"I told him if he c.u.m around here any more I'd smash his head, an' he grunts an' draws himself up this a-way, and looks ugly and says, 'he's a big Injun,' and I told him to go to h.e.l.l!"

For some time Tixinopa kept away from the cabin, but one day he appeared and demanded whiskey. He was half drunk, and his bloodshot eyes blinked at Malita as he swayed unsteadily in the doorway.

"No, Tixinopa, there is no whiskey."

Tixinopa's eyes grew ugly. "You lie, you half-breed squaw; but be it so, I will take the boy away until you remember where it is."

So saying he lifted the baby by the arm and swung him on to his shoulder. The child cried out with pain from its twisted arm. Malita's heart sunk with a dreadful fear.

"Give the child to me, Tixinopa, do not be so rough; see, you have hurt him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MALITA.]

She tried to take the boy, but Tixinopa pushed her away roughly and she fell to the ground. Up she sprang and threw herself upon him, trying to get the boy, and in the struggle she scratched his face slightly, so that the blood came. With a curse he struck her full in the face with his clinched fist and she fell as if dead, and lay with her hands twitching feebly.

"Take your half-breed brat," he hissed, throwing the baby roughly on the ground beside her. He turned to walk away, but something in the motionless form of the child caused him to look again, and he saw that his little head lay doubled under his arm in a way that could only mean one thing--a broken neck.

Malita rose unsteadily to her feet and looked about in a dazed way until her gaze rested upon the little body of her dead baby; the next instant she was striking and cutting at Tixinopa, screaming like a mad thing.

The attack was so sudden and fierce that, trained athlete and fighter as he was, Tixinopa received a deep cut on the shoulder and a slight one on the arm before he succeeded in grasping her wrist, and twisting the knife from her. Then, seizing her by the hair, he drew her to him and drove the knife twice into her breast, throwing her to the ground, where she lay gasping her life away in broken sobs.

Tixinopa stood for a moment looking at Malita and was quite still. His arm pained him and he held up his hand and watched the blood dripping from his fingers. Then he took a self-c.o.c.king revolver from his belt and fired shot after shot into the bodies of the dead baby and the dying mother. Twice the hammer clicked on an empty sh.e.l.l before he ceased to pull the trigger, and he slowly turned away, pushing his empty pistol into his belt. As he did so he found himself face to face with Jones, but a different Jones than the one he had known. This Jones' face was white and drawn, and looked years older than the other Jones. The hand which held a pistol pointed at him shook unsteadily. A minute, perhaps two minutes, pa.s.sed, and still the two men faced each other; then an evil light came into Tixinopa's eyes, and his hand slid slowly towards the handle of his knife, to be instantly smashed by a bullet from Jones'

pistol. Another shot and the other arm was broken at the elbow. Neither man had spoken, but now Tixinopa began a low, wild chant. Raised to his full height, with his broken arms hanging by his sides, he chanted the death song of his people, the same song which had been sung by his father, and his father's father, and for generations past by all the dying warriors of his tribe.

"Tixinopa," the voice was a husky whisper, "for her sake I won't torture yer as I would like ter,--G.o.d give me strength to keep from doin'

it!--but I'm afeared He won't unless I kill yer quick. All I hope is that if there is a h.e.l.l, your black soul will roast in it for ever and ever, amen!"

The muzzle of the pistol was now within a few inches of the naked breast; still the low, wild chant went on, the bronze figure standing as if turned to stone. Then another shot and the chant stopped.

Ten minutes later a horseman rode slowly into the desert. To his left, as he crossed the half-dry bed of the alkali stream, two Indian boys were skinning a rabbit alive and laughing at its agony. From afar back on the other side of the valley he heard the strains of the "Star Spangled Banner" played by the pride of the Reservation--the Indian band!

A QUEER COINCIDENCE.

"You say," said Doctor Watson, as he rested one arm on the mantel and looked thoughtfully at the open fire,--"you say there is no proof of the actuality of what is called telepathy or thought-transference, and perhaps you are right, but I have several times in my life had experiences which were very difficult to explain except by some such theory, and if you care to listen I will tell you one of them which I have in mind."

Our chorus of approval evidently left no doubt as to our desire to hear the story, for Watson smiled, and lighting a fresh cigar he began as follows:

"On the seventeenth of January last year there was a slight wash-out on the Northern road not far from Chicago, and the forward trucks of one of the cars on train 61, on which I was a pa.s.senger, left the rails, but luckily the train was going slowly at the time and there was little damage done except a general shaking up of the pa.s.sengers in the car as the forward wheels b.u.mped roughly over the sleepers for a few yards before the train stopped. The other cars did not leave the track, and only one man was seriously injured.

"This man had been standing on the platform at the time and was thrown between the cars and badly crushed. I was close to the end window and saw him fall, and when the conductor called for a doctor I responded at once.

"I found the man lying on a blanket surrounded by a number of the pa.s.sengers. He seemed to suffer but little pain, and I feared, from a casual examination, he was badly injured internally, although he was perfectly conscious; he was bleeding at the mouth, and his legs seemed to be paralyzed. He asked faintly if I thought he was going to die, and I cheered him up, as is customary in such cases, but shortly afterwards he developed such serious symptoms that I felt forced to tell him I feared he was seriously hurt, and it was quite possible he would live but a few hours.

