University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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12 THE REDWOOD The Plumes on a Hearse J. Charles Murphy 1AHOMMED! The heavy black curtains parted, and a dark-skinned fellah stood at attention. At your feet, Saadat, to serve you till iShe hot sands are melted like snow. Marsh poured a green liquid into the retort and applied the blue flame. Our work is progressing, Mahom- med? ' ' Inshallah. Not the stars in the des- ert sky nor the dark eyes of the houris shine brighter than the light of your mind, Hakim. No, it is not I, but He whom you call Allah, who has killed the Black Plague, Mahommed. Allah, the Merciful, aiwa, yes. He guided the strong arm of Hakim Marsh. ' ' Mahommed, you have seen the gen- eral register to-day? Not as yet, effendi. Then go at once and tell me if the hand of the Black Death has to-day smitten a son of Egypt. Aiwa, Saadat, and the great beaming eyes of the Ethiopian bent to the floor, as he salaamed and glided away to do Marsh ' s bidding. When the curtains fell together be- hind the dusky form, Marsh turned to the shelves lined with test-tubes and acids and proceeded to arrange in their proper places the compounds with which he had been experimenting. He hung on its hook the loose chemist ' s smock and walked idly about his lab- oratory, looking with trained eye at the long rows of lethal drugs in a richly carved cabinet of oak. Well, he mused to himself, at last we seem to have this plague pretty well in hand. Looked bad for a while, though. ' ' His attention was arrested by a jar in the cabinet, marked Antitoxin. Various other air-tight jars were rang- ed in precise order within. All, except- ing one, were empty. The doctor stroked his pointed beard, and fin- gered the unemptied jar. H-m-m-m, he mumbled softly. Very little antitoxin left. Rather careless of me not to have noticed be- fore this morning that my stock need- ed replenishing. Hope no poor devil of a fellah is stricken for a day or so, at least. Enough antitoxin here for — let ' s see. A rapid computation brought a worried look to his face. By George, he said half aloud, 12

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®Ij£ mmm ffllfoto F. BUCKLEV McGURRIN WAS on Parnassus. All the Seasons sat To part tke world in four, Each one to take unto herself a land Which more than any else, would feel her hand With gentle pressure on its brow, and in its ear her voice. The first to speak was Winter, chilly-eyed In azure-golden hair, For marble brow a crown — My realm shall be That numbed land beside the Baltic sea, Where faintly howls the timber- wolf across the snowy waste. And I, said Summer, full-lipped, darksome maid, With figure half defined, My kingdom I would have that sun-kissed shore, Where reigned the Caesars : Italy, whose store Of blossoms and of purple hills the world will not surpass. Autumn, the auburn-haired, with figure full And rounded breast, desired The blue-hazed woods and restless, white-capped lakes Of ripened Canada. Her choice she takes, And now remains but one to choose — a slender creature, Spring. My heart is lost, she said with starry eyes, That loved, And I must go To where I lost it. Let me bide — no queen — Among the hills that call to me, their green With poppies starred; in California! There I lost my heart. 11

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THE REDWOOD 13 worse than I thought. I have barely enough to counteract one case. Only- enough to pull one human life out of the jaws of this monster. Well, no use worrying about crossing the bridge, till we ' ve reached it. He gazed out the bay-window of his well-stocked workshop. On the cool evening air the sweetly-toned, piercing voice of the Muezzin was calling the faithful to evening prayer. Allah hu Achbar! Allah hu Achbar! Ashhadu an la illaha illala! Bowing their heads at the sound of the sacred music the worshippers hurried from bazaar and crowded street to the mosque, leaving their slippers at the door. Some more pious than the rest knelt where the call found them and touched their foreheads to the ground. As Marsh contemplated this scene he knew that the hordes outside were thanking Allah for their deliverance. They were thanking Allah and Hakim Marsh, because Sheitan, the Accursed, had at last been driven from their midst — from their wives and their children. Only the retreating shadow of the Black Death remained. And now that his work was almost accomplished, Marsh looked back and was glad for the good he had done. He thought of his old Southern home in God ' s own country, America. He seemed to hear again the mocking-bird trilling in the great magnolia trees. He seemed to hear his dark-eyed wife ' s melodious voice, making an angel ' s song of some old plantation melody. He experienced again the void that he had known at her early death. But the maddening sorrow, the longing for an endless journey, was gone. He did not feel like wandering more. Now he wanted home, and the happy negroes, and the white fields of cotton, and Dolly and Ray. When the plague in Egypt had beck- oned him, he had taken his children with him. It would be a pleasant vaca- tion for them, he had said. When the plague was conquered — in the course of a year or so — he would return to his Southern home and devote his life to their education, with medical re- search as a mere avocation. The ex- perience would broaden Ray ' s outlook on life, and perhaps the change of cli- mate would make poor little Dolly healthier. There would be no danger to himself or to the children. He would use extreme caution and the antitoxin would ward off the devour- ing pestilence. Of all this he thought as he gazed on the quiet thankful throngs. He re- viewed in memory the struggle with the Black Dragon — a struggle to the death. And now — now at last he had conquered. A few weeks more and he would return to his native land. He would make a great doctor of Ray. Thus he mused; and once more ap- proaching the antitoxin cabinet, he gazed at the one remaining jar of the substance. Only enough to save one life, he said, softly. I sent to Cairo this