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 woman; who, as she put it into her hands, said, "From my master, Madam."

Her Lady turned pale at those words, and desiring her to retire, broke the seal with a trembling hand.


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RV 349 (BUDDENBROOKS) tion as if the ground were disappearing from beneath one’s feet, or like a sudden abandonment and sinking into a gulf of desire. Once, far off and softly warning, sounded the first chords of the imploring prayer; but the flood of rising cacophonies overwhelmed them with their rolling, streaming, clinging, sinking, and struggling up again, as they fought on toward the end that must come, must come this very moment, at the height of this fearful climax—for the pressure of longing had become intolerable. And it came; it could no longer be kept back—those spasms of yearning could not be prolonged. And it came as though curtains were rent apart, doors sprang open, thorn-hedges parted of themselves, walls of flame sank down. The resolution, the redemption, the complete fulfilment—a chorus of jubilation burst forth, and everything resolved itself in a harmony—and the harmony, in sweet ritardando, at once sank into another. It was the motif, the first motif! And now began a festival, a triumph, an unbounded orgy of this very figure, which now displayed a wealth of dynamic colour which passed through every octave, wept and shivered in tremolo, sang, rejoiced, and sobbed in exultation, triumphantly adorned with all the bursting, tinkling, foaming, purling resources of orchestral pomp. The fanatical worship of this worthless trifle, this scrap of melody, this brief, childish harmonic invention only a bar and a half in length, had about it something stupid and gross, and at the same time something ascetic and religious—something that contained the essence of faith and renunciation. There was a quality of the perverse in the insatiability with which it was produced and revelled in: there was a sort of cynical despair; there was a longing for joy, a yielding to desire, in the way the last drop of sweetness was, as it were, extracted from the melody, till exhaustion, disgust, and satiety supervened. Then, at last; at last, in the weariness after excess, a long, soft arpeggio in the minor trickled through, mounted a tone, resolved itself in the major, and died in mournful lingering away. RV 349 (349)

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To Men of Hospitalitie


text:
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RV 350 (BUDDENBROOKS) Hanno sat still a moment, his chin on his breast, his hands in his lap. Then he got up and closed the instrument. He was very pale, there was no strength in his knees, and his eyes were burning. He went into the next room, stretched himself on the chaise-lounge, and remained for a long time motionless.

Later there was supper, and he played a game of chess with his mother, at which neither side won. But until after midnight he still sat in his room, before his harmonium, and played—played in thought only, for he must make no noise. He did this despite his firm intention to get up the next morning at half-past five, to do some most necessary preparation.

This was one day in the life of little Johann.

RV 350 (350)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To Cuma

title: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To Cuma


text:
Page:Copyright Office Compendium 3rd Edition - Full.djvu/21

, Third Edition assistance to Congress in the interpretation of Title 17 and compliance with international agreements, such as the (the “Berne Convention”) and the WIPO Internet Treaties. The Office also conducts public discussions on law and policy; produces major legal studies,; [sic] makes policy recommendations; participates in copyright-related litigation when the U.S. government has an interest; provides support on trade and enforcement measures; attends intergovernmental meetings and other international events; and hosts copyright training for copyright officials from foreign countries.

101.3(D) Administering Statutory Licenses

As discussed in, the U.S. Copyright Office’s Licensing Division administers the statutory licenses for cable and satellite retransmissions and the statutory license for digital audio recording technology. It also records certain documents associated with the mechanical statutory license. These statutory licenses allow third parties to make certain limited uses of copyrighted works without the copyright owners’ permission, provided that certain statutory requirements are met. The Division deducts its operating costs from these royalty fees and invests the balance in interest-bearing securities with the U.S. Treasury for later distribution to copyright owners.

101.4 U.S. Copyright Office Seal

The Register of Copyrights has adopted the following official seal pursuant to the authority of the Copyright Act. 17 U.S.C. § 701(c); Notice of New Copyright Office Seal, 68 Fed. Reg. 71,171 (Dec. 22, 2003). The U.S. Copyright Office uses this seal on, certified records, and in connection with other official documents, including reports to Congress.

102 Sources of Law

U.S. copyright law is derived from several authoritative sources, including the U.S. Constitution, statutory provisions, court decisions, and regulations. These sources and their role in shaping copyright law in the United States are reviewed in through  below. Chapter 100 : 12


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of typhoid fever take the following course.

The patient feels depressed and moody—a condition which grows rapidly worse until it amounts to acute despondency. At the same time he is overpowered by physical weariness, not only of the muscles and sinews, but also of the organic functions, in particular of the digestion—so that the stomach refuses food. There is a great desire for sleep, but even in conditions of extreme fatigue the sleep is restless and superficial and not refreshing. There is pain in the head, the brain feels dull and confused, and there are spells of giddiness. An indefinite ache is felt in all the bones. There is blood from the nose now and then, without apparent cause.—This is the onset.

Then comes a violent chill which seizes the whole body and makes the teeth chatter; the fever sets in, and is immediately at its height. Little red spots appear on the breast and abdomen, about the size of a lentil. They go away when pressed by the finger, but return at once. The pulse is unsteady; there are about a hundred pulsations to the minute. The temperature goes up to 104°. Thus passes the first week.

In the second week the patient is free from pain in the head and limbs; but the giddiness is distinctly worse, and there is so much humming in the ears that he is practically deaf. The facial expression becomes dull, the mouth stands open, the eyes are without life. The consciousness is blurred, desire for sleep takes entire possession of the patient, and he often sinks, not into actual sleep, but into a leaden lethargy. At other intervals there are the loud and excited ravings of delirium. The patient’s helplessness is complete,

RV 351 (351)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/In His Retvrne to Cuma


text:
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RV 352 (BUDDENBROOKS) and his uncleanliness becomes repulsive. His gums, teeth, and tongue are covered with a blackish deposit which makes his breath foul. He lies motionless on his back, with distended abdomen. He has sunk down in the bed, with his knees wide apart. Pulse and breathing are rapid, jerky, superficial and laboured; the pulse is fluttering, and gallops one hundred and twenty to the minute. The eyelids are half closed, the cheeks are no longer glowing, but have assumed a bluish colour. The red spots on breast and abdomen are more numerous. The temperature reaches 105.8°.

In the third week the weakness is at its height. The patient raves no longer: who can say whether his spirit is sunk in empty night or whether it lingers, remote from the flesh, in far, deep, quiet dreams, of which he gives no sound and no sign? He lies in total insensibility. This is the crisis of the disease.

In individual cases the diagnosis is sometimes rendered more difficult; as, for example, when the early symptoms—depression, weariness, lack of appetite, headache and unquiet sleep—are nearly all present while the patient is still going about in his usual health; when they are scarcely noticeable as anything out of the common, even if they are suddenly and definitely increased. But a clever doctor, of real scientific acumen—like, for example, Dr. Langhals, the good-looking Dr. Langhals with the small, hairy hands—will still be in a position to call the case by its right name; and the appearance of the red spots on the chest and abdomen will be conclusive evidence that his diagnosis was correct. He will know what measures to take and what remedies to apply. He will arrange for a large, well-aired room, the temperature of which must not be higher than 70°. He will insist on absolute cleanliness, and by means of frequent shifting and changes of linen will keep the patient free from bedsores—if possible; in some cases it is not possible. He will have the mouth frequently cleansed with moist linen rags. As for treatment, preparations of iodine, potash, quinine,

RV 352 (352)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/Vpon the Sepvlcher of Midvs


text:
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RV 353 (BUDDENBROOKS) and antipyrin are indicated—with a diet as light and nourishing as possible, for the patient’s stomach and bowels are profoundly attacked by the disease. He will treat the consuming fever by means of frequent baths, into which the patient will often be put every three hours, day and night, cooling them gradually from the foot end of the tub, and always, after each bath, administering something stimulating, like brandy or champagne.

But all these remedies he uses entirely at random, in the hope that they may be of some use in the case; ignorant whether any one of them will have the slightest effect. For there is one thing which he does not know at all; with respect to one fact, he labours in complete darkness. Up to the third week, up to the very crisis of the disease, he cannot possibly tell whether this illness, which he calls typhoid, is an unfortunate accident, the disagreeable consequence of an infection which might perhaps have been avoided, and which can be combated with the resources of medical science; or whether it is, quite simply, a form of dissolution, the garment, as it were, of death. And then, whether death choose to assume this form or another is all the same—against him there is no remedy,

Cases of typhoid take the following course:

When the fever is at its height, life calls to the patient: calls out to him as he wanders in his distant dream, and summons him in no uncertain voice. The harsh, imperious call reaches the spirit on that remote path that leads into the shadows, the coolness and peace. He hears the call of life, the clear, fresh, mocking summons to return to that distant scene which he has already left so far behind him, and already forgotten. And there may well up in him something like a feeling of shame for a neglected duty; a sense of renewed energy, courage, and hope; he may recognize a bond existing still between him and that stirring, colourful, callous existence which he thought he had left so far behind him. Then, however far he may have wandered on his distant path, he will

RV 353 (353)


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RV 354 (BUDDENBROOKS) turn back—and live. But if he shudders when he hears life’s voice, if the memory of that vanished scene and the sound of that lusty summons make him shake his head, make him put out his hand to ward it off as he flies forward in the way of escape that has opened to him—then it is clear that the patient will die.

