mighty good of you to take it so well,” he continued. “I was in a blue funk for quite a time before Mr. Hayes could comfort me. A very nice man, that Mr. Hayes. Have you ever met him?”
I shook my head.
“Well, never mind; you will. He didn’t come now because he thought two of us might be too much for you. But we are always together, and I am sure we three will be great friends. Bond of sympathy, you know.”
He sat down beside me and asked me to fill my pipe. It all seemed so natural that I did this with as much unconcern as if he had been Jonathan Adams in the flesh. He apologized for not joining me in my smoke, saying that he had lost his taste for it.
“It’s not a very long story,” he began, after I was nicely puffing, “and my being here is all through Mr. Hayes. He was Amelia’s first husband, you know. He stood it as long as he could, which was just five years. Then he came out here, discovered this place where we are now, and jumped over. It was taking awful chances, when you think that he didn’t know anything of what was coming after. But he was a nervous, high-strung man, and had reached the point where he was willing to take chances. He says now that he would have done it two or three years earlier if he had known the relief and rest he was going to get. It was perfect bliss, all right, after his five years of married life. For a number of years he just sat back and enjoyed it.
“Then he got to thinking, in his generous way, that perhaps some poor fellow was suffering just as he had suffered. This thought kept bothering him so much, being of a tender nature, that he made inquiries and found out about me. After that, the knowledge of my troubles bothered him still more, till at last he couldn’t stand it any longer and began to plan how he could help me out.
“Now, there is a rule where we are that every five years we can come back to Earth on the same day that we snuffed out. There aren’t many of us that do it, because we are satisfied where we are and are content to let the worth go its way undisturbed. But Mr. Hayes was so worried over my troubles that five years ago this very day, which was his ‘day back,’ as we call it, he made arrangements to meet me here.
“We met. It was a meeting that I will never forget, and it took me a long time to get over it. But finally I became accustomed to him, and in an hour he had convinced me, and I jumped off. And I may say that I have never regretted it since.
“Then through some mutual friend we found out about you, and we agreed that it was only fair that you should have the benefit of our experiences. So I have come back to clear up any of the points you may be in doubt about.
“Of course, there are some drawbacks, and we don’t get all the privileges of those who pass out naturally. But it’s so much better than the life you have been leading that there is no comparison.”
Here I stopped him with a gesture of my hand.
“Mr. Adams,” I said brokenly, “I think I understand what you are driving at, and I am very grateful. But did you know that I buried my dear wife last Tuesday?”
“No!” he cried, “You don’t mean to tell me that Amelia is dead?”
For a few moments he remained silent, his head bowed.
“Dear, dear!” he finally said. “I should read the papers more thoroughly. Allow me to condole with you.”
Mechanically he extended his hand. I reached out to grasp it, but my fingers closed on the empty air. He was too much worked up to notice.
“I will take the news back to Mr. Hayes,” he said quietly.
“I am very grateful to you both,” I said after a few moments of respectful silence, “for your kind intentions and your interest in me. Please express to Mr. Hayes my deepest gratitude.”
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Adams a little absently “I have enjoyed meeting you, and it is somewhat of a disappointment that you are not to join us. But, of course. I will not urge that now.”
“Poor Amelia!” was all I could say.
“And now,” said Mr. Adams, straightening up, “if you expect to get back before dark, I will not detain you longer.”
He was right—time had gone faster than I had noticed. I turned toward the pass through which I had come. Then we both jumped with fright.
A deep growl came rolling up among the rocks!
Mr. Adams was the first to recover himself. “Grizzly!” he said, smiling. “Funny how strong habit is. Of course, he can’t do a thing to me, yet for a moment I was as frightened as if I was alive.”
“How about me?” I asked, still trembling.
Mr. Adams became serious at once.
“I think I can manage it,” he said. “The bear smells you, but he can see me, and if you will step behind that rock, I may be able to decoy him off. He will think it is me he smells. So I will say good-bye, for I may have to leave hastily.”
I dropped obediently behind the rock, but peered over the top to watch developments. If Mr. Adams failed I preferred jumping off the cliff to being eaten gradually by a hungry bear.
The shaggy head and shoulders of a huge grizzly appeared round the corner. I knew he was a grizzly from a rug which we once owned. Mr. Adams approached him fearlessly, and the bear opened his mouth to receive him. I shuddered with horror.
But when within only a few feet of the bear, Mr. Adams jumped lightly over his head and landed somewhere behind him. The effect on the grizzly was astonished disappointment. He turned quickly round and dashed after Mr. Adams, who was disappearing round the corner.
After a few minutes had elapsed, I rose from my hiding-place and followed them.
There was no sign of them in the narrow defile, and I did not see them again until I reached the main ravine. There I caught sight of them far up the mountain: Mr. Adams sailing serenely over the rough ground, the bear panting in hot pursuit a few feet behind.
Mr. Adams turned and waved me a polite farewell, which I returned. Then I walked quietly to Organ, chartered a mule-team, and three days later arrived back in Boston.
* * * *
The first thing I then did was to visit a famous brain and nerve specialist. If science had any explanation for my experience, I wanted to hear it before I began boasting about my acquaintance with real ghosts.
“My dear sir,” said the specialist after I had told him everything, “your case, though interesting, is not at all unusual. It has nothing to do with mental telepathy or telegy which are the only so-called supernatural effects recognized by science. You are no doubt familiar with the phenomenon of walking in the sleep, the walker being awake to all appearances and with eyes wide open. You, sir, have the opposite malady of dreaming while you are actually awake. I prescribe complete rest and a change of climate.”
“But, doctor,” I expostulated, “if it was all a dream, why did the bear follow Mr. Adams out of the canyon?”
“Do not think,” answered the wise doctor, “that because the bear ran out of the canyon that he was necessarily following anyone. Unless cornered or wounded, they are timid animals, and your sudden appearance in a prospector’s outfit would ordinarily be enough to protect you. And then it is possible that this was
