« ПретходнаНастави »
but to this young lady."
"You mean ?" said Marie, mystified.
"I mean,” replied the doctor, “that, while I give Stanley full credit for his presence of mind, and for his nerve in sticking to his engine and for his skill in practically stopping his train, you are the one who averted the disaster.”
"But doctor, I don't understand.”
"Mental telepathy. Scientific men to day, in many instances, admit the possibility that the mind of one person, when it is in a state of intense agitation, may create a vivid impression in the mind of another person, many miles away, if that other mind happens to be in a vacant or receptive condition and the two persons are in close sympathy. Soldiers, at the moment of danger or of death, seem to be able, in many cases, to appear in visionary form before near friends or dear relatives at home. It is a sort of wireless telegraphy between mind and mind."
"And you think,” said Marie, “that I
“You were in the greatest distress as you sat in the window, following Stan. ley's train, in your imagination, to its destruction. And he says that he was not thinking of anything in particular — his mind was in a receptive state at the very time when your thoughts were centered upon his peril. The conditions appear to have been wholly favorable for telepathic communication—just as a perfect electric circuit makes possible the send. ing of a telegram. I leave it for you and Stanley to decide whether or not a mental message was transmitted."
Dr. Harrell took his hat and medicine case and rose to go. But at the door he paused and looked thoughtfully at the couple seated close together on the sofa.
"I might add,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “that you people seem to answer exactly to the description of persons in close sympathy-near, very near, friends. Yes, I diagnose this as a case of mental telepathy."
The Winds of Retribution
By Ethyl Hayes Sehorn
ish song that es good for today. Lissen!” and she swayingly began to sing, translating as her lover had done to English,
NUT brown sea of dusty, dry TAI rushes lay motionless under a
shimmering noon-day sun. Out in the heart of it a vein of pale smoke curled heavenward, spiraling the hazy atmosphere of the warm autumnal morning and finally floating away to lose it. self in higher zephyrs. Suddenly without herald, an arrogant north wind whipped down through the basin. Immediately, as though birthed by a savage combustion, dense banks of thunderous clouds -voluminous and irascible, writhed and fought and tossed and tumbled like a maddened tide of inky billows twisting toward the sky.
A man and a maid, pattering along on an old, hard beaten path, did not see the threatening coils of the smoky consternation. Possibly it was because they were traveling southward, but far more likely because they were eloping sweet hearts and had eyes for little else save one another.
"Te amo, si, te amo de veras—tra lala - ," sang the lover. Then laughingly switching to the first two lines of the second stanza, he sang in English the words:
"No longer now silence that oppresses,
No longer silence that destroys, tra la la ,"
"Vamos, arriba, muchachos-
eat." Her lover laughed, “That es goodthat song. That es where we ar' goin' an' what we ar' goin' for, but you, you leetle glorondria—my leetle swallow, I am 'fraid your feet weel git ver' tired for we get to ole Monterey."
"Oooh, I bet no! What you wan' to bet me?” his lady challenged.
“Bravo! You ween!” shouted her admirer, “I weel not bet with such a fair lady. You ween, cara paloma!”
“No, no, no," the girl shook her head laughingly, “Today et es Carlos that weens everything, for today he weens me! Joe Raven he tink you ween, for today you tak' me away from heem for ever!"
Carlos frowned. Even as victor decamping with the spoils, he could not bear the mere mention of his hated rival's name to enter Paradise.
At Mrs. Bissett's ranchero this Joe Raven had suddenly risen to be a commanding figure among the work-a-day people on the wide-spreading ranch. A few weeks ago, a month perhaps, and little or naught was known of him-save that he belonged to the tribe of the Tehamas to the northward and had wandered in, and aimlessly enough at that, to Mrs. Bissett's and applied for work. Today he was on par with the foreman, in fact, he took no orders from anyone,
"I don' understan' all dose wor's en that song," his sweetheart poutingly complained.
"I seng et for you all en thee Engleesh, den," responded her accommodating cavelier.
"I love you, yes, I love you truly—” he began when the Indian girl reached over and tickled the end of his nose with a long downy cat-tail; then jubilantly she exclaimed:
"I know one, too. Yes, I know a Span
save Mrs. Bissett, or Master Philip, for the first green grasses and flowers themselves.
of the early spring. Yes, Carlos in his Vone could ride a horse as Joe Raven. way, was a great favorite, even with the None could quiet and curb the untrained Bissetts. colts as he. In the branding of cattle, As the days passed Joe Raven became the Tehaman showed a skill and dex- bolder in his love making. His attacks terity that astonished the oldest of of courting became inflexible, commandbranders. He could cock more wind- ing, unrelenting. At the same time the rows of wheat in a day than three or soft calling of Carlos' sweet love plaits dinary men in the same given time. His were making themselves irresistible to toiling with the harvesters was inex- the Indian girl's heart. orable. Unsufferable heat, blizzards of At last she could deny her choice no flying chaff, and clouds of strangling longer, and on this same delectable red dust failed to deter him a minute in morning, had consented to run away his labors on the thrasher.
with Carlos and escape from the grip of He was possessed with the swiftness the persistent Tehaman. of the deer, the cunning of the fox, the Now out on the trail, Nakoma threw a endurance of the bear, the trickiness of handful of tule down at her lover and the bob-cat and the ferocity of the wolf inquired archly: -so the Indians said-and they, one and "You don'lak to talk 'bout Joe Raall, disliked him. Philip Bisset said it ven, Carlos?" was because they, themselves, were lazy, Carlos was on the verge of making and Joe Raven as an Indian was excep- an acidulous retort in reference to one tional. But old Charlie Mountain-Trout Joe Raven, when a darkening mist like shook his gray-black head and muttered a blue-black fog shadowed the sun. The an intelligible something about Joe Ra- man looked up, then turned and looked ven to which all the other Indians stolid back. ly nodded their heads in a silent but As out from a mammoth funnel, black well-approved agreement.
