The Savage Gentleman by Philip Wylie

books. Even the medical books."

    "Let's go back son."

    Henry stretched himself.

    "I feel--changed, McCobb. Different. Thanks."

    "Don't mention it."

    For a long time after that Henry did not swim away from shore and he did not weep on the beach. He was gay again and even his father, who was slowly becoming estranged from everyone, noticed the difference. He attributed it to resignation.

    Chapter Eight : THE HOPELESSNESS

    SPRING and 1929. That spring marked the next to the last change in the tempers of the islanders. The one which followed it was final.

    Henry was a man, then--although his life had been such that he looked five years younger than his actual age. At his father's insistence he had grown a heavy, bronzed mustache which covered his lips and gave him an attribute of years which only emphasized his youthfulness.

    The event which postulated the changes in the men occurred during the shift of the monsoons--the time which had punctuated nearly all their mental permutations.

    It was a dramatic happening.

    An incredible happening.
    The monsoon had shifted with an unusual gentleness. There had been the ordinary rains, the regular winds, and the steady flow of gray clouds, but each particular of the phenomenon had been of low degree.

    Then the weather had settled. For two weeks they had enjoyed sun and calm.

    After that, however, the winds returned. They were forceful winds in comparison to a sea breeze or a down-draft from a mountain range, but they were less than gales. This meteorological variety interested the men. The new winds blew for two days and stopped.
    The sun shone.

    And then, again, came an abrupt alteration. On the 26th of April there was a squall and a lowering of the skies. The day darkened with sunset and the next dawn was black and stormy.

    Jack went out on the harbor to fish and gave up.

    "My boat blew around like a feather," he reported, when he returned to the house."

    Stone grunted and sipped his perpetual wine.

    McCobb came in from the shop where he had been working.

    "It's blowing hard," he said.

    "Where's Henry?" Stone asked.

    "He'll be in. He was helping me."

    The window-frames rattled and a door slammed.

    Stone fidgeted in his chair and growled at the elements.

    His son appeared

    "This is a fine monsoon. It finished its annual volume of business twice and now it's started in for the third time."

    "How's the glass?"

    "Falling again."

    "Did you fix the pig pen?"

    Henry nodded. "Jack did."

    "Well--you better look at it. Remember the last time. The pigs got out and bit the goats. The goats butted a hole in their corral--"

    "I know, father. It's all fixed. The pig pen won't blow over again."

    "Have a glass of wine."

    "No, thanks."

    "Keep the fever out of your bones."

    Henry looked at his father.

    The eagle's profile was still bold in old age but around the mouth were lines like scars and the mouth itself trembled sometimes with impotence and indecision.

    "Keep the fever out," he said cheerfully, "and bring the gout in. You're not well, father. I've noticed that you get out of breath often. You ought to take it easy."

    "Take it easy! That's a worthy axiom! In all my life I never took it easy. I--what's that?"

    "What?"

    A single pulsation had reached Stone's ears. An almost whispered sound, muffled and wind-torn.

    A sound like the hammering of a woodpecker on a pulpy log.

    A remote drumming.

    "I heard something. But it's gone. Tree in the wind, I guess. Now--about this taking it easy business--"

    Henry held up his hand. He, too, had heard the sound.

    He went to the window and looked out.

    The low clouds raced perpetually overhead, like newsprint running through celestial presses. Trees bent to the gale.

    "Funny," Henry murmured.

    On Stone's face was an expression of perplexity, of partial memory, or groping.

    Then the sound came so that both could hear it and it was a sound that did not stop.

    A soft purring sound that issued from outdoors.

    Henry was