g he went to dine with Jack Halloway at his club which
looked out across the Avenue and the Park. He had written to Halloway
in advance of his coming and by wire had received an invitation couched
in terms of urgency not to be denied.

This was not Appalachia but Manhattan yet, when Halloway met him, Brent
could but smile at life's contrasts. The huge fellow rose from his
chair to greet him, as splendid a physical thing as human eyes could
look upon. There was no stubble now on the face that seemed cast in
smooth bronze. In lieu of that calculatedly slovenly disguise which he
had affected in the hinter-land, he was immaculate in the fineness of
his linen and the tailoring of his evening clothes. But as he held out
his hand, he drawled, "Wa'al, stranger, how fares matters back thar on
Shoulder-blade?"

Brent sketched briefly the occurrences that had taken place there; the
death of Old Aaron and the fact that Jerry O'Keefe had been trying to
sell his farm near Coal City in order, he surmised, that he might take
up his abode nearer the McGivins' place.

Talk ran idly for a time, then Halloway rose and stood towering in the
Fifth Avenue window. Across Park and Plaza the sky was still rosy with
the last of the afterglow. Under the loftily broken roof-lines of the
great hotel multitudinous window panes were gleaming. Over it all was
the warm breath of spring.

The big man's hands, idly clasped behind his back, began to twitch and
finally settled into a hard grip. His shoulders heaved and when he
spoke there was a queer note in his voice.

"See the rhododendron over there in the park? Soon now it will be in
flower--not only _that_ rhododendron but----" He ended it abruptly,
and then broke out, low-voiced but tense. "This atmosphere is stifling
me--God! It's horrible--

"Send your path be straight before you,
When the old spring fret comes o'er you,
And the Red Gods call to you.'"

Into Brent's tone came something almost savage.

"I know what you're thinking. Quit it. It won't do!"

Slowly Halloway turned. For a moment his fine face was drawn with
actual suffering. Then he added:

"You're quite right, Will, it won't do. But it's hard to forget--when
one has seen a comet. Touch that button if you don't mind. It's time
for the cocktails."

CHAPTER XIV

Have you seen Spring come to the mountains? Have you felt the subtle
power on the human heart, of trance-drugged impulses awakeni