“Who shall dispraise the excellence of our towers? They look west with all the pioneers, and the very soul of far off, west-going Daniel Boone is in them.
“We take our pleasure, honorable, or philosophical, innocent or stupid or guilty, at their feet, and where pleasure is, there art is born. Many songs shall be sung to them, many new names given to them. Their children shall rise up to call them blessed. Their children shall be a world-conquering city all about them, before the relentless sun looks down upon their ruins, before that blazing lion of time shall have eaten their bones of steel.
“They were born from the black soil of Illinois and from the heart of the Thibetan and from the Red Indian and the Afro-American and all the tribes of the earth. There is in them many an antithesis to all the old architectures and structures.
“The noblest thing to be seen from their heights is the mighty northwest road. For the souls’ highway will stay open and crying for the souls of men to follow when these towers are dead and gone.”
Now it is way past midnight, and we are at old Fifth and Monroe, and all the street cars and vehicles have long stopped, and the light in Dodds’ drug store is dim, and the all-night clerks are nodding behind the cases, or chatting at the ice cream tables, half awake.
And so Avanel and I, walking in one dream together, know not whether we see with the human eyes that perish or the eyes of eternity.
Suddenly something of the cry of the earth reaches us, and there, camping at the crossing of the street car tracks of Fifth and Monroe is the Handsome Medicine Man, Devil’s Gold. He is shaking his bead covered rattle, making medicine, and dishonoring our souls with his leer. And he calls us by name as we stand directly in front of him. We are so tired from our long walk, we cannot but admire his gilded face and his yellow magic blanket.
Holding each other’s hands like lovers we stoop and admire ourselves in the golden pool that flickers in the great campfire he has impudently built at the crossing of the street car tracks.
We walk down through the pool into a mundane world, so perfect its materialism becomes magical, and into many an underground field and forest of wonder, and as we look into each other’s faces and admire one another we are moving gilded images from head to feet. But since we are, at least, together, a hundred-year hunger in the very midst of my heart is thus terribly satisfied, though I am frightened at a betrayal I cannot understand, as though the heavens themselves had lied. We take the wickedest pleasure in looking upon the yellow world around us. And we hear on the air the laughter of the Handsome Medicine Man, Devil’s Gold.