Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 117, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1916 — Page 2

The SEA WOLF

by JACK LONDON

CHAPTER XXXl—Continued. —22— "Feigning again?" I demanded angrily. He shook hip head, his stern mouth shaping the strangest, twisted smile. It was indeed a twisted smile, tor it was on the left side only, the facial muscles of the right side moving not at aIL "That was the last play of the Wolf.” he said. "I am paralyzed. I shall never walk again. Oh, only on the other side," he added, as though divining the suspicious glance I flung at his left leg, the knee of which had just then drawn up and elevated the blankets. / "It’s unfortunate," he continued. “I’d liked to have done for you first. Hump. And I thought I had that much left in me." "But how can you account for it?" I “Where is the seat of your trouM?” “‘Til brain," he said at once. "It was those cursed headaches brought It on.” “Symptoms," I said. He nodded his head. “There is no accounting for it. I was never sick in my life. Something’s gone wrong with my brain. A cancer, a tumor, or something of that nature —a thing that devours and destroys. It’s attacking my nerve centers, eating them up, bit by bit, cell by cell —from the pain.”

“The motor centers, too,” I suggested. “So it would seem, and the curse of it is that I must lie here, conscious, mentally unimpaired, knowing that the lines are going down, breaking bit by bit communication with the world. I cannot see, hearing and feeling are leaving me, at this rate I shall soon cease to speak; yet all tlje time I shall be here, alive, active and powerless.” “When you say you are here, I’d suggest the likelihood of the soul,” 1 said. “Bosh!" was his retort. ‘lt simply means that in the attack on my brain the higher psychical centers are untouched. I can remember, I can thtnk and reason. When that goes, 1 go. I am not. The soul?” He broke out in mocking laughter, then tujped his left ear to the pillow i as a sign that he wished no further conversation. Maud and I went about our work oppressed by the fearful fate which had overtaken him —how fearful we were yet fully to realize. There was the awfulness of retribution about it Our thoughts were deep and solemn, and we spoke to each other scarcely above whispers. “You might remove the handcuffs,” he said that night, as we stood in consultation over him. “It’s dead safe. I’m a paralytic now. The next thing to watch out for is bed sores.” He smiled his twisted smile and Maud, her eyes wide with horror, was compelled to turn away her head. < “Do you know that your smile Is crooked?’’ I asked him; for I knew that she must attend him, and I wished to save her as much as possible. “Then I shall smile no more,” he said calmly. “I thought something was wrong. My right cheek has been numb all day. Yes, and I’ve had warnings of this for the last three days; by spells, my right side seemed going to sleep, sometimes arm or hand, sometimes leg or foot.” “So my smile is crooked?” he queried a short while after. “Well, consider henceforth that I smile internally, with my soul, if you please, my soul. Consider that I am smiling now.”

And for the space of several minutes he lay there, quiet, indulging his grotesque fancy. The man of him was not changed. It was the old. indomitable, terrible Wolf Larsen, imprisoned somewhere within that flesh which had once been so invincible and splendid. Now it bound him with insentient fetters, walling his soul in darkness and silence. blocking it from the world which to him had been a riot of action. N(j> more would he conjugate the verb “to do” in every mood and tense. “To be” was all that remained to him —to be, as he had defied death, without movement; to will, but not to execute; to think and reason and in the spirit of him to be as alive as ever, but In the flesh to be dead, quite dead. And yet, though I even removed the handcuffs, we could not adjust ourselves to his condition. Our minds Ssvolted. To us he was full of potenality. We knew not what to expect of him next, what fearful thing, rising above the flesh, he might break out and do. Our experience warranted this state of mind, and we went about our work with anxiety always upon us. I had solved the problem which had arisen through the shortness -of the shears. It was the morning of the .third day that I swung the foremast from the deck and proceeded to square its butt to fit the step. Here T was especially awkward. I sawed and chopped and chiseled the weathered wood till it had the appearance of having been gnawed by some gigantic mouse. But it fitted. “It Fill work, I know it will work," I cried.