"Upon hearing this he became very much agitated, and whispered to me that he wished to speak to me alone, saying he had something of the utmost importance to communicate.

"I thought it was probably some message to send to some members of his family, or some instructions regarding his affairs, but after a few words I became very much interested. He talked for fifteen minutes, part of the time being sustained by the use of stimulants. His story, which was a very strange one, I will repeat as nearly as possible in his own words. After repeatedly asking me to a.s.sure him there was no possible chance of his recovery he said:

"'It is not necessary for you to know my name, but it is sufficient for me to tell you that I received a good education in my youth and graduated with high honors at one of the large universities in this country. I always had more or less interest in the study of physiology, and during my college course conducted a series of experiments in hypnotism, and made some interesting discoveries regarding the exaltation of the senses, and especially in relation to illusion and hallucination by the aid of post-hypnotic suggestion.

"'It had been my earnest desire to occupy the position of professor of physiology in one of the universities, but failing to obtain a position of this kind, and having no means of support, I gradually became poorer and poorer, earning a livelihood as best I could, until I became discouraged and attempted to make money in a way not quite so honest.

"'The idea suggested itself to me during a series of experiments which I had conducted with a friend of mine. It so happened that this friend was paying teller in one of our well-known banks of Chicago, where he is to-day. He is a thoroughly honorable man in every way, but I found that he was a good hypnotic subject, or sensitive, as we call it. At first he could not be considered first cla.s.s, but he was much interested in the subject, and allowed me to hypnotize him repeatedly. After a few evenings he became very easily influenced and one of the best subjects I had ever had. I could put him to sleep in a moment, simply snapping my fingers and telling him I wished him to sleep; of course this can only be done with sensitives who have been repeatedly hypnotized.

"'Under these conditions I succeeded in making him do very many wonderful things, especially in the way of post-hypnotic suggestions; a post-hypnotic suggestion is a command given to hypnotized subjects that at some future time they perform a certain act. In most cases, in waking from the hypnotic sleep they have forgotten that the suggestion has been given them, but at the time set they perform the act unconsciously, as though by their own volition. Not only will they do this, but after the act is performed they usually sink into a quiet sleep,[1] from which they awake after pa.s.sing into the normal sleep, and, as a rule, have forgotten that they did anything unusual, or that they have been hypnotized, and take up the thread of thought again at the point where they first entered the hypnotic condition. They do not remember what they have done or seen. Their mind is a blank as to all that occurred during the time they were hypnotized.

[Footnote 1: This is unusual; the subject rarely falls asleep after carrying out a post-hypnotic suggestion unless commanded to do so.--ED.]

"'For the last two years I have been rather fortunate, in a small way, speculating in stocks. My capital being small, the amount of money I could make was, of course, comparatively little; yet I succeeded in doing very well until about three weeks ago, when, by two or three unfortunate speculations, I found myself absolutely dest.i.tute, and without a penny in the world. It was then the idea suggested itself to me to hypnotize Mr. Herrick and make him bring me money from the bank.

This of course was perfectly possible, if no accident occurred, or no unforeseen difficulty presented itself, which I had not previously thought of, as the cashier would act simply as an instrument, being governed entirely by my directions. I asked him in a casual way several times about the affairs of the bank, and learned one day that the bank would have an unusually large balance in settling with the clearing-house. It was the custom for Mr. Herrick to lock up his own funds, and simply state to the cashier that he had done so.

"'According to a carefully arranged plan, I hypnotized him last evening and commanded him to take all the money and securities he had in his possession, after settling with the clearing-house, and instead of locking them in his vault to put them in a bag, of course taking precautions to do this when no one was observing him, and then leave the bank in the usual manner.

"'He was to take a carriage and drive directly to a small, unoccupied house which is situated on the corner of Blank and 117th streets.

"'It was my intention, as I had gone so far, to go still further. I knew that Mr. Herrick would bring me the money and securities, and that I should find him asleep in the house, but what I did not know positively, and what I feared was, _that he might not forget what he had done when he awoke_. As a rule, sensitives obey the command to forget, but in the course of my various experiments I have found sensitives who had a vague idea of what occurred, perhaps nothing tangible, but still sufficient, in a case like this, when there would be a great row about the lost securities, to suggest a possible clue.

"'It was a very cold day, six degrees below, I think, and I had deliberately intended to leave Mr. Herrick asleep after I had taken the money from him and let him take his chances, sleeping without any fire or covering, in an hypnotic condition, with the temperature below zero, and you can judge what his chances would have been. This scheme I thought out deliberately, and what seems strange, I had not the least repugnance against arranging for the death of my friend. After I had once made up my mind to make him steal the securities his disappearance seemed to be the only way to insure my safety. Of course no one could know I was connected with this matter. I would not go near the bank, and unless he was followed, which was most unlikely, as he had been with the bank some years and was a thoroughly trusted official, there would be absolutely no chance of my detection.'"

