''Those Who Ride Straight'* 



That was the last. His was the happiest face 

 I ever saw. 



We got him to the cart and I drove him home, 

 while the others walked beside. 



Few natives will pass the Archer Farms at 

 night. As for us three, we seem to have had a 

 glimpse into something quite beyond us. Still 

 I do not doubt, nor do Norman and his wife. 

 There is no horror about it now at all. We know 

 that they are happy. 



Every now and then Norman and his wife and 

 I ride or drive past the Archer Farms, but never 

 without an odd, indescribable sensation. 



Once it was late at night, exactly such a night 

 as that other, the moon dipping in and out, casting 

 uncouth, shadowy figures across the light, mottled 

 road. Mrs. Norman trembled a little, I remember, 

 and Norman whistled unconcernedly — that is 

 pretended to. As we reached the plow and the 

 stout plank fence, the moon disappeared and left 

 it dark. Our horse shied abruptly and stopped 

 stock-still. There was a sharp, sudden blow of 

 wind, and the willows at the sides of the road 

 swayed and rustled, bending grimly toward us. 



Then it came. 



"T-a-1-l-y— O!" 



167 