“Do you know Doctor Jordan’s final test of truth?” Maud asked. I shook my head and paused In the act of dislodging the shavings which had drifted down my neck. “‘Can we make it work? Can we trust our lives to it?’ is the test.” "He is a favorite of yours," I said. "When I dismantled my old Pantheon and cast out Napoleon and Caesar and their fellows, I straightway erected a new Pantheon,” she answered gravely, “and the first I installed was Doctor Jordan.” "A modern hero.” "And a greater because modern.” she added. ‘How can the Old World heroes compare with ours!” I shook my head. We were too much alike in many things for argument. Our point of view and outlook on life at least were very like. “For a pair of critics we agree famously,” I laughed. "And as shipwright and able assistant,” she ldughed back. But there was little time for laughter in those days, what of our heavy work and of the awfulness of Wolf Larsen’s living death. He had received another stroke. He had lfist his voice, or he was losing it. He had only intermittent use of it. As he phrased it, the wires were like the stock market, now up, now down. Occasionally the wires were up and he spoke as well as ever, though slowly and heavily. Then speech would suddenly desert him, in the middle of a sentence perhaps, and for hours, sometimes. we would wait for the connec-

While I toiled at Rigging the Foremast Maud Sewed on Canvas.

tion to be reestablished. He complained of great pain in his head, and it was during this period that he arranged a system of communication against the time when speech should leave him altogether—one pressure of the hand for “yes,” two for “no.” It was well that it was arranged, for by evening his voice had gone from him. By hand pressures, after that*, he answered our questions, and when he wished to speak he scrawled his thoughts with his left hand, quite legibly, on a sheet of paper. The fierce winter had now descended upon us. Gale followed gale, with snow and sleet and rain. The seals had started on their great southern migration, and the rookery was practically deserted. I worked feverishly. In spite of the bad weather, and of the wind which especially hindered me, I was on deck from daylight till dark and made substantial progress. I profited by my lesson learned through raising the shears and then climbing them to attach the guys. To the top of the foremast, Which was just lifted conveniently from the deck, I attached the rigging, stays and throat and peak halyards. As usual. I had underrated the amount of work involved in this portion of the taslC and two long days were necessary to complete it. And there was so much yet to be dope—the sails, for instance, which practically had to be made over.

While I toiled at rigging the foremast, Maud sewed on canvas, ready always to drop everything and come to my assistance when more hands than two were required. The canvas was heavy and hard, and she sewed with the sailor’s palm and three-cornered sail-needle. Her hands were soon sadly blistered, but she struggled bravely on, and in addition doing the cooking and taking care of the sick man. ' “A ng for superstition.” I said on Friday morning. “That mast goes in today." Everything was ready for the attempt. Carrying the boom-tackle to the windlass, I hoisted the mast nearly clear of the deck. Making this tackle fast, I took to the windlass the shears-tackle (which was connected with the .end of the boom) and with a few turns had the mast perpendicular and clear. . Maud clapped hands the Instant

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. IND.

she was relieved from bolding the turn, crying: “It works! It works! We'll trust our lives to it!” Then she assumed a rueful expression. “It’s not over the hole,” she said. "Will you have to begin all over?” I' smiled in superior fashion, and slacking away on the boom-tackle. I brought the butt of the mast into position directly over the hole in the deck. Then I gave Maud careful instructions for lowering away and went tnto'tha hold to the step on the schooner’s bottom. I called to her, and the mast moved easily and accurately. Square fitted into square. The mast wap stepped. 1 raised a shout, and she ran down to Bee. in the yellow lantern light we peered at what we had accomplished. We looked at each other, and our hands felt their way and clasped. The eyes of both of us, I think, were moist with the Joy of success. “It was done so easily after all,” I remarked. “All the work was in the preparation." “Ana all the wonder in the completion,” Maud add»»d. “I can scarcely bring myself to realize that that great mast is really up and in; that you have lifted it from the water, swung it through the air, and deposited it here where it belongs. It is a Titan's task.” “And they made themselves many Inventions,” 1 began merrily, then paused to snifT the air. I looked hastily at the lantern. It was not smoking. Again I sniffed. “Something is burning," Maud said, with sudden conviction. We sprang together for the ladder, but 1 raced past her to the deck. A dense volume of smoke was pouring out the steerage companionway. “The Wolf is not yet dead," I muttered to myself as I sprang down through the smoke. The source of the smoke must be very close to Wolf Larsen—my mind was made up to this, and I went straight to his bunk. As I felt about among his blankets, something hot fell on the back of my hand. It burned me, and I jerked my hand away. Then I understood. Through the cracks in the bottom of the upper bunk he had set fire to the mattress. He still retained suflßcient use of his left arm to do this. The damp straw of the mattress, fired from beneath and denied air, had been smouldering all the while.