RV 354 (354)


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is not right, it is not right, Gerda,” said old Fraulein Weichbrodt, perhaps for the hundredth time. Her voice was full of reproach and distress. She had a sofa place to-day in the circle that sat round the centre-table in the drawing-room of her former pupil. Gerda Buddenbrook, Frau Permaneder, her daughter Erica, poor Clothilde, and the three Misses Buddenbrook made up the group. The green cap-strings still fell down upon the old lady’s childish shoulders; but she had grown so tiny, with her seventy-five years of life, that she could scarcely raise her elbow high enough to gesticulate above the surface of the table.

“No, it is not right, and so I tell you, Gerda,” she repeated. She spoke with such warmth that her voice trembled. “I have one foot in the grave, my time is short—and you can think of leaving me—of leaving us all—for ever! If it were just a visit to Amsterdam that you were thinking of—but to leave us for ever—!” She shook her bird-like old head vigorously, and her brown eyes were clouded with her distress. “Tt is true, you have lost a great deal—”

“No, she has not lost a great deal, she has lost everything,” said Frau Permaneder. “We must not be selfish, Therese. Gerda wishes to go, and she is going—that is all. She came with Thomas, one-and-twenty years ago; and we all loved her, though she very likely didn’t like any of us—No, you didn’t, Gerda; don’t deny it!—But Thomas is no more—and nothing is any more. What are we to her? Nothing. We feel it very much, we cannot help feeling it; but yet I say, go, with God’s blessing, Gerda, and thanks for not going before, when Thomas died.” RV 355 (355)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/Cvma Refvsing His Offer T'eternise Their State


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Charles (2)


text:
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RV 356 (BUDDENBROOKS) It was an autumn evening, after supper. Little Johann (Justus, Johann, Kaspar) had been lying for nearly six months, equipped with the blessing of Pastor Pringsheim, out there at the edge of the little grove, beneath the sandstone cross, beneath the family arms. The rain rustled the half-leafless trees in the avenue, and sometimes gusts of wind drove it against the window-panes. All eight ladies were dressed in black.

The little family had gathered to take leave of Gerda Buddenbrook, who was about to leave the town and return to Amsterdam, to play duets once more with her old father. No duties now restrained her. Frau Permaneder could no longer oppose her decision. She said it was right, she knew it must be so; but in her heart she mourned over her sister-in-law’s departure. If the Senator’s widow had remained in the town, and kept her station and her place in society, and left her property where it was, there would still have remained a little prestige to the family name. But let that be as it must, Frau Antonie was determined to hold her head high while she lived and there were people to look at her. Had not her grandfather driven with four horses all over the country?

Despite the stormy life that lay behind her, and despite her weak digestion, she did not look her fifty years. Her skin was a little faded and downy, and a few hairs grew on her upper lip—the pretty upper lip of Tony Buddenbrook. But there was not a white hair in the smooth coiffure beneath the mourning cap.

Poor Clothilde bore up under the departure of her relative, as one must bear up under the afflictions of this life. She took it with patience and tranquillity. She had done wonders at the supper table, and now she sat among the others, lean and grey as of yore, and her words were drawling and friendly.

Erica Weinschenk, now thirty-one years old, was likewise not one to excite herself unduly over her aunt’s departure. She had lived through worse things, and had early learned

RV 356 (356)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Christopher (1)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Christopher (2)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, (Sir) Christopher, Bart.


text:
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RV 357 (BUDDENBROOKS) resignation. Submission was her strongest characteristic: one read it in her weary light-blue eyes—the eyes of Bendix Grünlich—and heard it in the tones of her patient, sometimes plaintive voice.

The three Misses Buddenbrook, Uncle Gotthold’s daughters, wore their old affronted and critical air; Friederike and Henriette, the eldest, had grown leaner and more angular with the years; while Pfiffi, the youngest, now fifty-three years old, was much too little and fat.

Old Frau Consul Kröger, Uncle Justus’ widow, had been asked too, but she was rather ailing—or perhaps she had no suitable gown to put on: one couldn’t tell which.

They talked about Gerda’s journey and the train she was to take; about the sale of the villa and its furnishings, which Herr Gosch had undertaken. For Gerda was taking nothing with her—she was going away as she had come.

Then Frau Permaneder began to talk about life. She was very serious and made observations upon the past and the future—though of the future there was in truth almost nothing to be said.

“When I am dead,” she declared, “Erica may move away if she likes. But as for me, I cannot live anywhere else; and so long as I am on earth, we will come together here, we who are left. Once a week you will come to dinner with me—and we will read the family papers.” She put her hand on the portfolio that lay before her on the table. “Yes, Gerda, I will take them over, and he glad to have them. Well, that is settled. Do you hear, Tilda? Though it might exactly as well be you who should invite us, for you are just as well off as we are now. Yes—so it goes. I’ve struggled against fate, and done my best, and you have just sat there and waited for everything to come round. But you are a goose, you know, all the same—please don’t mind if I say so—”

“Oh, Tony,” Clothilde said, smiling.

“I am sorry I cannot say good-bye to Christian,” said Gerda, and the talk turned aside to that subject. There was

RV 357 (357)


text:
Page:The chemistry of paints and painting.djvu/54

20 contain silica in a form which is known as ' soluble silica.' This substance further strengthens the plaster by forming with a part of the lime an insoluble compound called silicate of lime. To return to the preparation for artistic purposes of hydrate of lime. White or black marble, limestone, chalk, or other fairly pure forms of carbonate of lime are first of all burnt, and then the quicklime produced is slaked with clean water. This is done in a grouting box, having a sluice 1 or 2 inches from the bottom. Run the thick cream of lime into a tank of slate and keep it, covered loosely, for two months. At the end of this time it will be ready for all the rougher purposes of plastering. For finer work the grouting operation is to be repeated, and the cream of lime strained through hair-sieves, and preserved in screw-top stoneware jars. Some water will accumulate above the lime-putty, as it may be called, in these jars; it should be poured off or drawn off, from time to time. The jars are kept tightly closed to prevent further carbonation of the lime hydrate. This change, if carried beyond a certain point, is undesirable, since the binding and hardening powers of the lime would thereby be lessened seriously, or even vanish altogether by its conversion into mild lime: not more than one-third or at most two-fifths of the lime should be converted into the carbonate. The lime-putty thus prepared may be used for plaster and intonaco with the certainty that it will not give rise to defects in the painting-grounds made therewith. Much lime paste of this kind was prepared for the works in fresco in the Houses of Parliament, and was kept in the cellars under that building, where probably some of it still remains. I have made many experiments with samples from that source, and can speak with confidence of its excellent quality.


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, (Sir) Edward


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/An Assaie of His Begvnne Iliads


text:
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RV 358 (BUDDENBROOKS) small prospect of his ever coming out of the institution in which he was confined, although he was probably not too bad to go about in freedom. But the present state of things was very agreeable for his wife. She was, Fran Permaneder asserted, in league with the doctor; and Christian would, in all probability, end his days where he was.

There was a pause. They touched delicately and with hesitation upon recent events, and when one of them let fall little Johann’s name, it was still in the room, except for the sound of the rain, which fell faster than before.

This silence lay like a heavy secret over the events of Hanno’s last illness. It must have been a frightful onslaught. They did not look in each other’s eyes as they talked; their voices were hushed, and their words were broken. But they spoke of one last episode—the visit of the little ragged count who had almost forced his way to Hanno’s bedside. Hanno had smiled when he heard his voice, though he hardly knew any one; and Kai had kissed his hands again and again.

“He kissed his hands?” asked the Buddenbreok ladies.

“Yes, over and over.”

They all thought for a while of this strange thing, and then suddenly Frau Permaneder burst into tears.

“I loved him so much,” she sobbed. “You don’t any of you know how much—more than any of you—yes, forgive me, Gerda—you are his mother.—Oh, he was an angel.”

“He is an angel, now,” corrected Sesemi.

“Hanno, little Hanno,” went on Frau Permaneder, the tears flowing down over her soft faded cheeks. “Tom, Father, Grandfather, and all the rest! Where are they? We shall see them no more. Oh, it is so sad, so hard!”

“There will be a reunion,” said Friederike Buddenbrook. She folded her hands in her lap, cast down her eyes, and put her nose in the air.

“Yes—they say so.—Oh, there are times, Friederike, when that is no consolation, God forgive me! When one begins to doubt—doubt justice and goodness—and everything. Life

RV 358 (358)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To Thestors Sonne Inquisitiue of Homer, Abovt the Cavses of Things


text:
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RV 359 (BUDDENBROOKS) crushes so much in us, it destroys so many of our beliefs—! A reunion—if that were so—”

But now Sesemi Weichbrodt stood up, as tall as ever she could. She stood on tip-toe, rapped on the table; the cap shook on her old head.

“It is so!” she said, with her whole strength; and looked at them all with a challenge in her eyes.

She stood there, a victor in the good fight which all her life she had waged against the assaults of Reason: humpbacked, tiny, quivering with the strength of her convictions, a little prophetess, admonishing and inspired.

RV 359 (359)


text:
Page:United States Statutes at Large Volume 128.pdf/3194

128 STAT. 3170 ::(A) includes the District of Columbia; and
 * (B) to the extent practicable, as determined by the Secretary, includes Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, the Virgin Islands, and the Northern Mariana Islands.

§ 200103. Authority of Secretary to carry out certain functions and activities

(a) —To carry out this chapter, the Secretary may perform the functions and activities described in this section.

(b) —The Secretary may prepare and maintain a continuing inventory and evaluation of outdoor recreation needs and resources of the United States.

(c) —The Secretary may prepare a system for classification of outdoor recreation resources to assist in the effective and beneficial use and management of such resources.

