"And because the town of this story is what it is, there came to dwell
in it a Spirit--a strange, mysterious power--playful, vicious, deadly; a
Something to be at once feared and courted; to be denied--yet confessed
in the denial; a deadly enemy, a welcome friend, an all-powerful Ally."


This story began in the Ozark Mountains. It follows the trail that is
nobody knows how old. But mostly this story happened in Corinth, a town
of the middle class in a Middle Western state.

There is nothing peculiar about Corinth. The story might have happened
just as well in any other place, for the only distinguishing feature
about this town is its utter lack of any distinguishing feature whatever.
In all the essential elements of its life, so far as this story goes,
Corinth is exactly like every other village, town or city in the land.
This, indeed, is why the story happened in this particular place.

Years ago, when the railroad first climbed the backbone of the Ozarks, it
found Corinth already located on the summit. Even before the war, this
county-seat town was a place of no little importance, and many a good
tale might be told of those exciting days when the woods were full of
guerrillas and bushwhackers, and the village was raided first by one
side, then by the other. Many a good tale is told, indeed; for the
fathers and mothers of Corinth love to talk of the war times, and to
point out in Old Town the bullet-marked buildings and the scenes of many
thrilling events.

But the sons and daughters of the passing generation, with their sons
and daughters, like better to talk of the great things that are going to
be--when the proposed shoe-factory comes, the talked-of mills are