As I dragged the mattress out of the bunk it seemed to disintegrate in mid-air, at the same time bursting into flames. I beat out the burning remnants of straw in the bunk, then made a dash for the deck for fresh air. Several buckets of water sufficed to put out the burning mattress in the middle of the steerage floor; and ten mTnutes tater. when the smoke trad fairly cleared, I allowed Maud to come below. Wolf Larsen was unconscious, but it was a matter of minutes for the fresh air to restore him. We were working over him, however, when he sighed for paper and pencil. “Pray do not interrupt me,” he wrote. “I am smiling.” “T am still a bit of the ferment, yon see,” he wrote a little later. “I am glad you are as small a bit as you are,” I said. “Thank you,” he wrote. “But just think of how much smaller I shall be before I die.” “And yet 1 am all here, Hump,” he wrote with a final flourish. “1 can think more clearly than ever in my lif9 before* Nothing to disturb me. Concentration is perfect. I am all here and more than here.” It was like a message from the night of the grave; for this man’s body had become his mausoleum. And there, in so strange sepulture, his spirit fluttered and li v ed. It would flutter and live till the last line of communication was broken, and after that who was to say how much longer it might continue to flutter and live’'

CHAPTER XXXII. “I think my left side is going,” Wolf Larsen wrote, the morning after his attempt to fire the ship. “The numbness is growing. I can hardly move my hand. You will have to speak louder. The last lines are going down." “Are you in pain?” I asked. I was compelled to repeat my question loudly before ho answered. “Not all the time.” The left hand stumbled slowly and painfully across the paper, and it was with extreme difficulty that we deciphered the scrawl. It was like a "spirit message,” such as are delivered at seances v t>f spiritualists for a dollar admission. "But I am still here, ail here,” the hand scrawled more slowly and painfully than ever. The pencil dropped, and we had to replace it in the hand. “When there is no pain I have perfect peace and quiet. I have never thought so clearly, 1 can ponder life and death like a Hindu sage.” “And immortality?” Maud queried loudly in the ear. Three times the hand essayed to write but fumbled hopelessly. The pencil Jell. In vain we tried to replace itr The .fingers could not close on it. Then Maud pressed and held the fingers about the pencil with her own hand, and the hand wrote, in large letters, arid so slowly that the minutes ticked off to each letter: “B-O-S-H.” 4t was Wolf Larsen’s last word, “bosh,” skeptical and invincible to the end. The arm and hand relaxed. The trunk of the body moved slightly. Then there was no movement. Maud

released the hand. The fingers spread slightly, falling apart of their own weight, and the pencil rolled away. "Do you still hear?" I shouted, holding the fingers and waiting for the single pressure which would signify “Yes." There was no response. The hand was dead. “1 noticed the lips slightly move,” Maud said. I repeated the question. The lips moved. She placed the tips of her Ungers on them. Again I repeated

I Dragged the Mattress Out of the Bunk.

the question. “Yes,” Maud announced. We looked at each other expectantly. “What good is it?" I asked. "What can we say now?” “Oh, ask him—” She hesitated. “Ask him something that requires ‘no’ for an answer," I suggested. "Then we will know with certainty.” “Are you hungry?" she cried. The lips moved under her fingers, and she answered, “Yes.” “Will you have some beef?” was her next query. “No,” she announced. “Beef-tea?” “Yes, he will have some beef-tea,” she said quietly, looking up at me. “Until his hearing goes we shall be able to communicate with him. And after that —” She looked at me queerly. I saw her lips trembling and the tears swimming up in her eyes. She 3wayed toward me and I caught heF in my arms. "Oh, Humphrey,” she sobbed, “when will it all end? I am so tired, so tired.” She buried her head on my shoulder, her frail form shaken with a storm of weeping. She was like a feather in my arms, so slender, so ethereal. "She has —broken —down at last?” I thought. “What can Ido without her help?” But I soothed and comforted her, till she pulled herself bravely together and recuperated mentally as quickly as she was wont to do ptiysicaily. “I ought to be ashamed of myself,” she said. Then added, with the whimsical smile I adored, “but I am only one small woman.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

