed. At midnight Woodman called. - -"There isn't much to say, Hugo. I'm sorry, you're sorry, we're all -sorry. But it occurred to me that you might do something foolish--tell -these people all about it, for example." - -"I was going to." - -"Don't. They'd never understand. You'd be involved in a legal war that -would undoubtedly end in your acquittal. But it would drag in all your -friends--and your mother and father--particularly him. The papers would -go wild. You might, on the other hand, be executed as a menace. You -can't tell." - -"It might be a good thing," Hugo answered bitterly. - -"Don't let me hear you say that, you fool! I tell you, Hugo, if you go -into that business, I'll get up on the stand and say I knew it all the -time and I let a man play on my team when I was pretty sure that sooner -or later he'd kill someone. Then I'll go to jail surely." - -"You're a pretty fine man, Mr. Woodman." - -"Hell!" - -"What shall I do?" Hugo's voice trembled. He suffered as he had not -dreamed it was possible to suffer. - -"That's up to you. I'd say, live it down." - -"Live it down! Do you know what that means--in a college?" - -"Yes, I think I do, Hugo." - -"You can live down almost anything, except that one thing--murder. It's -too ugly, Woodie." - -"Maybe. Maybe. You've got to decide, son. If you decide against -trying--and, mind you, you might be justified--I've got a brother-in-law -who has a ranch in Alberta. A couple of hundred miles from any place. -You'd be welcome there." - -Hugo did not reply. He took the coach's hand and wrung it. Then for an -hour the two men sat side by side in the darkness. At last Woodman rose -and left. He said only: "Remember that offer. It's cold and bleak and -the work is hard. Good-night, Hugo." - -"Good-night, Woodie. Thanks for coming up." - -When the campus was still with the quiet of sleep, Hugo crossed it as -swiftly as a spectre. All night he strode remorselessly over country -roads. His face was set. His eyes burned. He ignored the trembling of -his joints. When the sky faded, he went back. He packed his clothes in -two suit-cases. With them swinging at his side, he stole out of the Psi -Delta house, crossed the campus, stopped. For a long instant he stared -at Webster Hall. The first light of morning was just touching it. The -débris collected for a fire that was never lighted was strewn around the -cannon. He saw the initials he had painted there a year and more ago -still faintly legible. A lump rose in his throat. - -"Good-by, Webster," he said. He lifted the suitcase and vanished. In a -few minutes the campus was five miles behind him--six--ten--twenty. When -he saw the first early caravan of produce headed toward the market, he -slowed to a walk. The sun came over a hill and sparkled on a billion -drops of dew. A bird flew singing from his path. Hugo Danner had fled -beyond the gates of Webster. - - - - -X - - -A year passed. In the harbour of Cristobal, at the northern end of the -locks, waiting for the day to open the great steel jaws that dammed the -Pacific from the Atlantic, the _Katrina_ pulled at her anchor chain in -the gentle swell. A few stars, liquid bright, hung in the tropical sky. -A little puff of wind coming occasionally from the south carried the -smell of the jungle to the ship. The crew was awakening. - -A man with a bucket on a rope went to the rail and hauled up a brimming -pail from the warm sea. He splashed his face and hands into it. Then he -poured it back and repeated the act of dipping up water. - -"Hey!" he said. - -Another man joined him. "Here. Swab off your sweat. Look yonder." - -The dorsal fin of a shark rippled momentarily on the surface and dipped -beneath it. A third man appeared. He accepted the proffered water and -washed himself. His roving eye saw the shark as it rose for the second -time. He dried on a towel. The off-shore breeze stirred his dark hair. -There was a growth of equally dark beard on his tanned jaw and cheek. -Steely muscles bulged under his shirt. His forearm, when he picked up -the pail, was corded like cable. A smell of coffee issued from the -galley, and the smoke of the cook's fire was wafted on deck for a -pungent moment. Two bells sounded. The music went out over the water in -clear, humming waves. - -The man who had come first from the forecastle leaned his buttocks -against the rail. One end of it had been unhooked to permit the -discharge of mail. The rail ran, the man fell back, clawing, and then, -thinking suddenly of the sharks, he screamed. The third man looked. He -saw his fellow-seaman go overboard. He jumped from where he stood, -clearing the scuppers and falling through the air before the victim of -the slack rail had landed in the water. The two splashes were almost -simultaneous. A boatswain, hearing the cry, hastened to the scene. He -saw one man lifted clear of the water by the other, who was treading -water furiously. He shouted for a rope. He saw the curve and dip of a -fin. The first man seized the rope and climbed and was pulled up. The -second, his rescuer, dived under water as if aware of something there -that required his attention. The men above him could not know that he -had felt the rake of teeth across his leg--powerful teeth, which -nevertheless did not penetrate his skin. As he dived into the green -depths, he saw a body lunge toward him, turn, yawn a white-fringed -mouth. He snatched the lower jaw in one hand, and the upper in the -other. He exerted his strength. The mouth gaped wider, a tail twelve -feet behind it lashed, the thing died with fingers like steel claws -tearing at its brain. It floated belly up. The man rose, took the rope, -climbed aboard. Other sharks assaulted the dead one. - -The dripping sailor clasped his saviour's hand. "God Almighty, man, you -saved my life. Jesus!" - -"That's four," Hugo Danner said abstractedly, and then he smiled. "It's -all right. Forget it. I've had a lot of experience with sharks." He had -never seen one before in his life. He walked aft, where the men grouped -around him. - -"How'd you do it?" - -"It's a trick I can't explain very well," Hugo said. "You use their rush -to break their jaws. It takes a good deal of muscle." - -"Anyway--guy--thanks." - -"Sure." - -A whistle blew. The ships were lining up in the order of their arrival -for admission to the Panama Canal. Gatun loomed in the feeble sun of -dawn. The anchor chain rumbled. The _Katrina_ edged forward at half -speed. - -The sea. Blue, green, restless, ghost-ridden, driven in empty quarters -by devils riding the wind, secretive, mysterious, making a last -gigantic, primeval stand against the conquest of man, hemming and -isolating the world, beautiful, horrible, dead god of ten thousand -voices, universal incubator, universal grave. - -The _Katrina_ came to the islands in the South Pacific. Islands that -issued from the water like green wreaths and seemed to float on it. The -small boats were put out and sections of the cargo were sent to rickety -wharves where white men and brown islanders took charge of it and -carried it away into the fringe of the lush vegetation. Hugo, looking at -those islands, was moved to smile. The place where broken men hid from -civilization, where the derelicts of the world gathered to drown their -shame in a verdant paradise that had no particular position in the white -man's scheme of the earth. - -At one of the smaller islands an accident to the engine forced the -_Katrina_ to linger for two weeks. It was during those two weeks, in a -rather extraordinary manner, that Hugo Danner laid the first foundation -of the fortune that he accumulated in his later life. One day, idling -away a leave on shore in the shade of a mighty tree, he saw the -outriggers of the natives file away for the oyster beds, and, out of -pure curiosity, he followed them. For a whole day he watched the men -plunge under the surface in search of pearls. The next day he came back -and dove with one of them. - -On the bizarre floor of the ocean, among the colossal fronds of its -flora, the two men swam. They were invaders from the brilliance above -the surface, shooting like fish, horizontally, through the murk and -shadow, and the denizens of that world resented their coming. Great fish -shot past them with malevolent eyes, and the vises of giant clams shut -swiftly in attempts to trap their moving limbs. Hugo was entranced. He -watched the other man as he found the oyster bed and commenced to fill -his basket with frantic haste. When his lungs stung and he could bear -the agony no longer, he turned and forged toward the upper air. Then -they went down again. - -Hugo's blood, designed to take more oxygen from the air, and his greater -density fitted him naturally for the work. The pressure did not make him -suffer and the few moments granted to the divers beneath the forbidding -element stretched to a longer time for him. - -On the second day of diving he went alone. His amateur attempt had been -surprisingly fruitful. Standing erect in the immense solitude, he -searched the hills and valleys. At length, finding a promising cluster -of shellfish, he began to examine them one by one, pulling them loose, -feeling in their pulpy interior for the precious jewels. He occupied -himself determinedly while the _Katrina_ was waiting in Apia, and at the -end of the stay he had collected more than sixty pearls of great value -and two hundred of moderate worth. - -It was, he thought, typical of himself. He had decided to make a fortune -of some sort after the first bitter rage over his debacle at Webster had -abated in his heart. He realized that without wealth his position in -the world would be more difficult and more futile than his fates had -decreed. Poverty, at least, he was not forced to bear. He could wrest -fortune from nature by his might. That he had begun that task by diving -for pearls fitted into his scheme. It was such a method as no other man -would have considered and its achievement robbed no one while it -enriched him. - -When the _Katrina_ turned her prow westward again, Hugo worked with his -shipmates in a mood that had undergone considerable change. There was no -more despair in him, little of the taciturnity that had marked his -earliest days at sea, none of the hatred of mankind. He had buried that -slowly and carefully in a dull year of work ashore and a month of toil -on the heaving deck of the ship. For six months he had kept himself -alive in a manner that he could scarcely remember. Driving a truck. -Working on a farm. Digging in a road. His mind a bitter blank, his -valiant dreams all dead. - -One day he had saved a man's life. The reaction to that was small, but -it was definite. The strength that could slay was also a strength that -could succour. He had repeated the act some time later. He felt it was a -kind of atonement. After that, he sought deliberately to go where he -might be of assistance. In the city, again, in September, when a fire -engine clanged and whooped through the streets, he followed and carried -a woman from a blazing roof as if by a miracle. Then the seaman. He had -counted four rescues by that time. Perhaps his self-condemnation for the -boy who had fallen on the field at Webster could be stifled eventually. -Human life seemed very precious to Hugo then. - -He sold his pearls when the ship touched at large cities--a handful here -and a dozen there, bargaining carefully and forwarding the profit to a -bank in New York. He might have continued that voyage, which was a -voyage commenced half in new recognition of his old wish to see and know -the world and half in the quest of forgetfulness; but a slip and shifts -in the history of the world put an abrupt end to it. When the _Katrina_ -rounded the Bec d'Aiglon and steamed into the blue and cocoa harbour of -Marseilles, Hugo heard that war had been declared by Germany, Austria, -France, Russia, England.... - - - - -XI - - -In a day the last veil of mist that had shrouded his feelings and -thoughts, making them numb and sterile, vanished; in a day Hugo found -himself--or believed that he had; in a day his life changed and flung -itself on the course which, in a measure, destined its fixation. He -never forgot that day. - -It began in the early morning when the anchor of the freighter thundered -into the harbour water. The crew was not given shore leave until noon. -Then the mysterious silence of the captain and the change in the ship's -course was explained. Through the third officer he sent a message to the -seamen. War had been declared. The seaways were unsafe. The _Katrina_ -would remain indefinitely at Marseilles. The men could go ashore. They -would report on the following day. - -The first announcement of the word sent Hugo's blood racing. War! What -war? With whom? Why? Was America in it, or interested in it? He stepped -ashore and hurried into the city. The populace was in feverish -excitement. Soldiers were everywhere, as if they had sprung up magically -like the seed of the dragon. Hugo walked through street after street in -the furious heat. He bought a paper and read the French accounts of -mobilizations, of a battle impending. He looked everywhere for some one -who could tell him. Twice he approached the American Consulate, but it -was jammed with frantic and frightened people who were trying only to -get away. Hugo's ambition, growing in him like a fire, was in the -opposite direction. War! And he was Hugo Danner! - -He sat at a café toward the middle of the afternoon. He was so excited -by the contagion in his veins that he scarcely thrilled at the first use -of his new and half-mastered tongue. The _garçon_ hurried to his table. - -"_De la bičre_," Hugo said. - -The waiter asked a question which Hugo could not understand, so he -repeated his order in the universal language of measurement of a large -glass by his hands. The waiter nodded. Hugo took his beer and stared out -at the people. They hurried along the sidewalk, brushing the table at -which he sat. They called to each other, laughed, cried sometimes, and -shook hands over and over. "_La guerre_" was on every tongue. Old men -gestured the directions of battles. Young men, a little more serious -perhaps, and often very drunk, were rushing into uniform as order -followed order for mobilization. And there were girls, thousands of -them, walking with the young men. - -Hugo wanted to be in it. He was startled by the impact of that desire. -All the ferocity of him, all the unleashed wish to rend and kill, was -blazing in his soul. But it was a subtle conflagration, which urged him -in terms of duty, in words that spoke of the war as his one perfect -opportunity to put himself to a use worthy of his gift. A war. In a war -what would hold him, what would be superior to him, who could resist -him? He swallowed glass after glass of the brackish beer, quenching a -mighty thirst and firing a mightier ambition. He saw himself charging -into battle, fighting till his ammunition was gone, till his bayonet -broke; and then turning like a Titan and doing monster deeds with bare -hands. And teeth. - -Bands played and feet marched. His blood rose to a boiling-point. A -Frenchman flung himself at Hugo's table. "And you--why aren't you a -soldier?" - -"I will be," Hugo replied. - -"Bravo! We shall revenge ourselves." The man gulped a glass of wine, -slapped Hugo's shoulder, and was gone. Then a girl talked to Hugo. Then -another man. - -Hugo dwelt on the politics of the war and its sociology only in the most -perfunctory manner. It was time the imperialistic ambitions of the -Central Powers were ended. A war was inevitable for that purpose. -France and England had been attacked. They were defending themselves. He -would assist them. Even the problem of citizenship and the tangle of red -tape his enlistment might involve did not impress him. He could see the -field of battle and hear the roar of guns, a picture conjured up by his -knowledge of the old wars. What a soldier he would be! - -While his mind was still leaping and throbbing and his head was -whirling, darkness descended. He would give away his life, do his duty -and a hundred times more than his duty. Here was the thing that was -intended for him, the weapon forged for his hand, the task designed for -his undertaking. War. In war he could bring to a full fruition the -majesty of his strength. No need to fear it there, no need to be ashamed -of it. He felt himself almost the Messiah of war, the man created at the -precise instant he was required. His call to serve was sounding in his -ears. And the bands played. - -The chaos did not diminish at night, but, rather, it increased. He went -with milling crowds to a bulletin board. The Germans had commenced to -move. They had entered Belgium in violation of treaties long held -sacred. Belgium was resisting and Liége was shaking at the devastation -of the great howitzers. A terrible crime. Hugo shook with the rage of -the crowd. The first outrages and violations, highly magnified, were -reported. The blond beast would have to be broken. - -"God damn," a voice drawled at Hugo's side. He turned. A tall, lean man -stood there, a man who was unquestionably American. Hugo spoke in -instant excitement. - -"There sure is hell to pay." - -The man turned his head and saw Hugo. He stared at him rather -superciliously, at his slightly seedy clothes and his strong, unusual -face. "American?" - -"Yeah." - -"Let's have a drink." - -They separated themselves from the mob and went to a crowded café. The -man sat down and Hugo took a chair at his side. "As you put it," the man -said, "there is hell to pay. Let's drink on the payment." - -Hugo felt in him a certain aloofness, a detachment that checked his -desire to throw himself into flamboyant conversation. "My name's -Danner," he said. - -"Mine's Shayne, Thomas Mathew Shayne. I'm from New York." - -"So am I, in a way. I was on a ship that was stranded here by the war. -At loose ends now." - -Shayne nodded. He was not particularly friendly for a person who had met -a countryman in a strange city. Hugo did not realize that Shayne had -been besieged all day by distant acquaintances and total strangers for -assistance in leaving France, or that he expected a request for money -from Hugo momentarily. And Shayne did not seem particularly wrought up -by the condition of war. They lifted their glasses and drank. Hugo lost -a little of his ardour. - -"Nice mess." - -"Time, though. Time the Germans got their answer." - -Shayne's haughty eyebrows lifted. His wide, thin mouth smiled. "Perhaps. -I just came from Germany. Seemed like a nice, peaceful country three -weeks ago." - -"Oh." Hugo wondered if there were many pro-German Americans. His -companion answered the thought. - -"Not that I don't believe the Germans are wrong. But war is such--such a -damn fool thing." - -"Well, it can't be helped." - -"No, it can't. We're all going to go out and get killed, though." - -"We?" - -"Sure. America will get in it. That's part of the game. America is more -dangerous to Germany than France--or England, for that matter." - -"That's a rather cold-blooded viewpoint." - -Shayne nodded. "I've been raised on it. _Garçon, l'addition, s'il vous -plaît._" He reached for his pocketbook simultaneously with Hugo. "I'm -sorry you're stranded," he said, "and if a hundred francs will help, -I'll be glad to let you have it. I can't do more." - -Hugo's jaw dropped. He laughed a little. "Good lord, man, I said my ship -was stuck. Not me. And these drinks are mine." He reached into his -pocket and withdrew a huge roll of American bills and a packet of -French notes. - -Shayne hesitated. His calmness was not severely shaken, however. "I'm -sorry, old man. You see, all day I've been fighting off starving and -startled Americans and I thought you were one. I apologize for my -mistake." He looked at Hugo with more interest. "As a matter of fact, -I'm a little skittish about patriotism. And about war. Of course, I'm -going to be in it. The first entertaining thing that has happened in a -dog's age. But I'm a conscientious objector on principles. I rather -thought I'd enlist in the Foreign Legion to-morrow." - -He was an unfamiliar type to Hugo. He represented the American who had -been educated at home and abroad, who had acquired a wide horizon for -his views, who was bored with the routine of his existence. His clothes -were elegant and impeccable. His face was very nearly inscrutable. -Although he was only a few years older than Hugo, he made the latter -feel youthful. - -They had a brace of drinks, two more and two more. All about them was -bedlam, as if the emotions of man had suddenly been let loose to sweep -him off his feet. Grief, joy, rage, lust, fear were all obviously there -in almost equal proportions. - -Shayne extended his hand. "They have something to fight for, at least. -Something besides money and glory. A grudge. I wonder what it is that -makes me want to get in? I do." - -"So do I." - -Shayne shook his head. "I wouldn't if I were you. Still, you will -probably be compelled to in a while." He looked at his watch. "Do you -care to take dinner with me? I had an engagement with an aunt who is on -the verge of apoplexy because two of the Boston Shaynes are in Munich. -It scarcely seems appropriate at the moment. I detest her, anyway. What -do you say?" - -"I'd like to have dinner with you." - -They walked down the Cannebičre. At a restaurant on the east side near -the foot of the thoroughfare they found a table in the corner. A pair of -waiters hastened to take their order. The place was riotous with voices -and the musical sounds of dining. On a special table was a great -demijohn of 1870 cognac, which was fast being drained by the guests. -Shayne consulted with his companion and then ordered in fluent French. -The meal that was brought approached a perfection of service and a -superiority of cooking that Hugo had never experienced. And always the -babble, the blare of bands, the swelling and fading persistence of the -stringed orchestra, the stream of purple Châteauneuf du Pape and its -flinty taste, the glitter of the lights and the bright colours on the -mosaics that represented the principal cities of Europe. It was a -splendid meal. - -"I'm afraid I'll have to ask your name again," Shayne said. - -"Danner. Hugo Danner." - -"Good God! Not the football player?" - -"I did play football--some time ago." - -"I saw you against Cornell--when was it?--two years ago. You were -magnificent. How does it happen that--" - -"That I'm here?" Hugo looked directly into Shayne's eyes. - -"Well--I have no intention of prying into your affairs." - -"Then I'll tell you. Why not?" Hugo drank his wine. "I killed a man--in -the game--and quit. Beat it." - -Shayne accepted the statement calmly. "That's tough. I can understand -your desire to get out from under. Things like that are bad when you're -young." - -"What else could I have done?" - -"Nothing. What are you going to do? Rather, what were you going to do?" - -"I don't know," Hugo answered slowly. "What do you do? What do people -generally do?" He felt the question was drunken, but Shayne accepted it -at its face value. - -"I'm one of those people who have too much money to be able to do -anything I really care about, most of the time. The family keeps me in -sight and control. But I'm going to cut away to-morrow." - -"In the Foreign Legion? I'll go with you." - -"Splendid!" They shook hands across the table. - -Three hours later found them at another café. They had been walking part -of the time in the throngs on the street. For a while they had stood -outside a newspaper office watching the bulletins. They were quite -drunk. - -"Old man," Shayne said, "I'm mighty glad I found you." - -"Me, too, old egg. Where do we go next?" - -"I don't know. What's your favourite vice? We can locate it in -Marseilles." - -Hugo frowned. "Well, vice is so limited in its scope." - -His companion chuckled. "Isn't it? I've always said vice was narrow. The -next time I see Aunt Emma I'm going to say: 'Emma, vice is becoming too -narrow in its scope.' She'll be furious and it will bring her to an -early demise and I'll inherit a lot more money, and that will be the -real tragedy. She's a useless old fool, Aunt Emma. Never did a valuable -thing in her life. Goes in for charity--just like we go in for golf and -what-not. Oh, well, to hell with Aunt Emma." - -Hugo banged his glass on the table. "_Garçon! Encore deux whiskey ŕ -l'eau_ and to hell with Aunt Emma." - -"Like to play roulette?" - -"Like to try." - -They climbed into a taxi. Shayne gave an address and they were driven to -another quarter of the town. In a room packed with people in evening -clothes they played for an hour. Several people spoke to Shayne and he -introduced Hugo to them. Shayne won and Hugo lost. They went out into -the night. The streets were quieter in that part of town. Two girls -accosted them. - -"That gives me an idea," Shayne said. "Let's find a phone. Maybe we can -get Marcelle and Claudine." - -Marcelle and Claudine met them at the door of the old house. Their arms -were laden with champagne bottles. The interior of the dwelling belied -its cold, grey, ancient stones. Hugo did not remember much of what -followed that evening. Short, unrelated fragments stuck in his -mind--Shayne chasing the white form of Marcelle up and down the stairs; -himself in a huge bath-tub washing a back in front of him, his surprise -when he saw daylight through the wooden shutters of the house. - -Someone was shaking him. "Come on, soldier. The leave's up." - -He opened his eyes and collected his thoughts. He grinned at Shayne. -"All right. But if I had to defend myself right now--I'd fail against a -good strong mouse." - -"We'll fix that. Hey! Marcelle! Got any Fernet-Branca?" - -The girl came with two large glasses of the pick-me-up. Hugo swallowed -the bitter brown fluid and shuddered. Claudine awoke. "_Chéri!_" she -sighed, and kissed him. - -They sat on the edge of the bed. "Boy!" Hugo said. "What a binge!" - -"You like eet?" Claudine murmured. - -He took her hand. "Loved it, darling. And now we're going to war." - -"Ah!" she said, and, at the door: "_Bonne chance!_" - -Shayne left Hugo, after agreeing on a time and place for their meeting -in the afternoon. The hours passed slowly. Hugo took another drink, and -then, exerting his judgment and will, he refrained from taking more. At -noon he partook of a light meal. He thought, or imagined, that the -ecstasy of the day before was showing some signs of decline. It occurred -to him that the people might be very sober and quiet before the war was -a thing to be written into the history of France. - -The sun was shining. He found a place in the shade where he could avoid -it. He ordered a glass of beer, tasted it, and forgot to finish it. The -elation of his first hours had passed. But the thing within him that had -caused it was by no means dead. As he sat there, his muscles tensed with -the picturization of what was soon to be. He saw the grim shadows of the -enemy. He felt the hot splash of blood. For one suspended second he was -ashamed of himself, and then he stamped out that shame as being -something very much akin to cowardice. - -He wondered why Shayne was joining the Legion and what sort of person he -was underneath his rather haughty exterior. A man of character, -evidently, and one who was weary of the world to which he had been -privileged. Hugo's reverie veered to his mother and father. He tried to -imagine what they would think of his enlistment, of him in the war; and -even what they thought of him from the scant and scattered information -he had supplied. He was sure that he would justify himself. He felt -purged and free and noble. His strength was a thing of wreck and ruin, -given to the world at a time when wreck and ruin were needed to set it -right. It was odd that such a product should emerge from the dusty brain -of a college professor in a Bible-ridden town. - -Hugo had not possessed a religion for a long time. Now, wondering on -another tangent if the war might not bring about his end, he thought -about it. He realized that he would hate himself for murmuring a prayer -or asking protection. He was gamer than the Cross-obsessed weaklings who -were not wise enough to look life in the face and not brave enough to -draw the true conclusions from what they saw. True conclusions? He -meditated. What did it matter--agnosticism, atheism, pantheism--anything -but the savage and anthropomorphic twaddle that had been doled out since -the Israelites singled out Jehovah from among their many gods. He would -not commit himself. He would go back with his death to the place where -he had been before he was born and feel no more regret than he had in -that oblivious past. Meanwhile he would fight! He moved restively and -waited for Shayne with growing impatience. - -Until that chaotic and gorgeous hour he had lived for nothing, proved -nothing, accomplished nothing. Society was no better in any way because -he had lived. He excepted the lives he had saved, the few favours he had -done. That was nothing in proportion to his powers. He was his own -measure, and by his own efforts would he satisfy himself. War! He flexed -his arms. War. His black eyes burned with a formidable light. - -Then Shayne came. Walking with long strides. A ghostly smile on his -lips. A darkness in his usually pale-blue eyes. Hugo liked him. They -said a few words and walked toward the recruiting-tent. A _poilu_ in -steely blue looked at them and saw that they were good. He proffered -papers. They signed. That night they marched for the first time. A week -later they were sweating and swearing over the French manual of arms. -Hugo had offered his services to the commanding officer at the camp and -been summarily denied an audience or a chance to exhibit his abilities. -When they reached the lines--that would be time enough. Well, he could -wait until those lines were reached. - - - - -XII - - -Just as the eastern horizon became light with something more steady than -the flare of the guns, the command came. Hugo bit his lip till it bled -darkly. He would show them--now. They might command him to wait--he -could restrain himself no longer. The men had been standing there tense -and calm, their needle-like bayonets pointing straight up. "_En avant!