The weekly tribune. [volume] (Great Falls, Mont.) 1891-1894, 1892-11-11

pared with life in u convict camp. Men
go out of prison to reform and hold up
their heads again among their fellow men.
Men leave a convict camp wrecked in body
and soul-degraded until they abhor them
selves.
who is it,"
big Jack Long"
Get out the dogs"
"Ah, now, we are to see a man hunt
with bloOdhOunds! Man often hunts down
man, but there is no fierceness III the pur
suit, no longing for blood, no wild run
across rough fields and through thick for
ests. Here the fugitive not only seeks lib
erty, but flies for his life.
Big Jack Long, who had been whipped
only the day before-who had been worked
like an OK when well and treated worse
than Il brute when ill-who had years yet
to serve and had nothing to hope for-hnd
slipped his chains during the night and
found IA way over the stockade. Two or
three of the guards said they had expected
something of the kind for several weeks.
two or three others hoped he had got far
enough away to give the dogs II good run
and arouse their savage ire.
One--three-five of t,Iem-real blood
hounds, which nave tracked down many Il
fugitive and wet their lips with his blood
and torn his quivering flesh with their
sharp fangs! They know what is wanted
AS they are led out they tug and strain
and 90 wild with excitement. a guard
brings out the blanket from the rude bed
on which Big Jack has slept so long, and
the dogs tear it to pieces in their growing
| impotence. They have completed three
quarters Of II circle around the stockade
when they suddenly strike the scent. There
10 M hnllipU than now Vhuir Inn nntiaprp
has turned to fury.
The convict knew that bloodhounds
would take up his trail. He knew the
wonderful keenness Of their scent, the ap
palling persistency with which they would
follow on, their mad eagerness To overtake
and pull him down. His flight was Il hope
born of despair lie ran straight away for
half II mile. Then he double back and
crossed his trail, bent TO the right, bent to
the left, zigzagged like IA serpent making
its progress. He forced his way through
thickets, he sped swiftly through the pine
woods, he crossed clearings and leaped
ravines and clambered up rocky hillsides.
Once he oun IL running brook and cried,
THANK GodH' as he stepped into the shall
low water and felt that his trail was hid
den at last. But after a journey of a few
rods the creek lost itself amid such Il
tangle Of vines and bushes and drift that
he had to Chamber out again. He ran on
and ON, taking but little heed of his route.
but feeling that each yard carried him
nearer to liberty. lie was miles away and
still pushing ahead when the east grew red
with the glory of the coming sunrise.
"Ou. on, our
Big Jack Long stopped dead in his
tracks. Iad the m%ournful tones of IA fit
neral bell come down to his ears on the
morning air he would have been aston
i>hed. Now he WA, appalled,. The dogs
had been let loose on his trail. The blood.
hound bays only when he has lost the
scent for II moment or when he sights his
quarry. Big Jack had staggered through
II wanp scarce needing where his eS
halstcd limbs were taking him, and the
dogs were at fault for II moment. Did you
ever SEE il bloodhound trailing ii nan His
eyes do not look for footprints; his hose il
10, seeking the scent on the earth. The
scyi,j rises TO him, even though the trail
he II day old. lie runs through it as if it
were a mist. No matter who has followed
over thar trail or how often it has been
crossed he cannot be confused. Should the
fugitive double back the dog will run borh
trails at the same time. Should he circle
NAN 49, - N''F' N'N WIN fAi"t DlNh VI
he scent on the far side. Nothing but
water can ha.ile him, and there must be
miles Of it to make him give over the hunt.
'Ou! on. Uu.''
The sounds have a note of triumph in
them. The dogs have found the scent
again. Big Jack can escape the fury of the
beasts by climbing II tree. After the dogs
the hunters, after the hunters the stocka,le
IA be~at!ng-turther degradatiOns. Good.
He draws himself up and his eyes flash de-
iiance. lie is going to fight for his life.
No! He is going to die lighting! Better
to die at once tha week by week and month
by month. Better to die with Il weapon ia
his hands than with ~clanking chains on his
limbs. He breaks II stout limb from atree
and sits down to recover his breath and
summon up all his courage. The morning
sunshine is pouring into the forest. The
joyous notes of the birds reach his ears
from every direction, and as his eyes CLEAN
and his lips compress a ground squirrel
playfully approaches and retreats III il: chal-
iereing him 10 n,irth. .
Down there in the underbrush some
thing moves! There is IA rustling and
c~rashing-the dogs are here. As they cry
ont in chorus at sight of him he stands up
and takes a firm grip Of his club. OF what
nse that n mighty blow stretches one beast
dead at his feet? That another breaks
bones and another leaves him but two enc.
mics to conquery He is weak and en-
hausted, and two are enough to pull him
down. When the man hunters ride up the
dogs have done their work and lie painting
with their red tongues touching the earth,
Big Jack Long has made good his escape
from the horrors of II convict canp--that
is, he is lying dead among the iiends who
nave run him down. NJ. QUAD.
To Be a Cigarette Smoker.