COULD MAKE A GOOD GUESS

Young Man Was Not Sure as to Size, but Was Willing to Take a Chance on It. Into a men’s furnishing store stepped a young man warily, almost timidly. He lacked the air of confidence of the man who is about to purchase a tie or a handkerchief or a collar. Eagerly the genial floorwalker pounced upon him and ( the prospective customer’s first words everything. “Have you anything suitable for a young lady?” he asked, looking about dazedly at the rows of shirt boxes. “Something for her birthday, you know?” "Wey,. I should say we have. Step right this way, please. Miss Apperson, will you show this gentleman some ladies’ hose, or” —he added, as he noted the inquirer’s pitiable confusion, “perhaps he would prefer to see some of those near-silk ladles’ coat sweaters?” He would, he certainly would, and when he found a man in charge at the sweater counter he became almost himself again. The sweater idea seemed to strike him favorably, and for several minutes he inspected color combinations and felt fabrics. Finally the clerk dropped him into hot water again. “About what size does the young lady wear?” It was a poser and entirely unexpected,, The young ' man gazed at a dummy .figure on which a sweater coat was displayed, then walked up to it, circled it with his arm, and nodded: “About this size, I think.”

In Kings' Houses.

The German emperor’s palace at Corfu, recently a subject of newspaper dispatches, is described as a magnificent white marble edifice, one of the most luxurious royal residences ever built, it was formerly the property of the unfortunate Empress Elizabeth of Austria, who lavished vast .sums on its embellishment. It contains over a hundred rooms and is surrounded by wonderful gardens. “ vr~

Answered.

“Now,” said the professor of chemistry, “under what combination is gold most quickly released ?’£ The student pondered a moment. “I know, sir,’' he answered. “Marriage." s>• . . ' * *’ . •

Korea's Old Capital

SEOUL, the old capital of Korea, is undergoing changes. Until recently its wall was intact and gave a picturesqueness to the city pleasing to western eyes. There were eight gates —four of them larger than the others and facing the cardinal points. The main street of the city ran from the east to the west gates and from the south to the north. At their intersection stood the old bell, which was struck at intervals through the day—at 6 in the morning, at noon, at 6 at night, at 9 and then at midnight, writes Frederick Starr in the Chicago News.

The bell, like most conspicuous objects in Korea, had a story and its sound in the ears of many was a wail of terror. They say that when the bell was to be made it was a matter of public interest and of popular contribution. Everyone gave something to its make-up. Mirrors, rings, ornaments, coins, all were given to the melting pot. When finally the day came for its casting, a great crowd gathered. The metal was finally molten ready to be run. The word was given and the hot liquid was poured into the mold. When it was somewhat cooled the casting was uncovered bit by bit, and, 10, it was imperfect! Broken to pieces, it was again molten on another day and again it was flawed. A third time the mishap occurred and the people were well-nigh discouraged at the evil omen. The master workman ordered a final trial. Again the crowd assembled, again the broken fragments, submitted to the heat, gradually melted until the crucial moment was near. At that instant an unknown woman of the common people pressed through the crowd, her baby in her arms; coming to the pot of molten metal, she cried, “But you have not yet my contribution,’’ raised the baby and hurled it into the seething mass. The moment had come for the pouring and before the cry of horror had died away upon the lips of the crowd, the signal was given and the hot metal flowed down into the mold. When it was uncovered the bell emerged perfect; the sacrifice had been effective; but through the years mothers at the stroke of the old bell have heard in it the wailing of the child, shrieking, “Oh, mother, my mother!” When Women Walk Abroad.

li\ the old days, and not so very long ago,' the bell gave the signal for various movements. Women, save the most common and rustic, were not permitted freely on the streets. From midnight to noon and from noon to 9 at night, men and boys were free to roam, but women and girls were expected to keep indoors. But when the old bell struck at the hour of 9, men and boys betook themselves to their houses and females were privileged to walk the streets till the midnight bell drove them home.

