t and
weak as he was; would rise heavily to his feet and walk on again; and on
the red screen of the sunset his black body and outspread hands would
form a monstrous likeness of a cross.

And it came to pass that once he went out and did not come back. Thus
seemingly ended the second life of him who for three days had been under
the enigmatical sway of death, and rose miraculously from the dead.

The Beast with Five Fingers

BY W.F. HARVEY

From _The New Decameron_, by Various Hands. Copyright, 1919, by
Robert M. McBride and Company. By permission of the publishers.

When I was a little boy I once went with my father to call on Adrian
Borlsover. I played on the floor with a black spaniel while my father
appealed for a subscription. Just before we left my father said, "Mr.
Borlsover, may my son here shake hands with you? It will be a thing to
look back upon with pride when he grows to be a man."

I came up to the bed on which the old man was lying and put my hand in
his, awed by the still beauty of his face. He spoke to me kindly, and
hoped that I should always try to please my father. Then he placed his
right hand on my head and asked for a blessing to rest upon me. "Amen!"
said my father, and I followed him out of the room, feeling as if I
wanted to cry. But my father was in excellent spirits.

"That old gentleman, Jim," said he, "is the most wonderful man in the
whole town. For ten years he has been quite blind."

"But I saw his eyes," I said. "They were ever so black and shiny; they
weren't shut up like Nora's puppies. Can't he see at all?"

And so I learnt for the first time that a man might have eyes that
looked dark and beautiful and shining without being able to see.

"Just like Mrs. Tomlinson has big ears," I said, "and can't hear at all
except when Mr. Tomlinson shouts."

"Jim," said my father, "it's not right to talk about a lady's ears.
Remember what Mr. Borlsover said about pleasing me and being a good
boy."

That was the only time I saw Adrian Borlsover. I soon forgot about him
and the hand which he laid in blessing on my head. But for a week I
prayed that those dark tender eyes might see.

"His spaniel may have puppies," I said in my prayers, "and he will never
be able to know how funny they look with their eyes all closed up.
Please let old Mr. Borlsover see."

* * * * *

Adrian Borlsover, as my father had said, was a wonderful man. He came