The Sowers of the Wind
All through the night and the early morning a summer northeaster had
lashed the city streets; the pavements glistened with moisture; the
hurrying rainclouds obscured the sun. But now, as the day advanced,
the wind veered to the north, and presently appeared patches of blue
sky, and a ray of sunshine, piercing its way through the curtains of
the room, fell upon the face of the slumbering Mills, as he lay
breathing heavily, mouth parted, and the mottled red and white of his
cheeks bearing witness to the excesses of the past two weeks.
Presently, as the sunbeam reached the level of his eyes, he twitched
and stirred uneasily, and finally awakening, sat bolt upright with a
sound midway between a yawn and a groan, and extending his legs over
the side of the bed, remained inert, supporting his aching head in his
hands. Then, perceiving that Blagden still slept, he seized a pillow
and flung it with such certain aim that his companion, thus rudely
aroused, started up spasmodically from his couch and perceiving the
cause for his awakening, scowled savagely, growled, "Oh, don't act
like a damned kid," and tried to compose himself for further slumber.
But the shock had been effectual, and at length, realizing the
futility of the attempt, he assumed the same position occupied by
Mills, and heavy-eyed and blinking, the pair sat gazing at each other
across the room.
"Blagden," said Mills solemnly, "do you care to know my genuine,
sincere opinion of life in general?"
Blagden grinned faintly. "If you feel the way I do," he answered, "I
can guess it right now. But if it will cheer you up to get it off your
mind, why go ahead."
Mills needed no further encouragement. "Life," he observed, "is a
fake; an ugly, rotten fake. There's no fun in it; there's no good in
it; there's no pleasure; there's no satisfaction. It's dust and ashes,
and I'm tired and sick of it."
Blagden's smile broadened. "Well, of all the ingratitude," he
rejoined. "When we made our first clean-up, a fortnight ago, you told
me life was the most splendid, gorgeous, wonderful thing imaginable.
If things had gone against us since then, you might complain, but they
haven't; everything that could come our way has come our way. The
system is perfect; where we had six thousand dollars we have fifteen
thousand now; and in a year we'll have to hire a special safety
deposit vault. And in the meantime think of the pace we've set. Have
we been temperance advocates, preachers of the Gospel, haters of
women? The answer is; No, decidedly and emphatically, No. It has been
some fortnight; some happy little fortnight, Tubby, my boy."
Mills groaned. "That's just the trouble," he complained. "All my life,
I've looked forward to the time when I could travel as fast as I
wanted to, without caring a hang for the expense. And now that I've
done it, what a mess it's been. I don't want to eat or drink again as
long as I live, and as for women--" he shuddered--"Good Lord, Blagden,
I can't bear the thought of them. Lumps of flesh, with wide-open
mouths, crying 'Give, give, give!' Beasts, that's all they are; ugly,
crawling beasts; to the deuce with the whole of them."
He passed a shaking hand across his eyes, trying to brush away the
film of cobweb which hung there. But his hand passed through it, and
the film remained.
Blagden looked at him curiously. "Better pull up a bit, Tubby," he
admonished. "You don't want a session with the D. Ts. I know just how
you feel, but wait till you've had a bath and a bracer, and you'll be
all right again. In fact, you've got to be all right again; this is
the night we're going out to Danforth's for a time with those girls
from the south. Had you forgotten?"
"By Jove, I had," Mills acknowledged. But at the thought of Danforth
and the pictures he had shown them, the embers of gorged and glutted
lust began to glow again. "Well," he said more cheerfully, "this will
be a bit different from the usual thing. Besides that, we'll be in the
country. What a damnable place the city is. You know, Blagden," he
went on confidentially, gazing straight before him, "sometimes lately
I catch myself doing something I've never done before; I keep thinking
back to when I was a kid. I suppose that's a sign I'm growing old.
Why, darn it all, I can remember the room I used to have, and the
little white bed, and the long summer nights with the crickets singing
away outside in the moonlight, and there I'd lie awake, kind of
wondering what it was all about, anyway, and thinking how fine it
would be to grow up to be a man. And now--"
His voice died away. "You've got the same idea," observed Blagden, "as
the man who said that the country boy comes to the city and works hard
all his days to earn enough so that at the end of his life he can go
back and live in the country again."
"And he was right!" cried Mills. "That's the absolute truth. This
money game is all rot. I want the country again. The grass and the
brooks and the trees, the singing of the birds, the sweep of the sky
over the hills, sunrise and sunset--Oh God--oh God--"
Once more he passed his hand over his burning eyes. Blagden, rising,
walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "There, there," he said
not unkindly, "I never knew _you_ had nerves. We'd better send you
away for a week; I can look after things here."
With an effort, Mills regained control of himself. "Confound it all,"
he cried, "I must be in poor shape to act like this. Excuse me,
Blagden, I'm all right now." Then, as another thought struck him, he
added, "But think of this fellow Danforth that we've been so thick
with. How on earth does he stand it? He's no athlete; he's not half my
size. But he's stayed with us for two weeks; drink for drink; girl for
girl. And I swear he's as fresh as when we started. How do you account
for that?"
"This man Danforth," Blagden answered, "is a product of little old New
York. And that is half the battle. But even at that, he's a wonder.
All of him that isn't steel is whipcord and whalebone, and he carries
a copper riveted boiler where his stomach ought to be. In short, he's
a bear and a bird, and an all-around phenomenon, and as a physical
specimen I take off my hat to him. But as a speculator, Tubby, he's
the worst I ever saw. He's been losing money like water."
