His
heart all at once cried out words that his lips did not utter. Why
should he not answer the call that had come to him through all the
years? Now was the time--and why should he not go? Why tempt fate in
the hazard of a great adventure where home and friends and even hope
were dead to him, when off there beyond the storm was the place of his
dreams? He threw out his arms. His voice broke at last in a cry of
strange ecstasy. Not everything was gone! Not everything was dead! Over
the graveyard of his past there was sweeping a mighty force that called
him, something that was no longer merely an urge and a demand but a
thing that was irresistible. He would go! Tomorrow--today--tonight--he
would begin making plans!
He watched the deluge as it came on with a roar of wind, a beating,
hissing wall under which the tree tops down in the edge of the plain
bent their heads like a multitude of people in prayer. He saw it
sweeping up the slope in a mass of gray dragoons. It caught him before
he had closed the door, and his face dripped with wet as he forced the
last inch of it against the wind with his shoulder. It was the sort of
storm Keith liked. The thunder was the rumble of a million giant
cartwheels rolling overhead.
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