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Updated: May 27, 2025
Barbara. During that autumn season, indeed, everything in the cemetery's vicinity looked sad and tarnished, and the wind would wail about the place, and sigh like a lover who has been driven mad through bereavement....
The boards of the shutter stirred, opened, so that the man within could look out. "Is it Steve, honest?" "Damn it, Butler, don't you know my voice? What's turned Eldara into a cemetery?" "Cemetery's right. 'Butch' Conklin and his gang are going to raid the place to-night." "Butch Conklin?" And Nash whistled long and low.
He took me across the well-kept grass to two newly dug graves, each covered with wooden hoods in a most business-like way. Evidently those hoods were regular parts of the cemetery's outfit. He said nothing, but waved his hand with a "take-your-choice,-they-are-both- quite-ready" style. "Why?" I queried laconically. "Oh! we always keep two graves ready dug for Europeans.
Next, there scaled the cemetery wall and stealthily stretched themselves on the ground, so that they looked not unlike the far-flung shadows of the cemetery's crosses, a file of dark, tattered figures of beggars, while on the further side of the slowly darkening greenery a cantor drawled in sluggish, careless accents: "E-e-ternal me-e "
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