"I know he has," Mills answered. "And it's a shame, too, because he's
an awfully decent little chap. I couldn't help tipping him off the
other day. He was long of stocks in a market that was just going to
break wide open, and I told him to get out. He did, too, and only just
in time. I saved him from a slaughter."
Blagden looked troubled. "Be careful, Tubby," he admonished. "We don't
want to get the reputation of being money makers; that's our one
danger now. I'd rather act as if we were losing it; in fact, I think
we'd better lose occasionally just to cover up our tracks. However, I
guess there's no harm done. Danforth is harmless, and we owe him
something for the time he's going to give us to-night."
An hour later they discovered Danforth, flower in buttonhole, spruce
and smiling after three hours' sleep, displaying to the customers at
Floyd & Meredith's a new buck-and-wing step in the centre of the
office floor. But he desisted to greet his friends. "It's all right,"
he told them confidentially, "The girls got in this morning, and
to-night will be one great and glorious time. They are ladies, you
understand; as fine girls as you'd want to meet anywhere; but chock
full of the devil, and once in a while, on the quiet--well, you
understand. Take the five-thirty for Fairview; I'll meet you at the
station. There's the bell; I'm short of Steel and she's going up on
me. See you later." And he leaped for the ticker.
That afternoon Mills and Blagden spent at the ball game, but managed
to reach the train in time, and Danforth, meeting them at their
destination, whirled them away in his motor along the winding country
roads through groves of pines, past fertile meadows, and by stretches
of marsh where the sunset stained the pools of water as red as blood.
"Lonely," said Danforth, "but I like it. And especially for a time
like this. Here we are, safe and sound."
The motor drew up in front of the plain old country house, and as they
followed their guide into the hall, they could see through an open
doorway the table bright with silver and linen, set for six. "The
girls," Danforth explained, "have been spending the day at Eastfield.
They're coming over by motor; ought to be here any minute now. Just
let me show you your room."
They followed him upstairs, and down the upper hall to the rear of the
house, where he flung open the door of the guest room, and stood back
for them to enter. "There," he said heartily, "make yourselves at
home. I'm just going to the kitchen for a minute to see that
everything's all right, and I'll be back again in no time."
He departed, closing the door behind him, and Mills throwing himself
into an easy chair, gazed around him with approval. The room was
old-fashioned and low studded, but comfortably furnished, and the
drawn shades and the mellow light from the lamp on the table combined
to give it an appearance both homelike and inviting. Blagden, after a
similar appreciative glance, followed Mills' example, and both of
them, wearied after many days of tense excitement around the ticker,
followed by nights of wild carousal, sat in pleasurable silence, their
thoughts busied with visions of enjoyment to come.
Presently they heard outside the throbbing of a motor. "There come the
ladies," hazarded Mills, but after his surfeit of dissipation, he did
not pay their fair companions the compliment of rising from his chair.
Nor did Blagden stir. Yet he listened keenly to the sound of the
motor, and suddenly observed, "That car wasn't coming, Tubby; it was
going. What do you suppose that means?"
"Don't know and don't care," yawned Mills, stretching his huge arms
luxuriously above his head, "but I've one fault, though, to find with
Danforth's taste. He seems to have a prejudice against ventilation.
It's fearfully close in here."
Blagden rose, with just the faintest shadow of anxiety upon his face.
"You're right," he agreed. "Let's have some air."
As he spoke, he walked over to the window, snapped up the curtain, and
then gave a cry so sharp and so fraught with alarm that Mills
involuntarily leaped from his seat, and stood gazing with blanched
cheeks at the space where a window should have been, but which,
instead, was barricaded by a plate of solid steel. In spite of
himself, Mills felt as if the blood had ceased flowing in his veins,
and his voice sounded thick and strained as he cried, "What's this?
Some fool joke?"
Without a word, Blagden had rushed to the other window, only to
encounter a similar barrier. And then suddenly, even in the midst of
his excitement, he was aware of a disagreeably penetrating odor in the
room. "Tubby," he cried, "it's gas; poison gas! He's trying to murder
us. Where does it come from?"
But there was no time to search. Already they began to experience a
strange lightheadedness, a singing in the ears, and a numbing
heaviness in their limbs. Mills tried the door, found it locked, and
terrified and trembling, turned instinctively to his leader.
"Blagden," he gasped, "what can we do?" But there came no answer, and
he saw that his comrade had fallen and lay motionless upon the floor.
Thus thrown upon his own resources, desperation seized him, and a
blind fury at the treachery of the man whom they had trusted as their
friend. Hastily crossing the room, and mindful of the old savage drill
upon the football field, he ran full speed and hurled himself bodily
against the door. Before that terrific impact, the wood split and
splintered, and Mills, tearing wildly, with torn fingers, at the gap
thus made, managed to force an opening--only to see, shimmering in the
lamplight, again the glint of polished steel. And now despair, grim
and relentless, gripped his heart. To him, who had loved life so
ardently, and had lived it so emptily, appeared the shadow of Death.
Staggering, helpless, with blood trickling from nose and mouth, he
retreated once again; again, with a last flicker of energy, charged
the gate of steel; struck it, full force; fell reeling to his knees;
tried to rise, tottered, and then, slowly, like some giant tree
beneath the woodsman's axe, he crashed headlong, and lay still.