CHAPTER VIII
Samuel meantime was walking down the broad macadam avenue debating his problem. The first glow of excitement was over, and he was finding difficulties. The theory still held; but in the carrying out of it there were complications.
For one thing, it would be so hard to spread this doctrine. For if one tried to teach it by words, he seemed a hypocrite, as the professor had said; and on the other hand, if one simply practiced it, who would ever know? Suppose, for instance, that he starved to death during the next few days? That would be only one person removed, and apparently there were millions of the superfluous.
The truth was that Samuel, in discussing the theory, had applied it only to himself. But now he pictured himself going home to tell Mrs. Stedman that she must give up her futile effort, and take herself and her three children out of the way of the progress of the race. And he realized that he could never do it—he was not equal to the task. Doubtless, it was because he was one of the unfit. It would need some one who did not know them, some one who could approach the matter from the purely scientific standpoint.
Then there was another difficulty graver yet. Did not this doctrine really point to suicide? Would it not be the simplest solution of his problem if he were to climb down to the river, and tie a stone about his neck, and jump in? Samuel wished that he had thought to ask the professor about this. For the idea frightened him; he had a distinct impression of having been taught that it was a dreadful sin to take one's own life.
The trouble seemed to lie in the dull and unromantic nature of the life about him. If only there had been some way to die nobly and heroically for the good of others. If only there was a war, for instance, and a call for men to perish on the ramparts! Or a terrible pestilence, so that one could be a nurse! But there was nothing at all but this low starving to death—and while other people lived in plenty. Samuel thought of the chance of finding some work which involved grave peril to life or limb; but apparently even the danger posts were filled. The world did not need him, either in life or death!
So there was nothing for it but the starving. Having eaten nothing that day, Samuel was ready to begin at once; he tightened his belt and set his teeth for the grapple with the gaunt wolf of hunger.
And so he strode on down the road, pining for a chance to sacrifice himself—and at the very hour that the greatest peril of his life was bearing down upon him.
He had passed “Fairview,” the great mansion with the stately gates and the white pillars. He had passed beyond its vast grounds, and had got out into the open country. He was walking blindly—it made no great difference where he went. And then suddenly behind him there was a clatter of hoofs; and he turned, and up the road he saw a cloud of dust, and in the midst of it a horse galloping furiously. Samuel stared; there was some kind of a vehicle behind it, and there was a person in the vehicle. A single glance was enough for him to realize—it was a runaway!