Too far away. After some five blocks Emmanuel stopped. Could that distance to the street be covered to-day? Could it be covered in a year, in a lifetime? Perhaps it wasn’t there at all. There was no melody now--perhaps there never had been a melody.... And did it matter now? He was a doctor. Could he tell that to the street? Could he tell about his family, about Etta? Was there nothing else than to go back home? That he couldn’t answer. After all the years, that distant street was still calling Emmanuel. Maybe.... Even if there should be no melody, one could go on toward the street. But--home? He walked on. Then he remembered. Wasn’t there something he had intended to do on the way? What? Oh, Dewey.... The graduation party would be a grand affair. He wouldn’t go, of course, but a gift would be expected. A set of books? A set of books for Dewey? Who was so much like himself? Books? Dewey was like himself! But then.... “They were my tools,” the thought came to him. “I couldn’t use them. They weren’t the right tools.... Yes, they were.... Those others weren’t right.... The ones at college. Now they’re at home. Etta’s? She can have them. Let her have them. Wrong tools, all of them wrong tools.... The others, too.... All the books I’ve ever had!” And then the zig-zag pattern: “Tools, books, tools, tools....” He entered a shop. No books.... He pointed to a table. To the clerk he muttered: “These....” He gave Dewey’s name, the address. He stood there, watching the large package being wrapped up. He nodded: “That’s right....” A set of carpenter’s tools. A hammer, a saw, a plane. Out of the shop. He went on. How far the street was! No--there it was, approaching him, coming toward him. There, that was the street. He stopped for a breath. These were the stones ... his feet were touching the pavement.... And the street was dark. But this end had always been dark, he remembered. Emmanuel lifted his head, his eyes searched the darkness. Nothing yet. But he knew. The yellow pools would be farther on, much farther on.... THE WAGER BY ISA URQUHART GLENN From _Argosy-All Story_ “Kirwin, you’ll find rain in hell as soon as you will a straight girl in a dance hall in Manila! Don’t wax sentimental over a pretty blonde, out here, until you know the circumstances which landed the lady among the half-breeds. I’ll wager that girl is as tough as they make ’em in even this off country.” This from young Angier. “I’ll take you! There’s something in her face that one can tie to. Call her over, at the end of this dance, and let’s settle it. Long wait ahead of us, anyway, until Mayhew shows up. He won’t be in a hurry, with this deluge. Been roughing it sufficiently; he’ll be taking it easy while he is in town.” Kirwin’s older and somewhat graver face was turned toward the dancing couples. He stared at them from underneath beetling brows, dispassionately appraising the girl whom they were discussing.