282 



RECREATION. 



"What do you think?" he questioned, 

 "what sh'uld make 'em come back to this 

 side agin' so long after they'd started? 

 What was it I see an' heerd? was it him 

 or" — he choked, with a dreadful sound, and 

 rocked himself to and fro, pulling at his 

 beard. His terror infected me. I feared 

 he would go into a fit, but I knew not what 

 to do. I thought of the whiskey flask in 

 my basket, and rose hastily to get it. As I 

 rose, he uttered a loud inarticulate cry, 

 and half sprang at me, and shouted : "Sit 

 down, sit down ! Where ye goin' ? Oh, God 

 A'mighty !" and fell back motionless in his 

 chair. With a shaking hand I put the flask 

 to his lips and in a moment he recovered, 

 and taking the flask he drank from it. I 

 did the same, after him. Then Hank began 

 to speak again, more quietly, but his voice 

 still trembled: 



"After a while th' people '.round here 

 missed him an' I told them he'd gone out, 

 but he haint. He's there yit, an' nights like 

 this he hollers out an' the other feller too, 

 sometimes — quarrelin' an 'cursin'. I quit 

 here once, after that, but I had to come 

 back. Seems as ef I was obleeged to come ; 

 I can't stay away an' I can't 'hardly stan' 

 it here." I waited for him to say more, 

 but he did not speak, and so we sat for a 

 half hour, an hour — I know not how long. 

 "Better git to bed," he said, at last, quietly, 

 "ye must be tired." 



"And you, too, Hank," I answered, "go 

 to bed and try to sleep." 



He shook his head. "I haint sleepy, not 

 yit," he replied; but he rose and threw 

 some wood on the fire, and, pulling some 

 blankets from the bunk, tossed them on 

 the floor for his own bed. I partly un- 

 dressed and threw myself on the bunk, 

 and soon slept. After a time, how long I 

 do not know, I dreamed that I heard music, 

 and I awoke. It was the sound of the old 

 accordion, which had seemed like harmony 

 to my listless ears. Hank still sat before 

 the stove playing softly, and I watched him 

 as I lay. Occasionally the music ceased 

 and he lifted his head a little, turning it to 

 one side and listening, when the blast 

 roared louder. Once he looked quickly up 

 and rose and went swiftly to the door and' 

 stood there a moment, leaning against it, 

 in an intense, attentive attitude. Then his 

 hand dropped wearily to his side and I 

 heard him sigh ; and he came slowly back 

 to his chair and began again on his tune. 

 It sounded fainter to me, and fainter. The 

 outlines of the room grew dimmer — my 

 eyes closed, and I slept. When I awoke 

 the gray light of morning was stealing like 

 a mist through the dingy window. The 



storm had blown itself out and I heard, 

 faintly, the sound of waves on the 

 beach. On the floor I saw the form of 

 Hank, indistinct in the feeble light, one 

 arm stretched out over the rough boards, 

 the hand just touching the old accordion. 

 I heard his breathing, soft and regular, as 

 he slept. There, too, the storm had ceased 

 and peace was visiting him. 



I gathered my traps quietly, laid a dollar 

 on the table and stepped softly from the 

 cabin. In a moment more I had stowed 

 my luggage in the boat, had shoved it afloat 

 and rowed rapidly away. 



Some years after this I met a man who 

 knew Hank slightly, and had known Adam 

 well. "Did you ever know what be- 

 came of Adam?" I asked. "No," he re- 

 plied, "Adam just disappeared, without any 

 reason, leaving no word or clue, as far as 

 anyone could discover. Hank told a very 

 improbable story, when questioned about it; 

 said Adam had started off, at night, with a 

 stranger, to see about some property, and 

 hadn't told him where he was going. One 

 thing was established pretty clearly, Adam 

 never came out of the woods. I don't, my- 

 self, believe he ever started, but if he did, 

 he never got through, and I'll tell you why 

 I'm sure of it. Coming out the road Hank 

 said he took, and the only road he could 

 take, he would have passed right through 

 the settlement and everybody knew him 

 there, and some were friends of his, whom 

 he never failed to call on when he came 

 out; yet no one saw him, ^nor any 

 stranger either. Then, in the next place, 

 he was advertised for in a newspaper. I 

 don't mean there was any reward offered, 

 or information asked for ; it was in some 

 legal proceedings, before a Surrogate, and 

 that was 3 or 4 months after Hank said 

 he had started out. Adam had plenty of 

 money and used to show quite a roll of it 

 when he came out to buy provisions. The 

 general opinion was that Hank had done 

 away with him, in some manner; either in 

 a quarrel or for his money. It was a mys- 

 terious case and I never knew what to 

 think of it." 



"Well," said I, "I'll tell you something. 

 I don't know 'whether Adam was killed or 

 not ; probably he was. But there's one 

 thing I do know. Hank didn't kill him, and 

 never raised a hand against him." 



"You seem pretty positive for a man who 

 was not there," he answered. "However, I 

 hope you are right, but if Hank didn't kill 

 him who did?" > 



"I don't know that, either," I 

 "Perhaps it was the stranger.'* 



Boomerangs and evil thoughts act in a similar fashion. 