_" - -His heart gave a tremendous surge. It made his hands falter as he -reached for the ladder rung. "Here we go, Hugo." - -"Luck, Tom." - -He saw Shayne go over. He followed slowly. He looked at no man's land. -They had come up in the night and he had never seen it. The scene of -holocaust resembled nothing more than the municipal ash dump at Indian -Creek. It startled him. The grey earth in irregular heaps, the litter of -metal and equipment. He realized that he was walking forward with the -other men. The ground under his feet was mushy, like ashes. Then he saw -part of a human body. It changed his thoughts. - -The man on Hugo's right emitted a noise like a squeak and jumped up in -the air. He had been hit. Out of the corner of his eye Hugo saw him -fall, get up quickly, and fall again very slowly. His foot kicked after -he lay down. The rumbling in the sky grew louder and blotted out all -other sound. - -They walked on and on. It was like some eternal journey through the dun, -vacant realms of Hades. Not much light, one single sound, and ghostly -companions who faced always forward. The air in front of him was -suddenly dyed orange and he felt the concussion of a shell. His ears -rang. He was still walking. He walked what he thought was a number of -miles. - -His great strength seemed to have left him, and in its place was a -complete enervation. With a deliberate effort he tested himself, kicking -his foot into the earth. It sank out of sight. He squared his shoulders. -A man came near him, yelling something. It was Shayne. Hugo shook his -head. Then he heard the voice, a feeble shrill note. "Soon be there." - -"Yeah?" - -"Over that hill." - -Shayne turned away and became part of the ghost escort of Hugo and his -peculiarly lucid thoughts. He believed that he was more conscious of -himself and things then than ever before in his life. But he did not -notice one-tenth of the expression and action about himself. The top of -the rise was near. He saw an officer silhouetted against it for an -instant. The officer moved down the other side. He could see over the -rise, then. - -Across the grey ashes was a long hole. In front of it a maze of wire. In -it--mushrooms. German helmets. Hugo gaped at them. All that training, -all that restraint, had been expended for this. They were small and -without meaning. He felt a sharp sting above his collar bone. He looked -there. A row of little holes had appeared in his shirt. - -"Good God," he whispered, "a machine gun." - -But there was no blood. He sat down. He presumed, as a casualty, he was -justified in sitting down. He opened his shirt by ripping it down. On -his dark-tanned skin there were four red marks. The bullets had not -penetrated him. Too tough! He stared numbly at the walking men. They had -passed him. The magnitude of his realization held him fixed for a full -minute. He was invulnerable! He should have known it--otherwise he would -have torn himself apart by his own strength. Suddenly he roared and -leaped to his feet. He snatched his rifle, cracking the stock in his -fervour. He vaulted toward the helmets in the trench. - -He dropped from the parapet and was confronted by a long knife on a gun. -His lips parted, his eyes shut to slits, he drew back his own weapon. -There was an instant's pause as they faced each other--two men, both -knowing that in a few seconds one would be dead. Then Hugo, out of his -scarlet fury, had one glimpse of his antagonist's face and person. The -glimpse was but a flash. It was finished in quick motions. He was a -little man--a foot shorter than Hugo. His eyes looked out from under his -helmet with a sort of pathetic earnestness. And he was worried, horribly -worried, standing there with his rifle lifted and trying to remember the -precise technique of what would follow even while he fought back the -realization that it was hopeless. In that split second Hugo felt a -human, amazing urge to tell him that it was all right, and that he ought -to hold his bayonet a little higher and come forward a bit faster. The -image faded back to an enemy. Hugo acted mechanically from the rituals -of drill. His own knife flashed. He saw the man's clothes part smoothly -from his bowels, where the point had been inserted, up to the gray-green -collar. The seam reddened, gushed blood, and a length of intestine -slipped out of it. The man's eyes looked at Hugo. He shook his head -twice. The look became far-away. He fell forward. - -Hugo stepped over him. He was trembling and nauseated. A more formidable -man approached warily. The bellow of battle returned to Hugo's ears. He -pushed back the threatening rifle easily and caught the neck in one -hand, crushing it to a wet, sticky handful. So he walked through the -trench, a machine that killed quickly and remorselessly--a black warrior -from a distant realm of the universe where the gods had bred another -kind of man. - -He came upon Shayne and found him engaged. Hugo stuck his opponent in -the back. No thought of fair play, no object but to kill--it did not -matter how. Dead Legionnaires and dead Germans mingled blood underfoot. -The trench was like the floor of an _abattoir_. Someone gave him a -drink. The men who remained went on across the ash dump to a second -trench. - -It was night. The men, almost too tired to see or move, were trying to -barricade themselves against the ceaseless shell fire of the enemy. They -filled bags with gory mud and lifted them on the crumbling walls. At -dawn the Germans would return to do what they had done. The darkness -reverberated and quivered. Hugo worked like a Trojan. His efforts had -made a wide and deep hole in which machine guns were being placed. -Shayne fell at his feet. Hugo lifted him up. The captain nodded. "Give -him a drink." - -Someone brought liquor, and Hugo poured it between Shayne's teeth. -"Huh!" Shayne said. - -"Come on, boy." - -"How did you like it, Danner?" - -Hugo did not answer. Shayne went on, "I didn't either--much. This is no -gentleman's war. Jesus! I saw a thing or two this morning. A guy walking -with all his--" - -"Never mind. Take another drink." - -"Got anything to eat?" - -"No." - -"Oh, well, we can fight on empty bellies. The Germans will empty them -for us anyhow." - -"The hell they will." - -"I'm pretty nearly all in." - -"So's everyone." - -They put Hugo on watch because he still seemed fresh. Those men who were -not compelled to stay awake fell into the dirt and slept immediately. -Toward dawn Hugo heard sounds in no man's land. He leaped over the -parapet. In three jumps he found himself among the enemy. They were -creeping forward. Hugo leaped back. "_Ils viennent!_" - -Men who slept like death were kicked conscious. They rose and fired into -the night. The surprise of the attack was destroyed. The enemy came on, -engaging in the darkness with the exhausted Legionnaires. Twice Hugo -went among them when inundation threatened and, using his rifle barrel -as a club, laid waste on every hand. He walked through them striking and -shattering. And twice he saved his salient from extermination. Day came -sullenly. It began to rain. The men stood silently among their dead. - -Hugo lit a cigarette. His eyes moved up and down the shambles. At -intervals of two yards a man, his helmet trickling rain, his clothes -filthy, his face inscrutable. Shayne was there on sagging knees. Hugo -could not understand why he had not been killed. - -Hugo was learning about war. He thought then that the task which he had -set for himself was not altogether to his liking. There should be other -and more important things for him to do. He did not like to slaughter -individuals. The day passed like a cycle in hell. No change in the -personnel except that made by an occasional death. No food. No water. -They seemed to be exiled by their countrymen in a pool of fire and -famine and destruction. At dusk Hugo spoke to the captain. - -"We cannot last another night without water, food," he said. - -"We shall die here, then." - -"I should like, sir, to volunteer to go back and bring food." - -"We need ammunition more." - -"Ammunition, then." - -"One man could not bring enough to assist--much." - -"I can." - -"You are valuable here. With your club and your charmed life, you have -already saved this remnant of good soldiers." - -"I will return in less than an hour." - -"Good luck, then." - -Where there had been a man, there was nothing. The captain blinked his -eyes and stared at the place. He swore softly in French and plunged into -his dug-out at the sound of ripping in the sky. - -A half hour passed. The steady, nerve-racking bombardment continued at -an unvaried pace. Then there was a heavy thud like that of a shell -landing and not exploding. The captain looked. A great bundle, tied -together by ropes, had descended into the trench. A man emerged from -beneath it. The captain passed his hand over his eyes. Here was -ammunition for the rifles and the machine guns in plenty. Here was food. -Here were four huge tins of water, one of them leaking where a shell -fragment had pierced it. Here was a crate of canned meat and a sack of -onions and a stack of bread loaves. Hugo broke the ropes. His chest rose -and fell rapidly. He was sweating. The bundle he had carried weighed -more than a ton--and he had been running very swiftly. - -The captain looked again. A case of cognac. Hugo was carrying things -into the dug-out. "Where?" the captain asked. - -Hugo smiled and named a town thirty kilometres behind the lines. A town -where citizens and soldiers together were even then in frenzied -discussion over the giant who had fallen upon their stores and supplies -and taken them, running off like a locomotive, in a hail of bullets that -did no harm to him. - -"And how?" the captain asked. - -"I am strong." - -The captain shrugged and turned his head away. His men were eating the -food, and drinking water mixed with brandy, and stuffing their pouches -with ammunition. The machine gunners were laughing. They would not be -forced to spare the precious belts when the Germans came in the -morning. Hugo sat among them, dining his tremendous appetite. - -Three days went by. Every day, twice, five times, they were attacked. -But no offence seemed capable of driving that demoniac cluster of men -from their position. A demon, so the enemy whispered, came out and -fought for them. On the third day the enemy retreated along four -kilometres of front, and the French moved up to reclaim many, many acres -of their beloved soil. The Legionnaires were relieved and another -episode was added to their valiant history. - -Hugo slept for twenty hours in the wooden barracks. After that he was -wakened by the captain's orderly and summoned to his quarters. The -captain smiled when he saluted. "My friend," he said, "I wish to thank -you in behalf of my country for your labour. I have recommended you for -the Croix de Guerre." - -Hugo took his outstretched hand. "I am pleased that I have helped." - -"And now," the captain continued, "you will tell me how you executed -that so unusual coup." - -Hugo hesitated. It was the opportunity he had sought, the chance that -might lead to a special commission whereby he could wreak the vengeance -of his muscles on the enemy. But he was careful, because he did not feel -secure in trusting the captain with too much of his secret. Even in a -war it was too terrible. They would mistrust him, or they would attempt -to send him to their biologists. And he wanted to accomplish his mission -under their permission and with their co-operation. It would be more -valuable then and of greater magnitude. So he smiled and said: "Have you -ever heard of Colorado?" - -"No, I have not heard. It is a place?" - -"A place in America. A place that has scarcely been explored. I was born -there. And all the men of Colorado are born as I was born and are like -me. We are very strong. We are great fighters. We cannot be wounded -except by the largest shells. I took that package by force and I carried -it to you on my back, running swiftly." - -The captain appeared politely interested. He thumbed a dispatch. He -stared at Hugo. "If that is the truth, you shall show me." - -"It is the truth--and I shall show you." - -Hugo looked around. Finally he walked over to the sentry at the flap of -the tent and took his rifle. The man squealed in protest. Hugo lifted -him off the floor by the collar, shook him, and set him down. - -The man shouted in dismay and then was silent at a word from the -captain. Hugo weighed the gun in his hands while they watched and then -slowly bent the barrel double. Next he tore it from its stock. Then he -grasped the parallel steel ends and broke them apart with a swift -wrench. The captain half rose, his eyes bulged, he knocked over his -ink-well. His hand tugged at his moustache and waved spasmodically. - -"You see?" Hugo said. - -The captain went to staff meeting that afternoon very thoughtful. He -understood the difficulty of exhibiting his soldier's prowess under -circumstances that would assure the proper commission. He even -considered remaining silent about Hugo. With such a man in his company -it would soon be illustrious along the whole broad front. But the chance -came. When the meeting was finished and the officers relaxed over their -wine, a colonel brought up the subject of the merits of various breeds -of men as soldiers. - -"I think," he said, "that the Prussians are undoubtedly our most -dangerous foe. On our own side we have--" - -"Begging the colonel's pardon," the captain said, "there is a species of -fighter unknown, or almost unknown, in this part of the world, who -excels by far all others." - -"And who may they be?" the colonel asked stiffly. - -"Have you ever heard of the Colorados?" - -"No," the colonel said. - -Another officer meditated. "They are redskins, American Indians, are -they not?" - -The captain shrugged. "I do not know. I know only that they are superior -to all other soldiers." - -"And in what way?" - -The captain's eyes flickered. "I have one Colorado in my troops. I will -tell you what he did in five days near the town of Barsine." The -officers listened. When the captain finished, the colonel patted his -shoulder. "That is a very amusing fabrication. Very. With a thousand -such men, the war would be ended in a week. Captain Crouan, I fear you -have been overgenerous in pouring the wine." - -The captain rose, saluted. "With your permission, I shall cause my -Colorado to be brought and you shall see." - -The other men laughed. "Bring him, by all means." - -The captain dispatched an orderly. A few minutes later, Hugo was -announced at headquarters. The captain introduced him. "Here, messieurs, -is a Colorado. What will you have him do?" - -The colonel, who had expected the soldier to be both embarrassed and -made ridiculous, was impressed by Hugo's calm demeanour. "You are -strong?" he said with a faint irony. - -"Exceedingly." - -"He is not humble, at least, gentlemen." Laughter. The colonel fixed -Hugo with his eye. "Then, my good fellow, if you are so strong, if you -can run so swiftly and carry such burdens, bring us one of our beautiful -seventy-fives from the artillery." - -"With your written order, if you please." - -The colonel started, wrote the order laughingly, and gave it to Hugo. He -left the room. - -"It is a good joke," the colonel said. "But I fear it is harsh on the -private." - -The captain shrugged. Wine was poured. In a few minutes they heard heavy -footsteps outside the tent. "He is here!" the captain cried. The -officers rushed forward. Hugo stood outside the tent with the cannon -they had requested lifted over his head in one hand. With that same hand -clasped on the breach, he set it down. The colonel paled and gulped. -"Name of the mother of God! He has brought it." - -Hugo nodded. "It was as nothing, my colonel. Now I will show you what we -men from Colorado can do. Watch." - -They eyed him. There was a grating sound beneath his feet. Those who -were quickest of vision saw his body catapult through the air high over -their heads. It landed, bounced prodigiously, vanished. - -Captain Crouan coughed and swallowed. He faced his superiors, trying to -seem nonchalant. "That, gentlemen, is the sort of thing the Colorados -do--for sport." - -The colonel recovered first. "It is not human. Gentlemen, we have been -in the presence of the devil himself." - -"Or the Good Lord." - -The captain shook his head. "He is a man, I tell you. In Colorado all -the men are like that. He told me so himself. When he first enlisted, he -came to me and asked for a special commission to go to Berlin and smash -the Reich--to bring back the Kaiser himself. I thought he was mad. I -made him peel potatoes. He did not say any more foolish things. He was a -good soldier. Then the battle came and I saw him, not believing I saw -him, standing on the parapet and wielding his rifle like the lightning, -killing I do not know how many men. Hundreds certainly, perhaps -thousands. Ah, it is as I said, the Colorados are the finest soldiers on -earth. They are more than men." - -"He comes!" - -Hugo burst from the sky, moving like a hawk. He came from the direction -of the lines, many miles away. There was a bundle slung across his -shoulder. There were holes in his uniform. He landed heavily among the -officers and set down his burden. It was a German. He dropped to the -ground. - -"Water for him," Hugo panted. "He has fainted. I snatched him from his -outpost in a trench." - - - - -XIII - - -At Blaisencourt it was spring again. The war was nearly a year old. -Blaisencourt was now a street of houses' ghosts, of rubble and dirt, -populated by soldiers. A little new grass sprouted peevishly here and -there; an occasional house retained enough of its original shape to -harbour an industry. Captain Crouan, his arm in a sling, was looking -over a heap of débris with the aid of field glasses. - -"I see him," he said, pointing to a place on the boiling field where an -apparent lump of soil had detached itself. - -"He rises! He goes on! He takes one of his mighty leaps! Ah, God, if I -only had a company of such men!" - -His aide, squatted near by, muttered something under his breath. The -captain spoke again. "He is very near their infernal little gun now. He -has taken his rope. Ahaaaa! He spins it in the air. It falls. They are -astonished. They rise up in the trench. Quick, Phčdre! Give me a rifle." -The rifle barked sharply four, five times. Its bullet found a mark. -Then another. "Ahaaa! Two of them! And M. Danner now has his rope on -that pig's breath. It comes up. See! He has taken it under his arm! They -are shooting their machine guns. He drops into a shell hole. He has been -hit, but he is laughing at them. He leaps. Look out, Phčdre!" - -Hugo landed behind the débris with a small German trench mortar in his -arms. He set it on the floor. The captain opened his mouth, and Hugo -waved to him to be silent. Deliberately, Hugo looked over the rickety -parapet of loose stones. He elevated the muzzle of the gun and drew back -the lanyard. The captain, grinning, watched through his glasses. The gun -roared. - -Its shell exploded presently on the brow of the enemy trench, tossing up -a column of smoke and earth. "I should have brought some ammunition with -me," Hugo said. - -Captain Crouan stared at the little gun. "Pig," he said. "Son of a pig! -Five of my men are in your little belly! Bah!" He kicked it. - - * * * * * - -Summer in Aix-au-Dixvaches. A tall Englishman addressing Captain Crouan. -His voice was irritated by the heat. "Is it true that you French have an -Indian scout here who can bash in those Minenwerfers?" - -"_Pardon, mon colonel, mais je ne comprends pas l'anglais._" - -He began again in bad French. Captain Crouan smiled. "Ah? You are -troubled there on your sector? You wish to borrow our astonishing -soldier? It will be a pleasure, I assure you." - -Hot calm night. The sky pin-pricked with stars, the air redolent with -the mushy flavour of dead meat. So strong it left a taste in the mouth. -So strong that food and water tasted like faintly chlorinated -putrescence. Hugo, his blue uniform darker with perspiration, tramped -through the blackness to a dug-out. Fifteen minutes in candlelight with -a man who spoke English in an odd manner. - -"They've been raisin' bloody hell with us from a point about there." The -tap of a pencil. "We've got little enough confidence in you, God -knows--" - -"Thank you." - -"Don't be huffy. We're obliged to your captain for the loan of you. But -we've lost too many trying to take the place ourselves not to be fed up -with it. I suppose you'll want a raiding party?" - -"No, thanks." - -"But, cripes, you can't make it there alone." - -"I can do it." Hugo smiled. "And you've lost so many of your own men--" - -"Very well." - - * * * * * - -Otto Meyer pushed his helmet back on his sandy-haired head and gasped in -the feverish air. A non-commissioned officer passing behind him shoved -the helmet over his eyes with a muttered word of caution. Otto -shrugged. Half a dozen men lounged near by. Beside and above them were -the muzzles of four squat guns and the irregular silhouette of a heap of -ammunition. Two of the men rolled onto their backs and panted. "I wish," -one said in a soft voice, "that I was back in the Hofbrau at Munich with -a tall stein of beer, with that fat _Fräulein_ that kissed me in the -Potsdam station last September sitting at my side and the orchestra -playing--" - -Otto flung a clod of dank earth at the speaker. There were chuckles from -the shadows that sucked in and exhaled the rancid air. Outside the pit -in which they lay, there was a gentle thud. - -Otto scrambled into a sitting posture. "What is that?" - -"Nothing. Even these damned English aren't low enough to fight us in -this weather." - -"You can never tell. At night, in the first battle of--listen!" - -The thud was repeated, much closer. It was an ominous sound, like the -drop of a sack of earth from a great height. Otto picked up a gun. He -was a man who perspired freely, and now, in that single minute, his face -trickled. He pointed the gun into the air and pulled the trigger. It -kicked back and jarred his arm. In the glaring light that followed, six -men peered through the spider-web of the wire. They saw nothing. - -"You see?" - -Their eyes smarted with the light and dark, so swiftly exchanged. Came -a thud in their midst. A great thud that spattered the dirt in all -directions. "Something has fallen." "A shell!" "It's a dud!" - -The men rose and tried to run. Otto had regained his vision and saw the -object that had descended. A package of yellow sticks tied to a great -mass of iron--wired to it. Instead of running, he grasped it. His -strength was not enough to lift it. Then, for one short eternity, he saw -a sizzling spark move toward the sticks. He clutched at it. "Help! The -guns must be saved. A bomb!" He knew his arms surrounded death. "I -cannot--" - -His feeble voice was blown to the four winds at that instant. A terrible -explosion burst from him, shattering the escaping men, blasting the -howitzers into fragments, enlarging the pit to enormous dimensions. Both -fronts clattered with machine-gun fire. Flares lit the terrain. Hugo, -running as if with seven-league boots, was thrown on his face by the -concussion. - - * * * * * - -Winter. Mud. A light fall of snow that was split into festers by the -guns before it could anneal the ancient sores. Hugo shivered and stared -into no man's land, whence a groan had issued for twenty hours, audible -occasionally over the tumult of the artillery. He saw German eyes turned -mutely on the same heap of rags that moved pitifully over the snow, -leaving a red wake, dragging a bloody thing behind. It rose and fell, -moving parallel to the two trenches. Many machine-gun bullets had -either missed it or increased its crimson torment. Hugo went out and -killed the heap of rags, with a revolver that cracked until the groans -stopped in a low moan. Breaths on both sides were bated. The rags had -been gray-green. A shout of low, rumbling praise came from the silent -enemy trenches. Hugo looked over there for a moment and smiled. He -looked down at the thing and vomited. The guns began again. - - * * * * * - -Another winter. Time had become stagnant. All about it was a pool of mud -and suppuration, and shot through it was the sound of guns and the scent -of women, the taste of wine and the touch of cold flesh. Somewhere, he -could not remember distinctly where, Hugo had a clean uniform, a -portfolio of papers, a jewel-case of medals. He was a great man--a man -feared. The Colorado in the Foreign Legion. Men would talk about what -they had seen him accomplish all through the next fifty years--at -watering places in the Sahara, at the crackling fires of country-house -parties in Shropshire, on the shores of the South Seas, on the moon, -maybe. Old men, at the last, would clear the phlegm from their skinny -throats and begin: "When I was a-fightin' with the Legion in my youngest -days, there was a fellow in our company that came from some place in -wild America that I disrecollect." And younger, more sanguine men would -listen and shake their heads and wish that there was a war for them to -fight. - -Hugo was not satisfied with that. Still, he could see no decent exit and -contrive no better use for himself. He clung frantically to the ideals -he had taken with him and to the splendid purpose with which he had -emblazoned his mad lust to enlist. Marseilles and the sentiment it had -inspired seemed very far away. He thought about it as he walked toward -the front, his head bent into the gale and his helmet pitched to protect -his eyes from the sting of the rain. - -That night he slept with Shayne, a lieutenant now, twice wounded, thrice -decorated, and, like Hugo, thinner than he had been, older, with eyes -grown bleak, and seldom vehement. He resembled his lean Yankee ancestors -after their exhausting campaigns of the wilderness, alive and sentient -only through a sheer stubbornness that brooked neither element nor -disaster. Only at rare moments did the slight strain of his French blood -lift him from that grim posture. Such a moment was afforded by the -arrival of Hugo. - -"Great God, Hugo! We haven't seen you in a dog's age." Other soldiers -smiled and brought rusty cigarettes into the dug-out where they sat and -smoked. - -Hugo held out his hand. "Been busy. Glad to see you." - -"Yes. I know how busy you've been. Up and down the lines we hear about -you. _Le Colorado._ Damn funny war. You'd think you weren't human, or -anywhere near human, to hear these birds. Wish you'd tell me how you get -away with it. Hasn't one