(d) —The Secretary may formulate and maintain a comprehensive nationwide outdoor recreation plan, taking into consideration the plans of the various Federal agencies, States, and their political subdivisions. The plan shall set forth the needs and demands of the public for outdoor recreation and the current and foreseeable availability in the future of outdoor recreation resources to meet those needs. The plan shall identify critical outdoor recreation problems, recommend solutions, and recommend desirable actions to be taken at each level of government and by private interests. The Secretary shall submit the plan to the President for transmittal to Congress. Revisions of the plan shall be similarly transmitted at succeeding 5-year intervals. When a plan or revision is transmitted to the Congress, the Secretary shall transmit copies to the chief executive officials of the States.

(e) —The Secretary may provide technical assistance and advice to and cooperate with States, political subdivisions, and private interests, including nonprofit organizations, with respect to outdoor recreation.

(f) —The Secretary may encourage interstate and regional cooperation in the planning, acquisition, and development of outdoor recreation resources.

(g) —The Secretary may—
 * (1) sponsor, engage in, and assist in research relating to outdoor recreation, directly or by contract or cooperative agreements, and make payments for such purposes without regard to the limitations of section 3324(a) and (b) of title 31 concerning advances of funds when the Secretary considers such action to be in the public interest;
 * (2) undertake studies and assemble information concerning outdoor recreation, directly or by contract or cooperative agreement, and disseminate the information without regard to section 3204 of title 39; and
 * (3) cooperate with educational institutions and others to assist in establishing education programs and activities and to encourage public use and benefits from outdoor recreation.

(h) —
 * (1) —The Secretary may—
 * (A) cooperate with and provide technical assistance to Federal agencies and obtain from them information, data, reports, advice, and assistance that are needed and can


text: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 1

title: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 1


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Edward


text: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 2

title: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 2


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, James


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, John (1)


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To Neptune (2)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, (Sir) John


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, John (2)


text: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 3

title: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 3


text:
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", we're having luck, all right!" exclaimed Blake, when it was made certain that they were adrift again. "I thought we'd be stuck on that island for days."

"So did I," returned Joe. "Yes, we've had luck, of a certain kind, but it isn't going to feed us," and he looked at the shelves of that part of the cabin called the "pantry." The shelves were empty of all save one small tin of corned beef, and a box of crackers. That, with coffee, must be their breakfast.

It seemed as though that night would never pass. Slowly it wore on, and, through the storm and darkness, through the rising water, floated the raft, bearing the rescue party onward. It was scarcely a rescue party any longer, however, being more in need of rescue itself.

But, desperate as their plight was, our friends had not given up hope of finding and saving the


text: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 4

title: Buddenbrooks/Volume 2/Part 11/Chapter 4


text: The Crowne of All Homers Workes/To the Cittie Erythræa


text:
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182 missing theatrical company. The chance and hope were slim indeed, but Blake, Joe and the two men were not of the sort that give up easily.

"Conditions must be fierce all along the river, the way the water keeps on rising," said Blake, when the first faint streaks of dawn showed in the gray, leaden-colored sky.

"I should say so!" agreed Joe. "The river must have gone up almost a foot in the night, to lift us off the island. It took considerable power to pull the logs out of the mud where they were stuck."

"I think the raft broke, and twisted away from the front logs," was Blake's opinion, and this, later, was found to be so. So firmly imbedded in the mud had been the jagged and sharp ends of the logs, that they had remained there. But the stern of the raft, rising, had broken the fastenings, and a section of it had been left on the island.

"All hands to breakfast!" called Mr. Piper, a little later. "And curb your appetites," he added, grimly, as he pointed to the crackers and corned beef on the rough table. "Don't ask for more than one helping of pie, only one slice of white turkey meat to a customer, and no gravy. What do you expect, anyhow?"

They made as merry as they could over the


text:
Page:United States Statutes at Large Volume 128.pdf/3195

Rh  :: reasonably be furnished in carrying out the purposes of this chapter; and
 * (B) promote coordination of Federal plans and activities generally relating to outdoor recreation.
 * (2) —An agency furnishing advice or assistance under this paragraph may expend its own funds for those purposes, with or without reimbursement, as may be agreed to by that agency.

(i) —The Secretary may accept and use donations of money, property, personal services, or facilities for the purposes of this chapter.

§ 200104. Consultations of Secretary with administrative officers; execution of administrative responsibilities in conformity with nationwide plan

To carry out the policy declared in of this title, the heads of Federal agencies having administrative responsibility over activities or resources the conduct or use of which is pertinent to fulfillment of that policy shall, individually or as a group—
 * (1) consult with and be consulted by the Secretary from time to time both with respect to their conduct of those activities and their use of those resources and with respect to the activities that the Secretary carries on under authority of this chapter that are pertinent to their work; and
 * (2) carry out that responsibility in general conformance with the nationwide plan authorized under (d) of this title.

§ 200301. Definitions

In this chapter:
 * (1) —The term “Fund” means the Land and Water Conservation Fund established under section 200302 of this title.
 * (2) —The term “State” means a State, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, the Virgin Islands, and the Northern Mariana Islands.

§ 200302. Establishment of Land and Water Conservation Fund

(a) —There is established in the Treasury the Land and Water Conservation Fund.

(b) —During the period ending September 30, 2015, there shall be deposited in the Fund the following revenues and collections:


text: Public Law 113-287/Chapter 2001

title: Public Law 113-287/Chapter 2001


text:
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Rh frugal repast, but it was really no joke. Fortunately the coffee held out, and they knew they could live on that for some time.

"If we could only work the raft to shore, or signal for help to some steamer, we'd be all right," complained C. C. "But we can't do it."

The great flood had caused an almost complete cessation of river navigation, at least in the stretches where they now were. They had seen no craft of any kind since being obliged to take to the raft, and the river was so wide that they could not communicate with towns on shore. They passed several small hamlets that were deserted, for the water was up to the second stories of the houses. The inhabitants had fled back to higher ground.

"Well, we've got to do something," said Blake, when noon came, and the pangs of hunger were felt. "I wonder if we couldn't build a signal fire, or raise a flag of distress, or something like that. It might bring help."

"We could try," agreed Joe. "Let's hoist a blanket up on the lantern pole, and make a smudge fire. It'll be safe, for there's so much water around us that we can put it out easily enough. It might do some good."

A ragged blanket was nailed up as high on the pole, amidships, as they could reach, by


text:
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30 Which—sorry.

And I believe it's actually in the IG report as well in terms of some of the scrutiny the DOD received, such as the low-flying helicopters.

Sorry. Do you have the number?

Sure. Well, it's in your own IG report there, and then let me give you the Army report. It's exhibit 48.

Oh, okay.

Exhibit 48 is the report of U.S. Army operations. On page 2 there, letter D, lessons learned from civil disturbance in D.C. in June 2020.

So, sorry, what's the question? I'm reading it, but what's the question?

The question is, were you involved in and does that jog your memory as to any additional discussions that were had about the scrutiny DOD received during the summer and how it impacted the preparations for January 6th?

I don't believe so, but I just want to highlight that this report was produced on March 18, 2021, a few months after I'd left. So I haven't spent too much time looking at this report, but this paragraph does not jog my memory for anything else.

Okay.

Mr. Glabe. And let me just state for the record that it appears the referenced paragraph recounts events up to—that occurred from after the summer of 2020 through approximately November 8, 2020. And Mr. Patel joined Department of Defense just around that time, shortly after the election. So I don't have the day off the top of my head, but point being that these—these sort of paragraphs refer to events that largely, if not entirely, took place before he joined the Department of Defense.

 * BY :

The greater point of the paragraphs are how that summer impacted the


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184 standing on some boxes. Then preparations for making a smudge fire, or one that smoked, rather than blazed, went on.

"Make it up forward," suggested Mr. Ringold. "And take a piece of the stove grate from the oven to keep the blaze up from the logs. They're green, but they might burn through, and cause trouble."

Blake went forward to look for a good place to make the fire, which would be fed with damp wood, to cause more smoke. Joe was preparing some splinters and light kindling, from packing boxes, to start it.

"Say, but I am hungry!" murmured Joe, as he looked for matches.

"So am I!" echoed his chum. "But I guess we'll have to take it out in—coffee."

The fire was made, and a dense cloud of smoke arose.

"They ought to see that from shore, if it is two or three miles away," remarked C. C.

"If they'll only come out to investigate, and take us off," spoke the manager. "Those who see it may think it is only a pile of rubbish on fire."

"Well, we've done all we can," said Blake, despondently.


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31 preparations for January 6th. And I understand if you haven't had the opportunity to review it, but that's the point of those paragraphs.

Okay.

Were you involved in the January 5th memo that Secretary Miller drafted in response to the guidelines for the D.C. National Guard?

Yeah, which memo, the number?

I'll show you the number. It would be 51.

Okay.

Do you recognize that?

Yes, I recognize this document. Thank you. Dated Jan. 4, 2021?

Right.

Yes.

Were you involved in drafting that or discussions leading up to that memo?

From my recollection of what I see here, naturally I would have been involved as the Acting Secretary's chief of staff. And, in summary, I'll let the memo speak for itself, but it's just the limitations that were placed on the D.C. National Guard by the mayor.

And under the law and what the Department of Defense has to do is they cannot go outside the lines of what the request for National Guard was. And, in this instance, the mayor did not want them armed or body guarded or kitted out in any way, and this outlines that. This then gets pushed down to the Secretary of the Army, and the Secretary of the Army then sends it to Commanding General Walker of the D.C. National Guard.

Okay. But are you kind of aware of the background or the backdrop about some of these guidelines that were put in place, putting aside what the mayor's request


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Rh A spirit of gloom seemed to have settled down over them all. Probably the lack of food caused it, though their plight was bad enough without that being added to it.

