Disabled veterans -- United States -- Fiction; Social change -- Fiction
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THE DAY OF THE BEAST
BY
ZANE GREY
AUTHOR OF TO THE LAST MAN,
THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT,
THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER, ETC.
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
THE DAY OF THE BEAST
1922
By Zane Grey
Printed in the U.S.A.
THE DAY OF THE BEAST
DEDICATION
Herein is embodied my tribute to the American
men who gave themselves to the service in the great
war, and my sleepless and eternal gratitude for
what they did for me.
ZANE GREY.
THE DAY OF THE BEAST
CHAPTER I
His native land! Home!
The ship glided slowly up the Narrows; and from its deck Daren Lane
saw the noble black outline of the Statue of Liberty limned against
the clear gold of sunset. A familiar old pang in his breast--longing
and homesickness and agony, together with the physical burn of gassed
lungs--seemed to swell into a profound overwhelming emotion.
"My own--my native land!" he whispered, striving to wipe the dimness
from his eyes. Was it only two years or twenty since he had left his
country to go to war? A sense of strangeness dawned upon him. His
home-coming, so ceaselessly dreamed of by night and longed for by day,
was not going to be what his hopes had created. But at that moment his
joy was too great to harbor strange misgivings. How impossible for any
one to understand his feelings then, except perhaps the comrades who
had survived the same ordeal!
The vessel glided on. A fresh cool spring breeze with a scent of land
fanned Lane's hot brow. It bore tidings from home. Almost he thought
he smelled the blossoms in the orchard, and the damp newly plowed
earth, and the smoke from the wood fire his mother used to bake over.
A hundred clamoring thoughts strove for dominance over his mind--to
enter and flash by and fade. His sight, however, except for the blur
that returned again and again, held fast to the entrancing and
thrilling scene--the broad glimmering sun-track of gold in the
rippling channel, leading his eye to the grand bulk of America's
symbol of freedom, and to the stately expanse of the Hudson River,
dotted by moving ferry-boats and tugs, and to the magnificent broken
sky-line of New York City, with its huge dark structures looming and
its thousands of windows reflecting the fire of the sun.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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