Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 255, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 October 1920 — Yellow Men Sleep [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Yellow Men Sleep

By JEREMY LANE

CHAPTER XVl—Continued. z The most important of developments was that their tribal. preserver was brought from a distance. * From their community to the northeast, in a ravine of the Gughal, other hunters came, escorting this treasure, the doetor himself. He was an old shelf of a man, with curling nails and matted hair and a store of wisdom. Nothing of powwow about his methods. He crouched close to the rugs in which Helen was wrapped. She glanced up quedtioningly at Con, and he nodded, so she trusted. The ancient preserver drew a blackened hand across her breast, held her temples between his palms, sniffed thrice, arose, and walked away. It was a matter of hours before he returned with a small branch torn from a bush. Fansa was commanded to brew a tea, while the doctor rearranged the rugs about the princess more to his liking. All other affairs between the caravan and the natives could wait “How is it now?” Con asked of her. “It is fiery in here,” she replied, touching her fingers to her head, “but I think my soul is better. There is more peace now.” As nearly as he thought advisable, Con told her how deep was his a.dml-' ration; and then, in the moist cool evening, he walked abroad upon the slopes, alone. He tramped far under the starry films of night, and gave his thanks to the source of their light. Anxiety, triumph, humility, and the total sweetness of life were oddly mingled in his thoughts. One thing was final: he had reached the first Important goal of humanity, the mate* and in this light he saw his own days as a necessary path. It was all coherent now. Even the tortured gropings of his father, all had an answer. Con had not wasted his heritage. The bird-claw doctor remained through the night, hovering between the watch-fire and Helen’s tent He made it known that the princess must not be taken away for many days. He intimated to Con that her peril was only just less terrible than his own professional skill. The white man found another' piece of gold for the blackened fingers, and learned that it was now but a five-days’ journey to reach the Mld-Aslan railroad, further north.

। CHAPTER XVII. ' Fag of Empire. At the foot of a snowy-white bed sat an old man. There was regal quiet in his appearance, his cheeks as white as his hair, the nose in stern aristocratic prominence, a kindliness about the mouth. Stephen March .sat waiting for his granddaughter to waken. At the head of the bed, less than a yard from Helen’s pillow, Con Bevington waited, as. he haji waited for four days. His skin-was brown as coffee-berries, and contrasted with the linen of the bed. He was uneasy * in his chair, studying the face of the princess. x < Her cheeks had the tint of health, her lips were red, the coverlet lifted and sank gently with her breathing, but across her eyelids was the gray stain. Two of the wisest physicians in America had left the house. A clock .ticked in stillness. Bevington sighed again. “It is near noon,” said the old man. “Pray go down and eat your break- , fast” .* Bevington nodded obediently, but did not leave his chair, “They did not say the danger was past" “A doctor would never admit that” smiled Stephen March. “What do you really think?” “She seems.to be resting. I believe / the shock of long travel is past as good as forgotten. She is breathing in a new world, and we should not demand of her to enter it full-blown.” I do not mean to be Impatient” said the young man. “You have done well. Do not humble yourself,” quickly assured the elder March. The story, of it all had been told, and Stephen March accepted the loss of his soh as life had taught him to accept everything, with dignity and calm, almost thd gladness of the mystic. He received his grandchild with great tenderness, as if the symbol and t heart of all his questing had at last come to his own house. Nor would be pennit Bevington to depart. ' During the first four days at ( the March home, Con did not once think of his federal commission. His beloved’s uncertain poise between this world and a better was a matter that admitted of -no other interest. He passed silently in and out of her room, neglecting his food and sleep. weeks KaMtml were of it that happened to slip into consciousness quickened his pain like a serpents and decayed rocks, the cooling rise to the pass, iieien growing more and more ill with each day’s Awmwal ‘ —— ■> W- a - -- F* f In _ 1 ■ . .. . I hjl her needs. Then the fortnight

