Hidden Creek

e now for stars or dreams. For the first time in his neglected and mismanaged life he knew the pleasure of congenial work; and this, although Lorrimer worked him like a slave. He dr

and spur, throve and grew and fairly took the

bled with the tools of Lorrimer's trade. No wonder that now knowledge and practice, and the sort of intensive training he was under, magically fitted all the jumbled odds and ends into place. Dickie had stopped looking over his shoulder. The pursuing pack, the stealthy-footed beasts of the city, had dropped utterly from his flying imagination. There was only one that remained faithful-that craving for beauty-half-god, half-beast. Against him Dickie still pressed his door shut. Lorrimer's gift of work had not quieted the leader o

Jim Greely. She had held a handful of cactus flowers. She had stopped over there by one of the windows to put them in a glass. And to show Dickie, a prisoner at his desk, that she did not consider his presence-it was during the period of their estrangement-she had sung softly as a girl sings when she knows herself to be alone: a little tender, sad chanting song, that seemed made to fit her mouth. The pain her singing had

the hurt of it. He tossed about on his bed. He could not but remember how little she had loved him. All at once there came to him a mysterious and beautiful release. It seemed that the cool spirit, detached, winged, drew him to itself or became itself entirely

song you s

rt she had been

d, hundre

e song, w

heart and

ear the le

e days are

hours from

a little

d ever had of happiness. That there was agony in his happiness only intensified it. The leader of the wolf-pack, beast

Dickie wrote