The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

646 too hard. ‘The boards’ll have to be nailed in solid yet. They’re just -loose now, with a nail or two in each one to hold ’em in place. It'll take too long to finish. See! The men’s got their tools packed already; can’t get ‘em rusty, sir; it ain’t business.” The head carpenter ducked his head at the close of the explanation and scooted off through the driving rain after his men, like a duck being chased down a muddy road by an automobile. Pierce’s men had already packed their tools, and were splashing in a dismal procession toward the station. The storm came on with more ferocity, the wind blew with greater velocity ; the lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, until both principals were forced into their houses like two sub- dued Napoleons who had met their Waterloo. CHAPTER X. A CLEAR MORNING. Born of the drenched neighbors crept, damp and despondent, to reluctant rest. “A visitation from Heaven! God showing His wrath at the pettiness and futility of the quarrels of two humans.” These thoughts both suggested them- selves, with different modifications, to the two former friends that night as they shivered and winced on_ their couches. A stormy night is a great one for conversion. Many men_ review sins by the light of lightning only— bringing close the fear of God. A thunderclap — of the proper size— will scare some men into realizing even their faults and weaknesses. Both thunder and lightning outdid them- selves that night. One deafening clap, following close upon a flash of lightning as bright as truth, made two neighboring house-own- ers feel that their respective domiciles had been struck. When the frightful shock had passed and both dimly real- ized that their houses were still intact, each thought more of the bigness of some things and the littleness of some others. They began to feel that pos- their. THE ARGOSY. sibly, some time during their lives, they had been guilty of narrowness—mean- ness even. Not a jot did the storm abate till early morning. Not a wink of sleep did two guilty house heads get till early morning. It was a horrid night—full of con- science. Hicks awakened, after a short, fitful doze in which he had dreamed of a man being spitted in Hades on a huge white- hot hatpin for having failed to render a slight assistance to a friend on earth. The technical charge was for keeping his friend from renting his house so that he could escape the heat of Hades in the summer-time, if Hicks remembered rightly. There was another vague something in the dream that he could with diffi- culty recall, as he lay in bed blinking at the dawn. It was something about a punishment meted out to somebody or other who had accused somebody else of maliciously breaking a ballot-box with an ax-handle. The sun was up now. It was shining brightly. What a fine, clean, clear morning it was. How he wished that he and Pierce were still friendly; they might knock off early that afternoon and play a game of golf, as they did formerly. Full of conscience, Hicks reeled sleepily to the window and drew back the curtain to look out; an idea _ pos- sessed him that he detected a like motion in a blind opposite, and he was almost sure that he had caught a glimpse of Pierce’s face; that there was something sad in the expression, as though Pierce, too, were tired of it all and ready to give up the fight. ‘* Bertha! denly. He gasped, shrank back from the window, and clapped a cold jAand to his clammy forehead. His wife rushed to the window and looked out. There was not a board left on either of the two spite fences. Not a stringer even. The poles stood grimly alone, like totem-poles. “That awful bolt of lightning last night must have struck the fences,” ven- Bertha! ’”’ cried Hicks sud- CO OO (Cc C©