nicked you yet?" - -"Not yet." - -"God damn. Got me here"--he tapped his shoulder--"and here"--his thigh. - -"That's tough. I guess the sort of work I do isn't calculated to be as -risky as yours," Hugo said. - -"Huh! That you can tell to Sweeny." The Frenchmen were still sitting -politely, listening to a dialogue they could not understand. Hugo and -Shayne eyed each other in silence. A long, penetrating silence. At -length the latter said soberly: "Still as enthusiastic as you were that -night in Marseilles?" - -"Are you?" - -"I didn't have much conception of what war would be then." - -"Neither did I," Hugo responded. "And I'm not very enthusiastic any -more." - -"Oh, well--" - -"Exactly." - -"Heard from your family?" - -"Sure." - -"Well--" - -They relapsed into silence again. By and by they ate a meal of cold -food, supplemented by rank, steaming coffee. Then they slept. Before -dawn Hugo woke feeling like a man in the mouth of a volcano that had -commenced to erupt. The universe was shaking. The walls of the dug-out -were molting chunks of earth. The scream and burst of shells were -constant. He heard Shayne's voice above the din, issuing orders in -French. Their batteries were to be phoned. A protective counter-fire. A -_barrage_ in readiness in case of attack, which seemed imminent. Larger -shells drowned the voice. Hugo rose and stood beside Shayne. - -"Coming over?" - -"Coming over." - -A shapeless face spoke in the gloom. The voice panted. "We must get out -of here, my lieutenant. They are smashing in the dug-out." A methodical -scramble to the orifice. Hell was rampaging in the trench. The shells -fell everywhere. Shayne shook his head. It was neither light nor dark. -The incessant blinding fire did not make things visible except for -fragments of time and in fantastic perspectives. Things belched and -boomed and smashed the earth and whistled and howled. It was impossible -to see how life could exist in that caldron, and yet men stood calmly -all along the line. A few of them, here and there, were obliterated. - -The red sky in the southeast became redder with the rising sun. Hugo -remained close to the wall. It was no novelty for him to be under shell -fire. But at such times he felt the need of a caution with which he -could ordinarily dispense. If one of the steel cylinders found him, even -his mighty frame might not contain itself. Even he might be rent -asunder. Shayne saw him and smiled. Twenty yards away a geyser of fire -sprayed the heavens. Ten feet away a fragment of shell lashed down a -pile of sand-bags. Shayne's smile widened. Hugo returned it. - -Then red fury enveloped the two men. Hugo was crushed ferociously -against the wall and liberated in the same second. He fell forward, his -ears singing and his head dizzy. He lay there, aching. Dark red stains -flowed over his face from his nose and ears. Painfully he stood up. A -soldier was watching him from a distance with alarmed eyes. Hugo -stepped. He found that locomotion was possible. The bedlam increased. It -brought a sort of madness. He remembered Shayne. He searched in the -smoking, stinking muck. He found the shoulders and part of Shayne's -head. He picked them up in his hands, disregarding the butchered ends of -the raw gobbet. White electricity crackled in his head. - -He leaped to the parapet, shaking his fists. "God damn you dirty sons of -bitches. I'll make you pay for this. You got him, got him, you bastards! -I'll shove your filthy hides down the devil's throat and through his -guts. Oh, Jesus!" He did not feel the frantic tugging of his fellows. He -ran into that bubbling, doom-ridden chaos, waving his arms and shouting -maniacal profanities. A dozen times he was knocked down. He bled slowly -where fragments had battered him. He crossed over and paused on the -German parapet. He was like a being of steel. Bullets sprayed him. His -arms dangled and lifted. Barbed wire trailed behind him. - -Down before him, shoulder to shoulder, the attacking regiments waited -for the last crescendo of the bombardment. They saw him come out of the -fury and smiled grimly. They knew such madness. They shot. He came on. -At last they could hear his voice dimly through the tumult. Someone -shouted that he was mad--to beware when he fell. Hugo jumped among them. -Bayonets rose. Hugo wrenched three knives from their wielders in one -wild clutch. His hands went out, snatching and squeezing. That was all. -No weapons, no defence. Just--hands. Whatever they caught they crushed -flat, and heads fell into those dreadful fingers, sides, legs, arms, -bellies. Bayonets slid from his tawny skin, taking his clothes. By and -by, except for his shoes, he was naked. His fingers had made a hundred -bunches of clotted pulp and then a thousand as he walked swiftly forward -in that trench. Ahead of him was a file of green; behind, a clogged row -of writhing men. Scarcely did the occupants of each new traverse see him -before they were smitten. The wounds he inflicted were monstrous. On he -walked, his voice now stilled, his breath sucking and whistling through -his teeth, his hands flailing and pinching and spurting red with every -contact. No more formidable engine of desolation had been seen by man, -no more titanic fury, no swifter and surer death. For thirty minutes he -raged through that line. The men thinned. He had crossed the attacking -front. - -Then the barrage lifted. But no whistles blew. No soldiers rose. A few -raised their heads and then lay down again. Hugo stopped and went back -into the _abattoir_. He leaped to the parapet. The French saw him, -silhouetted against the sky. The second German wave, coming slowly over -a far hill, saw him and hesitated. No ragged line of advancing men. No -cacophony of rifle fire. Only that strange, savage figure. A man dipped -in scarlet, nude, dripping, panting. Slowly in that hiatus he wheeled. -His lungs thundered to the French. "Come on, you black bastards. I've -killed them all. Come on. We'll send them down to hell." - -The officers looked and understood that something phenomenal had -happened. No Germans were coming. A man stood above their trench. "Come, -quick!" Hugo shouted. He saw that they did not understand. He stood an -instant, fell into the trench; and presently a shower of German corpses -flung through the air in wide arcs and landed on the very edge of the -French position. Then they came, and Hugo, seeing them, went on alone to -meet the second line. He might have forged on through that bloody swathe -to the heart of the Empire if his vitality had been endless. But, some -time in the battle, he fell unconscious on the field, and his -forward-leaning comrades, pushing back the startled enemy, found him -lying there. - -They made a little knot around him, silent, quivering. "It is the -Colorado," someone said. "His friend, Shayne--it is he who was the -lieutenant just killed." - -They shook their heads and felt a strange fear of the unconscious man. -"He is breathing." They called for stretcher-bearers. They faced the -enemy again, bent over on the stocks of their rifles, surged forward. - - * * * * * - -Hugo was washed and dressed in pyjamas. His wounds had healed without -the necessity of a single stitch. He was grateful for that. Otherwise -the surgeons might have had a surprise which would have been difficult -to allay. He sat in a wheel chair, staring across a lawn. An angular -woman in an angular hat and tailored clothes was trying to engage him in -conversation. - -"Is it very painful, my man?" - -Hugo was seeing that trench again--the pulp and blood and hate of it. -"Not very." - -Her tongue and saliva made a noise. "Don't tell me. I know it was. I -know how you all bleed and suffer." - -"Madam, it happens that my wounds were quite superficial." - -"Nonsense, my boy. They wouldn't have brought you to a base hospital in -that case. You can't fool me." - -"I was suffering only from exhaustion." - -She paused. He saw a gleam in her eye. "I suppose you don't like to -talk--about things. Poor boy! But I imagine your life has been so full -of horror that it would be good for you to unburden yourself. Now tell -me, just what does it feel like to bayonet a man?" - -Hugo trembled. He controlled his voice. "Madam," he replied, "it feels -exactly like sticking your finger into a warm, steaming pile of -cow-dung." - -"Oh!" she gasped. And he heard her repeat it again in the corridor. - - - - -XIV - - - "Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Jordan Shayne," Hugo wrote. Then he paused in - thought. He began again. "I met your son in Marseilles and was with - him most of the time until his death." He hesitated. "In fact, he - died in my arms from the effect of the same shell which sent me to - this hospital. He is buried in Carcy cemetery, on the south side. - It is for that reason I take the liberty to address you. - - "I thought that you would like to know some of the things that he - did not write to you. Your son enlisted because he felt the war - involved certain ideals that were worthy of preservation. That he - gave his life for those ideals must be a source of pride to you. In - training he was always controlled, kindly, unquarrelsome, - comprehending. In battle he was aggressive, brilliant, and more - courageous than any other man I have ever known. - - "In October, a year ago, he was decorated for bringing in Captain - Crouan, who was severely wounded during an attack that was - repulsed. Under heavy shell fire Tom went boldly into no man's - land and carried the officer from a shell pit on his back. At the - time Tom himself sustained three wounds. He was mentioned a number - of times in the dispatches for his leadership of attacks and - patrols. He was decorated a second time for the capture of a German - field officer and three of his staff, a coup which your son - executed almost single-handed. - - "Following his death his company made an attack to avenge him, - which wiped out the entire enemy position along a sector nearly a - kilometre in width and which brought a permanent advantage to the - Allied lines. That is mute testimony of his popularity among the - officers and men. I know of no man more worthy of the name - 'American,' no American more worthy of the words 'gentleman' and - 'hero.' - - "I realize the slight comfort of these things, and yet I feel bound - to tell you of them, because Tom was my friend, and his death is - grievous to me as well as to you. - - "Yours sincerely, - - "(LIEUTENANT) HUGO DANNER" - -Hugo posted the letter. When the answer came, he was once again in -action, the guns chugging and rumbling, the earth shaking. The reply -read: - - "DEAR LIEUTENANT DANNER: - - "Thank you for your letter in reference to our son. We knew that he - had enlisted in some foreign service. We did not know of his - death. I am having your statements checked, because, if they are - true, I shall be one of the happiest persons alive, and his mother - will be both happy and sad. The side of young Tom which you claim - to have seen is one quite unfamiliar to us. At home he was always a - waster, much of a snob, and impossible to control. It may be harsh - to say such things of him now that he is dead, but I cannot recall - one noble deed, one unselfish act, in his life here with us. - - "That I have a dead son would not sadden me. Tom had been - disinherited by us, his mother and father. But that my dead son was - a hero makes me feel that at last, coming into the Shayne blood and - heritage, he has atoned. And so I honour him. If the records show - that all you said of him is true, I shall not only honour him in - this country, but I shall come to France to pay my tribute with a - full heart and a knowledge that neither he nor I lived in vain. - - "Gratefully yours, - - "R. J. SHAYNE" - -Hugo reread the letter and stood awhile with wistful eyes. He remembered -Shayne's Aunt Emma, Shayne's bitter calumniation of his family. Well, -they had not understood him and he had not wanted them to understand -him. Perhaps Shayne had been more content than he admitted in the mud of -the trenches. The war had been a real thing to him. Hugo thought of its -insufficiencies for himself. The world was not enough for Shayne, but -the war had been. Both were insufficient for Hugo Danner. He listened to -the thunder in the sky tiredly. - -Two months later Hugo was ordered from rest billets to the major's -quarters. A middle-aged man and woman accompanied by a sleek Frenchman -awaited him. The man stepped forward with dignified courtesy. "I am Tom -Shayne's father. This is Mrs. Shayne." - -Hugo felt a great lack of interest in them. They had come too late. It -was their son who had been his friend. He almost regretted the letter. -He shook hands with them. Mrs. Shayne went to an automobile. Her husband -invited Hugo to a café. Over the wine he became suddenly less dignified, -more human, and almost pathetic. "Tell me about him, Danner. I loved -that kid once, you know." - -Hugo found himself unexpectedly moved. The man was so eager, so -strangely happy. He stroked his white moustache and turned away moist -eyes. So Hugo told him. He talked endlessly of the trenches and the dark -wet nights and the fire that stabbed through them. He invented brave -sorties for his friend, tripled his accomplishments, and put gaiety and -wit in his mouth. The father drank every syllable as if he was -committing the whole story to memory as the text of a life's solace. At -last he was crying. - -"That was the Tom I knew," Hugo said softly. - -"And that was the Tom I dreamed and hoped and thought he would become -when he was a little shaver. Well, he did, Danner." - -"A thousand times he did." - -Ralph Jordan Shayne blew his nose unashamedly. He thought of his -patiently waiting wife. "I've got to go, I suppose. This has been more -than kind of you, Mr. Danner--Lieutenant Danner. I'm glad--more glad -than I can say--that you were there. I understand from the major that -you're no small shakes in this army yourself." He smiled deferentially. -"I wish there was something we could do for you." - -"Nothing. Thank you, Mr. Shayne." - -"I'm going to give you my card. In New York--my name is not without -meaning." - -"It is very familiar to me. Was before I met your son." - -"If you ever come to the city--I mean, when you come--you must look us -up. Anything we can do--in the way of jobs, positions--" He was -confused. - -Hugo shook his head. "That's very kind of you, sir. But I have some -means of my own and, right now, I'm not even thinking of going back to -New York." - -Mr. Shayne stepped into the car. "I would like to do something." Hugo -realized the sincerity of that desire. He reflected. - -"Nothing I can think of--" - -"I'm a banker. Perhaps--if I might take the liberty--I could handle your -affairs?" - -Hugo smiled. "My affairs consist of one bank account in the City Loan -that would seem very small to you, Mr. Shayne." - -"Why, that's one of my banks. I'll arrange it. You know and I know how -small the matter of money is. But I'd appreciate your turning over some -of your capital to me. I would consider it a blessed opportunity to -return a service, a great service with a small one, I'm afraid." - -"Thanks," Hugo said. - -The banker scribbled a statement, asked a question, and raised his -eyebrows over the amount Hugo gave him. Then he was the father again. -"We've been to the cemetery, Danner. We owe that privilege to you. It -says there, in French: 'The remains of a great hero who gave his life -for France.' Not America, my boy; but I think that France was a worthy -cause." - -When they had gone, Hugo spent a disturbed afternoon. He had not been so -moved in many, many months. - - - - -XV - - -Now the streets of Paris were assailed by the colour of olive drab, the -twang of Yankee accents, the music of Broadway songs. Hugo watched the -first parade with eyes somewhat proud and not a little sombre. Each -shuffling step seemed to ask a rhythmic question. Who would not return -to Paris? Who would return once and not again? Who would be blind? Who -would be hideous? Who would be armless, legless, who would wear silver -plates and leather props for his declining years? Hugo wondered, and, -looking into those sometimes stern and sometimes ribald faces, he saw -that they had not yet commenced to wonder. - -They did not know the hammer and shock of falling shells and the jelly -and putty which men became. They chafed and bantered and stormed every -café and cocotte impartially, recklessly. Even the Legion had been more -grim and better prepared for the iron feet of war. They fell upon Hugo -with their atrocious French--two young men who wanted a drink and could -not make the bar-tender understand. - -"Hey, _fransay_," they called to him, "_comment dire que nous voulez des -choses boire?_" - -Hugo smiled. "What do you birds want to drink?" - -"God Almighty! Here's a Frog that speaks United States. Get the gang. -What's your name, bo?" - -"Danner." - -"Come on an' have a flock of drinks on us. You're probably dying on -French pay. You order for the gang and we'll treat." Eager, grinning -American faces. "Can you get whisky in this God-forsaken dump?" - -"Straight or highball?" - -"That's the talk. Straight, Dan. We're in the army now." - -Hugo drank with them. Only for one moment did they remember they were in -the army to fight: "Say, Dan, the war really isn't as tough as they -claim, is it?" - -"I don't know how tough they claim it is." - -"Well, you seen much fightin'?" - -"Three years." - -"Is it true that the Heinies--?" His hands indicated his question. - -"Sometimes. Accidentally, more or less. You can't help it." - -"And do them machine guns really mow 'em down?" - -Hugo shrugged. "There are only four men in service now who started with -my company." - -"Ouch! _Garçon! Encore!_ An' tell him to make it double--no, -triple--Dan, old man. It may be my last." To Hugo: "Well, it's about -time we got here an' took the war off your shoulders. You guys sure have -had a bellyful. An' I'm goin' to get me one right here and now. Bottoms -up, you guys." - -Hugo was transferred to an American unit. The officers belittled the -recommendations that came with him. They put him in the ranks. He served -behind the lines for a week. Then his regiment moved up. As soon as the -guns began to rumble, a nervous second lieutenant edged toward the -demoted private. "Say, Danner, you've been in this before. Do you think -it's all right to keep on along this road the way we are?" - -"I'm sure I couldn't say. You're taking a chance. Plane strafing and -shells." - -"Well, what else are we to do? These are our orders." - -"Nothing," Hugo said. - -When the first shells fell among them, however, Danner forgot that his -transference had cost his commission and sadly bereft Captain Crouan and -his command. He forgot his repressed anger at the stupidity of American -headquarters and their bland assumption of knowledge superior to that -gained by three years of actual fighting. He virtually took charge of -his company, ignoring the bickering of a lieutenant who swore and -shouted and accomplished nothing and who was presently beheaded for his -lack of caution. A month later, with troops that had some feeling of -respect for the enemy--a feeling gained through close and gory -association--Hugo was returned his commission. - -Slowly at first, and with increasing momentum, the war was pushed up out -of the trenches and the Germans retreated. The summer that filled the -windows of American homes with gold stars passed. Hugo worked like a -slave out beyond the front trenches, scouting, spying, destroying, -salvaging, bending his heart and shoulders to a task that had long since -become an acid routine. September. October. November. The end of that -holocaust was very near. - -Then there came a day warmer than the rest and less rainy. Hugo was -riding toward the lines on a _camion_. He rode as much as possible now. -He had not slept for two days. His eyes were red and twitching. He felt -tired--tired as if his fatigue were the beginning of death--tired so -that nothing counted or mattered--tired of killing, of hating, of -suffering--tired even of an ideal that had tarnished through long -weathering. The _camion_ was steel and it rattled and bumped as it moved -over the road. Hugo lay flat in it, trying to close his eyes. - -After a time, moving between the stumps of a row of poplars, they came -abreast of a regiment returning from the battle. They walked slowly and -dazedly. Each individual was still amazed at being alive after the -things he had witnessed. Hugo raised himself and looked at them. The -same expression had often been on the faces of the French. The long line -of the regiment ended. Then there was an empty place on the road, and -the speed of the truck increased. - -Finally it stopped with a sharp jar, and the driver shouted that he -could go no farther. Hugo clambered to the ground. He estimated that the -battery toward which he was travelling was a mile farther. He began to -walk. There was none of the former lunge and stride in his steps. He -trudged, rather, his head bent forward. A little file of men approached -him, and, even at a distance, he did not need a second glance to -identify them. Walking wounded. - -By ones and twos they began to pass him. He paid scant attention. Their -field dressings were stained with the blood that their progress cost. -They cursed and muttered. Someone had given them cigarettes, and a dozen -wisps of smoke rose from each group. It was not until he reached the end -of the straggling line that he looked up. Then he saw one man whose arms -were both under bandage walking with another whose eyes were covered and -whose hand, resting on his companion's shoulder, guided his stumbling -feet. - -Hugo viewed them as they came on and presently heard their conversation. -"Christ, it hurts," one of them said. - -"The devil with hurting, boy," the blinded man answered. "So do I, for -that matter. I feel like there was a hot poker in my brains." - -"Want another butt?" - -"No, thanks. Makes me kind of sick to drag on them. Wish I had a drink, -though." - -"Who doesn't?" - -Hugo heard his voice. "Hey, you guys," it said. "Here's some water. And -a shot of cognac, too." - -The first man stopped and the blind man ran into him, bumping his head. -He gasped with pain, but his lips smiled. "Damn nice of you, whoever you -are." - -They took the canteen and swallowed. "Go on," Hugo said, and permitted -himself a small lie. "I can get more in a couple of hours." He produced -his flask. "And finish off on a shot of this." - -He held the containers for the armless man and handed them to the other. -Their clothes were ragged and stained. Their shoes were in pieces. Sweat -had soaked under the blind man's armpits and stained his tunic. As Hugo -watched him swallow thirstily, he started. The chin and the hair were -familiar. His mind spun. He knew the voice, although its tenor was sadly -changed. - -"Good God," he said involuntarily, "it's Lefty!" - -Lefty stiffened. "Who are you?" - -"Hugo Danner." - -"Hugo Danner?" The tortured brain reflected. - -"Hugo! Good old Hugo! What, in the name of Jesus, are you doing here?" - -"Same thing you are." - -An odd silence fell. The man with the shattered arms broke it. "Know -this fellow?" - -"Do I know him! Gee! He was at college with me. One of my buddies. -Gosh!" His hand reached out. "Put it there, Hugo." - -They shook hands. "Got it bad, Lefty?" - -The bound head shook. "Not so bad. I guess--I kind of feel that I won't -be able to see much any more. Eyes all washed out. Got mustard gas in -'em. But I'll be all right, you know. A little thing like that's -nothing. Glad to be alive. Still have my sex appeal, anyhow. Still got -the old appetite. But--listen--what happened to you? Why in hell did you -quit? Woodman nearly went crazy looking for you." - -"Oh--" Hugo's thoughts went back a distance that seemed infinite, into -another epoch and another world--"oh, I just couldn't stick it. Say, you -guys, wait a minute." He turned. His _camion_-driver was lingering in -the distance. "Wait here." He rushed back. The armless man whistled. - -"God in heaven! Your friend there can sure cover the ground." - -"Yeah," Lefty said absently. "He always could." - -In a moment Hugo returned. "I got it all fixed up for you two to ride -in. No limousine, but it'll carry you." - -Lefty's lip trembled. "Gee--Jesus Christ--" he amended stubbornly; -"that's decent. I don't feel so dusty to-day. Damn it, if I had any -eyes, I guess I'd cry. Must be the cognac." - -"Nothing at all, Lefty old kid. Here, I'll give you a hand." He took -Lefty's arm over his shoulder, encircled him with his own, and carried -him rapidly over the broken road. - -"Still got the old fight," Lefty murmured as he felt himself rushed -forward. - -"Still." - -"Been in this mess long?" - -"Since the beginning." - -"I should have thought of that. I often wondered what became of you. -Iris used to wonder, too." - -"How is she?" - -"All right." - -They reached the truck. Lefty sat down on the metal bottom with a sigh. -"Thanks, old bean. I was just about _kaputt_. Tough going, this war. I -saw my first shell fall yesterday. Never saw a single German at all. One -of those squdgy things came across, and before I knew it, there was -onion in my eye for a goal." The truck motor roared. The armless man -came alongside and was lifted beside Lefty. "Well, Hugo, so long. You -sure were a friend in need. Never forget it. And look me up when the -Krauts are all dead, will you?" The gears clashed. "Thanks again--and -for the cognac, too." He waved airily. "See you later." - -Hugo stalked back on the road. Once he looked over his shoulder. The -truck was a blur of dust. "See you later. See you later. See you later." -Lefty would never see him later--never see anyone ever. - -That night he sat in a quiet stupor, all thought of great ideal, of fine -abandon, of the fury of justice, and all flagrant phrases brought to an -abrupt end by the immediate claims of his own sorrow. Tom Shayne was -blasted to death. The stinging horror of mustard had fallen into Lefty's -eyes. All the young men were dying. The friendships he had made, the -human things that gave in memory root to the earth were ripped up and -shrivelled. That seemed grossly wrong and patently ignoble. He discarded -his personal travail. It was nothing. His life had been comprised of -attempt and failure, of disappointment and misunderstanding; he was -accustomed to witness the blunting of the edge of his hopes and the -dulling of his desires when they were enacted. - -Even his great sacrifice had been vain. It was always thus. His deeds -frightened men or made them jealous. When he conceived a fine thing, the -masses, individually or collectively, transformed it into something -cheap. His fort in the forest had been branded a hoax. His effort to -send himself through college and to rescue Charlotte from an unpleasant -life had ended in vulgar comedy. Even that had been her triumph, her -hour, and an incongruous strain of greatness had filtered through her -personality rather than his. Now his years in the war were reduced to -no grandeur, to a mere outlet for his savage instinct to destroy. After -such a life, he reflected, he could no longer visualize himself engaged -in any search for a comprehension of real values. - -His mind was thorny with doubts. Seeing himself as a man made -hypocritical by his gifts and the narrowness of the world, discarding -his own problem as tragically solved, Hugo then looked upon the war as -the same sort of colossal error. A waste. Useless, hopeless, gaining -nothing but the temporal power which it so blatantly disavowed, it had -exacted the price of its tawdry excitement in lives, and, now that it -was almost finished, mankind was ready to emerge blank-faced and -panting, no better off than before. - -His heart ached as he thought of the toil, the effort, the energy and -hope and courage that had been spilled over those mucky fields to -satisfy the lusts and foolish hates of the demagogues. He was no longer -angry. The memory of Lefty sitting smilingly on the van and calling that -he would see him later was too sharp an emotion to permit brain storms -and pyrotechnics. - -If he could but have ended the war single-handed, it might have been -different. But he was not great enough for that. He had been a thousand -men, perhaps ten thousand, but he could not be millions. He could not -wrap