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Show SURVIVAL (By Harry Smurtwaite) Tonight, one of monotonous many in 1 the lives of two aged gentlemen, has all that love's heart should desire in ! soft moon light, blossom-scented breeze, and, in short,. springtime in May. But not for Noxd Landquist and Sam Trenway. Perhaps a night as this twenty-five years ago might have animated their youthful emotions but the drag of years had been too full of rain, wind, hail, and strife; and the two men had long ago failed to be buoyed or depressed by nature's flipaney. Their battle, a battle of waiting, had gone on relentlessly, night after night. They were set and dogged and became more determined everyday, determined to outlast each other. Their antagonism wasn't violent vio-lent now as it had been when they were youths. It had finally boiled down to a game of waiting. The ravages of the years were to decide their issue. He would win who could best stand what time should bring. Unfortunately, another suffered because be-cause of thi? warfare, and she might have ended the strife with a single word on a night in May some twenty odd years ago. For twenty-five years, the village folk watched this quiet warfare; for twenty-five years they had observed ob-served Nord and Sam become gray and bent. To the clack clack clack of rapid tatoo made by Nord's heavier hand on the white picketed fence a-round a-round the failing, vine-clad house of the Maitlands, and to the lighter stut stut stut of Sam's lighter rod in faltering hand, the villagers gave but a passing smile or a shake of the head. Sam lived to the West, Nord to the South. From these directions the two came nightly to look lingeringly thru the Maitland window. As they passed down the foot paths, their walking sticks would stutter over the pickets, childlike. Tonight Nord's clack- clack and Sam's stutstut seemed more impatient, impat-ient, but still determined. Tonight, too, the law of averages enabled them to meet. Generally, one would be sounding his signal while the other one ploddingly retreated. But tonight, their sticks had chattered simultaneously simultan-eously and both had met at the hollow oak where Nord beat his torn torn of three and Sam his lighter beat of two. Each had looked at the other menacingly; menac-ingly; each had set his jaw and straightened his shoulders. Nord was first to speak. His old hatred and contempt for the puny, little man in front of him welled up. How was such a weakling able to live so long, he thought. How he had hoped hop-ed the accident Sam was in two years ago would have proved fatal. "You still here?" he growled, "Why-don't "Why-don't you quit coming? You know you'll die before I do." Sam sneered mockingly at the taller, more healthier looking Nord. How he had longed to strike a telling blow at this giant of strength and good looks, who had always lorded over him. Now was his chance. "Ha, yer ain't so big and strong no more yerself. I heerd what Doc Findly said about that there cancer in yer cheek." With this grim' revelation, revelat-ion, he laughed tauntingly, leaning on his cane to support his swaying body. "You who was always so much strong-ei'n strong-ei'n me, and you a big red-blooded sailor man and me just an ordinary land lubber." His laugh was throaty and toneless. tone-less. He turned west, this time carrying carry-ing his cane and walking with his head high. He had won a signal victory. Dejectedly, Nord ftoolcl .watching him. Then calling himself out of his gloom, he mumbled to retreating Sam. "You won't last much longer yourself. your-self. Your consumption's bad and your palsy's getting worse. You and your rum ." He laughed weakly, and truning south, sagged homeward, leaning heavily oh his stick and carrying carry-ing his bet frame with difficulty. While this strange meeting had been going on, a certain maiden lady in the Maitland house had risen from her rocker before the fire place, removed re-moved her bonnet an shawl, and climbed laboriously to her room above, where she ceremoniously, with rosary contemplation, removed the hair pins one by one from her gray hair, which feil about her neck and shoulders. When the chattering on the white picket fence had begun, she had been sitting in an attitude of listening, apparently ap-parently waiting for someone, waiting to go some place. But when she heard the succeeding drums of first three then two on the hollow oak post, she j had drooped and sighed forlornly. Sadly, she thought of her empty childless and friendless life. If she could have chosen between them, this unhappiness would never have been. Oh! but she couldn't; she loved them both; and the love had never died. If it had, she might have found someone else of the many who coveted her. Oh, why! she thought, did I leave it to them to decide. But if I had become Nord's wife, poor Sam would have killed himself or killed Nord. With these thoughts racing thru her mind, she fell into a troubled sleep, dreading another day of waiting. wait-ing. And so the days dragged on, spring autumn, then winter. Still, the silent warriors tok their nightly trip to the hollow oak, while the maiden lady waited waited waited. But a last on a day when the wind had howled and drifted the snow in I heaps, only one man took his walk. He came from the west, and as he walked, his staff sounded a stut stut stut on the white grating. He knocked his usual twice, truned homeward home-ward again, looking the while at a frosty window where a cheery light gleamed. And so night after night, he went this way until a deep groove rutted the snow. Finally, one night, he paused, looking look-ing toward the south and wondering why Nord's clack clack clack had not been heard comming or going. He had not heard it for several days. Glancing down, Sam beheld the snow blanket stretching unmarred to the south, unmarred by human foot. Incredulous! In-credulous! He gripped his stick, laughed laugh-ed hysterically. "I've won! I've won!" he shouted. A fit of coughing and laughing seized him, rocking his palsied frame. The hinges creaked and banked the snow as the gate plowed open. The white orust broke reluctantly underfoot under-foot as Sam made his way toward the warm glow in the window. Twenty-five Twenty-five years he thought, since I walked this path. Yes, it was a night in May, iwemy-uve years ago. The brass knocker squealed from lack of use and seemed to shriek thru the night. Once he knocked, then waited an eternity. Twice, he knocked and still no answer. Walking-to the window, he peered in. To be sure, there she was asleep in her rocker and wearing her shawl and bonnet too; waiting for him. Wouldn't she be surprized when he would wake her. ....Quietly, opening the weather-beaten door, he stepped noiselessly inside. How odd, no warm' air rushed to meet the cold; everything seemed strangly cold; the fire must have gone out. He walked softly up behind her. '"Rose, Rose, wake up. It's Sam come to see you." There was no answer. He shook her gently. A heavy arm fell to the side, the body wilting after it. At the same time the lamp fluttered out. It is no wonder. A week without fuel is a long time. o |