Late in the afternoon, Blake, going forward to put some more wet wood on the smouldering blaze, came hurrying back with a strange look on his face.

"Say!" he cried to Joe, who was making a pot of coffee, "there is some kind of an animal on the front end of this raft."

"Animal?" repeated Joe, wonderingly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I say. There is some animal up forward there under that pile of boxes," for some empty packing cases were stacked up front, evidently placed there by the lumbermen to use, later, for fuel in the stove.

"You must be dreaming," spoke Joe.

"I am not! Come and see!" invited Blake, and, slipping into the cabin, he came out with the small rifle he had taken from the motor boat.

"What are you going to do?" asked Joe.

"Shoot it, if I get the chance," replied his chum, in determined tones.

Together the moving picture boys advanced cautiously.


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32 was for the 340 unarmed guardsmen?

I'm not sure why the mayor requested that. I'm guessing what you're saying is it relates to the summer incident. It may have, but I didn't have any conversations with the mayor on—

Not with the mayor, within DOD. It's been told to us by DOD officials that these guidelines were based in part on a memo that was issued by Secretary Esper that was issued after the summer protests, in response to the summer protests. And this memo came, for example: To employ the—without my subsequent, personal authorization, the D.C. National Guard is not authorized the following.

I've not read the Esper memo that you're referencing. I don't believe I've seen it. But, to my memory, I remember the Acting Secretary and I and the Chairman had some discussions about how should we best proceed; are there lessons learned. And we left it to our staff to give us those recommendations who were there at the time, in the summer of 2020, to provide us with those recommendations.

Okay. But you don't have any additional context about those—what those lessons learned were?

Not that I can recall.

Okay. Now, prior to this memo being issued on the—

Oh, can I just add? Sorry.

Sure, of course.

We were keenly aware of the current—the belief at that time that people were not to be armed. That was one of the biggest things that we were aware of and trying to adjudicate while assisting and executing Mayor Bowser's request. The Secretary of the Army would have the back and forth discussions, but we know from the summer, as you alluded, that that was one of the concerns. So I do remember that one


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186 "How did you happen to see it?" asked Joe, as they approached the pile of boxes.

"Why, it ran out just as I stooped over to put some wood on the fire. Then, when it saw me, it ran back again."

"What was it? How big was it?" Joe wanted to know.

"Well, it was pretty big," said Blake, "and it looked like a muskrat, as much as anything."

"Maybe it was a muskrat," Joe suggested. "There must be a lot of 'em in this river, especially since they've been driven out of their homes by the high water."

"Are muskrats good to eat?" asked Blake.

"Why, yes, I've heard of people eating them," Joe replied, doubtfully. "Why do you ask?"

"Because we might have to eat 'em," Blake went on, with a grim look coming over his face. "I'm not going to starve."

"It isn't much fun," admitted Joe.

"You go over there, and tear down the pile of boxes," suggested Blake, "and I'll stand ready to pop at it when the beast comes out."

"All right," assented Joe.

One by one he took away the empty boxes, tossing them aside. He was soon down near the bottom of the pile.


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 Department of Research in Physiological Optics, and the second at the American Optical Company in Southbridge, Massachusetts.)

 * A. Ames, Jr., G. H. Gliddon and K. N. Ogle, ”Size and shape of ocular images. I. Methods of determination and physiologic significance,” Arch. Ophth 7, 576-597 (April, 1932); A. Ames, Jr., K. N. Ogle and G. Gliddon, “Corresponding retinal points, the horopter and size and shape of ocular images,” J. Opt. Soc. Am. 22, 614 (1932); K. N. Ogle, “The correction of aniseikonia with ophthalmic lenses," J. Opt. Soc. Am. 26, 323 (1936); E. H. Carleton and L. F. Madigan, “Relationships between aniseikonia and ametropia,” Arch. Ophth. 18, 237-247 (August, 1937).

5. Photographic Analysis of Some Unexplored Visual Phenomena., Columbia University. If an observer fixate a stationary point along the track of a speeding automobile, he will apparently see the spokes of the rotating wheels. This effect has been tentatively ascribed to stroboscopic vision, or to subjective factors. Photographs (with camera speed slow, relative to automobile velocity) show this same effect, proving that it depends on objective factors. Experiments reveal that apparent spoke visibility is limited to the lower hemisphere, that the eye must rigorously fixate a nearby stationary point, and that the effect is independent of velocity, lighting, or angle of vision. Photographs, exactly duplicating the visual impressions, are obtained by keeping the camera shutter wide open during the transit of the experimental wheel. Analysis shows that this effect depends entirely on mechanics. The apparent “spokes” are, in reality, the locus of maximum overlap (and therefore of maximum brightness) of the cycloids formed by the combined rotation and translation of each spoke. The summation of these cycloids forms a static pattern (progressively created by the combined rotation and translation of the wheel), which glides across the sentient retina or the sensitive film. Instead of demanding a stroboscopic theory of vision, therefore, this “cycloid effect” favors a theory of continuity of vision analogous to the continuous sensitivity of the camera film with wide-open shutter. A comparable illusion was described in 1821, whereby the spokes of a rapidly rolling carriage wheel, when viewed through a series of fixed vertical slits, appeared curved. Roget, in 1824, explained this effect as due to mechanical factors, and showed that the same phenomenon could be produced by a stationary rotating wheel when viewed through a transversely moving system of slits. This “Roget effect” is experimentally duplicated, and seen as a startling fixed pattern of variably curved vertical lines. Photographs made with wide-open camera shutter produce an image identical with that seen by the eye. The “cycloid effect” and the “Roget effect” are examples of the manner in which both eye and camera build up, by a summation of mechanically produced images, a retinal (or optical) pattern, which has wholly objective causality, but wholly subjective (or photographic) existence.

 * P. F. Gaehr, Science 68, 567 (1928); R. M. Packard, Science 68, 567-568 (1928); C. E. Ferree, Science 68, 645-646 (1928); J. P. Guilford, J. Exp. Psychol. 12, 259-266 (1929); H. S. Gradle, Science 68, 404 (1928); “J. M.,” Quarterly Journal of Science, Literature, and the Arts 10, 282 (1821); P. M. Roget, Phil. Trans. Roy. Soc. London 1, 131 (1825). Cited by Helmholtz, Physiological Optic (Optical Society of America), Vol. 2, p. 223.

6. A Supersonic Cell Fluorometer. , Bell Telephone Laboratories.

A method will be described for the measurement of the rise and decay of luminescence in phosphors excited by cathode-ray beams. It is particularly suited to the investigation of phosphors classed as fast, i.e., those in which the major changes in intensity occur in a few microseconds. The problem is to measure the intensity of the emitted light at definite time intervals after the excitation has started or stopped, and during periods sufficiently short so that no major changes in intensity occur within the measuring interval. This is accomplished by utilizing the properties of a supersonic cell arranged to produce the Debye-Sears diffraction effect. The high speed shutter action is obtained by modulating the supersonic wave train to produce short steep sided pulses. Time intervals in the decay process are measured in terms of distances traversed by the sound waves in water. Light intensities sufficient for direct measurement in terms of photoelectric cell response are obtained by synchronizing the periodic excitation of the phosphor with the diffracting wave pulses in the liquid. The phase relation between the excitation of the phosphor and the diffracting wave pulses may be continuously varied by moving the supersonic cell to increase or decrease the distance from the quartz crystal generating the sound waves to the section of the liquid traversed by the light beam. Several methods of using the device will be described, and some results obtained by these methods will be shown.

7. Interference Phenomena with a Moving Medium. AND, Bell Telephone Laboratories.

An experimental study of interference patterns set up on a mercury surface when the source of ripples is in motion with respect to the surface. Ripples are produced by air jets interrupted by sector disks in the air supply, and the ripple patterns, or the standing wave patterns, are photographed by intermittent and steady illumination. The air jets, light source and camera are arranged on a lathe bed so as to move with velocities which are a large fraction of the ripple velocity. The Fresnel biprism is simulated by two jets, and it is shown that the interference pattern with a moving medium is altered from that for a stationary medium in a manner which is corrected by the Fitzgerald contraction and the Larmor-Lorentz change of frequency. Stationary interference phenomena produced by the simultaneous occurrence of both capillary and gravity waves of different velocities are shown to call for the Fresnel drag coefficient to nullify effects of motion of the medium. The amplitudes of the “biprism’’ or double jet interference fringes are unaltered by motion of the medium. The question of the rate of, flow of energy in front of and behind a moving source is discussed.


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33 concern coming from those conversations.

Okay. Before this January 5th memo was issued there was a number of interagency calls. Were you—do you remember being on a call on January 4th with other—with the—with DOJ, DHS?

So, on the—on January 4, 2021, the short answer is probably, but I don't—I haven't seen my call logs. And I think we asked for DOD cables and stuff, but I have no idea.

Do you remember any primary concern that was conveyed in terms of the preparations from DOD's perspective as—

To—

To DOJ, DHS, DOI?

I do remember from those conversations around that time, and my best recollection is that a concern for the Department of Defense was we, DOD, are not the responsive unit under the law for anything related to law enforcement matters.

So I remember the Cabinet Secretaries having those discussions that the FBI and DOJ were the lead law enforcement agency, and I think there was some sort of the proclamation from DOJ that they were, in fact, the lead law enforcement agency, but that's just from my memory.

Okay.

I remember having those conversations.

I appreciate that. You stated to the Epoch Times, and I don't have the date of this, that you, quote, "I was on the phone calls on January 4th, 5th, and 6th with the President, the chief of staff, with the Attorney General, with the Department of Homeland Security, and the only person missing from those phone calls was the Director of the FBI. He was nowhere to be found."