his arms around a continent and squeeze it into submission. There -were too many people and they were too stupid to do more than fear him -and hate him. Sitting there, he realized that his naďve faith in -himself and the universe had foundered. The war was only another war -that future generations would find romantic to contemplate and dull to -study. He was only a species of genius who had missed his mark by a -cosmic margin. - -When he considered his failure, he believed that he was not thinking -about himself. There he was, entrusted with special missions which he -accomplished no one knew how, and no one questioned in those hectic -days. Those who had seen him escape machine-gun fire, carry tons, leap a -hundred yards, kill scores, still clung to their original concepts of -mankind and discredited the miracle their own eyes had witnessed. Too -many strange things happened in that blasting carnival of destruction -for one strange sight or one strange man to leave a great mark. Personal -security was at too great a premium to leave much room for interest and -speculation. Even Captain Crouan believed he was only a man of freak -strength and Major Ingalls in his present situation was too busy to do -more than note that Hugo was capable and nod his head when Hugo reported -another signal victory, ascribing it to his long experience in the war -rather than to his peculiar abilities. - -As he sat empty-eyed in the darkness, smoking cigarettes and breathing -in his own and the world's tragic futility, his own and the world's -abysmal sorrow, that stubborn ancestral courage and determination that -was in him still continued to lash his reason. "Even if the war is not -worth while," it whispered, "you have committed yourself to it. You are -bound and pledged to see it to the bitter end. You cannot finish it on a -declining note. To-night, to-morrow, you must begin again." At the same -time his lust for carnage stirred within him like a long-subdued demon. -Now he recognized it and knew that it must be mastered. But it combined -with his conscience to quicken his sinews anew. - -It was a cold night, but Hugo perspired. Was he to go again into the -holocaust to avenge a friend? Was he to live over those crimson seconds -that followed the death of Shayne, all because he had helped a blind -friend into a _camion_? He knew that he was not. Never again could his -instinct so triumph over his reason. That was the greatest danger in -being Hugo Danner. That, he commenced to see, was the explanation of all -his suffering in the past. The idea warmed and encouraged him. -Henceforth his emotions and sentiments would be buried even deeper than -his first inbred caution had buried them. He would be a creature of -intelligence, master of his caprice as well as of the power he possessed -to carry out that caprice. - -He lit a fresh cigarette and planned what he would do. On the next night -he would prepare himself very carefully. He would eat enormously, -provide himself with food and water, rest as much as he could, and then -start south and east in a plane. He would drive it far into Germany. -When its petrol failed, he would crash it. Stepping from the ruins, he -would hasten on in the darkness, on, on, like Pheidippides, till he -reached the centre of the enemy government. There, crashing through the -petty human barriers, he would perform his last feat, strangling the -Emperor, slaying the generals, pulling the buildings apart with his -Samsonian arms, and disrupting the control of the war. - -He had dreamed of such an enterprise even before he had enlisted. But he -had known that he lacked sufficient stamina without a great internal -cause, and no rage, no blood-madness, was great enough to drive him to -that effort. With amazement he realized that a clenched determination -depending on the brain rather than the emotions was a greater catalyst -than any passion. He knew that he could do such a thing. In the warmth -of that knowledge he completed his plan tranquilly and retired. For -twelve hours, by order undisturbed, Hugo slept. - -In the bright morning, he girded himself. He requisitioned the plane he -needed through Major Ingalls. He explained that requirement by saying -that he was going to bomb a battery of big guns. The plane offered was -an old one. Hugo had seen enough of flying in his French service to -understand its navigation. He ate the huge meal he had planned. And -then, a cool and grim man, he made his way to the hangar. In fifteen -minutes his last adventure would have commenced. But a dispatch rider, -charging on to the field in a roaring motor cycle, announced the -signing of the Armistice and the end of the war. - -Hugo stood near his plane when he heard the news. Two men at his side -began to cry, one repeating over and over: "And I'm still alive, so help -me God. I wish I was dead, like Joey." Hugo was rigid. His first gesture -was to lift his clenched fist and search for an object to smash with it. -The fist lingered in the air. His rage passed--rage that would have -required a giant vent had it occurred two days sooner. He relaxed. His -arm fell. He ruffled his black hair; his blacker eyes stared and then -twinkled. His lips smiled for the first time in many months. His great -shoulders sagged. "I should have guessed it," he said to himself, and -entered the rejoicing with a fervour that was unexpected. - - - - -XVI - - -There must be in heaven a certain god--a paunchy, cynical god whose task -it is to arrange for each of the birthward-marching souls a set of -circumstances so nicely adjusted to its character that the result of its -life, in triumph or defeat, will be hinged on the finest of threads. So -Hugo must have felt coming home from war. He had celebrated the -Armistice hugely, not because it had spared his life--most of the pomp, -parade, bawdiness, and glory had originated in such a deliverance--but -because it had rescued him from the hot blast of destructiveness. An -instantaneous realization of that prevented despair. He had failed in -the hour of becoming death itself; such failure was fortunate because -life to him, even at the end of the war, seemed more the effort of -creation than the business of annihilation. - -To know that had cost a struggle--a struggle that took place at the -hangar as the dispatch-bearer rode up and that remained crucial only -between the instant when he lifted his fist and when he lowered it. -Brevity made it no less intense; a second of time had resolved his soul -afresh, had redistilled it and recombined it. - -Not long after that he started back to America. The mass of soldiers -surrounding him were undergoing a transition that Hugo felt vividly. -These men would wake up sweating at night and cry out until someone -whispered roughly that there were no more submarines. A door would slam -and one of them would begin to weep. There were whisperings and -bickerings about life at home, about what each person, disintegrated -again to individuality, would do and say and think. Little fears about -lost jobs and lost girls cropped out, were thrust back, came finally to -remain. And no one wanted life to be what it had been; no one considered -that it could be the same. - -Hugo wrote to his family that the war was ended, that he was well, that -he expected to see them some time in the near future. The ship that -carried him reached the end of the blue sea; he was disembarked and -demobilized in New York. He realized even before he was accustomed to -the novelty of civilian clothes that a familiar, friendly city had -changed. The retrospective spell of the eighties and nineties had -vanished. New York was brand-new, blatant, rushing, prosperous. The -inheritance from Europe had been assimilated; a social reality, entirely -foreign and American, had been wrought and New York was ready to spread -it across the parent world. Those things were pressed quickly into -Hugo's mind by his hotel, the magazines, a chance novel of the precise -date, the cinema, and the more general, more indefinite human pulses. - -After a few days of random inspection, of casual imbibing, he called -upon Tom Shayne's father. He would have preferred to escape all painful -reminiscing, but he went partly as a duty and partly from necessity: he -had no money whatever. - -A butler opened the door of a large stone mansion and ushered Hugo to -the library, where Mr. Shayne rose eagerly. "I'm so glad you came. Knew -you'd be here soon. How are you?" - -Hugo was slightly surprised. In his host's manner was the hardness and -intensity that he had observed everywhere. "I'm very well, thanks." - -"Splendid! Cocktails, Smith." - -There was a pause. Mr. Shayne smiled. "Well, it's over, eh?" - -"Yes." - -"All over. And now we've got to beat the spears into plowshares, eh?" - -"We have." - -Mr. Shayne chuckled. "Some of my spears were already made into plows, -and it was a great season for the harvest, young man--a great season." - -Hugo was still uncertain of Mr. Shayne's deepest viewpoint. His -uncertainty nettled him. "The grim reaper has done some harvesting on -his own account--" He spoke almost rudely. - -Mr. Shayne frowned disapprovingly. "I made up my mind to forget, Danner. -To forget and to buckle down. And I've done both. You'll want to know -what happened to the funds I handled for you--" - -"I wasn't particularly--" - -The older man shook his head with grotesque coyness. "Not so fast, not -so fast. You were particularly eager to hear. We're getting honest about -our emotions in this day and place. You're eaten with impatience. -Well--I won't hold out. Danner, I've made you a million. A clean, cold -million." - -Hugo had been struggling in a rising tide of incomprehension; that -statement engulfed him. "Me? A million?" - -"In the bank in your name waiting for a blonde girl." - -"I'm afraid I don't exactly understand, Mr. Shayne." - -The banker readjusted his glasses and swallowed a cocktail by tipping -back his head. Then he rose, paced across the broad carpet, and faced -Hugo. "Of course you don't understand. Well, I'll tell you about it. -Once you did a favour for me which has no place in this conversation." -He hesitated; his face seemed to flinch and then to be jerked back to -its former expression. "In return I've done a little for you. And I want -to add a word to the gift of your bank book. You have, if you're -careful, leisure to enjoy life, freedom, the world at your feet. No -more strife for you, no worry, and no care. Take it. Be a hedonist. -There is nothing else. I've lain in bed nights enjoying the life that -lies ahead of you, my boy. Vicariously voluptuous. Catchy phrase, isn't -it? My own. I want to see you do it up brown." - -Hugo rubbed his hand across his forehead. It was not long ago that this -same man had sat at an _estaminet_ and wept over snatches of a childhood -which death had made sacred. Here he stood now, asking that a life be -done up brown, and meaning cheap, obvious things. He wished that he had -never called on Tom's father. - -"That wasn't my idea of living--" he said slowly. - -"It will be. Forget the war. It was a dream. I realized it suddenly. If -I had not, I would still be--just a banker. Not a great banker. The -great banker. I saw, suddenly, that it was a dream. The world was mad. -So I took my profit from it, beginning on the day I saw." - -"How, exactly?" - -"Eh?" - -"I mean--how did you profit by the war?" - -Mr. Shayne smiled expansively. "What was in demand then, my boy? What -were the stupid, traduced, misguided people raising billions to get? -What? Why, shells, guns, foodstuffs. For six months I had a corner on -four chemicals vitally necessary to the government. And the government -got them--at my price. I owned a lot of steel. I mixed food and -diplomacy in equal parts--and when the pie was opened, it was full of -solid gold." - -Hugo's voice was strange. "And that is the way--my money was made?" - -"It is." Mr. Shayne perceived that Hugo was angry. "Now, don't get -sentimental. Keep your eye on the ball. I--" He did not finish, because -Mrs. Shayne came into the room. Hugo stared at him fixedly, his face -livid, for several seconds before he was conscious of her. Even then it -was only a partial consciousness. - -She was stuffed into a tight, bright dress. She was holding out her -hand, holding his hand, holding his hand too long. There was mascara -around her eyes and they dilated and blinked in a foolish and -flirtatious way; her voice was syrup. She was taking a cocktail with the -other hand--maybe if he gave her hand a real squeeze, she would let go. -A tall, sallow young man had come in behind her; he was Mr. Jerome -Leonardo Bateau, a perfect dear. Mrs. Shayne was still holding his hand -and murmuring; Mr. Shayne was patting his shoulder; Mr. Bateau was -staring with haughty and jealous eyes. Hugo excused himself. - -In the hall he asked for Mr. Shayne's secretary. He collected himself in -a few frigid sentences. "Please tell Mr. Shayne I am very grateful. I -wish to transfer my entire fortune to my parents in Indian Creek, -Colorado. The name is Abednego Danner. Make all arrangements." - -A faint "But--" followed him futilely through the door. In the space of -a block he had cut a pace that set other pedestrians gaping to a fast -walk. - - - - -XVII - - -Hugo sat in Madison Square Park giving his attention in a circuit to the -Flatiron Building, the clock on the Metropolitan Tower, and the creeping -barrage of traffic that sent people scampering, stopped, moved forward -again. He had sat on the identical bench at the identical time of day -during his obscure undergraduate period. To repeat that contemplative -stasis after so much living had intervened ought to have produced an -emotion. He had gone to the park with that idea. But the febrile fires -of feeling were banked under the weight of many things and he could -suffer nothing, enjoy nothing and think but one fragmentary routine. - -He had tried much and made no progress. He would be forced presently to -depart on a different course from a new threshold. That idea went round -and round in his head like a single fly in a big room. It lost poignancy -and eventually it lost meaning. Still he sat in feeble sunshine trying -to move beyond stagnancy. He remembered the small man with the huge -roll of bills who had moved beside him and asked for a cup of coffee. He -remembered the woman who had robbed him; silk ankles crossed his line of -vision, and a gusty appetite vaporized even as it steamed into the -coldness of his indecision. - -He was without money now, as he had been then, so long ago. He budged on -the bench and challenged himself to think. - -What would you do if you were the strongest man in the world, the -strongest thing in the world, mightier than the machine? He made himself -guess answers for that rhetorical query. "I would--I would have won the -war. But I did not. I would run the universe single-handed. Literally -single-handed. I would scorn the universe and turn it to my own ends. I -would be a criminal. I would rip open banks and gut them. I would kill -and destroy. I would be a secret, invisible blight. I would set out to -stamp crime off the earth; I would be a super-detective, following and -summarily punishing every criminal until no one dared to commit a -felony. What would I do? What will I do?" - -Then he realized that he was hungry. He had not eaten enough in the last -few days. Enough for him. With some intention of finding work he had -left Mr. Shayne's house. A call on the telephone from Mr. Shayne himself -volunteering a position had crystallized that intention. In three days -he had discovered the vast abundance of young men, the embarrassment of -young men, who were walking along the streets looking for work. He who -had always worked with his arms and shoulders had determined to try to -earn his living with his head. But the white-collar ranks were teeming, -overflowing, supersaturated. He went down in the scale of clerkships and -inexperienced clerkships. There was no work. - -Thence he had gone to the park, and presently he rose. He had seen the -clusters of men on Sixth Avenue standing outside the employment -agencies. He could go there. Any employment was better than hunger--and -he had learned that hunger could come swiftly and formidably to him. -Business was slack, hands were being laid off; where an apprentice was -required, three trained men waited avidly for work. It was appalling and -Hugo saw it as appalling. He was not frightened, but, as he walked, he -knew that it was a mistake to sit in the park with the myriad other men. -Walking made him feel better. It was action, it bred the thought that -any work was better than none. Work would not hinder his dreams, -meantime. - -When he reached Forty-second Street he could see the sullen, watchful -groups of men. He joined one of them. A loose-jointed, dark-faced person -came down a flight of stairs, wrote on a blackboard in chalk, and went -up again. Several of the group detached themselves and followed him--to -compete for a chance to wash windows. - -A man at his side spoke to him. "Tough, ain't it, buddy?" - -"Yeah, it's tough," Hugo said. - -"I got three bones left. Wanna join me in a feed an' get a job -afterward?" - -Hugo looked into his eyes. They were troubled and desirous of -companionship. "No, thanks," he replied. - -They waited for the man to scribble again in chalk. - -"They was goin' to fix up everybody slick after the war. Oh, hell, yes." - -"You in it?" Hugo asked. - -"Up to my God-damned neck, buddy." - -"Me, too. Guess I'll go up the line." - -"I'll go witcha." - -"Well--" - -They waited a moment longer, for the man with the chalk had reappeared. -Hugo's comrade grunted. "Wash windows an' work in the steel mills. Break -your neck or burn your ear off. Wha' do they care?" Hugo had taken a -step toward the door, but the youth with the troubled eyes caught his -sleeve. "Don't go up for that, son. They burn you in them steel mills. I -seen guys afterward. Two years an' you're all done. This is tough, but -that's tougher. Sweet Jesus, I'll say it is." - -Hugo loosened himself. "Gotta eat, buddy. I don't happen to have even -three bones available at the moment." - -The man looked after him. "Gosh," he murmured. "Even guys like that." - -He was in a dingy room standing before a grilled window. A voice from -behind it asked his name, age, address, war record. Hugo was handed a -piece of paper to sign and then a second piece that bore the scrawled -words: "Amalgamated Crucible Steel Corp., Harrison, N. J." - -Hugo's emotional life was reawakened when he walked into the mills. His -last nickel was gone. He had left the train at the wrong station and -walked more than a mile. He was hungry and cold. He came, as if naked, -to the monster and he did it homage. - -Its predominant colour scheme was black and red. It had a loud, pagan -voice. It breathed fire. It melted steel and rock and drank human sweat, -with human blood for an occasional stimulant. On every side of him were -enormous buildings and woven between them a plaid of girders, cables, -and tracks across which masses of machinery moved. Inside, Thor was -hammering. Inside, a crane sped overhead like a tarantula, trailing its -viscera to the floor, dangling a gigantic iron rib. A white speck in its -wounded abdomen was a human face. - -The bright metal gushed from another hole. It was livid and partially -alive; it was hot and had a smell; it swept away the thought of the dark -descending night. It made a pool in a great ladle; it made a cupful -dipped from a river in hell. A furnace exhaled sulphurously, darting a -snake's tongue into the sky. The mills roared and the earth shook. It -was bestial, reptilian--labour, and the labour of creation, and the -engine that turned the earth could be no more terrible. - -Hugo, standing sublimely small in its midst, measured his strength -against it, soaked up its warmth, shook his fist at it, and shouted in a -voice that could not be heard for a foot: "Christ Almighty! This--is -something!" - -"Name?" - -"Hugo Danner." - -"Address?" - -"None at present." - -"Experience?" - -"None." - -"Married?" - -"No." - -"Union?" - -"What?" - -"Lemme see your union card." - -"I don't belong." - -"Well, you gotta join." - -He went to the headquarters of the union. Men were there of all sorts. -The mills were taking on hands. There was reconstruction to be done -abroad and steel was needed. They came from Europe, for the most part. -Thickset, square-headed, small-eyed men. Men with expressionless faces -and bulging muscles that held more meaning than most countenances. They -gave him room and no more. They answered the same questions that he -answered. He stood in a third queue with them, belly to back, mouths -closed. He was sent to a lodging-house, advanced five dollars, and told -that he would be boarded and given a bed and no more until the -employment agency had taken its commission, and the union its dues. He -signed a paper. He went on the night shift without supper. - -He ran a wheelbarrow filled with heavy, warm slag for a hundred feet -over a walk of loose bricks. The job was simple. Load, carry, dump, -return, load. On some later night he would count the number of loads. -But on this first night he walked with excited eyes, watching the -tremendous things that happened all around him. Men ran the machinery -that dumped the ladle. Men guided liquid iron from the furnaces into a -maze of channels and cloughs, clearing the way through the sand, cutting -off the stream, making new openings. Men wheeled the slag and steered -the trains and trams and cranes. Men operated the hammers. And almost -all of the men were nude to the waist, sleek and shining with sweat; -almost all of them drank whisky. - -One of the men in the wheelbarrow line even offered a drink to Hugo. He -held out the flask and bellowed in Czech. Hugo took it. The drink was -raw and foul. Pouring into his empty stomach, it had a powerful effect, -making him exalted, making him work like a demon. After a long, noisy -time that did not seem long a steam whistle screamed faintly and the -shift was ended. - -The Czech accompanied Hugo through the door. The new shift was already -at work. They went out. A nightmare of brilliant orange and black fled -from Hugo's vision and he looked into the pale, remote chiaroscuro of -dawn. - -"Me tired," the Czech said in a small, aimless tone. - -They flung themselves on dirty beds in a big room. But Hugo did not -sleep for a time--not until the sun rose and day was evident in the -grimy interior of the bunk house. - -That he could think while he worked had been Hugo's thesis when he -walked up Sixth Avenue. Now, working steadily, working at a thing that -was hard for other men and easy for him, he nevertheless fell into the -stolid vacuum of the manual labourer. The mills became familiar, less -fantastic. He remembered that oftentimes the war had given a more -dramatic passage of man's imagination forged into fire and steel. - -His task was changed numerous times. For a while he puddled pig iron -with the long-handled, hoe-like tool. - -"Don't slip in," they said. It was succinct, graphic. - -Then they put him on the hand cars that fed the furnaces. It was -picturesque, daring, and for most men too hard. Few could manage the -weight or keep up with the pace. Those who did were honoured by their -fellows. The trucks were moved forward by human strength and dumped by -hand-windlasses. Occasionally, they said, you became tired and fell -into the furnace. Or jumped. If you got feeling woozy, they said, quit. -The high rails and red mouths were hypnotic, like burning Baal and the -Juggernaut. - -Hugo's problems had been abandoned. He worked as hard as he dared. The -presence of grandeur and din made him content. How long it would have -lasted is uncertain; not forever. On the day when he had pushed up two -hundred and three loads during his shift, the boss stopped him in the -yard. - -A tall, lean, acid man. He caught Hugo's sleeve and turned him round. -"You're one of the bastards on the furnace line." - -"Yes." - -"How many cars did you push up to-day?" - -"Two hundred and three." - -"What the hell do you think this is, anyway?" - -"I don't get you." - -"Oh, you don't, huh? Well, listen here, you God-damned athlete, what are -you trying to do? You got the men all sore--wearing themselves out. I -had to lay off three--why? Because they couldn't keep up with you, -that's why. Because they got their guts in a snarl trying to bust your -record. What do you think you're in? A race? Somebody's got to show you -your place around here and I think I'll just kick a lung out right now." - -The boss had worked himself into a fury. He became conscious of an -audience of workers. Hugo smiled. "I wouldn't advise you to try -that--even if you are a big guy." - -"What was that?" The words were roared. He gathered himself, but when -Hugo did not flinch, did not prepare himself, he was suddenly startled. -He remembered, perhaps, the two hundred and three cars. He opened his -fist. "All right. I ain't even goin' to bother myself tryin' to break -you in to this game. Get out." - -"What?" - -"Get out. Beat it. I'm firing you." - -"Firing me? For working too hard?" Hugo laughed. He bent double with -laughter. His laughter sounded above the thunder of the mill. "Oh, God, -that's funny. Fire me!" He moved toward the boss menacingly. "I've a -notion to twist your liver around your neck myself." - -The workers realized that an event of some magnitude was taking place. -They drew nearer. Hugo's laughter came again and changed into a -smile--an emotion that cooled visibly. Then swiftly he peeled up the -sleeve of his shirt. His fist clenched; his arm bent; under the nose of -his boss he caused his mighty biceps to swell. His whole body trembled. -With his other hand he took the tall man's fingers and laid them on that -muscle. - -"Squeeze," he shouted. - -The boss squeezed. His face grew pallid and he let go suddenly. He tried -to speak through his dry mouth, but Hugo had turned his back. At the -brick gate post he paused and drew a breath. - -His words resounded like the crack of doom. "So long!" - - - - -XVIII - - -In the next four weeks Hugo knew the pangs of hunger frequently. He -found odd jobs, but none of them lasted. Once he helped to remove a late -snowstorm from the streets. He worked for five days on a subway -excavation. His clothes became shabby, he began to carry his razor in -his overcoat pocket and to sleep in hotels that demanded only -twenty-five cents for a night's lodging. When he considered the tens of -thousands of men in his predicament, he was not surprised at or ashamed -of himself. When, however, he dwelt on his own peculiar capacities, he -was both astonished and ashamed to meander along the dreary pavements. - -Hunger did curious things to him. He had moments of fury, of imagined -violence, and other moments of fantasy when he dreamed of a rich and -noble life. Sometimes he meditated the wisdom of devouring one -prodigious meal and fleeing through the dead of night to the warm south. -Occasionally he considered going back to his family in Colorado. His -most bitter hours were spent in thinking of Mr. Shayne and of accepting -a position in one of Mr. Shayne's banks. - -In his maculate, threadbare clothes, with his dark, aquiline face -matured by the war he was a sharp contrast of facts and possibilities. -It never occurred to him that he was young, that his dissatisfaction, -his idealism, his _Weltschmertz_ were integral to the life-cycle of -every man. - -At the end of four weeks, with hunger gnawing so avidly at his core that -he could not pass a restaurant without twitching muscles and quivering -nerves, he turned abruptly from the street into a cigar store and -telephoned to Mr. Shayne. The banker was full of sound counsel and ready -charity. Hugo regretted the call as soon as he heard Mr. Shayne's voice; -he regretted it when he was ravishing a luxurious dinner at Mr. Shayne's -expense. It was the weakest thing he had done in his life. - -Nevertheless he accepted the position offered by Mr. Shayne. That same -evening he rented a small apartment, and, lying on his bed, a clean bed, -he wondered if he really cared about anything or about anyone. In the -morning he took a shower and stood for a long time in front of the -mirror on the bathroom door, staring at his nude body as if it were a -rune he might learn to read, an enigma he might