the rising power of her will, the squalid passage on rails into Russia — heat, dust, vulgarity, and one treasure. The steamship to America had been terrible for Helen. She had whispered to'him once: “Like a big bad camel, and the saddle slipping loose.” Only the perfect integration of courage, that priceless gift from her mother Eithna, had sustained her, together with the frightened, attentions of old Fansa. Ip certain hours of rough weather, Lovington had stood beside •her, encouraging, pleading, not. for himself, but to empower* hCr will to hold on and on. He hhd almost lived for her. Fu Ah and Fansa were permitted to anoint her eyes, slightly, when his compromise with a destructive'prlncfple seemed necessary. The clangor of America had mercifully passed over her head. Koresh kept her sleeping, on train and ferry, and, at length, in the March motor. Thus, when the transported princess wakened on this fourth night in her own house, she looked up at Levington and smiled. “I am strong enough to go. on,” she said. Tears sprang to his eyes. "God bless you 1” he cried, “there is no more going on. Ton have arrived home!” “The Muse—of my father?” “Yes. And this .is your father’s father, whp loves you very much.” Her eyes were steady upon Stephen March, and he waited reverently, his white head slightly bowed, until she should speak. “Mother told me,” said Helen. “You —you are—” She faltered. The old hands moved to touch her own. as

the grandfather bent over the bed. She smiled uncertainly. “I do not know the words, but it pleases me." Her slender fingers were carried to the aged lips, and the ascension of thrones- might have been transmitted by that kiss. “The hotaor is upon me,” murmured Stephen March. s >

Sleep drifted over, her again, and her eyes closed. Bevington was for the first time satisfied and at peace. He left the room. Peace had also been negotiated be*? tween the nervous housekeeper, Mrs. Ames, and the cross-scarred FU Ah and Fansa. The latter were assigned duties nearly corresponding to those, of butler and linen-maid. Fansa, once inclined to be buxom and strongtongued, had grown quite pale. The world was a twisty pusde. She had lost her appetite. With Fu Ah, however, life promised to bloom again, since his mistress was out of danger. In Mrs. Ames’ eyes an incalculable scorn appeared whenever she caught him shuflling down the ballway murmuring'his songful prayers. Heathen! The same fourth evening. Con set about ordering his data and preparing his report. He was careful to omit any details that could have thrown governmental suspicion upon Andrew March and his association with the drug. Perhaps they knew this, but It was better not to refer &it Also, Bevington did not* wish his document to appear fantastic. His commissioner would be satisfied If a practical account of the source of the drug were set down. Con did not speculate upon the origin of the seeds, cast down so far below the sproutlng-levela He left an that for the technical persons who would no doubt accompany the next and larger expedition into the Gdbl. A strangely persistent feeling urged him to make baste. He could find no reason for this, yet he decided to go at once to the house of the c0m- ...... , ..... ,

turn tomorrow. Con drew away from the volleys of praise and queries, and bade his driver make haste toward the March house. He risked the pos‘sible suspicion of his commissioner that the wilds of Asia had touched him somewhat He wanted to ask Helen if she had enjoyed* her dinner. At the March house, the hall door was open, so he did not ring.' He entered and snapped on the light which should have been burning.' He stumbled across the body of old Fu Ah. The Chinese was dead, the body still .warm. Levington leapt up the stairs, madly fearing. In the upper hall, about to enter at Helen’s door, was a familiar figure, like a faded ghost of the empire of the Yellow Sun, Chee Ming. Con was upon him, but he made no resistance. “What do you want?” “A word.” “Why did you kill Fu AhF “He himself obliged me to do so,” said Chee Ming. “Come downstairs,” said Levington, letting go. Silently they drew apart Chee Ming was not armed. His robes were much the vforse for wear. There was something greatly altered about him. He descended ahead of Levington, who was by no means calm. “Go in there.” The vizir obeyed, and Con shut himself into the library with the old Oriental. He turned on the light “Sit down and let’s have your word.” Chee Ming sank Into a great padded chair and seemed lost in it his body as frail as a child’s. For a moment longer he did not speak, but' seemed to be assembling his energies for the task. Levington stood near, staring at his strange visitor. “In a moment they will find Fu Ahbody. Then what?” - Chee Ming raised his hand. “You 'do not understand,” he said with effort, the familiar twisting of his lips again a fascination to the white man. “Did you come alone?”

The yellow man nodded. Prevarication was not one of Chee Ming’s shortcomings. “I suppose you stabbed Fansa, too — and who else?” The vizir shook his bead slowly, and a light was coming into his stony eyes. “And you were looking for your princess.” “Yes. I would have speech with her also. Ido not come with a sword. I come without pride. Fu Ah, foolishly would not let me pass, or it would not have been necessary to release him.” The voice, too, had undergone a change. “How did you get away from Tan Kuan?” ' “That is of no Importance,” said the Chinese. “It is no longer, the Realm of Yellow Gods. It has be* come a warren of madness, a sty, a by-word along the roads of heaven. It is gone, and the hOpe of the world Is destroyed. My work is ended, yet it, is never complete. There is none to continue. My riders have formed a new camp in the South, and there will be wars. I shall never return to Asia, bur mother. 1-have not far to go. My word is but the wish ofan enemy whose power you have humbled.”

