he flame feed? I know
that material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution of
matter: but why does not the life of Joseph Cumberland dissolve?

"The subject possesses me. I dare not ponder it too steadily or my brain
begins to whirl. I make no progress towards any reasonable solution. I
only feel that I am living in the presence of an astounding mystery.

"Strange thoughts possess me. What is the fire that burns but does not
consume Joe Cumberland? What is the thing in the wandering Dan Barry
which Kate Cumberland fears and yet waits for? Why was it that Daniels
trembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his own
profession, he holds to be his best friend?

"You see how the mystery assumes shape? It is before me. It is in my
hand. And yet I cannot grasp its elements.

"The story of a man, a horse, and a dog. What is the story?

"To-day I wandered about the great corrals and came to one which was
bounded by a fence of extraordinary height. It was a small corral, but
all the posts were of great size, and the rails were as large as
ordinary posts. I inquired what strange beasts could be kept in such a
pen, and the man-of-all-work of whom I asked replied: 'That's Satan's
corral.'

"I guessed at some odd story. 'The devil?' I cried, 'Do they fence the
devil in a corral?'

"'Oh, ay,' said the fellow, 'he's a devil, right enough. If we'd let him
run with the other hosses he'd have cut 'em to ribbons. That's what kind
of a devil he is!'

"A story of a man, a horse, and a dog. I think I have seen the great
chain which bound the dog. Was that the place where they kept the horse?

"And, if so, what bonds are used for the man? And what sort of man can
he be? One of gigantic size, no doubt, to mate his horse and his dog. A
fierce and intractable nature, for otherwise Kate Cumberland could not
dread him. And yet a man of singular values, for all this place seems to
wait for his return. I catch the fire of expectancy. It eats into my
flesh. Dreams haunt me night and day. What will be the end?

"Now I am going down to see Mr. Cumberland again. I know what I shall
see--the flickering of the fire behind his eyes. The lightning glances,
the gentle, rare voice, the wasted face; and by him will be Kate
Cumberland; and they both will seem to be listening, listening--for
what?

"No more to-night. But, Loughburne, you should be here; I feel that the
like of this has never been upon the earth.

"Byr