University of Virginia Library

III

Morning.

A fog horn.

A fog horn blowing unceasingly.

At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the persistent sound.

"There's your Smart Set medicine show,'' he said glumly. "He doesn't seem to care much whether we give him a permit or not.'' Then, a minute later, "We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us. But I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go.''

"But Will—''

"Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired. But don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain—but this fog horn sort of scares me—I don't like it—''

He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He picked up his hat and was gone. It was five minutes before Priscilla noticed that his breakfast had been left untouched.

A fog horn, sounding unceasingly.

She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown out the sound by singing

THE SMART SET MEDICINE SHOW
"`Smart Set Medicine Show, it's called, run by a fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whiskey to the Indians—makes them crazy, they say.'"

[Description: Man with megaphone and beer mug stands before a small tent, between a female weightlifter and a man holding balloons Several Indians look on. Black and white illustration by Herb Roth. ]

hymns. She fell on her knees and tried to pray. She found her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall of the notes of that horn. She determined to go out in the air—to find her husband—to go to church, anywhere—as far as possible from the Smart Set medicine show.

So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward the place from which came the sound of the fog horn.