The point was， that as twilight and evening came onhe became wakeful. The four walls of a room were an irkand a restraint. He heard a thousand voices whispering tohim through the darkness. The night called to him， for hewas， for that period of the twenty-four hours， essentiallya night-prowler. But nobody understood， and never againdid he attempt to explain. They classified him as a sleepwalkerand took precautions accordingly—precautionsthat very often were futile. As his childhood advanced， hegrew more cunning， so that the major portion of all hisnights were spent in the open at realizing his other self.
As a result， he slept in the forenoons. Morning studiesand schools were impossible， and it was discovered thatonly in the afternoons， under private teachers， could he betaught anything. Thus was his modern self educated anddeveloped.
But a problem， as a child， he ever remained. He was knownas a little demon， of insensate cruelty and viciousness. Thefamily medicos privately adjudged him a mental monstrosityand degenerate. Such few boy companions as he had，hailed him as a wonder， though they were all afraid ofhim. He could outclimb， outswim， outrun， outdevil anyof them； while none dared fight with him. He was tooterribly strong， madly furious.
When nine years of age he ran away to the hills， wherehe flourished， night-prowling， for seven weeks before hewas discovered and brought home. The marvel was how hehad managed to subsist and keep in condition during thattime. They did not know， and he never told them， of therabbits he had killed， of the quail， young and old， he hadcaptured and devoured， of the farmers’ chicken-roosts hehad raided， nor of the cave-lair he had made and carpetedwith dry leaves and grasses and in which he had slept inwarmth and comfort through the forenoons of many days.
At college he was notorious for his sleepiness andstupidity during the morning lectures and for his brilliancein the afternoon. By collateral reading and by borrowingthe notebook of his fellow students he managed toscrape through the detestable morning courses， while hisafternoon courses were triumphs. In football he proveda giant and a terror， and， in almost every form of trackathletics， save for strange Berserker rages that weresometimes displayed， he could be depended upon towin. But his fellows were afraid to box with him， and hesignalized his last wrestling bout by sinking his teeth intothe shoulder of his opponent.
After college， his father， in despair， sent him among thecow-punchers of a Wyoming ranch. Three months laterthe doughty cowmen confessed he was too much for themand telegraphed his father to come and take the wild manaway. Also， when the father arrived to take him away， thecowmen allowed that they would vastly prefer chummingwith howling cannibals， gibbering lunatics， cavortinggorillas， grizzly bears， and man-eating tigers than with thisparticular Young college product with hair parted in themiddle.
There was one exception to the lack of memory of thelife of his early self， and that was language. By some quirkof atavism， a certain portion of that early self’s languagehad come down to him as a racial memory. In momentsof happiness， exaltation， or battle， he was prone to burstout in wild barbaric songs or chants. It was by this meansthat he located in time and space that strayed half ofhim who should have been dead and dust for thousandsof years. He sang， once， and deliberately， several of theancient chants in the presence of Professor Wertz， whogave courses in old Saxon and who was a philogist ofrepute and passion. At the first one， the professor prickedup his ears and demanded to know what mongrel tongueor hog-German it was. When the second chant wasrendered， the professor was highly excited. James Wardthen concluded the performance by giving a song thatalways irresistibly rushed to his lips when he was engagedin fierce struggling or fighting. Then it was that ProfessorWertz proclaimed it no hog-German， but early German，or early Teuton， of a date that must far precede anythingthat had ever been discovered and handed down by thescholars. So early was it that it was beyond him； yet itwas filled with haunting reminiscences of word-forms heknew and which his trained intuition told him were trueand real. He demanded the source of the songs， and askedto borrow the precious book that contained them. Also，he demanded to know why young Ward had always posedas being profoundly ignorant of the German language.
And Ward could neither explain his ignorance nor lendthe book. Whereupon， after pleadings and entreaties thatextended through weeks， Professor Wert took a dislike tothe young man， believed him a liar， and classified him as aman of monstrous selfishness for not giving him a glimpseof this wonderful screed that was older than the oldest anyphilologist had ever known or dreamed.
But little good did it do this much-mixed young manto know that half of him was late American and theother half early Teuton. Nevertheless， the late Americanin him was no weakling， and he （if he were a he and hada shred of existence outside of these two） compelled anadjustment or compromise between his one self that wasa nightprowling savage that kept his other self sleepyof mornings， and that other self that was cultured andrefined and that wanted to be normal and live and love andprosecute business like other people. The afternoons andearly evenings he gave to the one， the nights to the other；the forenoons and parts of the nights were devoted to sleepfor the twain. But in the mornings he slept in bed like acivilized man. In the night time he slept like a wild animal，as he had slept Dave Slotter stepped on him in the woods.