solve by concentration. -Then he went to work. His affiliation with the Down Town Savings Bank -lasted into the spring and was terminated by one of the oddest -incidents of his career. - -Until the day of that incident his incumbency was in no way unusual. He -was one of the bank's young men, receiving fifty dollars weekly to learn -the banking business. They moved him from department to department, -giving him mentally menial tasks which afforded him in each case a -glimpse of a new facet of financial technique. It was fairly -interesting. He made no friends and he worked diligently. - -One day in April when he had returned from lunch and a stroll in the -environs of the Battery--returned to a list of securities and a strip -from an adding machine, which he checked item by item--he was conscious -of a stirring in his vicinity. A woman employee on the opposite side of -a wire wicket was talking shrilly. A vice-president rose from his desk -and hastened down the corridor, his usually composed face suddenly white -and disconcerted. The tension was cumulative. Work stopped and clusters -of people began to chatter. Hugo joined one of them. - -"Yeah," a boy was saying, "it's happened before. A couple o' times." - -"How do they know he's there?" - -"They got a telephone goin' inside and they're talkin' to him." - -"I'll be damned." - -The boy nodded rapidly. "Yeah--some talk! Tellin' him what to try -next." - -"Poor devil!" - -"What's the matter?" Hugo asked. - -The boy was glad of a new and uninformed listener. "Aw, some dumb vault -clerk got himself locked in, an' the locks jammed an' they can't get him -out." - -"Which vault? The big one?" - -"Naw. The big one's got pipes for that kinda trouble. The little one -they moved from the old building." - -"It's not so darn little at that," someone said. - -Another person, a man, chuckled. "Not so darn. But there isn't air in -there to last three hours. Caughlin said so." - -"Honest to God?" - -"Honest. An' he's been there more than an hour already." - -"Jeest!" There was a pregnant, pictorial silence. Someone looked at -Hugo. - -"What's eatin' you, Danner? Scared?" - -His face was tense and his hands were opening and closing convulsively. -"No," he answered. "Guess I'll go down and have a look." - -He rang for an elevator in the corridor and was carried to the basement. -In the small room on which the vault opened were five or six people, -among them a woman who seemed to command the situation. The men were all -smoking; their attitudes were relaxed, their voices hushed. - -One repeated nervously: "Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ." - -"That won't help, Mr. Quail. I've sent for the expert and he will -probably have the safe open in a short time." - -"Blowtorches?" the swearing man asked abruptly. - -"Absurd. He would cook before he was out. And three feet of steel and -then two feet more." - -"Nitroglycerin?" - -"And make jelly out of him?" The woman tapped her finger-nails with her -glasses. - -Another arrival, who carried a small satchel, talked with her in an -undertone and then took off his coat. He went first to a telephone on -the wall and said: "Gi' me the inside of the vault. Hello.... Hello? You -there? Are you all right?... Try that combination again." The -safe-expert held the wire and waited. Not even the faintest sounds of -the attempt were audible in the front room. "Hello? You tried it?... -Well, see if those numbers are in this order." He repeated a series of -complicated directions. Finally he hung up. "Says it's getting pretty -stuffy in there. Says he's lying down on the floor." - -People came and went. The president himself walked in calmly and -occupied a chair. He lit a cigar, puffed on it, and stared with -ruminative eyes at the shiny mechanism on the front of the safe. - -"We are doing everything possible," the woman said to him crisply. - -"Of course," he nodded. "I called up the insurance company. We're amply -covered." A pause. "Mrs. Robinson, post one of the guards to keep -people from running in and out of here. There are enough around -already." - -No one had given Hugo any attention. He stood quietly in the background. -The expert worked and all eyes were on him. Occasionally he muttered to -himself. The hands of an electric clock moved along in audible jerks. -Nearly an hour passed and the room had become hazy with tobacco smoke. -The man working on the safe was moist with perspiration. His blue shirt -was a darker blue around the armpits. He lit a cigarette, set it down, -whirled the dials again, lit another cigarette while the first one -burned a chair arm, and threw a crumpled, empty package on the floor. - -At last he went to the phone again. He waited for some time before it -was answered, and he was compelled to make the man inside repeat -frequently. The new series of stratagems was without result. Before he -went again to his labours, he addressed the group. "Air getting pretty -bad, I guess." - -"Is it dark?" one of them asked tremulously. - -"No." - -Fifteen minutes more. The expert glanced at the bank's president, -hesitated, struggled frenziedly for a while, and then sighed. "I'm -afraid I can't get him out, sir. The combination is jammed and the -time-lock is all off." - -The president considered. "Do you know of anyone else who could do -this?" - -The man shook his head. "No. I'm supposed to be the best. I've been -called out for this--maybe six times. I never missed before. You see, we -make this safe--or we used to make it. And I'm a specialist. It looks -serious." - -The president took his cigar from his mouth. "Well, go ahead -anyway--until it's too late." - -Hugo stepped away from the wall. "I think I can get him out." - -They turned toward him. The president looked at him coldly. "And who are -you?" - -Mrs. Robinson answered. "He's the new man Mr. Shayne recommended so -highly." - -"Ah. And how do you propose to get him out, young man?" - -Hugo stood pensively for a moment. "By methods known only to me. I am -certain I can do it--but I will undertake it only if you will all leave -the room." - -"Ridiculous!" Mrs. Robinson said. - -The president's mouth worked. He looked more sharply at Hugo. Then he -rose. "Come on, everybody." He spoke quietly to Hugo. "You have a nerve. -How much time do you want?" - -"Five minutes." - -"Only five minutes," the president murmured as he walked from the -chamber. - -Hugo did not move until they had all gone. Then he locked the door -behind them. He walked to the safe and rapped on it tentatively with his -knuckles. He removed his coat and vest. He planted his feet against the -steel sill under the door. He caught hold of the two handles, fidgeted -with his elbows, drew a deep breath, and pulled. There was a resonant, -metallic sound. Something gave. The edge of the seven-foot door moved -outward and a miasma steamed through the aperture. Hugo changed his -stance and took the door itself in his hands. His back bent. He pulled -again. With a reverberating clang and a falling of broken steel it swung -out. Hugo dragged the man who lay on the floor to a window that gave on -a grated pit. He broke the glass with his fist. The clerk's chest heaved -violently; he panted, opened his eyes, and closed them tremblingly. - -Hugo put on his coat and vest and unlocked the door. The people outside -all moved toward him. - -"It's all right," Hugo said. "He's out." - -Mrs. Robinson glanced at the clerk and walked to the safe. "He's ruined -it!" she said in a shrill voice. - -The president was behind her. He looked at the handles of the vault, -which had been bent like hair-pins, and he stooped to examine the -shattered bolts. Then his eyes travelled to Hugo. There was a profoundly -startled expression in them. - -The clerk was sobbing. Presently he stopped. "Who got me out?" - -They indicated Hugo and he crossed the floor on tottering feet. "Thanks, -mister," he said piteously. "Oh, my God, what a wonderful thing to do! -I--I just passed out when I saw your fingers reaching around--" - -"Never mind," Hugo interrupted. "It's all right, buddy." - -The president touched his shoulder. "Come up to my office." A doctor -arrived. Several people left. Others stood around the demolished door. - -The president was alone when Hugo entered and sat down. He was cold and -he eyed Hugo coldly. "How did you do that?" - -Hugo shrugged. "That's my secret, Mr. Mills." - -"Pretty clever, I'd say." - -"Not when you know how." Hugo was puzzled. His ancient reticence about -himself was acting together with a natural modesty. - -"Some new explosive?" - -"Not exactly." - -"Electricity? Magnetism? Thought-waves?" - -Hugo chuckled. "No. All wrong." - -"Could you do it on a modern safe?" - -"I don't know." - -President Mills rubbed his fingers on the mahogany desk. "I presume you -were planning that for other purposes?" - -"What!" Hugo said. - -"Very well done. Very well acted. I will play up to you, Mr.--" - -"Danner." - -"Danner. I'll play up to this assumption of innocence. You have saved a -man's life. You are, of course, blushingly modest. But you have shown -your hand rather clearly. Hmmm." He smiled sardonically. "I read a book -about a safe-cracker who opened a safe to get a child out--at the -expense of his liberty and position--or at the hazard of them, anyhow. -Maybe you have read the same book." - -"Maybe," Hugo answered icily. - -"Safe-crackers--blasters, light fingers educated to the dials, and ears -attuned to the tumblers--we can cope with those things, Mr.--" - -"Danner." - -"But this new stunt of yours. Well, until we find out what it is, we -can't let you go. This is business, Mr. Danner. It involves money, -millions, the security of American finance, of the very nation. You will -understand. Society cannot afford to permit a man like you to go at -large until it has a thoroughly effective defence against you. Society -must disregard your momentary sacrifice, momentary nobleness. Your -process, unknown by us, constitutes a great social danger. I do not dare -overlook it. I cannot disregard it even after the service you have -done--even if I thought you never intended to put it to malicious use." - -Hugo's thoughts were far away--to the fort he had built when he was a -child in Colorado, to the wagon he had lifted up, to the long, -discouraging gauntlet of hard hearts and frightened eyes that his -miracles had met with. His voice was wistful when, at last, he addressed -the banker. - -"What do you propose to do?" - -"I shan't bandy words, Danner. I propose to hang on to you until I get -that secret. And I shall be absolutely without mercy. That is frank, is -it not?" - -"Quite." - -"You comprehend the significance of the third degree?" - -"Not clearly." - -"You will learn about it--unless you are reasonable." - -Hugo bowed sadly. The president pressed a button. Two policemen came -into the room. "McClaren has my instructions," he said. - -"Come on." Hugo rose and stood between them. He realized that the whole -pantomime of his arrest was in earnest. For one brief instant the -president was given a glimpse of a smile, a smile that worried him for a -long time. He was so worried that he called McClaren on the telephone -and added to his already abundant instructions. - -A handful of bystanders collected to watch Hugo cross from the bank to -the steel patrol wagon. It moved forward and its bell sounded. The -policemen had searched Hugo and now they sat dumbly beside him. He was -handcuffed to both of them. Once he looked down at the nickel bonds and -up at the dull faces. His eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. - -Captain McClaren received Hugo in a bare room shadowed by bars. He was a -thick-shouldered, red-haired man with a flabby mouth from which -protruded a moist and chewed toothpick. His eyes were blue and bland. -He made Hugo strip nude and gave him a suit of soiled clothes. Hugo -remained alone in that room for thirty hours without food or water. The -strain of that ordeal was greater than his jailers could have conceived, -but he bore it with absolute stoicism. - -Early in the evening of the second day the lights in the room were put -out, a glaring automobile lamp was set up on a table, he was seated in -front of it, and men behind the table began to question him in voices -that strove to be terrible. They asked several questions and ultimately -boiled them down to one: "How did you get that safe open?" which was -bawled at him and whispered hoarsely at him from the darkness behind the -light until his mind rang with the words, until he was waiting -frantically for each new issue of the words, until sweat glistened on -his brow and he grew weak and nauseated. His head ached splittingly and -his heart pounded. They desisted at dawn, gave him a glass of water, -which he gulped, and a dose of castor oil, which he allowed them to -force into his mouth. A few hours later they began again. It was night -before they gave up. - -The remnant of Hugo's clenched sanity was dumbfounded at what followed -after that. They beat his face with fists that shot from the blackness. -They threw him to the floor and kicked him. When his skin did not burst -and he did not bleed, they beat and kicked more viciously. They lashed -him with rubber hoses. They twisted his arms as far as they -could--until the bones of an ordinary man would have become dislocated. - -Except for thirst and hunger and the discomfort caused by the castor -oil, Hugo did not suffer. They refined their torture slowly. They tried -to drive a splinter under his nails; they turned on the lights and drank -water copiously in his presence; they finally brought a blowtorch and -prepared to brand him. Hugo perceived that his invulnerability was to -stand him in stead no longer. His tongue was swollen, but he could still -talk. Sitting placidly in his bonds, he watched the soldering iron grow -white in the softly roaring flame. When, in the full light that shone on -the bare and hideous room, they took up the iron and approached him, -Hugo spoke. - -"Wait. I'll tell you." - -McClaren put the iron back. "You will, eh?" - -"No." - -"Oh, you won't." - -"I shan't tell you, McClaren; I'll show you. And may God have mercy on -your filthy soul." - -There were six men in the room. Hugo looked from one to another. He -could tolerate nothing more; he had followed the course of President -Mills's social theory far enough to be surfeited with it. There was -decision in his attitude, and not one of the six men who had worked his -torment in relays could have failed to feel the chill of that decision. -They stood still. McClaren's voice rang out: "Cover him, boys." - -Hugo stretched. His bonds burst; the chair on which he sat splintered to -kindling. Six revolvers spat simultaneously. Hugo felt the sting of the -bullets. Six chambers were emptied. The room eddied smoke. There was a -harsh silence. - -"Now," Hugo said gently, "I will demonstrate how I opened that safe." - -"Christ save us," one of the men whispered, crossing himself. - -McClaren was frozen still. Hugo walked to the wall of the jail and -stabbed his fist through it. Brick and mortar burst out on the other -side and fell into the cinder yard. Hugo kicked and lashed with his -fists. A large hole opened. Then he turned to the men. They broke toward -the door, but he caught them one by one--and one by one he knocked them -unconscious. That much was for his own soul. Only McClaren was left. He -carried McClaren to the hole and dropped him into the yard. He wrenched -open the iron gate and walked out on the street, holding the policeman -by the arm. McClaren fainted twice and Hugo had to keep him upright by -clinging to his collar. It was dark. He hailed a cab and lifted the man -in. - -"Just drive out of town," Hugo said. - -McClaren came to. They bumped along for miles and he did not dare to -speak. The apartment buildings thinned. Street lights disappeared. They -traversed a stretch of woodland and then rumbled through a small town. - -"Who are you?" McClaren said. - -"I'm just a man, McClaren--a man who is going to teach you a lesson." - -The taxi was on a smooth turnpike. It made swift time. Twice Hugo -satisfied the driver that the direction was all right. At last, on a -deserted stretch, Hugo called to the driver to stop. McClaren thought -that he was going to die. He did not plead. Hugo still held him by the -arm and helped him from the cab. - -"Got any money on you?" Hugo asked. - -"About twenty dollars." - -"Give me five." - -With trembling fingers McClaren produced the bill. He put the remainder -of his money back in his pocket automatically. The taxi-driver was -watching, but Hugo ignored him. - -"McClaren," he said soberly, "here's your lesson. I just happen to be -the strongest man in the world. Never tell anybody that. And don't tell -anyone where I took you to-night--wherever it is. I shan't be here -anyway. If you tell either of those two things, I'll eat you. Actually. -There was a poor devil smothering in that safe and I yanked it open and -dragged him out. As a reward you and your dirty scavengers were put to -work on me. If I weren't as merciful as God Himself, you'd all be dead. -Now, that's your lesson. Keep your mouth shut. Here is the final -parable." - -Still holding the policeman's arm, he walked to the taxi and, to the -astonishment of the driver, gripped the axle in one hand, lifted up the -front end like a derrick, and turned the entire car around. He put -McClaren in the back seat. - -"Don't forget, McClaren." To the driver: "Back to where you picked us -up. The bird in the back seat will be glad to pay." - -The red lamp of the cab vanished. Hugo turned in the other direction and -began to run in great leaps. He slowed when he came to a town. A light -was burning in an all-night restaurant. Hugo produced the five-dollar -bill. - -"Give me a bucket of water--and put on about five steaks. Five." - - - - -XIX - - -It was bright morning when Hugo awoke. Through the window-pane in the -room where he had slept, he could see a straggling back yard; damp -clothes moved in the breeze, and beyond was a depression green with -young shoots. He descended to the restaurant and ate his breakfast. -Automobiles were swishing along the road outside and he could hear a -clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Afterwards he went out doors and -walked through the busy centre of the village and on into the country. - -Sun streamed upon him; the sky was blue; birds twittered in the budding -bushes. He had almost forgotten the beauty and peacefulness of -springtime; now it came over him with a rush--pastel colours and fecund -warmth, smells of earth and rain, melodious, haphazard wind. He knew -intuitively that McClaren would never send for him; he wondered what Mr. -Mills would say to Mr. Shayne about him. Both thoughts passed like white -clouds over his mind and he forgot them for an indolent vegetative -tranquillity. - -The road curved over hills and descended into tinted valleys. Farmers -were ploughing and planting. The men at the restaurant had told him that -he was in Connecticut. That did not matter, for any other place would -have been the same on this May morning. A truck-driver offered him a -ride, which Hugo refused, and then, watching the cubic van surge away in -the distance, he wished fugitively that he had accepted. - -Two half dollars and a quarter jingled in his pocket. His suit was seedy -and his beard unshaven. A picture of New York ran through his mind: he -stood far off from it gazing at the splendour of its towers in the -morning light; he came closer and the noise of it smote his ears; -suddenly he plunged into the city, his perspective vanished, and there -rose about him the ugly, unrelated, inchoate masses of tawdriness that -had been glorious from a distance, while people--dour, malicious, -selfish people who scuttled like ants--supplanted the vista of stone and -steel. The trite truth of the ratio between approach and enchantment -amused him. It was so obvious, yet so few mortals had the fine sense to -withdraw themselves. He was very happy walking tirelessly along that -road. - -After his luncheon he allowed a truck to carry him farther from the -city, deeper into the magic of spring. The driver bubbled with it--he -wore a purple tulip in his greasy cap and he slowed down on the -hilltops with an unassuming reverence and a naďve slang that fitted well -with Hugo's mood. When he reached his destination, Hugo walked on with -reluctance. Shadows of the higher places moved into the lowlands. He -crossed a brook and leaned over its middle on the bridge rail, -fascinated by an underwater landscape, complete, full of colour, less -than a foot high. From every side came the strident music of frogs. -Spring, spring, spring, they sang, rolling their liquid gutturals and -stopping abruptly when he came too near. - -In the evening, far from the city, he turned from the pavement on a -muddy country road, walking on until he reached the skeleton of an old -house. There he lay down, taking his supper from his pocket and eating -it slowly. The floor of the second story had fallen down and he could -see the stars through a hole in the roof. In such houses, he thought, -the first chapters of American history had been lived. When it was -entirely dark, a whippoorwill began to make its sweet and mournful -music. Warmth and chilliness came together from the ground. He slept. - -In the morning he followed the road into the hills. Long stretches of -woodland were interrupted by fields. He passed farmhouses and the paved -drive of an estate. More than a mile from the deserted farm, more than -two miles from the main road, half hidden in a skirt of venerable trees, -he saw an old, green house behind which was a row of barns. It was a -big house; tile medallions had been set in its foundations by an -architect whose tombstone must now be aslant and illegible. It was built -on a variety of planes and angles; gables cropped at random from its -mossy roof. Grass grew in the broad yard under the trees, and in the -grass were crocuses, yellow and red and blue, like wind-strewn confetti. - -Hugo paused to contemplate this peaceful edifice. A man walked briskly -from one of the barn doors. He perceived Hugo and stopped, holding a -spade in his hand. Then, after starting across to the house, he changed -his mind and, dropping the spade, approached Hugo. - -"Looking for work, my man?" - -Hugo smiled. "Why--yes." - -"Know anything about cattle?" - -"I was reared in a farming country." - -"Good." He scrutinized Hugo minutely. "I'll try you at eight dollars a -week, room, and board." He opened the gate. - -Hugo paused. The notion of finding employment somewhere in the country -had been fixed in his mind and he wondered why he waited, even as he -did, when the charm of the old manor had offered itself to him as if by -a miracle. The man swung open the gate; he was lithe, sober, direct. - -"My name is Cane--Ralph Cane. We raise blooded Guernsey stock here. At -the moment we haven't a man." - -"I see," Hugo said. - -"I could make the eight ten--in a week--if you were satisfactory." - -"I wasn't considering the money--" - -"How?" - -"I wasn't considering the money." - -"Oh! Come in. Try it." An eagerness was apparent in his tone. While Hugo -still halted on a knoll of indecision, a woman opened the French windows -which lined one façade of the house and stepped down from the porch. She -was very tall and very slender. Her eyes were slaty blue and there was a -delicate suggestion--almost an apparition--of grey in her hair. - -"What is it, Ralph?" Her voice was cool and pitched low. - -"This is my wife," Cane said. - -"My name is Danner." - -Cane explained. "I saw this man standing by the gate, and now I'm hiring -him." - -"I see," she said. She looked at Hugo. The crystalline substance of her -eyes glinted transiently with some inwardness--surprise, a vanishing -gladness, it might have been. "You are looking for work?" - -"Yes," Hugo answered. - -Cane spoke hastily. "I offered him eight a week and board, Roseanne." - -She glanced at her husband and returned her attention inquisitively to -Hugo. "Are you interested?" - -"I'll try it." - -Cane frowned nervously, walked to his wife, and nodded with averted -face. Then he addressed Hugo: "You can sleep in the barn. We have -quarters there. I don't think we'll be in for any more cold weather. If -you'll come with me now, I'll start you right in." - -Until noon Hugo cleaned stables. There were two dozen cows--animals that -would have seemed beautiful to a rustic connoisseur--and one lordly bull -with malignant horns and bloodshot eyes. He shoveled the pungent and not -offensive débris into a wheelbarrow and transferred it to a dung-heap -that sweated with internal humidity. At noon Cane came into the barn. - -"Pretty good," he said, viewing floors fairly shaved by Hugo's -diligence. "Lunch is ready. You'll eat in the kitchen." - -Hugo saw the woman again. She was toiling over a stove, her hair in -disarray, a spotted apron covering her long body. He realized that they -had no servants, that the three of them constituted the human -inhabitants of the estate--but there were shades, innumerable shades, of -a long past, and some of those ghosts had crept into Roseanne's slaty -eyes. She carried lunch for herself and her husband into a front room -and left him to eat in the soft silence. - -After lunch Cane spoke to him again. "Can you plough?" - -"It's been a long time--but I think so." - -"Good. I have a team. We'll drive to the north field. I've got to start -getting the corn in pretty soon." - -The room in the barn was bare: four board walls, a board ceiling and -floor, an iron cot, blankets, the sound and smell of the cows beneath. -Hugo slept dreamlessly, and when he woke, he was ravenous. - -His week passed. Cane drove him like a slave-master, but to drive Hugo -was an unhazardous thing. He did not think much, and when he did, it was -to read the innuendo of living that was written parallel to the -existence of his employer and Roseanne. They were troubled with each -other. Part of that trouble sprang from an evident source: Cane was a -miser. He resented the amount of food that Hugo consumed, despite the -unequal ratio of Hugo's labours. When Hugo asked for a few dollars in -advance, he was curtly refused. That had happened at lunch one day. -After lunch, however, and evidently after Cane had debated with his -wife, he inquired of Hugo what he wanted. A razor and some shaving -things and new trousers, Hugo had said. - -Cane drove the station wagon to town and returned with the desired -articles. He gave them to Hugo. - -"Thank you," Hugo said. - -Cane chuckled, opening his thin lips wide. "All right, Danner. As a -matter of fact, it's money in my bank." - -"Money in your bank?" - -"Sure. I've lived here for years and I get a ten-per-cent discount at -the general store. But I'm charging you full price--naturally." - -"Naturally," Hugo agreed. - -That was one thing that would make the tribulation in her eyes. Hugo -wished that he could have met these two people on a different basis, so -that he could have learned the truth about them. It was plain that they -were educated, cultured, refined. Cane had said something once about -raising cattle in England, and Roseanne had cooked peas as she had -learned to cook them in France. "_Petits pois au beurre_," she had -murmured--with an unimpeachable accent. - -Then the week had passed and there had been no mention of the advance in -wages. For himself, Hugo did not care. But it was easy to see why no one -had been working on the place when Hugo arrived, why they were eager to -hire a transient stranger. - -He learned part of what he had already guessed from a clerk in the -general store. One of the cows was ailing. Mr. Cane could not drive to -town (Mrs. Cane, it seemed, never left the house and its environs) and -they had sent Hugo. - -"You working for the Canes?" the clerk had asked. - -"Yes." - -"Funny people." - -Hugo replied indirectly. "Have they lived here long?" - -"Long? Roseanne Cane was a Bishop. The Bishops built that house and the -house before it--back in the seventeen hundreds. They had a lot of -money. Have it still, I guess, but Cane's too tight to spend it." There -was nothing furtive in the youth's manner; he was evidently touching on -common village gossip. "Yes, sir, too tight. Won't give her a maid. But -before her folks died, it was Europe every year and a maid for every one -of 'em, and 