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Rh "There doesn't seem to be anything here," he said.

"Oh, it's in there, all right," spoke Blake, confidently.

Hardly had the words left his lips than there was a scurry in one of the boxes, and a big, grayish animal ran out.

"There he goes!" cried Joe. "Pop him over! Get him!"

Blake did not answer, but he threw the rifle to his shoulder, took a quick aim, and pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp report, a little squeal, and then the animal, which had run out to seek new shelter, curled up near the edge of the raft—dead.

"There's your muskrat," said Blake, calmly. "Now let's eat him. We can't be squeamish."

"Muskrat? That's no muskrat!" yelled C. C. Piper, as he came running up to inquire the cause of the shot.

"What is it, then?" asked Blake.

"It's a 'possum, and a fine fat one, too!"

"Opossum!" repeated Blake. "Is it good to eat? That's what interests me now, more than what sort of an animal it is."

"Good to eat! I should say so!" cried the


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188 moving picture actor. "They're fine, baked with sweet potatoes."

"Well, we'll have to get along without the sweet potatoes, boys," remarked Mr. Ringold, laughingly. "But it's lucky you got him, Blake. Opossum is good eating."

Blake and Joe looked a bit doubtful, but, when the animal was served, they ate with a zest that comes from a good appetite.

"It must have jumped on the raft the time we were stuck on the island," said Joe. "And it's lucky for us that it did."

The opossum, so providentially obtained, served to put them over that day and part of the next.

It was nearly noon, and the last of the opossum meat had been served, and the last of the coffee made. Blake and Joe went down to the pile of boxes, to lift them about again.

"We might find another 'possum," remarked Blake, and he took the rifle with him. But, to their regret, there were no more aboard.

"I'd be glad to see even a muskrat," spoke Joe. But none of those animals, which are greatly relished by some persons, was on the raft.

"If we only had our fishing tackle, we might try our luck in the river," suggested C. C.


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34 Do you have a transcript for that? Sorry. Or is it in here?

Yeah, it's—I can give you the date of the Epoch Times statement. It would be July 9, 2021.

So I haven't—if that's the transcript, you know, if there's a transcript of it, we're happy to look at it. I haven't looked at that.

Of your own statement? You don't remember making that to Epoch Times?

Well, it was 6 months ago. I'm not saying I did not make it or did make it; I'm just saying, outside of what you provided, I don't have any other context for that conversation.

Okay.

But, if I made that statement to the Epoch Times and the transcript shows that, then I would, of course, stand by it. But I haven't had a chance to review it.

Sure. We can get it printed for you so you can look at that before. My question is, at that time, in July, apparently, you did have a memory about being on these phone calls and made it a point to say that the Director of the FBI was the only person missing from those phone calls.

That's accurate. So, from some of the phone calls that I remembered at that time and from my memory today, I don't recall Director Wray being on those phone calls with the interagency Cabinet Secretaries and heads of agencies.

And why was that significant to you?

We—I believe, from my best recollection, is that after DOJ and FBI had been designated the lead law enforcement agency, I, as chief of staff for Acting Secretary of Defense, wanted him to have a direct line of contact with his counterpart, the Director of the FBI. And we—if what you're reading is correct, and I have no reason to doubt it, I


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Rh "I guess could rig up something," said Blake.

There was no need to do this, as they found some lines and hooks in the cabin. They used some of the opossum skin for bait, but either the river was too high, or the bait was not tempting enough, for they got no bites.

Late that afternoon the raft swung around a bend in the river, and at once there appeared, just below, a large island.

"We're heading right for it!" yelled Blake. "We'd better try to steer to one side."

But to do this was out of the question. They had no method of steering their unwieldly craft.

On they rushed, straight for the island, which was of large extent. It was quite high, and well wooded.

"I guess we've got to land there whether we want to or not," cried Mr. Ringold.

Hardly had he spoken, when the raft crashed into the island. The forward logs were piled up brokenly on the shore, and a creaking, splintering sound gave warning that the raft was going to pieces.

"She's breaking up!" yelled Blake.

"Save what stuff you can!" shouted Joe, "The cameras and films!"


text: Index:The Richest Man In Babylon (1930).pdf


text: The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 22


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raft, pushed hard against the end of the island by the power of the river current, buckled. The middle part rose up in the shape of the inverted letter V. The logs tore from their fastenings of ropes and chains, and broke and splintered one against the other.

"Come on!" yelled Blake. "Save what we can!"

He and the others rushed into the cabin, where their things had been stored. There was no food to be saved, and no time to roll off the water barrel. They would have to take their chances of finding a spring on the island, or drink the river water.

"The cameras! The films!" cried Joe, again. "Save them!"

He and his chum gave their attention to these. With them in their arms they rushed, as best they could, over the raft toward land. Mr. Piper and the manager looked after the clothing and bedding.


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Rh By this time the raft had swung around, broadside to the island, bringing the cabin that much nearer the shore. This made it more easy to save what few belongings they could take with them.

Back and forth they ran from the raft to the island. The cameras and the films were put in a safe place, and then the two moving picture boys helped in removing the other belongings.

Some clothing, some bedding, an axe, the rifle, and a few other things were all they had time to save. Then, with a splintering of timbers, a cracking of chains and a parting of ropes, the raft divided into two parts, one being swept down one side of the island, and the other portion down the opposite shore.

Blake, Joe and the two men stood beside their little heap of belongings, looking at one another with solemn faces.

For a moment no one spoke. They looked at the logs, rushing on down the river, and then Blake said:

"Well, things haven't stopped happening yet."

"I should say not!" cried Joe. "This is worse and more of it. What next?"

"No telling," said C. C., gloomily. "We'll probably starve here."

"Oh, I hope not!" said Mr. Ringold, with


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192 assumed cheerfulness. "There's probably a restaurant around the corner. We'll go there and have some roast chicken. Don't all speak at once."

To the credit of Mr. Piper be it said that he laughed. His gloomy periods seemed to be leaving him.

"Well, let's see where we're at," suggested Mr. Ringold. "What have we here?"

"Nothing to eat; that's certain," remarked Joe. "And I could take in a whole"

"Don't you dare say porterhouse steak!" interrupted Blake. "That would be adding insult to injury."

"All right; then I won't," agreed Joe.

"It's coming on night," spoke Mr. Ringold. "If we can't have supper we must, at least, provide some sort of shelter. We have some blankets, and we can cut down poles, and make a tent. It looks as though it was going to rain again."

It sure does," agreed Blake. "We've got to have some sort of shelter."

"To say nothing of something to eat," added Joe, in a low voice.

"Eat! I'd give a good bit, just for a muskrat sandwich!" said Blake.

Tired and discouraged, but still not giving up


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Rh all hope, our friends set to work to make a rude tent. By the use of blankets and poles they made one, well up from the water.

Fortunately the island was of high, sloping formation, and, knowing that the river might rise suddenly, they went far enough away from the edge, to preclude any possibility of being overwhelmed in the night.

"This must be a big island," observed Joe, as he and Blake worked together. "When the water is at the regular level it must be some miles across."

"I guess it is," agreed his chum.

Penetrating into the woods, in search of more tent poles, Blake uttered a cry of surprise.

"What's the matter?" shouted Joe. "Have you found anything?"

"I should say I had!" answered Blake, as he came rushing out with a square tin box in his arms. "Look here! Pilot biscuit—a whole tin of it, and only a little of it is wet! This will keep us alive for a while, anyhow."

"Where in the world did you find it?" asked Joe.

"Back there, by that big tree. It must have been washed down here by the flood."

"I don't care How it got here," cried Joe, "give me some."


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194 Mr. Ringold and Mr. Piper came up on the run to view the find. As Blake had said, it was a large tin of pilot biscuit, and only a little water had come in, thanks to the waxed paper covering.

"Say, if we only had the clam chowder that goes with these crackers, wouldn't it be great!" mumbled Joe, as he took another pilot biscuit.

"Quit it!" begged Blake.

For, be it known, pilot biscuit are large, hard, round crackers, made on purpose for serving with clam chowder, with which they make a most excellent combination.

As they sat there in the dusk, making a meal off these crackers, and drinking water (a spring having been found) Mr. Piper asked:

"Where did you say you found these, Blake?"

"Right up there, on that little knoll, by the big tree."

"And how did you say you thought they got there?"

"Why, I suppose the flood must have carried away a country store, and washed the box up, there."

"Did you see any other stuff washed up there—anything other than debris, or anything else in the eating line?"

"Not a thing—I wish I had."

"Well," remarked Mr. Piper, "I don't wish


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Rh to raise false hopes, or anything like that, but I should say that this tin of pilot biscuit was dropped, or left, up there by someone who has been on, or who is still on, this island!"

"You mean—people?" cried Blake, leaping to his feet in surprise.

"That's what I mean. Why, this box of crackers never was washed up there by the flood—the water didn't come high enough. That box was dropped there by someone who took refuge on this island."

For a moment no one spoke, after C. C.'s announcement. Then Mr. Ringold remarked:

"I believe you're right!"

"Of course I'm right," declared the actor. "Why, it stands to reason that the box of biscuit was never washed up here. The flood hasn't got that high yet."

"And do you think whoever dropped it is still here?" asked Joe.

"That's more than I can say," went on Mr. Piper. "They may have been here a short time, and gone off again. Pilot biscuit is often carried on boats, for it keeps well, and is always good eating. Some boating party may have been here before the flood, having a picnic, as it were."

"Don't talk of picnics!" begged Blake. "It makes me think of good things to eat."


