The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-07-31

lay there, seemingly as far beyond human
reach as the north star. 1t touched
the pride of certain shameless
and professional advertisers, who were
famous for their vandalism, that such a
chance should be wasted. So when the
rapids were thinly frozen over they made
their cautious way to the log, and soon there
was a gorgeous sign fixed, 10 feet by 4 a
hideous eyesore, inescapable, on the very
forefront of one of the worlds grandest
spots, i. e.:
: co EAST VIA LAX wINNIPIsEoGEE R. R.
Their deed almost met its deserts. They
treated the log too roughly. A hole was
made through the ice, and the current soon
did the rest. 1t was even betting that they
would not get ashore. But they did. This
was not a fatal accident.
OF accidents some very strange ones are re-
corded. One lady stopped for a cup of
water, lost her balance, and was ont of reach
and over the falls almost before her amazed
husband knew what had happened. Another
lady stopped to pluck a flower on the brink
of Table Rock. She was taken up dead from
The rocks below. A rhyming, irreverent
tourist on the same day recorded a bit of
elegiac poetry which would have made him
a man of mark in Philadelphia. He simply
wrote:
the early age of twenty-three
Was pitched into eternity"
In 1875 an accident equally sad and foolish
occurred An engaged couple went behind
the falls, into the Cave of the Winds, with
out a guide. The lady actually sought to
battle in a pool which even the guides never
visited. Her lover lost his life in trying to
save hers. Perhaps the most dramatic acct
dent was the following: A playful young
man caught up a charming child who was
watching the tumbllng waves. Now, Lizzie,
] am going to throw you into the water" he
said, and swung her back and forth. She
screamed, struggled, and slipped from his
hands. He gazed after her, realized what he
had done, and leaped. Rescue was hopeless.
Perhaps he did not deserve death, and at
least censure may die with him.
OF escapes, there are one or two narrow,
almost beyond belief, and which involve
stories of skill and bravery we'll worth tell
ing. Not many years ago a painter was at
work on Second Sisters Island, when he fell
into the water He was old and weak, and
while his position was not very dangerous at
first, he soon loated down and toward mid
stream, when, just as he seemed lowering
on the brink, and exactly forty feet from it,
if contemporary records are to be believed.
he caught on a rock. How long would his
muscles endure the strain2 And who would
rescue him, and how The crowd was
helpless until a guide appeared with a coil of
rope. One end he left in trusty bands and
VIII Tue ObHer ne plungeu lnUo Jne DOlllnE
tide. When he reached the poor painter the
old man still held in his hand the putty
knife with which he had been working. He
shifted the knife to his pocket, tied the
painter to the rope, and they reached the
shore safely. In another case a boatman
was crossing the river above the falls, when a
fog suddenly came up. He lost his bearings
and knew he was drifting to death. His
cries alarmed the village, and bells were rung
for him TO row toward them. Then an oar
broke. The only hope lay in a paltry little
anchor, and Il common rope, which was.
moreover, much worn. He examined every
foot, nay, every inch, of it; he tugged at the
knots at each end. Time and space were
precious, but he could not afford to make a
mistake. Then he threw it over. 1t bumped
along the stones, and his heart beat each time
1t failed to catch a grip. At last it caught
and brought the boat up standing, while the
tense string throbbed like the base gut OF a
harp. For a moment it held. How soon
would it part? He shrunk from feeling along
the strands. He was more afraid not to, lest
he should read his fate in the Irvine tie nse
and twanging under the current. Inch by
inch his fingers travelled to his arms length.
SO long as it held there he was safe. Time
and time again through the long night he
did this, but never; he said, without a heart
like lead and hands quivering like a leaf.
When morning dawned, as at last it did, he
was easily saved. In another case the dan
ger to life, though considerable, was not i'm
4 nlinent. A tug was towing three scows,
S.hsn one went adrift. With admirable
srFomptness and address the captain of the
tug cut loose the rest of his tow and steamed
ahead OF the drifting barge. There he held
it by steam power, and when the Others came
along a line was passed, the throttle was
thrown dead open, and it was sought to make
way up stream. But they had drifted fairly
&. within the grasp of the spirit of the waters,
aud or tSn.As > 1na,A h. -vz.1l 80 Ia -
his own. Finally a foot was gained. in a few
minutes another, and then the tug of war
was virtually over. An escape of an
other sort was that of a murderer. The
sheriff WAS behind him, the river in front,
and only the wires of the old bridge at Lewis
ton to help him across. Hand over hand he
began the passage. His hands quickly blis-
tered, and then they bled. Again and again
he rested his arms by hanging by. his legs.
At last he reached the opposite bank and Law
painting full an hour before he continued his
flight. The feat was certainly a remarkable
one for an amateur.
There is no telling how many crimes are
hidden in this deadly river. But one, COM
paratively recent and very remarkable, has
never yet been completely told or solved.
One morning a body was found. Over
the face was q handkerchief. Around
the neck was n rope tightly drawn and knot
ted at the back, and the end frayed. In the
head was n bullet hole. Whose was the body
in life, and how had it come to its foul end?
1t appeared that one 0. j.. Rowell had regis
tered recently at a hotel. He had complained
of the loss of $500. His room had not been
slept in, and his clothes were found on the
bank. The coroner's jury found that the
body was Kowelps. But presently Rowell
turned up, or rather a detective turned him
mp, and his conductwas explained by family
matters not pertinent here. Then it was
thought the body belonged to one Close. The