'Why, deary, don't tell me that's the second time you've put -on that dress! Take it right off and never wear it again.'" The joke was -part of the formula for telling about the Canes, and the clerk snickered -appreciatively. "Yes, sir. You come down here some day when I ain't got -the Friday orders to fill an' I'll tell you some things about old man -Cane that'll turn your stummick." - -Hugo accepted his bundle, set it in the seat beside himself, and drove -back to the big, green house. - -Later in the day he said to Cane: "If you will want me to drive the -station wagon very often, I ought to have a license." - -"Go ahead. Get one." - -"I couldn't afford it at the moment, and since it would be entirely for -you, I thought--" - -"I see," Cane answered calmly. "Trying to get a license out of me. Well, -you're out of luck. You probably won't be needed as a chauffeur again -for the next year. If you are, you'll drive without a license, and drive -damn carefully, too, because any fines or any accidents would come out -of your wages." - -Hugo received the insult unmoved. He wondered what Cane would say if he -smashed the car and made an escape. He knew he would not do it; the -whole universe appeared so constructed that men like Cane inevitably -avoided their desserts. - -June came, and July. The sea-shore was not distant and occasionally at -night Hugo slipped away from the woods and lay on the sand, sometimes -drinking in the firmament, sometimes closing his eyes. When it was very -hot he undressed behind a pile of barnacle-covered boulders and swam far -out in the water. He swam naked, unmolested, stirring up tiny whirlpools -of phosphorescence, and afterwards, damp and cool, he would dress and -steal back to the barn through the forest and the hay-sweet fields. - -One day a man in Middletown asked Mr. Cane to call on him regarding the -possible purchase of three cows. Cane's cows were raised with the -maximum of human care, the minimum of extraneous expense. His profit on -them was great and he sold them, ordinarily, one at a time. He was so -excited at the prospect of a triple sale that for a day he was almost -gay, very nearly generous. He drove off blithely--not in the sedan, but -in the station wagon, because its gasoline mileage was greater. - -It was a day filled with wonder for Hugo. When Cane drove from the -house, Roseanne was standing beside the drive. She walked over to the -barn and said to Hugo in an oddly agitated voice: "Mr. Danner, could you -spare an hour or two this morning to help me get some flowers from the -woods?" - -"Certainly." - -She glanced in the direction her husband had taken and hurried to the -kitchen, returning presently with two baskets and a trowel. He followed -her up the road. They turned off on an overgrown path, pushed through -underbrush, and arrived in a few minutes at the side of a pond. The -edges were grown thick with bushes and water weeds, dead trees lifted -awkward arms at the upper end, and dragon flies skimmed over the warm -brown water. - -"I used to come here to play when I was a little girl," she said. "It's -still just the same." She wore a blue dress; branches had dishevelled -her hair; she seemed more alive than he had ever seen her. - -"It's charming," Hugo answered. - -"There used to be a path all the way around--with stones crossing the -brook at the inlet. And over there, underneath those pine trees, there -are some orchids. I've always wanted to bring them down to the house. I -think I could make them grow. Of course, this is a bad time to -transplant anything--but I so seldom get a chance. I can't remember -when--when--" - -He realized with a shock that she was going to cry. She turned her head -away and peered into the green wall. "I think it's here," she said -tremulously. - -They followed a dimly discernible trail; there were deer tracks in it -and signs of other animals whose feet had kept it passable. It was hot -and damp and they were forced to bend low beneath the tangle to make -progress. Almost suddenly they emerged in a grove of white pines. They -stood upright and looked: wind stirred sibilantly in the high tops, and -the ground underfoot was a soft carpet; the lake reflected the blue of -the sky instead of the brown of its soft bottom. - -"Let's rest a minute," she said. And then: "I always think a pine grove -is like a cathedral. I read somewhere that pines inspired Gothic -architecture. Do you suppose it's true?" - -"There was the lotos and the Corinthian column," Hugo answered. - -They sat down. This was a new emotion--a paradoxical emotion for him. He -had come to an inharmonious sanctuary and he could expect both tragedy -and enchantment. There was Roseanne herself, a hidden beautiful thing in -whom were prisoned many beauties. She was growing old in the frosty -seclusion of her husband's company. She was feeding on the toothless -food of dreams when her hunger was still strong. That much anyone might -see; the reason alone remained invisible. He was acutely conscious of an -hour at hand, an imminent moment of vision. - -"You're a strange man," she said finally. - -That was to be the password. "Yes?" - -"I've watched you every day from the kitchen window." Her depression -had gone now and she was talking with a vague excitement. - -"Have you?" - -"Do you mind if we pretend for a minute?" - -"I'd like it." - -"Then let's pretend this is a magic carpet and we've flown away from the -world and there's nothing to do but play. Play," she repeated musingly. -"I'll be Roseanne and you'll be Hugo. You see, I found out your name -from the letters. I found out a lot about you. Not facts like born, -occupation, father's first name; just--things." - -He dared a little then. "What sort of things, Roseanne?" - -She laughed. "I knew you could do it! That's one of them. I found out -you had a soul. Souls show even in barn-yards. You looked at the peonies -one day and you played with the puppies the next. In one -way--Hugo--you're a failure as a farm hand." - -"Failure?" - -"A flop. You never make a grammatical mistake." She saw his surprise and -laughed again. "And your manners--and, then, you understood French. -See--the carpet is taking us higher and farther away. Isn't it fun! -You're the hired man and I'm the farmer's wife and all of a -sudden--we're--" - -"A prince and princess?" - -"That's exactly right. I won't pretend I'm not curious--morbidly -curious. But I won't ask questions, either, because that isn't what the -carpet is for." - -"What is it for, Roseanne?" - -"To get away from the world, silly. And now--there's a look about you. -When I was a little girl, my father was a great man, and many great men -used to come to our house. I know what the frown of power is and the -attitude of greatness. You have them--much more than any pompous old -magnate I ever laid eyes on. The way you touch things and handle them, -the way you square your shoulders. Sometimes I think you're not real at -all and just an imaginary knight come to storm my castle. And sometimes -I think you're a very famous man whose afternoon walk just has been -extended for a few months. The first thought frightens me, and the -second makes me wonder why I haven't seen your picture in the Sunday -rotogravures." - -Hugo's shoulders shook. "Poor Princess Roseanne. And what do I think -about you, then--" - -She held up her hand. "Don't tell me, Hugo. I should be sad. After all, -my life--" - -"May be what it does not appear to be." - -She took a brittle pine twig and dug in the mould of the needles until -it broke. "Ralph--was different once. He was a chemist. Then--the war -came. And he was there and a shell--" - -"Ah," Hugo said. "And you loved him before?" - -"I had promised him before. But it changed him so. And it's hard." - -"The carpet," he answered gently. "The carpet--" - -"I almost dropped off, and then I'd have been hurt, wouldn't I?" - -"A favour for a favour. I'm not a great man, but I hope to be one. I -have something that I think is a talent. Let it go at that. The letters -come from my father and mother--in Colorado." - -"I've never seen Colorado." - -"It's big--" - -"Like the nursery of the Titans, I think," she said softly, and Hugo -shuddered. The instinct had been too true. - -Her eyes were suddenly stormy. "I feel old enough to mother you, Hugo. -And yet, since you came, I've been a little bit in love with you. It -doesn't matter, does it?" - -"I think--I know--" - -"Sit closer to me then, Hugo." - -The sun had passed the zenith before they spoke connectedly again. "Time -for the magic carpet to come to earth," she said gaily. - -"Is it?" - -"Don't be masculine any longer--and don't be rudely possessive. Of -course it is. Aren't you hungry?" - -"I was hungry--" he began moodily. - -"All off at earth. Come on. Button me. Am I a sight?" - -"I disregard the bait." - -"You're being funny. Come. No--wait. We've forgotten the orchids. I -wonder if I really came for orchids. Should you be terribly offended if -I said I thought I did?" - -"Extravagantly offended." - -Cane returned late in the day. The cows had been sold--"I even made five -hundred clear and above the feeding and labour on the one with the off -leg. She'll breed good cattle." The barns were as clean as a park, and -Roseanne was singing as she prepared dinner. - -Nothing happened until a hot night in August. The leaves were still and -limp, the moon had set. Hugo lay awake and he heard her coming quietly -up the stairs. - -"Ralph had a headache and he took two triple bromides. Of course, I -could always have said that I heard one of the cows in distress and came -to wake you. But he's jealous, poor dear. And then--but who could resist -a couple of simultaneous alibis?" - -"Nobody," he whispered. She sat down on his bed. He put his arm around -her and felt that she was in a nightdress. "I wish I could see you now." - -"Then take this flashlight--just for an instant. Wait." He heard the -rustle of her clothing. "Now." - -She heard him draw in his breath. Then the light went out. - - * * * * * - -With the approach of autumn weather Roseanne caught a cold. She -continued her myriad tasks, but he could see that she was miserable. -Even Cane sympathized with her gruffly. When the week of the cattle show -in New York arrived, the cold was worse and she begged off the long trip -on the trucks with the animals. He departed alone with his two most -precious cows, scarcely thinking of her, muttering about judges and -prizes. - -Again she came out to the barn. "You've made me a dreadful hypocrite." - -"I know it." - -"You were waiting for me! Men are so disgustingly sure of everything!" - -"But--" - -"I've made myself cough and sniffle until I can't stop." - -Hugo smiled broadly. "All aboard the carpet...." - -They lay in a field that was surrounded by trees. The high weeds hid -them. Goldenrod hung over them. "Life can't go on--" - -"Like this," he finished for her. - -"Well--can it?" - -"It's up to you, Roseanne. I never knew there were women--" - -"Like me? You should have said 'was a woman.'" - -"Would you run away with me?" - -"Never." - -"Aren't we just hunting for an emotion?" - -"Perhaps. Because there was a day--one day--in the pines--" - -He nodded. "Different from these other two. That's because of the tragic -formation of life. There is only one first, only one commencement, only -one virginity. Then--" - -"Character sets in." - -"Then it becomes living. It may remain beautiful, but it cannot remain -original." - -"You'd be hard to live with." - -"Why, Roseanne?" - -"Because you're so determined not to have an illusion." - -"And you--" - -"Go on. Say it. I'm so determined to have one." - -"Are we quarreling? I can fix that. Come closer, Roseanne." Her face -changed through delicate shades of feeling to tenderness and to -intensity. Abruptly Hugo leaped to his feet. - -The rhythmic thunder rode down upon them like the wind. A few yards -away, head down, tail straight, the big bull charged over the ground -like an avalanche. Roseanne lifted herself in time to see Hugo take two -quick steps, draw back his fist, and hit the bull between the horns. It -was a diabolical thing. The bull was thrown back upon itself. Its neck -snapped loudly. Its feet crumpled; it dropped dead. Twenty feet to one -side was a stone wall. Hugo picked up a hoof and dragged the carcass to -the base of the wall. With his hand he made an indenture in the rocks, -and over the face of the hollow he splashed the bull's blood. Then he -approached Roseanne. The whole episode had occupied less than a minute. - -She had hunched her shoulders together, and her face was pale. She -articulated with difficulty. "The bull"--her hands twitched--"broke in -here--and you hit him." - -"Just in time, Roseanne." - -"You killed him. Then--why did you drag him over there?" - -"Because," Hugo answered slowly, "I thought it would be better to make -it seem as if he charged the wall and broke his neck that way." - -Her frigidity was worse than any hysteria. "It isn't natural to be able -to do things like that. It isn't human." - -He swallowed; those words in that stifled intonation were very familiar. -"I know it. I'm very strong." - -Roseanne looked down at the grass. "Wipe your hand, will you?" - -He rubbed it in the earth. "You mustn't be frightened." - -"No?" She laughed a little. "What must I be, then? I'm alive, I'm -crawling with terror. Don't touch me!" She screamed and drew back. - -"I can explain it." - -"You can explain everything! But not that." - -"It was an idiotic, wild, unfair thing to have happen at this time," he -said. "My life's like that." He looked beyond her. "I began wanting to -do tremendous things. The more I tried, the more discouraged I became. -You see, I was strong. There have been other things figuratively like -the bull. But the things themselves get littler and more preposterous, -because my ambition and my nerve grows smaller." He lowered his head. -"Some day--I shan't want to do anything at all any more. Continuous and -unwonted defeat might infuriate some men to a great effort. It's tiring -me." He raised his eyes sadly to hers. "Roseanne--!" - -She gathered her legs under herself and ran. Hugo made no attempt to -follow her. He merely watched. Twice she tripped and once she fell. At -the stone wall she looked back at him. It was not necessary to be able -to see her expression. She went on across the fields--a skinny, flapping -thing--at last a mere spot of moving colour. - -Hugo turned and stared at the brown mound of the bull. After a moment he -walked over and stood above it. Its tongue hung out and its mouth -grinned. It lay there dead, and yet to Hugo it still had life: the -indestructibility of a ghost and the immortality of a symbol. He sat -beside it until sundown. - -At twilight he entered the barn and tended the cows. The doors of the -house were closed. He went without supper. Cane returned jubilantly -later in the evening. He called Hugo from the back porch. - -"Telegram for you." - -Hugo read the wire. His father was sick and failing rapidly. "I want my -wages," he said. Then he went back to the barn. His trifling belongings -were already wrapped in a bundle. Cane reluctantly counted out the -money. Hugo felt nauseated and feverish. He put the money in his pocket, -the bundle under his arm; he opened the gate, and his feet found the -soft earth of the road in the darkness. - - - - -XX - - -Hugo had three hours to wait for a Chicago train. His wages purchased -his ticket and left him in possession of twenty dollars. His clothing -was nondescript; he had no baggage. He did not go outside the Grand -Central Terminal, but sat patiently in the smoking-room, waiting for the -time to pass. A guard came up to him and asked to see his ticket. Hugo -did not remonstrate and produced it mechanically; he would undoubtedly -be mistaken for a tramp amid the sleek travellers and commuters. - -When the train started, his fit of perplexed lethargy had not abated. -His hands and feet were cold and his heart beat slowly. Life had -accustomed him to frustration and to disappointment, yet it was -agonizing to assimilate this new cudgeling at the hands of fate. The old -green house in the Connecticut hills had been a refuge; Roseanne had -been a refuge. They were, both of them, peaceful and whimsical and they -had seemed innocent of the capacity for great anguish. Every man dreams -of the season-changed countryside as an escape; every man dreams of a -woman on whose broad breast he may rest, beneath whose tumbling hair and -moth-like hands he may discover forgetfulness and freedom. Some men are -successful in a quest for those anodynes. Hugo could understand the -sharp contours of one fact: because he was himself, such a quest would -always end in failure. No woman lived who could assuage him; his fires -would not yield to any temporal powers. - -He was barren of desire to investigate deeper into the philosophy of -himself. All people turned aside by fate fall into the same morass. -Except in his strength, Hugo was pitifully like all people: wounds could -easily be opened in his sensitiveness; his moral courage could be taxed -to the fringe of dilemma; he looked upon his fellow men sometimes with -awe at the variety of high places they attained in spite of the heavy -handicap of being human--he looked upon them again with repugnance--and -very rarely, as he grew older, did such inspections of his kind include -a study of the difference between them and him made by his singular -gift. When that thought entered his mind, it gave rise to peculiar -speculations. - -He approached thirty, he thought, and still the world had not re-echoed -with his name; the trumps, banners, and cavalcade of his glory had been -only shadows in the sky, dust at sunset that made evanescent and -intangible colours. Again, he thought, the very perfection of his -prowess was responsible for its inapplicability; if he but had an -Achilles' heel so that his might could taste the occasional tonic of -inadequacy, then he could meet the challenge of possible failure with -successful effort. More frequently he condemned his mind and spirit for -not being great enough to conceive a mission for his thews. Then he -would fall into a reverie, trying to invent a creation that would be as -magnificent as the destructions he could so easily envision. - -In such a painful and painstaking mood he was carried over the -Alleghenies and out on the Western plains. He changed trains at Chicago -without having slept, and all he could remember of the journey was a -protracted sorrow, a stabbing consciousness of Roseanne, dulled by his -last picture of her, and a hopeless guessing of what she thought about -him now. - -Hugo's mother met him at the station. She was unaltered, everything was -unaltered. The last few instants in the vestibule of the train had been -a series of quick remembrances; the whole countryside was like a -long-deserted house to which he had returned. The mountains took on a -familiar aspect, then the houses, then the dingy red station. Lastly his -mother, upright and uncompromisingly grim, dressed in her perpetual -mourning of black silk. Her recognition of Hugo produced only the -slightest flurry and immediately she became mundane. - -"Whatever made you come in those clothes?" - -"I was working outdoors, mother. I got right on a train. How is father?" - -"Sinking slowly." - -"I'm glad I'm in time." - -"It's God's will." She gazed at him. "You've changed a little, son." - -"I'm older." He felt diffident. A vast gulf had risen between this -vigorous, religious woman and himself. - -She opened a new topic. "Whatever in the world made you send us all that -money?" - -Hugo smiled. "Why--I didn't need it, mother. And I thought it would make -you and father happy." - -"Perhaps. Perhaps. It has done some good. I've sent four missionaries -out in the field and I am thinking of sending two more. I had a new -addition put on the church, for the drunkards and the fallen. And we put -a bathroom in the house. Your father wanted two, but I wouldn't hear of -it." - -"Have you got a car?" - -"Car? I couldn't use one of those inventions of Satan. Your father made -me hire this one to meet you. There's Anna Blake's house. She married -that fellow she was flirting with when you went away. And there's our -house. It was painted last month." - -Now all the years had dropped away and Hugo was a child again, an -adolescent again. The car stopped. - -"You can go right up. He's in the front room. I'll get lunch." - -Hugo's father was lying on the bed watching the door. A little wizened -old man with a big head and thin yellow hands. Illness had made his eyes -rheumy, but they lighted up when his son entered, and he half raised -himself. - -"Hello, father." - -"Hugo! You've come back." - -"Yes, father." - -"I've waited for you. Sit down here on the bed. Move me over a little. -Now close the door. Is it cold out? I was afraid you might not get here. -I was afraid you might get sick on the train. Old people are like that, -Hugo." He shaded his eyes. "You aren't a very big man, son. Somehow I -always remembered you as big. But--I suppose"--his voice thinned--"I -suppose you don't want to talk about yourself." - -"Anything you want to hear, father." - -"I can't believe you came back." He ruminated. "There were a thousand -things I wanted to ask you, son--but they've all gone from my mind. I'm -not so easy in your presence as I was when you were a little shaver." - -Hugo knew what those questions would be. Here, on his death-bed, his -father was still a scientist. His soul flinched from giving its account. -He saw suddenly that he could never tell his father the truth; pity, -kindredship, kindness, moved him. "I know what you wanted to ask, -father. Am I still strong?" It took courage to suggest that. But he was -rewarded. The old man sighed ecstatically. "That's it, Hugo, my son." - -"Then--father, I am. I grew constantly stronger when I left you. In -college I was strong. At sea I was strong. In the war. First I wanted to -be mighty in games and I was. Then I wanted to do services. And I did, -because I could." - -The head nodded on its feeble neck. "You found things to do? I--I hoped -you would. But I always worried about you. Every day, son, every day for -all these years, I picked up the papers and looked at them with -misgivings. 'Suppose,' I said to myself, 'suppose my boy lost his temper -last night. Suppose someone wronged him and he undertook to avenge -himself.' I trusted you, Hugo. I could not quite trust--the other thing. -I've even blamed myself and hated myself." He smiled. "But it's all -right--all right. So I am glad. Then, tell me--what--what--" - -"What have I done?" - -"Do you mind? It's been so long and you were so far away." - -"Well--" Hugo swept his memory back over his career--"so many things, -father. It's hard to recite one's own--" - -"I know. But I'm your father, and my ears ache to hear." - -"I saved a man pinned under a wagon. I saved a man from a shark. I -pulled open a safe in which a man was smothering. Many things like that. -Then--there was the war." - -"I know. I know. When you wrote that you had gone to war, I was -frightened--and happy. Try as I might, I could not think of a great -constructive cause for you to enter. I had to satisfy myself by thinking -that you could find such a cause. Then the war came. And you wrote that -you were in it. I was happy. I am old, Hugo, and perhaps my nationalism -and my patriotism are dead. Sides in a war did not seem to matter. But -peace mattered to me, and I thought--I hoped that you could hasten -peace. Four years, Hugo. Your letters said nothing. Four years. And then -it stopped. And I understood. War is property fighting property, not -David fighting Goliath. The greatest David would be unavailing now. Even -you could do little enough." - -"Perhaps not so little, father." - -"There were things, then?" - -Hugo could not disappoint his father with the whole formidable truth. -"Yes." He lied with a steady gaze. "I stopped the war." - -"You!" - -"After four years I perceived the truth of what you have just said. War -is a mistake. It is not sides that matter. The object of war is to make -peace. On a dark night, father, I went alone into the enemy lines. For -one hundred miles that night I upset every gun, I wrecked every -ammunition train, I blew up every dump--every arsenal, that is. Alone I -did it. The next day they asked for peace. Remember the false armistice? -Somehow it leaked out that there would be victory and surrender the -next night--because of me. Only the truth about me was never known. And -a day later--it came." - -The weak old man was transported. He raised himself up on his elbows. -"You did that! Then all my work was not in vain. My dream and my prayer -were justified! Oh, Hugo, you can never know how glad I am you came and -told me this. How glad." - -He repeated his expression of joy until his tongue was weary; then he -fell back. Hugo sat with shining eyes during the silence that followed. -His father at length groped for a glass of water. Strength returned to -him. "I could ask for no more, son. And yet we are petulant, insatiable -creatures. What is doing now? The world is wicked. Yet it tries -half-heartedly to rebuild itself. One great deed is not enough--or are -you tired?" - -Hugo smiled. "Am I ever tired, father? Am I vulnerable?" - -"I had forgotten. It is so hard for the finite mind to think beyond -itself. Not tired. Not vulnerable. No. There was Samson--the cat." He -was embarrassed. "I hurt you?" - -"No, father." He repeated it. Every gentle fall of the word "father" -from his lips and every mention of "son" by his father was rare -privilege, unfamiliar elixir to the old man. His new lie took its cue -from Abednego Danner's expressions. "My work goes on. Now it is with -America. I expect to go to Washington soon to right the wrongs of -politics and government. Vicious and selfish men I shall force from -their high places. I shall secure the idealistic and the courageous." It -was a theory he had never considered, a possible practice born of -necessity. "The pressure I shall bring against them will be physical and -mental. Here a man will be driven from his house mysteriously. There a -man will slip into the limbo. Yonder an inconspicuous person will -suddenly be braced by a new courage; his enemies will be gone and his -work will progress unhampered. I shall be an invisible agent of -right--right as best I can see it. You understand, father?" - -Abednego smiled like a happy child. "I do, son. To be you must be -splendid." - -"The most splendid thing on earth! And I have you to thank, you and your -genius to tender gratitude to. I am merely the agent. It is you that -created and the whole world that benefits." - -Abednego's face was serene--not smug, but transfigured. "I yearned as -you now perform. It is strange that one cloistered mortal can become -inspired with the toil and lament of the universe. Yet there is a danger -of false pride in that, too. I am apt to fall into the pit because my -cup is so full here at the last. And the greatest problem of all is not -settled." - -"What problem?" Hugo asked in surprise. - -"Why, the problem that up until now has been with me day and night. -Shall there be made more men like you--and women like you?" - -The idea staggered Hugo. It paralyzed him and he heard his father's -voice come from a great distance. "Up in the attic in the black trunk -are six notebooks wrapped in oilpaper. They were written in pencil, but -I went over them carefully in ink. That is my life-work, Hugo. It is the -secret--of you. Given those books, a good laboratory worker could go -through all my experiments and repeat each with the same success. I -tried a little myself. I found out things--for example, the effect of -the process is not inherited by the future generations. It must be done -over each time. It has seemed to me that those six little books--you -could slip them all into your coat pocket--are a terrible explosive. -They can rip the world apart and wipe humanity from it. In malicious -hands they would end life. Sometimes, when I became nervous waiting for -the newspapers, waiting for a letter from you, I have been sorely -tempted to destroy them. But now--" - -"Now?" Hugo echoed huskily. - -"Now I understand. There is no better keeping for them than your own. I -give them to you." - -"Me!" - -"You, son. You must take them, and the burden must be yours. You have -grown to manhood now and I am proud of you. More than proud. If I were -not, I myself would destroy the books here on this bed. Matilda would -bring them and I would watch them burn so that the danger would go -with--" he cleared his throat--"my dream." - -"But--" - -"You cannot deny me. It is my wish. You can see what it means. A world -grown suddenly--as you are." - -"I, father--" - -"You have not avoided responsibility. You will not avoid this, the -greatest of your responsibilities. Since the days when I made those -notes--what days!