Those days are past, but even today few women are seen upon the streets, and those of any social standing have the face almost concealed. The covering's curious. It is apparently a garment for the upper body, with neck space and sleeves, but it is not worn as such, but only laid upon the head, with sleeves dangling at the sides, back falling capelike over the shoulders and the front coming down on both sides of the face, nearly concealing it In Seoul this garment is regularly of a dull green cloth. To an extraordinary degree Seoul is a city of bridges. Not that it is intersected by rivers or important streams; there are only small brooks or canals within the city. Nor do these canals make the city a Venice. There are no gondolas here. But by the scant water in these streams women squat ti throngs,, doing laundry, work. The water often i- far from clean, but what does that matter? The worker uses a little wooden club or paddle and beats t£e clothing upon flat stones. Garments to be laundered are usually ripped along the seams, the pieces washed, and-then again put together

THE ROOFS OF SEOUL

after the work is done. The bridges are usually of stone, well built and durable. No mortar or cement seems to be used, but the cut stones are fitted rather carefully. On many of the bridges in the city stone pillars are carved to grotesque animal forms at the top. The royal palaces have seen their days of glory. The one most used by the late king was the north palace. Some of the buildings are gone, some are neglected. The two most interesting were the great audience hall and the pavilion by the lotus pond. Approach to the audience hall was strictly regulated. There were nine grades of officers, each with two degrees. The paved way leading up to the audience hall was evenly spaced by pairs of stone posts, one on either side, eighteen pairs in all; each pair indicated the distance to which one grade of official might approach on occasions of ceremony. The pavilion is a large rectangular building, open at the, sides below; the floor of the second story is supported by metal capped granite columns, typical Korean construction,— Here in good weather the ruler and his guests enjoyed music and dancing and the beauties of the fine lotus pond. This year these palace grounds were utilized for the notable industrial exhibition, commemorating and illustrating five years of the new administration of the country. Useful Btone Monsters. The old gate of entrance fb the palace grounds still stands, facing south. From it leads a straight wide avenue at the sides of which are two strange stone monsters, worship of which would surely break no commandment of the decalogue. These uncouth creatures have a story, of course. It seems that when this north palace was first built it was damaged by fire coming from the south. By the way, north in Korea is the best quarter; it is beneficent. Repairing the damage was time wasted; fire came again and again. At last these stone monsters were constructed and set up facing the south point of danger. From that time on the danger ceased. With Japanese influence, immigration, administration, there has grown up within the city a definite Japanese section. Japan street is strongly characteristic. The change is instant. One passes from Korea to Japan in a moment’s time. Dress, language, aspect, shops, goods, movements, mannersall are different.

With the Japanese has come the jinrikisha vogue. On the whole the Korean has not taken very kindly to the little cart. Korean Shop Displays. In the old days the few wide streets of Seoul were crowded by the shops. All the early visitors dilate upon this and find it disagreeable. Korean shops, like oriental shops in general, are open to the losses and the : shopkeeper mourns his once proud display. The shops are not as a whole of great interest. There are shoe shopß, hat shops, basket shops, seed and grain shops, and the like. These are true selling shops. Then there are carpenter shops and coffin shops and tinners’ chimney shops, where the work goes on as well as sales. One of the most curious is the wedding and funeral outfitter’s. His is a rental, not a sales place. It is only a few feet in frontage -and here the stock still encroaches on the street. Here are the things necessary for the two great family ceremonies. Here are great wooden candles, carved with dragons, birds and flowers, all g&udy with painting; here are wooden geese —the goose being a symbol of conjugal happiness; here are the two boys, “heavenly messengers,’' bringing felicity; here are bbttbiiileilfl chains for ancestral spirits to occupy on anniversaries. Inside are other things—all to rent cheaply, alwayß in evidence, though perhaps more so at the New Tear season (Feb, 4 this year) than at other-times. ‘