November 20, 1915. 
LAND AND WATER. 
CAIN'S ATONEMENT. 
By Algernon Blackwood. 
SO many thousands to-day have dehberately put 
Self aside, and are ready to yield their li\es for 
an ideal, that it is not surprising a few of them 
should ha\-e registered experiences of a novel 
order. For to step aside from Self is to enter a larger 
world, to be open to new impressions. If Powers of 
Clood exist in the universe at all, they can hardly be 
inacti\'e at the present time. . . . 
The case of two men, who may be called Jones and 
Smith, occurs to the mind in this connection, ^\'hether 
a veil actually was lifted for a moment, or whether the 
tension of long and terrible months resulted in an 
exaltation of emotion, the experience claims significance. 
Smith, to whom the experience came, holds the firm 
belief that it was real. Jones, though it in\ol\ed him 
too, remained miaware. 
It is a somewhat personal story, their peculiar 
relationship dating from early youth : a kind of 
imwilling antipathy was bom between them, yet 
an antipathy that had no touch of hate or even of 
dislike. It was rather in the nature of an instinctive 
ri\alry. Some tie operated that Hung them ever 
into the same arena with strange persistence, and 
ever as opponents. An ine\-itable fate delighted to 
throw them together in a sense that made them ri\als ; 
small as well as large affairs betrayed this malicious 
tendency of the gods. It showed itself in earliest days, 
at school, at Cambridge, in travel, even in house-parties 
and the lighter social intercourse. Though distant 
cousins, their families were not intimate, ancl there was 
no ob\ious reason why their paths should fall so persis- ♦ 
tently together. Yet their paths did so, crossing and 
re-crossing in the way described. Sooner or later, in all 
his undertakings. Smith would note the shadow of Jones 
darkening the ground in front of him ; and later, when 
called to the Bar in his chosen profession, he found most 
frequently that the learned counsel in opposition to him 
was the owner of this shadow, Jones. In another matter, 
too, they became rivals, for the same girl, oddly enough, 
attracted both, and though she accepted neither offer of 
marriage (during Smith's lifetime !), the attitude between 
tlieni was that of unwilling rivals. For they were friends 
as well. 
Jones, it appears, was hardly aware that any rivalry 
existed ; he did not think of Smith as an opponent, and as 
an adversary, never. He did notice, however, the constantly 
recurring meetings, for more than once he commented on 
them with good-humoured amusement. Smith, on the other 
hand, was conscious of a depth and strength in the tie that 
certainly intrigued him ; being of a thoughtful, introspec- 
tive nature, he was keenly sensible of the strange com- 
petition in their lives, and sought in various ways for its 
explanation, though without success. The desire to 
find out was very strong in him. And this was natural 
enough, owing to the singular fact that in all their battles 
he was the one to lose. Invariably Jones got the best 
of every conflict. Smith always paid ; sometimes he 
paid with interest. 
Occasionally, too, he seemed forced to injure himself 
while contributing to his cousin's success. It was very 
curious. He reflected much upon it ; he wondered what 
the origin of their tie and rivalry might be, but especially 
why it was that he invariably lost, and why he was so 
often obliged to help his rival to the {X)int even of his own 
detriment. Tempted to bitterness sometimes, he did 
not yield to it however ; the relationship remained frank 
and jjleasant ; if anything, it deepened. 
He remembered once, for instance, giving his cousin a 
chance introduction which yet led, a little later, to the 
third party offering certain evidence which lost him an 
important case — Jones, of course, winning it. The third 
party, too, angry at being dragged into the case, turned 
liostile to him, thwarting various subsequent projects. 
In no other way could Jones have procured this particular 
• vidence, he did not know of its existence even. That 
< hance introduction did it all. There was nothing the 
l<-ast dishonourable on the part of Jones — it was just the 
I liance of the dice. The dice were always loaded against 
Smith — and there were other instances of similar kind. 
About this time, moreover, a singular feeling that 
had lain vaguely in his mind for some years past, took 
more definite form. It suddenly assumed the character 
of a conviction, that yet had no evidence to support it. 
A voice, long whispering in the depths of him, became 
much louder, grew into a statement that he accepted 
without further ado: "I'm paying off a debt," he 
phrased it, " an old, old debt is being discharged. I owe 
him this — my help, and so fortli." He accepted it, that is, 
as just ; and this certainty of justice kept sweet his heart 
and mind, shutting the door on bitterness or envy. The 
thought, however, though it recurred persistently with 
each encounter, brought no explanation. 
When the war broke out both offered .their 
services ; as members of the O.T.C., they got com- 
missions quickly ; but it was a chance remark of Smith's 
that made his friend join the very regiment he himself 
was in. They trained together, went to the front to- 
gether, were in the same retreats and the same advances 
together. Their friendship deepened. Under the stress 
of circumstances the tie dicl not dissolve, but strengthened. 
It was indubitably real, therefore. Then, oddly enough, 
they were both wounded in the same engagement. 
And it was here the remarkable fate that jointly 
haunted them betrayed itself more clearly than in any 
previous incident of their long relationship — Smith was 
wounded in the act of protecting his cousin. How it 
happened is confusing to a layman, but each apparently 
was leading a bombing-party, and the two parties came 
together. They found themselves shoulder to shoulder, 
both brimmed with that pluck which is complete indiffer- 
ence to Self ; they exchanged a word of e.xcited greeting ; 
and the same second one of those rare opportunities of 
advantage presented itself which only the highest coinage 
could make use of. Neither, certainly, was thinking of 
personal reward ; it was merely that each saw the chance 
by which instant heroism might gain a surprise advantage 
for their side. The risk was heavy, but there laas a 
chance ; and success would mean a decisive result, to say 
nothing of high distinction for the man who obtained it— 
if he survived. Smith, being a few yards ahead of his 
cousin, had the moment in his grasp. He was in the 
act of dashing forward when something made him pause. 
A bomb in mid-air, flung from the opposing trench, was 
falling ; it seemed immediately above him ; he saw that 
it would just miss himself, but land full upon his cousin — 
whose head was turned the other way. By stretching 
out his hand, Smith knew he could field it like a cricket 
ball. There was an interval of a second and a half, he 
judged. He hesitated — perhaps a quarter of a second — 
then he acted. He caught it. It was the obvious thing 
to do. He flung it back into the opposing trench. 
The rapidity of thought is hard to realise. In that 
second and a half Smith was aware of many things : He 
saved his cousin's life unquestionably ; unquestionably 
also Jones seized the opportunity that otherwise was his 
cousin's. But it was neither of these reflections that 
filled Smith's mind. The dominant impression was 
another. It flashed into actual words inside his excited 
brain : " I must risk it. I owe it to him — and more 
besides ! " He was, further, aware of another impulse 
than the obvious one. In the first fraction of a second 
it was overwhelmingly established. .\nd it was this : 
that the entire episode was familiar to him. A 
subtle familiarity was present. AH this had happened 
before. He had already — somewhere, somehow — seen 
death descending upon his cousin from the air. Yet 
with a difference. The " difference " escaped him ; the 
famiharity was vivid. That he missed the deadly 
detonators in making the catch, or that the fuse 
delayed, he called good luck. He only remembers that 
he flung the gruesome weapon back whence it had come, 
and that its explosion in the opposite trench materially 
helped his cousin to find glory in the place of death. 
The slight delay, howevt'r, resulted in his receiving a bullet 
through the chest — a bullet he would not otherwise have 
received — presumably. 
It was ^jme days later, gravely wounded, that he 
discovered his cousin in another bed across the darkened 
I') 