--biology has made great strides. For a time I was -anxious. For a time I thought that my research might be rediscovered. -But it cannot be. Theory has swung in a different direction." He smiled -with inner amusement. "The opticians have decided that the microscope I -made is impossible. The biochemists, moving through the secretions of -such things as hippuric acid in the epithelial cells, to enzymes, to -hormones, to chromosomes, have put a false construction on everything. -It will take hundreds, thousands of years to see the light. The darkness -is so intense and the error so plausible that they may never see again -exactly as I saw. The fact of you, at best, may remain always no more -than a theory. This is not vanity. My findings were a combination of -accidents almost outside the bounds of mathematical probability. It is -you who must bear the light." - -Hugo felt that now, indeed, circumstance had closed around him and left -him without succour or recourse. He bowed his head. "I will do it, -father." - -"Now I can die in peace--in joy." - -With an almost visible wrench Hugo brought himself back to his -surroundings. "Nonsense, father. You'll probably get well." - -"No, son. I've studied the progress of this disease in the lower -orders--when I saw it imminent. I shall die--not in pain, but in sleep. -But I shall not be dead--because of you." He held out his hand for Hugo. - -Some time later the old professor fell asleep and Hugo tiptoed from the -room. Food was sizzling downstairs in the kitchen, but he ignored it, -going out into the sharp air by the front door. He hastened along the -streets and soon came to the road that led up the mountain. He climbed -rapidly, and when he dared, he discarded the tedious little steps of all -mankind. He reached the side of the quarry where he had built the stone -fort, and seated himself on a ledge that hung over it. Trees, creepers, -and underbrush had grown over the place, but through the -October-stripped barricade of their branches he could see a heap of -stones that was his dolmen, on which the hieroglyph of him was -inscribed. - -Two tears scalded his cheeks; he trembled with the welter of his -emotions. He had failed his father, failed his trust, failed the world; -and in the abyss of that grief he could catch no sight of promise or -hope. Having done his best, he had still done nothing, and it was -necessary for him to lie to put the thoughts of a dying man to rest. The -pity of that lie! The folly of the picture he had painted of -himself--Hugo Danner the scourge of God, Hugo Danner the destroying -angel, Hugo Danner the hero of a quick love-affair that turned brown -and dead like a plucked flower, the sentimental soldier, the involuntary -misanthrope. - -"I must do it!" he whispered fiercely. The ruined stones echoed the -sound of his voice with a remote demoniac jeer. Do what? What, strong -man? What? - - - - -XXI - - -Now the winds keened from the mountains, and snow fell. Abednego Danner, -the magnificent Abednego Danner, was carried to his last resting-place, -the laboratory of nature herself. His wife and his son followed the -bier; the dirge was intoned, the meaningless cadence of ritual was -spoken to the cold ground; a ghostly obelisk was lifted up over his -meagre remains. Hugo had a wish to go to the hills and roll down some -gigantic chunk of living rock to mark that place until the coming of a -glacier, but he forbore and followed all the dark conventions of -disintegration. - -The will was read and the bulk of Hugo's sorry gains was thrust back -into his keeping. He went into the attic and opened the black trunk -where the six small notebooks lay in oilpaper. He took them out and -unwrapped them. The first two books were a maze of numbered experiments. -In the third a more vigorous calligraphy, a quivering tracery of -excitement, marked the repressed beginning of a new earth. - -He bought a bag and some clothes and packed; the false contralto of his -mother's hymns as she went about the house filled him with such despair -that he left after the minimum interval allowed by filial decency. She -was a grim old woman still, one to whom the coming of the kingdom to -Africa was a passion, the polishing of the coal stove a duty, and the -presence of her unfamiliar son a burden. - -When he said good-by, he kissed her, which left her standing on the -station platform looking at the train with a flat, uncomprehending -expression. Hugo knew where he was going and why: he was on his way to -Washington. The great crusade was to begin. He had no plans, only -ideals, which are plans of a sort. He had told his father he was making -the world a better place, and the idea had taken hold of him. He would -grapple the world, his world, at its source; he would no longer attempt -to rise from a lowly place; he would exert his power in the highest -places; government, politics, law, were malleable to the force of one -man. - -Most of his illusion was gone. As he had said so glibly to his father, -there were good men and corrupt in the important situations in the -world; to the good he would lend his strength, to the corrupt he would -exhibit his embattled antipathy. He would be not one impotent person -seeking to dominate, but the agent of uplift. He would be what he -perceived life had meant him to be: an instrument. He could not be a -leader, but he could create a leader. - -Such was his intention; he had seen a new way to reform the world, and -if his inspiration was clouded occasionally with doubt, he disavowed the -doubts as a Christian disavows temptation. This was to be his -magnificent gesture; he closed his eyes to the inferences made by his -past. - -He never thought of himself as pathetic or quixotic; his ability to -measure up to external requirements was infinite; his disappointment lay -always (he thought) in his spirit and his intelligence. He went to -Washington: the world was pivoting there. - -His first few weeks were dull. He installed himself in a pleasant house -and hired two servants. The use to which he was putting his funds -compensated for their origin. It was men like Shayne who would suffer -from his mission. And such a man came into view before very long. - -Hugo interested himself in politics and the appearance of politics. He -read the _Congressional Record_, he talked with everyone he met, he went -daily to the Capitol and listened to the amazing pattern of harangue -from the lips of innumerable statesmen. In looking for a cause his eye -fell naturally on the problem of disarmament. Hugo saw at once that it -was a great cause and that it was bogged in the greed of individuals. It -is not difficult to become politically partisan in the Capitol of any -nation. It was patent to Hugo that disarmament meant a removal of the -chance for war; Hugo hated war. He moved hither and thither, making -friends, learning, entertaining, never exposing his plan--which his new -friends thought to be lobbying for some impending legislation. - -He picked out an individual readily enough. Some of the men he had come -to know were in the Senate, others in the House of Representatives, -others were diplomats, newspaper reporters, attachés. Each alliance had -been cemented with care and purpose. His knowledge of an enemy came by -whisperings, by hints, by plain statements. - -Congressman Hatten, who argued so eloquently for laying down arms and -picking up the cause of humanity, was a guest of Hugo's. - -"Danner," he said, after a third highball, "you're a sensible chap. But -you don't quite get us. I'm fighting for disarmament--" - -"And making a grand fight--" - -The Congressman waved his hand. "Sure. That's what I mean. You really -want this thing for itself. But, between you and me, I don't give a rap -about ships and guns. My district is a farm district. We aren't -interested in paying millions in taxes to the bosses and owners in a -coal and iron community. So I'm against it. Dead against it--with my -constituency behind me. Nobody really wants to spend the money except -the shipbuilders and steel men. Maybe they don't, theoretically. But -the money in it is too big. That's why I fight." - -"And your speeches?" - -"Pap, Danner, pure pap. Even the yokels in my home towns realize that." - -"It doesn't seem like pap to me." - -"That's politics. In a way it isn't. Two boys I was fond of are lying -over there in France. I don't want to make any more shells. But I have -to think of something else first. If I came from some other district, -the case would be reversed. I'd like to change the tariff. But the -industrials oppose me in that. So we compromise. Or we don't. I think I -could put across a decent arms-limitation bill right now, for example, -if I could get Willard Melcher out of town for a month." - -"Melcher?" - -"You know him, of course--at least, who he is. He spends the steel money -here in Washington--to keep the building program going on. Simple thing -to do. The Navy helps him. Tell the public about the Japanese menace, -the English menace, all the other menaces, and the public coughs up for -bigger guns and better ships. Run 'em till they rust and nobody ever -really knows what good they could do." - -"And Melcher does that?" - -The Congressman chuckled. "His pay-roll would make your eyes bulge. But -you can't touch him." - -Hugo nodded thoughtfully. "Don't you think anyone around here works -purely for an idea?" - -"How's that? Oh--I understand. Sure. The cranks!" And his laughter ended -the discussion. - -Hugo began. He walked up the brick steps of Melcher's residence and -pulled the glittering brass knob. A servant came to the door. - -"Mr. Danner to see Mr. Melcher. Just a moment." - -A wait in the hall. The servant returned. "Sorry, but he's not in." - -Hugo's mouth was firm. "Please tell him that I saw him come in." - -"I'm sorry, sir, but he is going right out." - -"Tell him--that he will see me." - -The servant raised his voice. "Harry!" A heavy person with a flattened -nose and cauliflower ears stepped into the hall. "This gentleman wishes -to see Mr. Melcher, and Mr. Melcher is not in--to him. Take care of him, -Harry." The servant withdrew. - -"Run along, fellow." - -Hugo smiled. "Mr. Melcher keeps a bouncer?" - -An evil light flickered in the other's eyes. "Yeah, fellow. And I came -up from the Pennsy mines. I'm a tough guy, so beat it." - -"Not so tough your ears and nose aren't a sight," Hugo said lightly. - -The man advanced. His voice was throaty. "Git!" - -"You go to the devil. I came here to see Melcher and I'm going to see -him." - -"Yeah?" - -The tough one drew back his fist, but he never understood afterwards -what had taken place. He came to in the kitchen an hour later. Mr. -Melcher heard him rumble to the floor and emerged from the library. He -was a huge man, bigger than his bouncer; his face was hard and sinister -and it lighted with an unpleasant smile when he saw the unconscious thug -and measured the size of Hugo. "Pulled a fast one on Harry, eh?" - -"I came to see you, Melcher." - -"Well, might as well come in now. I worked up from the mines myself, and -I'm a hard egg. If you got funny with me, you'd get killed. Wha' daya -want?" - -Hugo sat down in a leather chair and lit a cigarette. He was -comparatively without emotion. This was his appointed task and he would -make short shrift of it. "I came here, Melcher," he began, "to talk -about your part in the arms conferences. It happens that I disagree with -you and your propaganda. It happens that I have a method of enforcing my -opinion. Disarmament is a great thing for the world, and putting the -idea across is the first step toward even bigger things. I know the -relative truths of what you say about America's peril and what you get -from saying it. Am I clear?" - -Melcher had reddened. He nodded. "Perfectly." - -"I have nothing to add. Get out of town." - -Melcher's eyes narrowed. "Do you really believe that sending me out of -town would do any good? Do you have the conceit to think that one nutty -shrimp like you can buck the will and ideas of millions of people?" - -Hugo did not permit his convictions to be shaken. "There happen to be -extenuating circumstances, Melcher." - -"Really? You surprise me." The broad sarcasm was shaken like a weapon. -"And do you honestly think you could chase me--me--out of here?" - -"I am sure of it." - -"How?" - -Hugo extinguished his cigarette. "I happen to be more than a man. I -am--" he hesitated, seeking words--"let us say, a devil, or an angel, or -a scourge. I detest you and what you stand for. If you do not leave--I -can ruin your house and destroy you. And I will." He finished his words -almost gently. - -Melcher appeared to hesitate. "All right. I'll go. Immediately. This -afternoon." - -Hugo was astonished. "You will go?" - -"I promise. Good afternoon, Mr. Danner." - -Hugo rose and walked toward the door. He was seething with surprise and -suspicion. Had he actually intimidated Melcher so easily? His hand -touched the knob. At that instant Melcher hit him on the head with a -chair. It broke in pieces. Hugo turned around slowly. - -"I understand. You mistook me for a dangerous lunatic. I was puzzled for -a moment. Now--" - -Melcher's jaw sagged in amazement when Hugo did not fall. An instant -later he threw himself forward, arms out, head drawn between his -shoulders. With one hand Hugo imprisoned his wrists. He lifted Melcher -from the floor and shook him. "I meant it, Melcher. And I will give you -a sign. Rotten politics, graft, bad government, are doomed." Melcher -watched with staring eyes while Hugo, with his free hand, rapidly -demolished the room. He picked up the great desk and smashed it, he tore -the stone mantelpiece from its roots; he kicked the fireplace apart; he -burst a hole in the brick wall--dragging the bulk of a man behind him as -he moved. "Remember that, Melcher. No one else on earth is like me--and -I will get you if you fail to stop. I'll come for you if you squeal -about this--and I leave it to you to imagine what will happen." - -Hugo walked into the hall. "You're all done for--you cheap swindlers. -And I am doom." The door banged. - -Melcher swayed on his feet, swallowed hard, and ran upstairs. "Pack," he -said to his valet. - -He had gone; Hugo had removed the first of the public enemies. Yet Hugo -was not satisfied. His approach to Melcher had been dramatic, -terrifying, effective. There were rumours of that violent morning. The -rumours said that Melcher had been attacked, that he had been bought out -for bigger money, that something peculiar was occurring in Washington. -If ten, twenty men left and those rumours multiplied by geometrical -progression, sheer intimidation would work a vast good. - -But other facts disconcerted Hugo. In the first place, his mind kept -reverting to Melcher's words: "Do you have the conceit to think that one -person can buck the will of millions?" No matter how powerful that -person, his logic added. Millions of dollars or people? the same logic -questioned. After all, did it matter? People could be perjured by -subtler influences than gold. Secondly, the parley over arms continued -to be an impasse despite the absence of Melcher. Perhaps, he argued, he -had not removed Melcher soon enough. A more carefully focused -consideration showed that, in spite of what Hatten had said. It was not -individuals against whom the struggle was made, but mass stupidity, -gigantic bulwarks of human incertitude. And a new man came in Melcher's -place--a man who employed different tactics. Hugo could not exorcise the -world. - -A few days later Hugo learned that two radicals had been thrown into -jail on a charge of murder. The event had taken place in Newark, New -Jersey. A federal officer had attempted to break up a meeting. He had -been shot. The men arrested were blamed, although it was evident that -they were chance seizures, that their proved guilt could be at most only -a social resentfulness. At first no one gave the story much attention. -The slow wheels of Jersey justice--printed always in quotation marks by -the dailies--began to turn. The men were summarily tried and convicted -of murder in the first degree. A mob assaulted the jail where they were -confined--without success. Two of the mob were wounded by riot guns. - -A meeting was held in Berlin, one in London, another in Paris. Moscow -was silent, but Moscow was reported to be in an uproar. The trial -assumed international proportions overnight. Embassies were stormed; -legations from America were forced to board cruisers. Strikes were -ordered; long queues of sullen men and women formed at camp kitchens. -The President delivered a message to Congress on the subject. Prominent -personages debated it in public halls, only to be acclaimed and booed -concomitantly. The sentence imposed on two Russian immigrants rocked the -world. In some cities it was not safe for American tourists to go abroad -in the streets. And all the time the two men drew nearer to the electric -chair. - -It was then that Hugo met Skorvsky. Many people knew him; he was a -radical, a writer; he lived in Washington, he styled himself an -unofficial ambassador of the world. A small, dark man with a black -moustache who attended one of Hugo's informal afternoon discussions on a -vicarious invitation. "Come over and see Hugo Danner. He's something new -in Washington." - -"Something new in Washington? I shall omit the obvious sarcasm. I shall -go." Skorvsky went. - -Hugo listened to him talk about the two prisoners. He was lucid; he -made allowances for the American democracy, which in themselves were -burning criticism. Hugo asked him to dinner. They dined at Hugo's house. - -"You have the French taste in wines," Skorvsky said, "but, as it is to -my mind the finest taste in the world, I can say only that." - -Hugo tried to lead him back to the topic that interested both of them so -acutely. Skorvsky shrugged. "You are polite--or else you are curious. I -know you--an American business man in Washington with a purpose. Not an -apparent purpose--just now. No, no. Just now you are a host, cultivated -and genial, and retiring. But at the proper time--ah! A dam somewhere in -Arizona. A forest that you covet in Alaska. Is it not so?" - -"What if it is not?" - -Skorvsky stared at the ceiling. "What then? A secret? Yes, I thought -that about you while we were talking to the others to-day. There is -something deep about you, my new friend. You are a power. Possibly you -are not even really an American." - -"That is wrong." - -"You assure me that I am right. But I will agree with you. You are, let -us say, the very epitome of the man Mr. Mencken and Mr. Lewis tell us -about so charmingly. I am Russian and I cannot know all of America. You -might divulge your errand, perhaps?" - -"Suppose I said it was to set the world aright?" - -Skorvsky laughed lightly. "Then I should throw myself at your feet." - -Both men were in deadly earnest, Hugo not quite willing to adopt the -Russian's almost effeminate delicacy, yet eager to talk to him, or to -someone like him--someone who was more than a great self-centred wheel -in the progress of the nation. Hugo yielded a little further. "Yet that -is my purpose. And I am not altogether impotent. There are things I can -do--" He got up from the table and stretched himself with a feline -grace. - -"Such as?" - -"I was thinking of your two compatriots who were recently given such -wretched justice. Suppose they were liberated by force. What then?" - -"Ah! You are an independent communist?" - -"Not even that. Just a friend of progress." - -"So. A dreamer. One of the few who have wealth. And you have a plan to -free these men?" - -Hugo shrugged. "I merely speculated on the possible outcome of such a -thing; assume that they were snatched from prison and hidden beyond the -law." - -Skorvsky meditated. "It would be a great victory for the cause, of -course. A splendid lift to its morale." - -"The cause of Bolshevism?" - -"A higher and a different cause. I cannot explain it briefly. Perhaps I -cannot explain it at all. But the old world of empires is crumbled. -Democracy is at its farcical height. The new world is not yet manifest. -I shall be direct. What is your plan, Mr. Danner?" - -"I couldn't tell you. Anyway, you would not believe it. But I could -guarantee to deliver those two men anywhere in the country within a few -days without leaving a trace of how it was done. What do you think of -that, Skorvsky?" - -"I think you are a dangerous and a valuable man." - -"Not many people do." Hugo's eyes were moody. "I have been thinking -about it for a long time. Nothing that I can remember has happened -during my life that gives me a greater feeling of understanding than the -imprisonment and sentencing of those men. I know poignantly the glances -that are given them, the stupidity of the police and the courts, the -horror-stricken attitude of those who condemn them without knowledge of -the truth or a desire for such knowledge." He buried his face in his -hands and then looked up quickly. "I know all that passionately and -intensely. I know the blind fury to which it all gives birth. I hate it. -I detest it. Selfishness, stupidity, malice. I know the fear it -engenders--a dreadful and a justified fear. I've felt it. Very little in -this world avails against it. You'll forgive so much sentiment, -Skorvsky?" - -"It makes us brothers." The Russian spoke with force and simplicity. -"You, too--" - -Hugo crossed the room restlessly. "I don't know. I am always losing my -grip. I came to Washington with a purpose and I cannot screw myself to -it unremittingly. These men seem--" - -Skorvsky was thinking. "Your plan for them. What assistance would you -need?" - -"None." - -"None!" - -"Why should I need help? I--never mind. I need none." - -"You have your own organization?" - -"There is no one but me." - -Skorvsky shook his head. "I cannot--and yet--looking at you--I believe -you can. I shall tell you. You will come with me to-night and meet my -friends--those who are working earnestly for a new America, an America -ruled by intelligence alone. Few outsiders enter our councils. We are -all--nearly all--foreigners. Yet we are more American than the Maine -fisherman, the Minnesota farmer. Behind us is a party that grows apace. -This incident in New Jersey has added to it, as does every dense mumble -of Congress, every scandalous metropolitan investigation. I shall -telephone." - -Hugo allowed himself to be conducted half-dubiously. But what he found -was superficially, at least, what he had dreamed for himself. The house -to which he was taken was pretentious; the people in its salon were -amiable and educated; there was no sign of the red flag, the ragged -reformer, the anarchist. The women were gracious; the men witty. As he -talked to them, one by one, he began to believe that here was the -nucleus around which he could construct his imaginary empire. He became -interested; he expanded. - -It was late in the night when Skorvsky raised his voice slightly, so -that everyone would listen, and made an announcement: "Friends, I have -had the honour to introduce Mr. Danner to you. Now I have the greater -honour of telling you his purpose and pledge. To-morrow night he will go -to New Jersey"--the silence became absolute--"and two nights later he -will bring to us in person from their cells Davidoff and Pletzky." - -A quick, pregnant pause was followed by excitement. They took Hugo by -the hand, some of them applauded, one or two cheered, they shouldered -near him, they asked questions and expressed doubts. It was broad -daylight before they dispersed. Hugo walked to his house, listening to a -long rhapsody from Skorvsky. - -"We will make you a great man if you succeed," Skorvsky said. -"Good-night, comrade." - -"Good-night." Hugo went into the hall and up to his bedroom. He sat on -his bed. A dullness overcame him. He had never been patronized quite in -the same way as he had that night; it exerted at once a corrosive and a -lethargic influence. He undressed slowly, dropping his shoes on the -floor. Splendid people they were, he thought. A smaller voice suggested -to him that he did not really care to go to New Jersey for the -prisoners. They would be hard to locate. There would be a sensation and -a mystery again. Still, he had found a purpose. - -His telephone rang. He reached automatically from the bed. The room was -bright with sunshine, which meant that it was late in the day. His brain -took reluctant hold on consciousness. "Hello?" - -"Hello? Danner, my friend--" - -"Oh, hello, Skorvsky--" - -"May I come up? It is important." - -"Sure. I'm still in bed. But come on." - -Hugo was under the shower bath when his visitor arrived. He invited -Skorvsky to share his breakfast, but was impatiently refused. "Things -have happened since last night, Comrade Danner. For one, I saw the -chief." - -"Chief?" - -"You have not met him as yet. We conferred about your scheme. He--I -regret to say--opposed it." - -Hugo nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'll tell you what to do. You take me -to him--and I'll prove conclusively that it will be successful. Then, -perhaps, he will agree to sanction it. Every time I think of those two -poor devils--snatched from a mob--waiting there in the dark for the -electric chair--it makes my blood boil." - -"Quite," Skorvsky agreed. "But you do not understand. It is not that he -doubts your ability--if you failed it would not be important. He fears -you might accomplish it. I assured him you would. I have faith in you." - -"He's afraid I would do it? That doesn't make sense, Skorvsky." - -"It does, I regret to say." His expressive face stirred with discomfort. -"We were too hasty, too precipitate. I see his reason now. We cannot -afford as a group to be branded as jail-breakers." - -"That's--weak," Hugo said. - -Skorvsky cleared his throat. "There are other matters. Since Davidoff -and Pletzky were jailed, the party has grown by leaps and bounds. Money -has poured in--" - -"Ah," Hugo said softly, "money." - -Skorvsky raged. "Go ahead. Be sarcastic. To free those men would cost us -a million dollars, perhaps." - -"Too bad." - -"With a million--the million their electrocution will bring from the -outraged--we can accomplish more than saving two paltry lives. We must -be hard, we must think ahead." - -"In thinking ahead, Skorvsky, do you not think of the closing of a -switch and the burning of human flesh?" - -"For every cause there must be martyrs. Their names will live -eternally." - -"And they themselves--?" - -"Bah! You are impractical." - -"Perhaps." Hugo ate a slice of toast with outward calm. "I was hoping -for a government that--did not weigh people against dollars--" - -"Nor do we!" - -"No?" - -Skorvsky leaped to his feet. "Fool! Dreamer! Preposterous idealist! I -must be going." - -Hugo sighed. "Suppose I went ahead?" - -"One thing!" The Russian turned with a livid face. "One thing the chief -bade me tell you. If those men escape--you die." - -"Oh," Hugo said. He stared through the window. "And supposing I were to -offer your chief a million--or nearly a million--for the privilege of -freeing them?" - -Skorvsky's face returned to its look of transfiguration, the look that -had accompanied his noblest words of the night before. "You would do -that, comrade?" he whispered. "You would give us--give the cause--a -million? Never since the days of our Saviour has a man like you walked -on this--" - -Hugo stood up suddenly. "Get out of here!" His voice was a cosmic -menace. "Get out of here, you dirty swine. Get out of here before I -break you to matchwood, before I rip out your guts and stuff them back -through your filthy, lying throat. Get out, oh, God, get out!" - - - - -XXII - - -Hugo realized at last that there was no place in his world for him. -Tides and tempest, volcanoes and lightning, all other majestic -vehemences of the universe had a purpose, but he had none. Either -because he was all those forces unnaturally locked in the body