“What is it?” “Do not betray the tradition of beauty and holiness into which you forced your way!” ' “Do not make public your knowledge. It is a sacred realm you have entered. Was it not enough for you to destroy it, to carry away its future, and wreck the present, without throwing Into shame the great past of the empire?" “I see what you mean," said Con, thinking of the report he had turned in thirty minutes since. “And can you not be of large heart?” Bevington was silent. He thought of the fanaticism, the drugs, the surprising cruelty of that fallen empire, and the justice of his own mission, and was not sorry. Yet Chee Ming had come to the end, and there is a courtesy due the humbled foe. Almost inaudibly the old voice went on: “You come of a race of merchants, a race of hirelings, having no tradition, desiring none. You lifted your* mind higher than their commerce. You dared strange things, and brought them to pass. You have defeated me, as none of them could imagine. Do not tell them. It is the soul of my fathers, of my kings, you would betray. Do not, I beg—" * The ancient lined face was gray, the neck very thin, the shoulders pressing sharply through the faded robfi. Saye for the expanse of brow, and the deep torture in his eyes, Chee Ming might have been a beggar from the gates of Peking. There was a feverish tension about Ms mouth. He seemed impatient to drink Con’s answer, yet half knowing it would be bitter. and realised that this interview was - '.tin* ■ hsmlr tn CTirr

eyes were piteous. Ignoring the facts, Levington nodded, slowly. At once the Chinese closed his eyes, wrinkled bls face more tightly, then slipped forward in the chair. A line of blood dripped from one corner of his mouth. Chee Ming had lived only to receive the promise of his conqueror.

CHAPTER XVfll. • — t-The Melted Covenant. The urgent Mrs. Ames was admitted, horror rendering her speechless. Ont in the vestibule, Fansa had thrown herself across the body of her brother, and wailed softly. Stephen March was hastening down-stairs. Levington explained rapidly in a low voice. “Helen must never know,” he concluded. Stephen March nodded. Together they stood for a moment In silence before the crumpled body of the grand vizir. Then Mrs. Ames wept aloud for the heathen, since they were dead, and Con was quick to close the door, that the sounds might not reach the girl in her room at the head of the stairs. He felt a 'peculiar warm satisfaction Over the impossible promise he had given the vizir. After certain telephone business with the Chinese consul, involving two dead bodies, he went out into the garden, because he wanted to be alone. At first he believed he would return to Dowagiac, but a sudden bitter memory of grasshoppers on dusty lace curtains, and licentious cats beside the front porch, nauseated him. He realized that he had no home. Out of the road-wisdom of the deserts, he regarded himself now. The fancies of boyhood were still with him. He had seen much, and was not satisfied.

He resolved to go to his beloved in the morning, mention his greatest and shining wish, accept Inevitable defeat from her, and depart with such remnant of gracq as he might retain. Gently a hand touched his sleeve. He turned to face Helen. Her robe was pallid against the dark Ijiwn. Amethysts of Mongolia shone darkly upon her bodice. Her eyes were starry. “Did they permit you to come?” She laughed low. “Why not?” “You have not walked so far before.” “Tonight I begin, then.” He supported f her arm gently, much alarmed and elated. ’ “But-*-” She was magic upon him ; his voice was dry in a mutiny of nerves. They walked slowly at the edge the pond. “These many days—why have you been so silent?” He glanced away to av6id her intimately inquiring eyes. “You seem to hold yourself from me,” she added. His covenant with himself was dissolving, as her words swiftly altered his point of view. He recognized in Helen the Westerner, who perhaps did not so urgently need the protection of a lover’s silence. She was bending toward him. The gemmed hair of the grass sent up its fragrance. "Why do you not tell me what is in your heart?" she Insisted. He could not say just when she had. drawn so very near, nor why they paused together, nor how his arms came to hold her fast. She caught her breath. Close to his lips, her laughter was barely audible. ' “H^len—” he began. “We must be going in,” she said. THW' HIND. •'

Tears Sprang to His Eyes. “God Bless You!” He Cried; “There Is No More Going On.”