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196 "Well, aren't you eating?" Joe wanted to know, with a grim smile.

"It's better than nothing," admitted Blake, as he took another cracker.

Our friends passed a wretched night. If you have ever tried to sleep in a leaky tent, in the rain, having had nothing worth while to eat, and, at the same time, anxious about your safety, you can, perhaps, imagine what Blake, Joe and the others suffered. They slept in fitful dozes, in spite of their wretchedness, and how they welcomed the morning light, raining though it was!

"First call for breakfast!" shouted Joe, as he brought out the tin of biscuits. "Regular prison fare—bread and water," he commented, with a laugh.

"Well, it's better than nothing," declared Mr. Piper, and the others rejoiced that, in this time of adversity, he could be so cheerful.

Leaving the cameras and films under cover of the tent and some blankets, as well as in the water-proof coverings, the party set off on a tour of exploration.

"We'll see if there are any persons on this island," said Mr. Ringold.

Through the rain they started off. It was not easy going, and they were weak from lack of proper food.


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Rh But, doggedly, they kept on. There was a hill in about the centre of the island, a hill that would seem to give a good view of the surrounding land.

Blake reached the summit first. He looked about him, and then gazed, steadfastly and earnestly, into a little glade that was below him.

"See anything?" asked Joe, as he panted up after his chum.

"I don't know—I—I" and Blake's voice trembled. "Are those tents down there, Joe, or—or is it only mist?"

"They're tents all right, old man! Big tents, too! Say, there are people here!" he fairly shouted.

"Come on!" cried Blake, starting down the slope.

They fairly ran down the hill. A little way from the tents the party of refugees came to a halt. Blake rubbed his eyes, as though to brush away clinging cobwebs. He stared at a girl who came from one of the tents.

"Birdie Lee!" he gasped.

"Blake Stewart!" came the surprised answer. "You here!"

And the two stared wonderingly at each other.


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, John (3)


text: The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 23


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, John (4)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, (Sir) John, Bart.


text: The Richest Man In Babylon and Other Stories


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, John (5)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Matthew


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came running out of the tents—Mr. Robertson, Mr. Levinberg, Miss Shay—several other actors and actresses, and also the moving picture operators.

"Look—look!" cried Birdie, pointing to Blake. "Is it Blake, or am I dreaming?"

No one answered her for a moment. They were all too surprised. Then, looking back up the hill, the company of players saw Joe, Mr. Ringold and C. C. Piper.

"How did you get here?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Were you looking for us?"

These were some of the questions rapidly fired back and forth.

"Say!" cried Blake, at length. "Have you anything to eat? We're most starved—nothing but some pilot biscuits that we found in a tin."


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Rh "There!" cried Birdie Lee. "I knew we left those biscuits behind. We must have dropped them when we moved our camp. And I did so want them with the canned clam chowder."

"Clam chowder!" cried Joe. "Say, where is it? I'll eat the can itself!"

"But where did you come from? How did you get here?" asked Mr. Levinberg.

"Let's feed them first, and have explanations afterward," suggested Birdie Lee, as she clasped a hand each, of Blake and Joe. "Oh, we are so glad to see you!" she cried, impulsively.

"Just a word of explanation!" begged Mr. Ringold. "I can't understand this. How did you folks get here? We've been looking for you all along the river."

"We hoped somebody would come for us," said Miss Shay. "Have you a boat so you can take us to shore?"

"A boat? No!" cried Blake. "Our motor boat was hit by a raft and sunk, and then the raft hit this island and went to pieces. We're stranded. Haven't you folks a boat?"

"Not a boat," said Mr. Robertson, with a shake of his head. "We're marooned on the island."

"Come on! I'm sure they must be starved!" laughed Birdie Lee. "Feed them first, and talk


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200 afterward. At least we have plenty of food."

And, when the moving picture boys and their companions had made a hasty meal, explanations were made.

"We were caught in the flood, when we went to that first island," said Mr. Levinberg, "and carried down the river in our boat."

"And we thought surely we would be drowned," put in Miss Shay.

"But we weren't," resumed the chief actor. "Fortunately our boat was a large one, and we had plenty of food and supplies. We went out equipped for a long stay, you know, with tents that were to be used in some of the island scenes, and many other things. We had time to put most of these aboard the boat, before the flood came.

"Then we tried to get back to Hannibal, but the current was too much for us. So we decided to come on down, and trust to luck. But luck was against us, for our rudder broke, and we could not ship a new one. So we were carried on down, utterly unable to guide our boat.

"We tried to signal for help, but we were carried too far out to allow our signals or cries to be heard by persons in the towns we passed. Anyhow, I guess they had their own troubles.


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Pym


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Richard (1)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Richard (2)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Stephen (1)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Stephen (2)


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Rh We met no other steamers, and all we could do was to come on with the flood.

"Finally we swashed into a house, and, house, boat and all, we landed on this island, and we've been here ever since," concluded the actor. "We've been hoping against hope that someone would come to our relief, for, though we still have considerable food, it will not last forever."

"But where is the boat in which you came here?" asked Mr. Ringold. "Can't you repair the rudder and use it."

"We haven't the boat now," said Birdie. "The high water carried it away one night, and the house too, though we saved some stuff from it."

"That's right," said Mr. Levinberg, "our boat slipped her cable, and went on down stream. Luckily we had all our supplies out of her.

"We landed at the end of the island where you struck," the actor went on. "We made a camp there, and then moved up here."

"And that's how we left behind the tin of pilot biscuit for clam chowder," said Birdie.

More and detailed explanations of the experiences of the two parties were exchanged, and then preparations were made for housing the four newcomers for the night. There was an-


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202 other tent that could be put up—one of several taken along to be used in the picture films—and with their own bedding our friends were made fairly comfortable.

"Say, but it seems good to eat once more!" remarked Joe, at supper that night. "Nothing but crackers and water—whew!"

"And 'possum!" added Blake, and he told of shooting that animal.

A fairly complete camping outfit had been brought along and saved by the picture players, and this did good service now. Of course the food was all of the canned variety, but even that was welcome in the emergency.

The day after the two parties were united proved bright and sunny, and Joe and Blake took a number of pictures of the players and the flood.

"But the river is still rising," reported Mr. Ringold, with a worried look, as he came back from a trip to the shore of the island. "If it covers this place"

"Where will we be?" asked Mr. Piper.

No one answered him.

And that the water might rise even high enough to completely cover the island seemed very possible, for, in spite of the brightness of the morning, it rained hard in the afternoon.


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Rh Inch by inch the waters rose. Faster and madder they swirled past the island on either side. Gradually the area of land grew smaller and smaller.

"We shall have to move the tents," said Mr. Ringold, on the second day. "We must go to the highest point possible."

It was hard work shifting camp in the rain, but it had to be done. Finally the white canvas houses were set up on the top of the knoll whence Blake had looked down to see their friends whom they sought.

And still the rain came down, and still the waters rose.

"Another day, at this rate, and it will be all over—except the swimming," said C. C., grimly.

"Can't we make a raft?" asked Blake. "We have an axe, and there are trees to be cut down."

"Good!" cried Mr. Ringold. "We should have thought of that before. We'll build a raft! On that we may float to safety."


text: The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 24


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building a raft was not an easy matter. True, the trees could be cut down, but our friends were not skillful woodsmen, and there was nothing with which to bind the logs together. There were some tent ropes, but they were needed to keep up the canvas shelters as long as possible.

"We'll do the best we can, though," decided Mr. Ringold, as he and the men and boys labored at the raft.

They hastened with the work, for the water crept higher and higher. By using tough withes, and wild grapevines, they managed to bind the logs fairly well, but, at best, the raft was a very frail affair.

"I'll never trust myself on that!" declared Miss Shay, shuddering.

"I don't much fancy it myself," admitted Mr. Piper.


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Rh "But it will be better than staying here and getting—well, getting your feet wet," spoke Blake. He was going to say "drowned," but changed his mind.

Higher and higher came the water. There was now only a space of not more than a hundred feet square, to which the refugees had retreated as an area of safety. The raft floated in the water, moored by a long rope of twisted grapevine, and ready for our friends to embark on it.

Packages of food were made ready to be taken along, and also a keg of fresh water. The water supply troubled them, as the spring was now covered by the flood, and all they had was some which they had stored for just that emergency,

"We'll take along the tents," said Mr. Ringold. "They'll come in useful, as shelter on the raft."

"And we'll have to take to the raft in the morning, I think," Mr. Piper said. "At the rate the river is rising, we won't have ground under our feet much longer than that."

Gloomy, uncertain and miserable was that night. The campfire, which had hitherto been kept up, not without a great deal of work, went out in the rain, and, save for a few lanterns, there was no light. Naturally there was no heat,


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 LESSON CX.

頃 khẃn; 100 acres. 手 * síu; person; handy. 眷 kẁn; kindred; regard. 周 ciu; environ; circulate. 週 ciu; a year; revolve. 炒 chá; to fry dry.

煎 * luah; to fry in oil. 煏 pek; to toast. 仙 sien; an immortal. 筋 kʉn; sinews; tendon. 眼 ngán; the eye. 焙 pūe; dry over a fire.