of a man, -or because he was a giant compelled to stoop and pander to live at all -among his feeble fellows, his anachronism was complete. - -That much he perceived calmly. His tragedy lay in the lie he had told to -his father: great deeds were always imminent and none of them could be -accomplished because they involved humanity, humanity protecting its -diseases, its pettiness, its miserable convictions and conventions, with -the essence of itself--life. Life not misty and fecund for the future, -but life clawing at the dollar in the hour, the security of platitudes, -the relief of visible facts, the hope in rationalization, the needs of -skin, belly, and womb. - -Beyond that, he could see destiny by interpreting his limited career. -Through a sort of ontogenetic recapitulation he had survived his savage -childhood, his barbaric youth, and the Greeces, Romes, Egypts, and -Babylons of his early manhood, emerging into a present that was endowed -with as much aspiration and engaged with the same futility as was his -contemporary microcosm. No life span could observe anything but material -progress, for so mean and inalterable is the gauge of man that his races -topple before his soul expands, and the eventualities of his growth in -space and time must remain a problem for thousands and tens of thousands -of years. - -Searching still further, he appreciated that no single man could force a -change upon his unwilling fellows. At most he might inculcate an idea in -a few and live to see its gradual spreading. Even then he could have no -assurance of its contortions to the desire for wealth and power or of -the consequences of those contortions. - -Finally, to build, one must first destroy, and he questioned his right -to select unaided the objects for destruction. He looked at the Capitol -in Washington and pondered the effect of issuing an ultimatum and -thereafter bringing down the great dome like Samson. He thought of the -churches and their bewildering, stupefying effect on masses who were -mulcted by their own fellows, equally bewildered, equally stupefied. -Suppose through a thousand nights he ravaged the churches, wrecking -every structure in the land, laying waste property, making the loud, -unattended volume of worship an impossibility, taking away the -purple-robed gods of his forbears? Suppose he sank the navy, annihilated -the army, set up a despotism? No matter how efficiently and well he -ruled, the millions would hate him, plot against him, attempt his life; -and every essential agent would be a hypocritical sycophant seeking -selfish ends. - -He reached the last of his conclusions sitting beside a river whither he -had walked to think. An immense loathing for the world rose up in him. -At its apex a locomotive whistled in the distance, thundered -inarticulately, and rounded a bend. It came very near the place where -Hugo reclined, black, smoking, and noisy, drivers churning along the -rails, a train of passenger cars behind. Hugo could see the dots that -were people's heads. People! Human beings! How he hated them! The train -was very near. Suddenly all his muscles were unsprung. He threw himself -to his feet and rushed toward the train, with a passionate desire to get -his fingers around the sliding piston, to up-end the locomotive and to -throw the ordered machinery into a blackened, blazing, bloody tangle of -ruin. - -His lips uttered a wild cry; he jumped across the river and ran two -prodigious steps. Then he stopped. The train went on unharmed. Hugo -shuddered. - -If the world did not want him, he would leave the world. Perhaps he was -a menace to it. Perhaps he should kill himself. But his burning, -sickened heart refused once more to give up. Frenzy departed, then -numbness. In its place came a fresh hope, new determination. Hugo Danner -would do his utmost until the end. Meanwhile, he would remove himself -some distance from the civilization that had tortured him. He would go -away and find a new dream. - -The sound of the locomotive was dead in the distance. He crossed the -river on a bridge and went back to his house. He felt strong again and -glad--glad because he had won an obscure victory, glad because the farce -of his quest in political government had ended with no tragic -dénouement. - -They were electrocuting Davidoff and Pletzky that day. The news scarcely -interested Hugo. The part he had very nearly played in the affair seemed -like the folly of a dimly remembered acquaintance. The relief of -resigning that impossible purpose overwhelmed him. He dismissed his -servants, closed his house, and boarded a train. When the locomotive -pounded through the station, he suffered a momentary pang. He sat in a -seat with people all around him. He was tranquil and almost content. - - - - -XXIII - - -Hugo had no friends. One single individual whom he loved, whom he could -have taken fully into his confidence, might, in a measure, have resolved -his whole life. Yet so intense was the pressure that had conditioned him -that he invariably retreated before the rare opportunities for such -confidences. He had known many persons well: his father and mother, Anna -Blake, Lefty Foresman, Charlotte, Iris, Tom Shayne, Roseanne, even -Skorvsky--but none of them had known him. His friendlessness was -responsible for a melancholy yearning to remain with his kind. Having -already determined to go away, he sought for a kind of compromise. - -He did not want to be in New York, or Washington, or any other city; the -landscape of America was haunted for him. He would leave it, but he -would not open himself to the cruel longing for his own language, the -sight of familiar customs and manners. From his hotel in New York he -made excursions to various steamship agencies and travel bureaus. He -had seen many lands, and his _Wanderlust_ demanded novelty. For days he -was undecided. - -It was a chance group of photographs in a Sunday newspaper that excited -his first real interest. One of the pictures was of a man--erect, -white-haired, tanned, clear-eyed--Professor Daniel Hardin--a procession -of letters--head of the new expedition to Yucatan. The other pictures -were of ruined temples, unpiled stone causeways, jungle. He thought -instantly that he would like to attach himself to the party. - -Many factors combined to make the withdrawal offered by an expedition -ideal. The more Hugo thought about it, the more excited he became. The -very nascency of a fresh objective was accompanied by and crowded with -new hints for himself and his problems. The expedition would take him -away from his tribulations, and it would not entirely cut him off from -his kind: Professor Hardin had both the face and the fame of a -distinguished man. - -A thought that had been in the archives of his mind for many months came -sharply into relief: of all human beings alive, the scientists were the -only ones who retained imagination, ideals, and a sincere interest in -the larger world. It was to them he should give his allegiance, not to -the statesmen, not to industry or commerce or war. Hugo felt that in one -quick glimpse he had made a long step forward. - -Another concept, far more fantastic and in a way even more intriguing, -dawned in his mind as he read accounts of the Maya ruins which were to -be excavated. The world was cluttered with these great lumps of -incredible architecture. Walls had been builded by primitive man, -temples, hanging gardens, obelisks, pyramids, palaces, bridges, -terraces, roads--all of them gigantic and all of them defying the -penetration of archćology to find the manner of their creation. Was it -not possible--Hugo's heart skipped a beat when it occurred to him--that -in their strange combination of ignorance and brilliance the ancients -had stumbled upon the secret of human strength--his secret! Had not -those antique and migratory peoples carried with them the formula which -could be poured into the veins of slaves, making them stronger than -engines? And was it not conceivable that, as their civilizations -crumbled, the secret was lost, together with so many other formulć of -knowledge? - -He could imagine plumed and painted priests with prayer and sacrifice -cutting open the veins of prehistoric mothers and pouring in the magic -potion. When the babies grew, they could raise up the pyramids, walls, -and temples; they could do it rapidly and easily. A great enigma was -thus resolved. He set out immediately to locate Professor Hardin and -with difficulty arranged an interview with him. - -Preparations for the expedition were being carried on in an ordinary New -York business office. A secretary announced Hugo and he was conducted -before the professor. Daniel Hardin was no dusty pedagogue. His -knowledge was profound and academic, his books were authoritative, but -in himself he belonged to the type of man certain to succeed, whatever -his choice of occupation. Much of his life had been spent in field -work--arduous toil in bizarre lands where life depended sometimes on -tact and sometimes on military strategy. He appraised Hugo shrewdly -before he spoke. - -"What can I do for you, Mr. Danner?" - -Hugo came directly to the point. "I should like to join your Yucatan -expedition." - -Professor Hardin smiled. "I'm sorry. We're full up." - -"I'd be glad to go in any capacity--" - -"Have you special qualifications? Knowledge of the language? Of -archćology?" - -"No." - -The professor picked up a tray of letters. "These letters--more than -three hundred--are all from young men--and women--who would like to join -my expedition." - -"I think I should be useful," Hugo said, and then he played his trump, -"and I should be willing to contribute, for the favour of being -included, a sum of fifty thousand dollars." - -Professor Hardin whistled. Then his eyes narrowed. "What's your object, -young man? Treasure?" - -"No. A life--let us say--with ample means at my disposal and no definite -purpose." - -"Boredom, then." He smiled. "A lot of these other young men are -independently wealthy, and bored. I must say, I feel sorry for your -generation. But--no--I can't accept. We are already adequately -financed." - -Hugo smiled in response. "Then--perhaps--I could organize my own party -and camp near you." - -"That would hamper me." - -"Then--a hundred thousand dollars." - -"Good Lord. You are determined." - -"I have decided. I am familiar with the jungle. I am an athlete. I speak -a little Spanish--enough to boss a labour gang. I propose to assist you -in that way, as well as financially. I will make any contract with you -that you desire--and attach no strings whatever to my money." - -Professor Hardin pondered for a long time. His eyes twinkled when he -replied. "You won't believe it, but I don't give a damn for your money. -Not that it wouldn't assist us. But--the fact is--I could use a man like -you. Anybody could. I'll take you--and you can keep your money." - -"There will be a check in the mail to-morrow," Hugo answered. - -The professor stood. "We're hoping to get away in three weeks. You'll -leave your address with my secretary and I'll send a list of the things -you'll want for your kit." He held out his hand and Hugo shook it. When -he had gone, the professor looked over the roof-tops and swore gleefully -to himself. - -Hugo discovered, after the ship sailed, that everyone called Professor -Hardin "Dan" and they used Hugo's first name from the second day out. -Dan Hardin was too busy to be very friendly with any of the members of -his party during the voyage, but they themselves fraternized -continually. There were deck games and card games; there were long and -erudite arguments about the people whom they were going to study. What -was the Mayan time cycle and did it correspond to the Egyptian Sothic -cycle or the Greek Metonic cycle. Where did the Mayans get their jade? -Did they come from Asia over Bering Strait or were they a colony of -Atlantis? When they knew so much about engineering, why did they not use -the keystone arch and the wheel? Why was their civilization decadent, -finished when the _conquistadores_ discovered it? How old were -they--four thousand years or twelve thousand years? There were -innumerable other debates to which Hugo listened like a man new-born. - -The cold Atlantic winds were transformed overnight to the balm of the -Gulf stream. Presently they passed the West Indies, which lay on the -water like marine jewels. Ages turned back through the days of -buccaneering to the more remote times. In the port of Xantl a rickety -wharf, a single white man, a zinc bar, and a storehouse filled with -chicle blocks marked off the realm of the twentieth century. The ship -anchored. During the next year it would make two voyages back to the -homeland for supplies. But the explorers would not emerge from the -jungle in that time. - -An antiquated, wood-burning locomotive, which rocked along over -treacherous rails, carried them inland. The scientists became silent and -pensive. In another car the Maya Indians who were to do the manual -labour chattered incessantly in their explosive tongue. At the last -sun-baked stop they disembarked, slept through an insect-droning night, -and entered the jungle. For three weeks they hacked and hewed their way -forward; the vegetation closed behind them, cutting off the universe as -completely as the submerging waves of the sea. It was hot, difficult -work, to which Hugo lent himself with an energy that astounded even -Hardin, who had judged him valuable. - -One day, when the high mountains loomed into view, Hugo caught his first -glimpse of Uctotol, the Sacred City. A creeper on the hillside fell -before his machete, then another--a hole in the green wall--and there it -stood, shining white, huge, desolate, still as the grave. His arm hung -in mid-air. Over him passed the mystic feeling of familiarity, that -fugitive sense of recognition which springs so readily into a belief in -immortality. It seemed to him during that staggering instant that he -knew every contour of those great structures, that he had run in the -streets, lived, loved, died there--that he could almost remember the -names and faces of its inhabitants, dead for thousands of years--that he -could nearly recall the language and the music--that destiny itself had -arranged a home-coming. The vision died. He gave a great shout. The -others rushed to his side and found him trembling and pointing. - -Tons of verdure were cut down and pushed aside. A hacienda was -constructed and a camp for the labourers. Then the shovels and picks -were broken from their boxes; the scientists arranged their -paraphernalia, and the work began, interrupted frequently by the -exultant shouts that marked a new finding. No one regretted Hugo. He -made his men work magically; his example was a challenge. He could do -more than any of them, and his hair and eyes, black as their own, his -granite face, stern and indefatigable, gave him a natural dominion over -them. - -All this--the dark, starlit, plushy nights with their hypnotic silences, -the vivid days of toil, the patient and single-minded men--was respite -to Hugo. It salved his tribulations. It brought him to a gradual -assurance that any work with such men would be sufficient for him. He -was going backward into the world instead of forward; that did not -matter. He stood on the frontier of human knowledge. He was a factor in -its preparation, and if what they carried back with them was no more -than history, if it cast no new light on existing wants and -perplexities, it still served a splendid purpose. Months rolled by -unheeded; Hugo gathered friends among these men--and the greatest of -those friends was Daniel Hardin. - -In their isolation and occasional loneliness each of them little by -little stripped his past for the others. Only Hugo remained silent about -himself until his reticence was conspicuous. He might never have spoken, -except for the accident. - -It was, in itself, a little thing, which happened apart from the main -field of activity. Hugo and two Indians were at work on a small temple -at the city's fringe. Hardin came down to see. The great stone in the -roof, crumbled by ages, slipped and teetered. Underneath the professor -stood, unheeding. But Hugo saw. He caught the mass of rock in his arms -and lifted it to one side. And Dan Hardin turned in time to perceive the -full miracle. - -When Hugo lifted his head, he knew. Yet, to his astonishment, there was -no look of fear in Hardin's blue eyes. Instead, they were moderately -surprised, vastly interested. He did not speak for some time. Then he -said: "Thanks, Danner. I believe you saved my life. Should you mind -picking up that rock again?" - -Hugo dismissed the Indians with a few words. He glanced again at Hardin -to make sure of his composure. Then he lifted the square stone back to -its position. - -Hardin was thinking aloud. "That stone must weigh four tons. No man -alive can handle four tons like that. How do you do it, Hugo?" - -Hot, streaming sun. Tumbled débris. This profound question asked again, -asked mildly for the first time. "My father--was a biologist. A great -biologist. I was--an experiment." - -"Good Lord! And--and that's why you've kept your past dark, Hugo?" - -"Of course. Not many people--" - -"Survive the shock? You forget that we--here--are all scientists. I -won't press you." - -"Perhaps," Hugo heard himself saying, "I'd like to tell you." - -"In that case--in my room--to-night. I should like to hear." - -That night, after a day of indecision, Hugo sat in a dim light and -poured out the story of his life. Hardin never interrupted, never -commented, until the end. Then he said softly: "You poor devil. Oh, you -poor bastard." And Hugo saw that he was weeping. He tried to laugh. - -"It isn't as bad as that--Dan." - -"Son"--his voice choked with emotion--"this thing--this is my life-work. -This is why you came to my office last winter. This is--the most -important thing on earth. What a story! What a man you are!" - -"On the contrary--" - -"Don't be modest. I know. I feel. I understand." - -Hugo's head shook sadly. "Perhaps not. You can see--I have tried -everything. In itself, it is great. I can see that. It is, objectively, -the most important thing on earth. But the other way--What can I do? -Tell me that. You cannot tell me. I can destroy. As nothing that ever -came before or will come again, I can destroy. But destruction--as I -believe, as you believe--is at best only a step toward re-creation. And -what can I make afterwards? Think. Think, man! Rack your brains! What?" -His hands clenched and unclenched. "I can build great halls and palaces. -Futile! I can make bridges. I can rip open mountains and take out the -gold. I am that strong. It is as if my metabolism was atomic instead of -molecular. But what of it? Stretch your imagination to its uttermost -limits--and what can I do that is more than an affair of petty profit to -myself? Mankind has already extended its senses and its muscles to their -tenth powers. He can already command engines to do what I can do. It is -not necessary that he become an engine himself. It is preposterous that -he should think of it--even to transcend his engines. I defy you, I defy -you with all my strength, to think of what I can do to justify myself!" - -The words had been wrung from Hugo. Perspiration trickled down his face. -He bit his lips to check himself. The older man was grave. "All your -emotions, your reflections, your yearnings and passions, come--to that. -And yet--" - -"Look at me in another light," Hugo went on. "I've tried to give you an -inkling of it. You were the first who saw what I could do--glimpsed a -fraction of it, rather--and into whose face did not come fear, loathing, -even hate. Try to live with a sense of that. I can remember almost back -to the cradle that same thing. First it was envy and jealousy. Then, as -I grew stronger, it was fear, alarm, and the thing that comes from -fear--hatred. That is another and perhaps a greater obstacle. If I found -something to do, the whole universe would be against me. These little -people! Can you imagine what it is to be me and to look at people? A -crowd at a ball game? A parade? Can you?" - -"Great God," the scientist breathed. - -"When I see them for what they are, and when they exert the tremendous -bulk of their united detestation and denial against me, when I feel rage -rising inside myself--can you conceive--?" - -"That's enough. I don't want to try to think. Not of that. I--" - -"Shall I walk to my grave afraid that I shall let go of myself, -searching everywhere for something to absorb my energy? Shall I?" - -"No." - -The professor spoke with a firm concentration. Hugo arrested himself. -"Then what?" - -"Did it ever dawn on you that you had missed your purpose entirely?" - -The words were like cold water to Hugo. He pulled himself together with -a physical effort and replied: "You mean--that I have not guessed it so -far?" - -"Precisely." - -"It never occurred to me. Not that I had missed it entirely." - -"You have." - -"Then, for the love of God, what is it?" - -Hardin smiled a gentle, wise smile. "Easy there. I'll tell you. And -listen well, Hugo, because to-night I feel inspired. The reason you have -missed it is simple. You've tried to do everything single-handed--" - -"On the contrary. Every kind of assistance I have enlisted has failed me -utterly." - -"Except one kind." - -"Science?" - -"No. Your own kind, Hugo." - -The words did not convey their meaning for several seconds. Then Hugo -gasped. "You mean--other men like me?" - -"Exactly. Other men like you. Not one or two. Scores, hundreds. And -women. All picked with the utmost care. Eugenic offspring. Cultivated -and reared in secret by a society for the purpose. Not necessarily your -children, but the children of the best parents. Perfect bodies, -intellectual minds, your strength. Don't you see it, Hugo? You are not -the reformer of the old world. You are the beginning of the new. We -begin with a thousand of you. Living by yourselves and multiplying, you -produce your own arts and industries and ideals. The new Titans! -Then--slowly--you dominate the world. Conquer and stamp out all these -things to which you and I and all men of intelligence object. In the -end--you are alone and supreme." - -Hugo groaned. "To make a thousand men live my life--" - -"But they will not. Suppose you had been proud of your strength. Suppose -you had not been compelled to keep it a secret. Suppose you could have -found glorious uses for it from childhood--" - -"In the mountains," Hugo whispered, his eyes bemused, "where the sun is -warm and the days long--these children growing. Even here, in this -place--" - -"So I thought. Don't you see, Hugo?" - -"Yes, I see. At last, thank God, I do see!" - -For a long time their thoughts ran wild. When they cooled, it was to -formulate plans. A child taken here. Another there. A city in the -jungle--the jungle had harboured races before: not only these Mayas, but -the Incas, Khmers, and others. A modern city for dwellings, and these -tremendous ruins would be the blocks for the nursery. They would teach -them art and architecture--and science. Engineering, medicine--their -own, undiscovered medicine--the new Titans, the sons of dawn--so ran -their inspired imaginations. - -When the night was far advanced and the camp was wrapped in slumber, -they made a truce with this divine fire. They shook each other's hands. - -"Good-night, Hugo. And to-morrow we'll go over the notes." - -"I'll bring them." - -"Till evening, then." - -Hugo lay on his bed, more ecstatic than he had ever been in his life. By -and by he slept. Then, as if the ghosts of Uctotol had risen, his mind -was troubled by a host, a pageant of dreams. He turned in his sleep, -rending his blankets. He moaned and mumbled. When he woke, he understood -that his soul had undergone another of its diametric inversions. The mad -fancies of the night before had died and memory could not rekindle them. -Little dreads had goaded away their brightness. Conscience was bickering -inside him. Humanity was content; it would hate his new race. And the -new race, being itself human, might grow top-heavy with power. If his -theory about the great builders of the past was true, then perhaps this -incubus would explain why the past was no more. If his Titans disagreed -and made war on each other--surely that would end the earth. He quailed. - -Overcome by a desire to think more about this giants' scheme, he avoided -Hardin. In the siesta hour he went back to his tent and procured the -books wherein his father had written the second secret of life. He -crammed them into his pocket and broke through the jungle. When he was -beyond sight and sound, he dropped his machete and made his way as none -but he could do. With his body he cut a swath toward the mountains and -emerged from the green veil on to the bare rocks, panting and hot. -Upward he climbed until he had gained the summit. To the west were -strewn the frozen billows of the range. To the east a limitless sea of -verdure. At his feet the ruins in neat miniature, like a model. Above, -scalding sun and blue sky. Around him a wind, strangely chill. And -silence. - -He sat with his head on his hands until his thoughts were disturbed. A -humid breath had risen sluggishly from the jungle floor. The sun was -dull. Looking toward the horizon, he could see a black cloud. For an -instant he was frightened, the transformation had been so gigantic and -so soundless. He knew a sudden, urgent impulse to go back to the valley. -He disobeyed it and watched the coming of the storm. The first rapier of -lightning through the bowels of the approaching cloud warned him again. -Staunchly he stood. He had come there to think. - -"I must go back and begin this work," he told himself. "I have found a -friend!" The cloud was descending. Thunder ruminated in heaven's garret. -"It is folly," he repeated, "folly, folly, folly in the face of God." -Now the sun went out like an extinguished lamp, and the horizon crept -closer. A curtain of torrential rain was lowered in the north. "They -will make the earth beautiful," he said, and ever and again: "This thing -is not beautiful. It is wrong." His agitation increased rapidly. The -cloud was closing on the mountain like a huge hand. The muscles in his -legs quivered. - -"If there were only a God," he whispered, "what a prayer I would make!" -Then the wind came like a visible thing, pushing its fingers over the -vegetation below, and whirling up the mountain, laden with dust. After -the wind, the rain--heavy, roaring rain that fell, not in separate -drops, but in thick streams. The lightning was incessant. It illuminated -remote, white-topped peaks, which, in the fury of the storm, appeared to -be swaying. It split clouds apart, and the hurricane healed the rents. -All light went out. The world was wrapped in darkness. - -Hugo clutched his precious books in the remnants of his clothing and -braced himself on the bare rock. His voice roared back into the storm -the sounds it gave. He flung one hand upward. - -"Now--God--oh, God--if there be a God--tell me! Can I defy You? Can I -defy Your world? Is this Your will? Or are You, like all mankind, -impotent? Oh, God!" He put his hand to his mouth and called God like a -name into the tumult above. Madness was upon him and the bitter irony -with which his blood ran black was within him. - -A bolt of lightning stabbed earthward. It struck Hugo, outlining him in -fire. His hand slipped away from his mouth. His voice was quenched. He -fell to the ground. - -After three days of frantic searching, Daniel Hardin came upon the -incredible passage through the jungle and followed it to the mountain -top. There he found the blackened body of Hugo Danner, lying face down. -His clothing was burned to ashes, and an accumulation of cinders was -all that remained of the notebooks. After discovering that, Professor -Hardin could not forbear to glance aloft at the sun and sky. His face -was saddened and perplexed. - -"We will carry him yonder to Uctotol and bury him," he said at last; -"then--the work will go on." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gladiator, by Philip Wylie - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GLADIATOR *** - -***** This file should be named 42914-8.txt or 42914-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/9/1/42914/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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