an; the little codger first, as a foot print on the Long
Trail to the lair of the Man Higher Up.

You cannot stab a lot of things to life as you did last night and the
night before, and then expect them to lie quiet and be the same. You
have sent me forth on the Long Trail, Eleanor; and I shall hunt the
better because you have stabbed me alive and will never let me go to
sleep again. I thank you; and yet, I can't thank you, mine _Alder
Liefest_--look up and see what that means in old Saxon--Yours in Life
and Death and Always and Out Beyond.

Dick.

I have ordered a wreath from Smelter City for Fordie. Find it hard to
stop writing and go from you; but the darned old Mountain doesn't look
the same; it's all draped out in such "dam-phool 'appiness" that I am
glad in the shadow of Death.

Dick. (2nd)

Don't forget every day dawn and sunset, I come to renew the Seal. Ever
study Algebra in college? Then look up what this means.

Dick. (nth)

And because she had graduated from girl to woman between sunset and
daydawn of that Death Watch, she kissed the last signature, right in
the midst of the German cook's dishes, set all higgeldy-piggeldy on the
oilcloth top instead of the linen cover, owing to the distraction of
the night's tragedy. It was his first love letter; and because it was
his first, he did not know it was a love letter. He had written it on
the pages of a field note book. On the reverse side, were figures of
triangulations and scaled timbers, which Eleanor fingered lovingly
because the dumb signs seemed to connect her life with his
before--before what? Ask those who know!

The note was lying at her breakfast place when she came out from a
sleepless night, a night that seemed to pass swinging between the gates
of Life and the gates of Death, with phantoms on the trail between, of
Love so terrible its glory blinded her, of Crime so dark its shadow
obscured her faith in God. For hours, she had lain quivering to the
consciousness of that moment when Life leaped up to meet and blend with
Life in Love. For hours, she had lain quivering to the consciousness
of Crime stalking satyr-faced amid the shadows of Life, Greed and
Murder and Lust, hiding beneath suave words, behind conventionality,
draped in all the broad phalacteries of law, ready to leap fanged at
the throat of Innocence in a Land of Let-Alone; and she emerged from
the conflict of these two forces no longer what would be called a