swirling clouds wreathed through the air One day Joe Raven discovered Nako with vivid, frightened contortions. At ma in the kitchen. That for him was first it flared as from a central nucleus, the beginning of a new day. On the spot but seemingly on the instant, became he wanted the maid, and when Joe Ra- volant -- took wings and blew from ven wanted, his desires were insatiable, hither to thither, from this place to that implacable, until gained and satisfied. So with such surprising rapidity, that even he wooed accordingly. But the Washoe before Carlos could exclaim, the whole maiden's affections were shuttling. Some sky was obscured and the plains envedays she favored the bold buck from Te loped in duskiness. hama, but more often she smiled upon “Madre de Dios!” he cried in begentle Carlos, the Mexican half-bred, wilderment, "the tule grass! The tule part Mayo from a far away Sinaloa, but grass es on fire, my angel!” veined more with Spanish blood from yet Nakoma stood dumbfounded, but Inmore distant Spain.
dian-like she remained immovable. Carlos was not a very good worker. “We mus' hurry an' git out of thee In Mexico, the land of his birth, the day grass-ef we don'—why we git burned of hard work was always "manana." But up, eh?" she said calmly. Carlos, be he indolent, was always kind Carlos coughed. The smoke was aland sweet-tempered and ever in high fa- ready becoming stifling. vor. He played low slumberous ballads “Come,” he said, "come quickly. We on his guitar, that filled the warm sum- mus' make to thee river." mer nights with soft, twanging melody, "Thee Sacramento, Carlos?" And sometimes he sang-sang in a voice “No, Los Plumas. See thee wend, my as clear and vibrative as the liquid tones darlin'. We may 'ope to beat the fire, of a meadow lark carroling in sheer joy but we can' beat the wend."
“But ef we run to thee east- "
ketchen." “We ar' runnin' from the fire weth "Vamos! Vamos! my love—thee thee wend at our backs."
flames! thee smoke, et es gainin'! et es "I understan' now," cried the wary In gainin'! Thes path, my golondrina, see, dian, “I understan', but always I stop to see, here where thee cows hav' run!” mak sure of thee bes' way. First I thenk “No, no, my Carlos, thes way-thes of thee swamp lands of thee Sacramento. way!” his sweetheart pleaded, "that We ar' nearer them, I thenk.”
trail goes back to thee north and but "No, no, thes a-way. That would lead leads us back to thee flames!” us ento thee fire."
"I can' see—thee tules ar' so high!" "I see I see "
the man panted, “ef only I had left you "Quickly Nakoma, quickly, we don' back en Mis' Bissett's ketchen!" wan' to be burned up!"
“But, Joe Raven, Carlos?" A gust of wind screamed by with a "Joe Raven could not harm you en merciless, torrid breath that brittled and jest one more day, Nakoma." burned and blistered.
Nakoma shrugged her fat shoulders Nakoma cringed.
dubiously. Perhaps he could, and per“Le's run," she cried, "et weel catch haps he couldn't, but Nakoma had no us on thes trail, sure. Oh, see Carlos, faith in this parvenu-Joe Raven. dere es a new plac' blazin' over dere On a little farther and the gori comand over dere—and dere and dere!" plained:
"We must take a cattle path. Here "Oh, my Carlos, thes trail es so thes one Nakoma! Now run!”
crooked, I'm sure I don' know where we “But we can' see where et es leadin' are runnin'!" usin thes tall tule. We can' see where "We weel turn back, mia paloma, for we ar' goin' en here!”
et es easy to see we ar runnin ento thee "Mak thee haste, Nakoma—thee fire! fire--thee wend now beats en our faces -you see-et comes! an' thee smoke! an' et grows hotter every minute.” Dios! soon we can not breathe!”
They turned to stumble back over the “We mus' not burn,” declared the girl, steps they had just trodden. Black seas “we mus' not burn, for that would please of smoke curled down over the pair in Joe Raven. How he would laugh ef he dark tantrums of blinding fury. Cinders knew we were out here weth thee grass scorched them and stung them and fly. on fire!"
ing whisps of blazing grass set their "Ef et was not for thee Raven we clothes afire. would not be here. I would hav' waited on the next instant the smoke lifted till I could buy a horse for you to ride and the blaze roared before them. In a But I know by that tim' he would keel flash Nakoma's face was blistered, her me or I would 'ave to keel heem, so I eyes seared, her long hair singed and thenk best to go today, but I was wrong, crinkled. mia beloved, to git you out here en thes Carlos staggered along in a paroxysm fire. But how was poor Carlos to know of coughing, the acrid vapors punished that thee tules would burn today?” his throat and teased his lungs.
"We weel git out, Carlos. Hey! thes “Back Nakoma, back! We hav' agin way-thes way! Oh, that smoke I come wrong!" choke, Carlos--I choke ".
“Thes trail-no, thes one! Thes one! "Come on, Nakoma! 'ow I wesh you That es thee one we hav' jest come over, were back at thee ranchero! but et es my Carlos!" too late to thenk about that now. On for a moment, then a wail from the Hurry! you mus' run faster, Nakoma, woman. you mus' run faster!"
"We ar' lost, my lover, we ar' lost!" "Mis' Bissett weel be angry-good "No, Nakoma, no, le's try thes trail. Mis' Bissett!” gasped Nakoma. “I run Ah, Dios!”. away an' lef her wethout no help en hee "Your shirt es on fire, Carlos!”