The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-06-16
the conservatory, throwing him.

self with all his weight and
strength against the doors and
thrusting the point OF his long
knife into the aperture Of the locks.
Then seeing that every attempt was
fruitless, he desisted, and sat down, in
d state of complete exhaustion. A re.
action began to set in after the furious
excitement of the afternoon. and he
felt at once hat it vas impossible for
him to make another step or raise his
arm to strike. A mar lie, IS sound
originally in bodily construction would
have broken down sooner, and it was
a proof OF Israel Kafka's extraordinary
vigor and energy that he al | not lose
his senses in a deleriouS fever at the
moment when he felt that his siren tn
could bear no further strain.
But his thoughts. such a, they we're,
did not lack clearness He saw that
MS opportunity was gone, and he be-
gan to think OF the future, wondering
what would take place next. Assur-
house with the fixed determination to
take her life, the last thing that he
had expected had been to be taken
prisoner and left to his own medita-
lions. 1t was clear that the Wan
derer's warning had been conveyed
without loss of time. and had saved
Unorna from her immediate fate.
Nevertheless, he did not regret hav-
ing given her the opportunity Of de.
Tending herself. He had hot meant
that there should be any secret about
the deed, for he was ready to sacrifice
his own life in executing it.
Yet he was not altogethee 3uaFe.
He had neither Unorna's inx1tA Ii
difference to physical danger, nor the
Wanderers calm superiority to fear.
He would not have made a good SOL
der, and he could not have faced
another mans pistol at fifteen PAGES
without experiencing a mental and
bodily commotion not unlike terror,
which he might or might not have
concealed from others. but which
would in any cast have been painfully
apparent to himself.
The key turned in the lock and the
bolt was slipped back. Instantly
Israel kafka's energy returned. He
rose quickly and hid himself in the
shrubbery in a position from which
he could observe the door. He had
seen UnOrna enter before, and had, Of
course, heard her cry before the Wan
derer had carried her away, and he
had believed that she had wished to
face him, either with the intention of
throwing herself upon his mercy or in
the hope of dominating him with her
eyes, as she had so often done before.
The Wanderer entered first, tall,
stately, Indifferent, the quick glance
of his deep eyes alone %betraying that
he was looking for some one. Next
came Keyork Arabian, muffled still in
his furs, turning his head sharply from
side to side in the midst of the sable
collar that half buried it, and evil
IDENTIFY nervous. Last of all, the Indi-
vidual, who had Invested himself of
his outer coat and whose powerful
proportions did not escape Israel
Kafka's observations. It was clear
that if there was a struggle it could
have but one issue.
With cat-like tread he glided along
in the shadows of the foliage until he
could see the door. From the en-
trance an open way was left in a
straight line towards the middle of
the hall, down which his pursuers
were still slowly walking. He must
cross an open space in the line of
their vision in order to get out, and
he calculated the distance to be
t%raversed, while listening to their
movements, until he felt sure that
they were so far from the door as not
to be able to reach him. Then he
made his attempt, darting across the
smooth pavement with his knife in
his hand. There was no one in the
way.
Then came a violent shock, and he
was held as in a vice, SO tightly that
he could not believe himself in the
arms of a human being. His captors
had anticipated that he would try to
escape, and had posted the Individual
in the shadow of a tree neal the door
way.
at is of no use to resist" said the
Wanderer, quietly. 1--WE are too
strong for YOU"
Kafka said nothing, but his blood
shot eyes glared up angrily at the tall
mans face.
..He looks dangerous. and he still
has that thing in his hand" said Ke-
york Arabian. II think / will give
him ether at once while the Individ-
ual holds him. Perhaps you could do
it?"
s'You will do nothing of the kind"
the Wanderer answered. s'What a
coward you are, Keyork!" he added,
contemporary.
Going to Kalfa's side. he took him
by the wrist of the hand which held
the knife. But Kalfa still clutched it
grimly.
You had better give it up" he
said.
Kafka shook his head angrily and
set his teeth, but the Wanderer I'M
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