Dropping the card from his hand, he bowed his head in sad contemplation of the future. His thoughts were turning back, once more, into a gloomy channel.
“Cheer up, Junius, and let us trust, dear boy, that you will successfully pass through the ordeal and live among men again. Have you completed everything that is necessary to be done? or are there some few things yet to be gotten ready?” Craft hoped to change the current of his friend’s thoughts.
“Nothing. Everything is ready for me, and I hope – aye, I know – I am ready myself;” and he raised his eyes glittering with his powerful will.
“And to-night is your last with us? Oh, Cobb, I wish you would give this up!” imploringly said the other.
“No, no; oh, press me not, Craft!” and he looked beseechingly at his friend. “I must advance to my task; it is impossible to retrace my steps, yet God knows the heart-pains which rack my breast; He alone can fathom the utter misery of my position. From father, mother, brother, and sister, and from friends most dear I am soon to be parted forever – forever, forever! Hear you the word? forever!”
Like a wail of deepest anguish, prolonged and heart-breaking, came the last words, ending in a sob, as he sank into his chair and pressed his hands to his streaming eyes.
Let him not be called weak. He who could face death with a smile upon his lips, now cried at simple separation. But, alas! how much meant the word, separation – forever, forever!
The sound of carriage-wheels caused Cobb to start from his brooding. Raising his head, he glanced through the window just as the bright lights of a hack flashed along the road.
“Our time is up!” he exclaimed, with a strong effort at firmness; “there is our hack. Take that box and your coats, while I will take this valise.”
Saying this, he arose and put the things together near the door; then entering the other room, he put out the lights. Returning to the front room, he and Craft took their several loads, turned down the lamps, and descended the stairs to the hack.
Could anyone have seen Cobb’s eyes in that dark hall, he would have seen the tears falling many and fast. His anguish was great, and it was all that he could do to refrain from crying out in his pain. The quarters that had sheltered him for many a day and many a night, were being left behind, never again to be occupied by him. His books and instruments, the companions of many happy hours, were to be used no more. He had taken his last look upon them. Oh, it was hard! and his strength was sublime to overcome the tendencies to a complete breakdown, and a bursting into a flood of tears.
“Good-bye, dear old rooms! Good-bye to all that is in them – again, good-bye!”
Craft heard his sobs as he uttered the words, and his eyes filled to overflowing.
Down the walk they went without another word, and to the hack which was standing in the pouring rain, with its lights flashing out upon the night. There was no thought of the water that was streaming down upon them; other feelings filled their breasts. The door was thrown open, and Cobb motioned Craft to enter, and then followed himself.
“Drive according to your instructions,” he said to the driver; and the door was closed upon them.
As they started away, Cobb turned to the glass window, raised his hand gently toward his old quarters and murmured sadly: “Good-bye! good-bye!”
Away they rattled down the road toward the main gate.
“It’s a bad night, Craft.” Cobb’s voice was hard and forced, but it was evident that he was desirous of bringing his thoughts to other things.
“Yes, indeed it is; but good for us, nevertheless. How much warmer and drier are we in this hack than if we were outside to-night!” trying to put his thoughts into another channel.
“Number two! Half-past eleven o’clock – and all’s well!”
“Number three! Half-past eleven o’clock – and all’s well!”
And the cry was repeated on to all the posts, the answers coming clear and sweet to this poor, departing soul.
As the last sentinel gave his call, the carriage passed through the outer gate by the main guardhouse, where number one was walking his lonely and solitary beat. As they passed the porch, the sentinel repeated the round of posts, crying, in a sharp and pleasing tone:
“A-l-l’s well!”
“A good omen, by the gods!” and Cobb half sprang up in his seat. “A good omen, and it is for me! I feel it! I know it! Away, then, with all sorrow, and let me feel that this is my bridal trip, instead of my funeral voyage. Come, Craft, we are clear of the post; sing me the old song of ‘Benny Havens.’ It will cheer us up and I want to hear the words once more.”
“All right!” and soon Craft’s soft, melodious voice swelled forth in the strains of that old song so dear to the hearts of every man from West Point. Softly, but with power, came the words:
“Come, fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row;
To singing sentimentally, we’re going for to go.
In the army there’s sobriety promotion’s very slow;
So we’ll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!”
And then Cobb’s full voice joined in the chorus;
“Oh Benny Havens, oh! Oh! Benny Havens, oh!
So we’ll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!”
As the last words of the chorus were sung, the lamps of California street shot their rays into the carriage.
On they went, but a silence again ensued, and neither spoke until the hack had reached McAllister street. Here Cobb caused the driver to pull up, and alighted, telling Craft to continue on until he came to where Hathaway was waiting for him.
He was then to transfer the iron box into the express wagon, dismiss the hack, and send on the team.
“You will find me at the appointed place,” he said, as he passed down the hill.
The hack soon passed out of sight, and Cobb continued on until he had arrived at the pedestal. Seeing no one in view, he applied his hand to the spring, and was soon inside of the chamber. Striking a light, he was enabled to ascertain that everything was just as he had left it. Turning to the compass box, he was satisfied that it had not been disturbed, for the needle still pointed to 993.
Opening his valise, he took from it the eight bottles of ozone, a two-quart bottle of a thick, dark-brown liquor, several rolls of silk bandages, three or four small boxes, and a tumbler and sponge.
By the time these preparations had been completed, Hathaway drove up with the express wagon.
Dismounting quickly, the two men unloaded the contents, and carried them inside.
First there were two iron boxes; these Cobb laid at the head of the case on the trestles. Next was a very heavy iron cylinder, and then a barrel of plaster of Paris and a ten-gallon keg of water; finally, a wooden frame-work with a large screw and wheel to it, was brought in.
All things being gotten into the chamber, Hathaway drove back to where Craft was in waiting with the driver. The team was quickly transferred, and the driver dismissed, and watched until well on his way to the city. The two men then joined Cobb in the chamber.
It was now one o’clock in the morning of December 2, 1887.
Cobb turned some alcohol into the asbestos lining of the heater, and soon a bright and cheerful fire made the room quite comfortable.
The bottom of the glass case, which was hung upon hinges, was then taken off and laid upon the smooth floor, then some of the old boxing was laid out to form a mixing-board for the plaster. These things being satisfactorily arranged, the plaster was mixed by Hathaway and Craft, while Cobb commenced undressing. Stripping himself to the skin, he bound his hair back with bands of flannel, and then thoroughly