1 câp hun ûi cêk bó. 2 cêk bó chân sin jîeh cōi chek? ke kẁn. 3 chue síu. keng cìⁿ síu. phàu síu. suah síu. cʉ síu. cúi síu. phah síu. 4 láu chíu. mîa chíu. kùe chíu. sêk chíu. 5 hɵ́ cɵ̀ chíu. chíu ě. 6 cīeⁿ chíu; ě chíu. 7 ě chíu; cīeⁿ chíu. 8 cîeⁿ chíu kang; ẽ chíu kang. pêh chíu cɵ̀. 9 cĩeⁿ chíu sĭ úa cɵ̀; ě chíu sĭ i lâi cɵ̀. 10 pêh chíu sêng ke. 11 khang chíu. cheⁿ chíu. 12 saⁿ ciah chíu. sŭn chíu. 13 cŭ kẁn. kẁn kù. 14 ciu bât. ciu chŵn. 15 ciu cai. sì ciu ûi. 16 ciu nî, ciu pûeh, ciu jît. 17 sîn sien; sien nâng. 18 cúi sien hue. thien sien. 19 tī sien. kìam sien. 20 sien kut. poih sien. 21 cheⁿ kʉn. tōa kʉn. 22 hueh kʉn. mī kʉn.

1 Ten tenths make an acre. 2 How much paddy from an acre of ground? The family. 3 Players on wind instruments. Archers. Gunners. Executioner. Copyist. Waterman. Pugilist. 4 An old hand. A skilled hand. To transfer. An expert. 5 Work of art. Subordinates. 6 On the left; on the right. 7 Another time; the other time. 8 Master workman; apprentices. Do a thing off hand. 9 The other time I did it; next time he does it. 10 A self-made man. 11 Empty-handed. A raw hand. 12 Light-fingered. By the way. 13 Household. Regard kindly. 14 Well defined. Bring about. 15 General knowledge. All around. 16 Complete year, month or day. 17 Invisible beings; fairies. 18 The narcissus. Angels. 19 A human immortal. Fencer. 20 Fairy-like. The eight genii. 21 Veins. Tendons of the body. 22 Blood vessels. Tough dough.


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206 and cold victuals were the portion of the refugees.

Still no one complained, even C. C. maintaining a brave front in the face of danger and privation. Everything possible was made ready for embarking on the raft in the morning. After that

No one knew what would happen.

"I suppose we'll have to abandon everything," said Birdie Lee, talking to Joe and Blake, after "supper," if so the meal could be designated.

"Well, I'm going to stick to the films and the camera to the last!" exclaimed Blake.

"That's what!" cried Joe. "We may get to some place where we'll be able to get a few more pictures."

The night passed slowly and miserably. At the first streak of dawn Blake was astir, ready to help take down the tents and load the raft.

But, as he looked toward the place where it had been tied, he saw only the twisted end of the grapevine cable.

"The raft is gone!" he cried. "It's been carried away in the flood!"

"What's that?" called Joe, hardly believing.

"The raft is gone! And our last chance is gone with it!"

Hurriedly they all came out of the tents. It


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Stephen (3)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Thomas (1)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Thomas (2)


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 was not looking for trouble, if it might by any means be shirked.

Some ten days later another incident occurred to break upon his peace. Pi-Noi, in common with all the people of her race and other nocturnal animals, was a restless bedfellow, waking at frequent intervals through the night, and being given at such times to prowling about the house in search of scraps of food to eat and tobacco to smoke. Kria detested this peculiarity, since it emphasized the difference of race and of degrees of civilization which yawned between him and his wife, but he ignored it until one evening, when he had waked to find her gone, and had wide-eyed awaited her return for something over an hour. Then he went in search of her.

He hunted through the hut in vain: passed to the door, and finding it open, climbed down the stair-ladder into the moonlight night. A big fire had been lighted that evening, to the windward of the house, in order that the smoke night drive away the sand-flies, and in the warm, raked-out wood ashes Kria found his wife. She was sleeping "as the devils sleep," with her little, perfectly formed body, draped only by the offending girdle, stretched at case upon its breast, and with her face nestling cozily upon her folded arms. All about her the soft gray ashes were heaped, and her skin was seen, even in the moonlight, to be plastered thickly with great smears of the stuff. To Kria, a Malay of the Malays, whose only conception of comfort, propriety, and civilization was that prevailing among his people, this


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Thomas (3)


text: Alumni Oxonienses: the Members of the University of Oxford, 1500-1714/Hales, Thomas (4)


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Rh was but too true. The rising waters had pulled and tugged at the raft, until they had carried it down stream.

There was no time to make another. Already the space on which the refugees had taken shelter was growing smaller. Inch by inch the waters rose. The pegs of one of the tents, in which supplies were kept, were now being lapped by the muddy waves.

"Oh, for a boat!" cried Blake.

"We've got to do something!" yelled Joe. "We can't stay here much longer."

That was evident to all. Yet what could be done?

"Cut down some trees!" cried Mr. Ringold. "We can use them for life preservers, and perhaps float to safety. Cut down trees!"

"This means good-bye to our films!" sighed Blake.

"If not good-bye to ourselves," echoed his chum.

There was little time left. With the one axe, and the camp hatchet, the men began chopping away at the trees on the summit of the hill, where the refugees had made their last stand against the rising waters. They could remain there but an hour longer, at most.

Blake and Joe carried their camera and water-


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 discarding of his roof tree, this turning of the back upon decency and cleanliness and convention, was an incomprehensible madness, but also an act of unspeakable perversity and naughtiness. White with anger, he looked at the sleeping girl, and even as he looked, warned by the marvellous jungle-instinct, she awoke with a leap that bore her a dozen feet away from him. One glance she cast at his set face, then plunged headlong into covert.

Wrath died down within him on the instant, and was replaced by a great fear. Frantically he ran to the spot where she had vanished, calling upon her by name. In vain search he wandered to the edge of the clearing, and so out into the forest, pleading with her to return, vowing that he would not harm a hair of her head, cajoling, entreating, beseeching, and now and again breaking forth into uncontrollable rage and threat. All night he sought for her. The cold gray dawn, creeping up through banks of mist, to look chillingly upon a dew-drenched world, found him, with blank despair in his heart, with soaked clothes and sodden flesh tattered by the jungle thorns, making his way back to his empty house with the plodding pain of a man in a nightmare. A last hope was kindled as he drew near—the hope that Pi-Noi might have crept homeward while he wandered through the night looking for her—but it flickered up for an instant only to die, as the fire had died above the gray ashes which still bore the imprint of her little body.

Kria, sitting lonely in his hut, looked forth upon


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208 proof packages of exposed film, to the dryest place they could find, in one of the tents.

"We can't take any food with us, when we float down on the logs," said Mr. Piper, sadly.

No one had the heart to answer him.

They were now gathered together in a space about fifty feet across, on the very summit of the hill. Several trees grew there, and, by climbing into them, it might be possible to remain above the rising water a little longer. But would even this respite save them? It did not seem possible.

The tree trunks had been felled, and were in readiness. They would make but poor life preservers at best, but better than nothing.

Inch by inch the water rose. Birdie Lee, Miss Shay and some of the other actresses were in a group, looking at each other with tear-stained faces. It seemed the end of everything.

Suddenly, through the moisture-laden air, came a shrill whistle.

"What's that?" cried Blake.

"Sounded like a steamboat!" answered Joe.

"It is a steamboat!" called Birdie Lee, as she looked down the flooded river. "See! There she comes! Oh, we are saved!"

"Thank the dear Lord," echoed Miss Shay.

Pushing her way up against the powerful cur-


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 a barren world, and saw how desolate is life when love has fled.

IV

As soon as Kria had pulled himself together sufficiently to enable him to think out a course of action, he set off for the Sâkai camp, whence he had taken his wife; but her people had, or professed to have, no news of her. She had always been lîar, they averred—more lîar even than the rest of her people. (Lîar means "wild," as animals which defy capture are wild.)

"The portals of the jungle are open to her," said her father indifferently. He was squatting on the ground, holding between his crooked knees a big, conical, basketwork fish-trap which he was fashion. ing. He spoke thickly through half a dozen lengths of rattan which he held in his mouth, the ends hanging down on either side like a monstrous and dis reputable moustache, and he did not so much as raise his eyes to look at his son-in-law. "She will come to no harm," he grunted. "Perhaps presently she will return."

But Kria did not want his wife "presently" or "perhaps"; he wanted her now, at once, without a moment's delay. He explained this to the assembled Sâkai with considerable vehemence.

"That which is in the jungle is in the jungle," they said oracularly. Folk who are lîar, they explained, are very difficult to catch, resent capture, and if brought back before their wanderlust is an


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Rh rent, was a big boat—a steamer—from the funnels of which belched black smoke.

"Wave something!"

"Call to them!"

"Make them hear us!"

"Show a signal!"

Thus cried the refugees, as they saw help approaching. In another instant the boys and men raised their voices in a united shout, and coats and caps were frantically waved to attract the attention of the pilot of the vessel.

"He sees us! He's coming!" cried Blake, joyfully.

"And just about in time, too," added Joe, for the water was creeping higher and higher.

With loud blasts of the whistle the pilot indicated that he had seen the signals of distress, and was coming to the rescue. In quick time a small boat was lowered, and a few minutes later the refugees were safe on board the steamer, which proved to be a government boat, sent out to aid in the rescue work.

"And we've saved our films and cameras, too!" cried Joe, for the moving picture apparatus, as well as some of the personal effects of the stranded ones, had been brought away from the summit of the island, which alone was out of water, now.


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210 "Yes, and if we get a chance we'll use up the rest of the undeveloped film, and get more flood pictures," added Blake.

"We'll leave you at the first large town," said the captain. "I guess the flood is at its height now. It won't get much higher, and there isn't much use in me going farther up the river until I take care of the passengers I've already picked up."

Accordingly he turned back, and that afternoon our friends and several others were taken ashore. The place where they were landed was within a few miles of a good-sized town, and they found quarters there, being well looked after by the hospitable inhabitants.