Watson relighted his cigar, which had gone out, and continued--

"While he had been speaking another train had arrived with a lot of workmen who were busily engaged jacking the car back on the rails. The train was about to return to Chicago, so I inquired the name of the bank and its president, and the address of the house, writing them down so there could be no possible mistake. I then hastened on board the train, leaving my patient under the care of Dr. Morse, a local physician, who agreed to notify me as to the condition of the man later in the day.

"Upon arriving in Chicago I immediately drove to the bank, but found it closed. I was told, however, that Mr. Bartlet, the president, was attending a corporation meeting in an office in the same building. I immediately hunted him up, and, upon hearing my story he hastily ordered a carriage and we drove to the house as described.

"On our way out we stopped and picked up Dr. Marsh, who as you know is very much interested in such matters. It was quite a long drive, but we found the place without difficulty. It was unoccupied, and many of the windows were broken, and altogether it presented a very dilapidated appearance, such as the cheap houses on the outskirts of a great city often do after having been unoccupied for a year or two. We tried the door and found it unlocked. On the first floor the rooms were entirely empty, loose papers scattered about, and no signs of any one having entered the house. Upon going upstairs we found the door on the first landing at the head of the stairs closed, but not locked. At the back of the room was a cracked wooden stool and a dilapidated hair sofa, which had evidently been considered too used up to be of any value. Part of the cover was torn away, one of the legs was broken, and some of the hair stuffing was lying scattered about the floor. On this lounge lay Mr. Herrick apparently sound asleep; his lips blue with cold, his face pale, and the general appearance of a man half frozen to death. He was breathing very quietly, however, and his heart action was still fairly good, although somewhat slow. By his side lay a small bag, which, it is needless to say, was pounced upon by Mr. Bartlet. It contained some valuable securities, and a great bundle of bank bills of large denomination. Both Marsh and I considered Herrick's condition as decidedly interesting and unusual, and we were both of the opinion that, as part of the story had proved true, it was very likely the whole would turn out just as described.

"If this proved to be the case, all that now remained to be done was to restore Herrick to his normal condition, which might or might not be easy to accomplish. The first thing to be done was to get him out of such a low temperature. We tried various methods of restoring consciousness, but without success. What we did not like was that his heart action was gradually becoming weaker. We gave a hypodermic injection of strychnia, and the heart was soon acting in a much more satisfactory manner. There was no return to consciousness, however, so taking him in the carriage we drove back to Dr. Marsh's house, and arriving there we all turned to and did what we could to restore Herrick to consciousness. Now that he was in a warm room the drawn expression and the blue look left his face, but otherwise he appeared to sleep as soundly as ever. The heart was now acting very well, and aside from the coma the condition of the patient gave us no cause for anxiety. As time went on, however, and we absolutely failed to waken him, and the heart again showed signs of weakness, we began to feel somewhat uneasy.

"You see," said Watson, "we did not know what suggestion was given the patient; these post-hypnotic suggestions are peculiar in their action upon some sensitives. If, as it is fair to suppose, this man was ordered to sleep, he should in the natural course of events sleep for a number of hours and then awake, after pa.s.sing from the hypnotic sleep to the normal sleep; but we know very little of the effect on some nervous systems of post-hypnotic suggestions. Another thing, in many cases the patient will not waken or cannot be wakened except by the person who put him to sleep. The reason for this is plain enough. Part of the effect on the mind of hypnotic suggestion is due entirely to sleep. The skilled hypnotist commands one of his sensitives to sleep under certain conditions. The sensitive expects to be awakened by the same voice and in the same way, and habit and a.s.sociation have fixed in his mind certain conditions which he a.s.sociates with the order to awake. There is no doubt whatever that Mr. Herrick heard what we were saying when we spoke to him in a loud voice, but he heard it without understanding, much as a person in a sleepy condition hears noises about him without trying to comprehend them. It is undoubtedly true that the man who put Herrick to sleep could have wakened him in a moment, while we, with all our knowledge and experience, were unable to make his brain regain its normal condition. We decided to let him sleep; and if, at the end of a few hours, he did not regain consciousness, we would try again what we could do to a.s.sist him, of course watching the heart in the meanwhile and using nitro-glycerin or strychnia if indicated.

"At that moment Herrick suddenly spoke, at first huskily and then in a loud, clear voice, shouting, 'Yes, yes, I hear you; I am awake.' Then he sat up, asking in a dazed way, 'Where am I? What does this mean?'"

"As he did so the old-fashioned clock in the hall struck the hour of seven."

The queerest part of this story is suggested by a letter received from Dr. Morse the next day, which read as follows:

DEAR WATSON: You asked me to write you about the injured man, and I do so now to tell you he is dead. He died a minute or two before seven o'clock last evening; I know the hour exactly, because I was watching him at the time, and for some moments he had been whispering and muttering to himself, but all I could catch was something about, "I withdraw my command;" when, suddenly raising himself, he shouted, "Wake up, wake up!" and fell back dead just as the clock in the church-yard struck seven.

I should be much interested to hear whether his story was true or not. Drop me a line about it when you have time.

Very sincerely yours, F. MORSE.