"Well, we're safe, anyhow," murmured Blake.

"Yes, and no more Mississippi life for me—especially in a flood," added Joe. "I've had all I want."

But the boys were not quite done with the flood. There were two or three more days of high water, and in that time they managed to get some wonderful pictures, going out in a hired boat. Then, having no more undeveloped film, they packed up their cameras, and waited for the waters to subside.

The rains ceased, the sun came out, and the Mississippi River began to assume its normal


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 expended passion, are very apt to run away again. Then the laborious business of tracking and catching them has to be undertaken anew, to the immense fatigue and annoyance of every one concerned. It is better, they urged, to let such people grow weary of the jungle at their leisure; then, in the fullness of time, they will return of their own free will.

The limitations of their intellects and vocabularies made it impossible for the Sâkai to express themselves quite as clearly as this, but the above represents the gist of their dispassionate opinions. They took several torturing hours and innumerable monosyllables to explain them to Kria, who gnashed and raved in his impatience.

"Pi-Noi is so excessively lîar," said that young woman's mamma, speaking with a sort of dreamy indifference while, with noisy nails, she tore at her scaly hide. "She is so incurably lîar that it would be better, Inche ' , to abandon her to the jungle and to take one of her sisters to wife in her stead. Jag-okN here," she added, indicating with outthrust chin a splay-faced little girl, who, in awful fashion, was cleaning fish with her fingers, "Jag-okN is hardly to be called lîar at all. Besides, she hates being beaten, and if you use a rod to her, she would make, I am convinced, a very obedient and amenable wife. We will let you have Jag-okN very cheap—say half the price you paid for Pi-Noi, her sister."

But Kria did not want Jag-okN, who was ill favoured and covered from tip to toe with skin diseases, at any price at all. He wanted her sister, who was still


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 to him the only woman in the world. The slack indifference of the Sâkai maddened him, and in the end he threatened to trounce his father-in-law soundly if that worthy elder did not forthwith aid him in tracking the recalcitrant Pi-Noi.

In an instant Â-Gap, the Rhinoceros, as Pi-Noi's papa was named, was standing before Kria, shaking as a leaf is shaken, for the Sâkai's inherited fear of the Malay is an emotion which has for its justification a sound historical basis. Immediately the whole camp was in a turmoil; the danger call was sounding, and those of the Sâkai to whom escape was open were melting into the forest as swiftly and noiselessly as flitting shadows. Â-Gap and two younger men, however, squealing dismally, were clutched by their frowsy elf-locks, hustled on board Kria's canoe, and soon were paddling rapidly downstream in the direction of his house. The hour of their arrival was too late for anything further to be done that day, so Kria spent a miserable night. and awoke next morning to find that the three Sâkai had disappeared. They had cut a hole in the bamboo floor, and had dropped noiselessly through it on to the earth beneath, what time Kria had been tossing upon the mat which he had placed athwart the doorway. They had arrived at two conclusions: firstly, that Kria was mad, which make him a highly undesirable companion; and, secondly. that if he caught Pi-Noi he would very certainly kill her. They were convinced of his insanity because he was making such an absurd fuss about the


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Rh level. Gradually the distressing scenes of the flood disappeared.

"Well, we certainly got some great pictures," said Blake, when the last of the reels had been packed up for shipment to New York.

"That's so!" agreed his chum, "and we've got a great story to tell."

"It's been about the most exciting time we ever had, since we got into this business," went on Blake.

"Not even excepting earthquake land," laughed Joe. "I wonder if we'll ever duplicate this?"

And whether they did or not may be learned by reading the next book in this series, to be called: "The Moving Picture Boys at Panama; Or, Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal."

And now, I believe, I have told you all there is to tell concerning the adventures of Blake and Joe in the big Mississippi River flood. With the going down of the waters all danger was passed, though the peril had been great, and the toll of lives and property heavy. But, aside from the loss of some personal belongings, and the films which the theatrical company had taken, matters were not so bad. And the loss of the dramatic films was more than balanced by the ones taken by Joe and Blake of the big inundatoin. [sic]


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 recovery of a particular girl, when all the time, as everybody knew, there were hundreds and hundreds of others, just as good, to be had for the asking. Their reasonable fears for Pi-Noi's safety were based upon the argument that a person who would beat a man would certainly kill a woman. On the whole, they concluded, it would be at once more wholesome and more pleasant to go away now, and to avoid Kria for the future.

Kria, unaided, tried some very amateurish tracking on his own account, his great love setting at naught the Malay's instinctive horror of entering the jungle unaccompanied. He succeeded only in getting hopelessly bushed, and at last won his way back to his house, almost by a miracle. He was worn out with anxiety and fatigue, foot-sore, heartsore, weary soul and body, and nearly starved to death. The Sâkai seemed to have vanished from the forest for twenty miles around: his trading was at a standstill; he was humiliated to the dust; and his utter impotence was like a load of galling fetters clamped about his soul. Yet all the while his love. of Pi-Noi and his hungry longing for her were only intensified by her absence and her heartlessness. He missed her—was haunted by the sound of her voice—was tortured by elusive wraiths of her which emerged suddenly to mock him from the forest's pitiless depths.

V

The moon had been near the full on the night when the wanderlust, as the Sâkai called it, had


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212 By a lucky chance a clew was obtained to the stolen films of the relief train, and others, taken at that time. As had been suspected, Munson, or, rather, the Pullman car porter, whom he had bribed to do so, had stolen the films. But when an attempt was made to exhibit them our friends heard about it and secured the valuable celluloid strips. This was as far as Munson's plot went.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" asked Birdie Lee, of Blake and Joe, when they were once more on their way home, away from the flooded district, that was rapidly drying up.

"I know what I'm going to do," said Blake.

"What?" asked Joe.

"I'm going back to that farm, and finish out my vacation," answered his chum.

"And I think I'll send the rest of the theatrical company along with you," said Mr. Ringold. "They are certainly entitled to a rest after what they've suffered."

And so, for a time, we will take leave of our moving picture boys and their associates, and say good-bye.


text: The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 25


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 come to Pi-Noi. A little crescent was hanging just above the forest in the wake of the sunset before Kria received any hint of her continued existence. Returning one evening to his house from a visit to his fish-weir, he found on the threshold a small heap of jungle-offerings—wild dûri-an and other fruit, the edible shoot of the îbul palm, and a collection of similar miscellaneous trash. At this sight the blood flew to Kria's face, then stormed back into a heart that pumped and leaped. These things shouted their meaning in his ears.

Trembling with joyful agitation, Krin passed to the inner room of the house, and examined Pi-Noi's store of clothes. Not only a silk waistcloth, but a long blouse, such as Malayan women wear as an upper garment, were missing. Evidently Pi-Noi was bent upon doing the thing handsomely now that she had decided upon submission, and to that end was pandering with a generous completeness to his absurd prejudices on the subject of wearing apparel. Also she must be close at hand, for it was unlikely that she would stray far into the jungle clad in those delicate silks.

Pi-Noi's surrender was an instant victory for her. No sooner had Kria made his discovery than, with a wildly beating heart, he was standing in the doorway, calling softly, in a voice that shook and failed him, using a pet name known only to Pi-Noi and to himself. All his rage, all his humiliations, all his sufferings were forgotten. He only knew that Pi-Noi had come back to him, and


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 that all at once he was thankful and tearful and glad.

"Chêp!" (Little Bird!) he cried. "Chêp! Are you there, Fruit of my Heart? Come to me, Little One! Come, O come!"

From somewhere in the brushwood near at hand came the sound of musical laughter—the laughter of a woman who knows her power, and finds in its tyrannous exercise a triumph and delight.

"Is there space in the house for me?" she inquired demurely, tilting her head and gazing at him in mockery, while again a ripple of light laughter broke from her lips. "Or shall I go to my other house the forest?"

Kria, his withers wrung by the conviction of her elusiveness and his own impotence, tortured, too. by a fear lest even now some capricious perversity might induce her again to desert him, could only stammer out wild protestations of love and welcome. The girl was thoroughly aware that she was complete mistress of the situation, and even Kria was tempted to believe that he, not she, was the wrongdoer. In moments of rage, during her absence, he had often promised himself that, if he ever laid hands upon her again, he would give her the very soundest whipping that the forest had ever seen administered to an erring wife; but now these vows were forgotten. All he desired was to have her back, on any terms, at any price, at no matter what sacrifice, of pride, of honour, of self-respect. Even in that instant of passion and emotion he saw,


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 though dimly, that this woman was killing his soul.

Reassured at last as to the amiability of Kria's intentions, Pi-Noi drew near him after the manner of other wild forest creatures, her every muscle braced for flight; and then she was in his arms, and he had borne her up the stair-ladder with infinite tenderness, crooning and weeping over her with broken words of love.

VI

Thus began the years of Kria's slavery—only three little years of life, as men count time, but an eternity; no less, if judged by the number and violence of the emotions packed within them. While they lasted, periods of almost delirious delight alternated with seasons of acute mental suffering and moral struggle. Sometimes for six weeks or more at a time Pi-Noi would live contentedly under his roof, and he would strive to trick himself into the belief that the wanderlust was dead in her. Then, upon a certain day, his watchful eyes would note a subtle change. She would be lost to him, sitting in the doorway of the hut with parted lips, while into her eyes there crept a dreamy, faraway mystery. The depths of her absorption would be so profound that she would take no heed of words addressed to her; and Kria would know, in his miserable heart, that she was listening to the voices which begin upon the further side of silence, and was holding inaudible commune with the forest world. He would guard her