Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-10-17
got Just 16 minutes. and then that thing

well, | guess it'll oblige you"
Now, Bill, we've got no time to
waste. Here's the keys. you 60 for the
safe, and I'll fix the desk"
Inside of Is minutes Shotwell's
guests had gone, leaving little trace of
their visit except IA faint odor Of chl0ro-
form and that strange looking black
box, with it's monotonous tick tack, tick
tack.
The whole thing had happened SO
suddenly and his brain was so heavy
with the drug that the men were gone
before he fully realized the horror of
his position. As it dawned on him he
could not believe it was true; it was
some terrible nightmare. He strove to
shake himself, but the Tightening Of the
strings on his wrists and a half jar in
the tones Of that ceaseless tick tack
brought him back to his senses with q
chill Of horror. He glared terror strick-
en- at the little clock that was ticking
off the moments of his life-a second
each time. A few minutes and then
he broke out into a cold sweat; an un-
manning fear Of this unknown, cruel
thing crept over him, and for awhile
he sat, huddled in abject terror; then
slowly the soul Of the man steadied
itself. He closed his eyes to pray, and
the word that came was Dorothy"
With a fierce mental effort he pulled
together his shaken faculties for her
sake. For her he would die like a man.
Perhaps she would know he had been
no coward.
Tick tack, tick tack, 20 minutes past
10. All, it was time to sit and talk to
"Dorrie." Well, he would do it-would
give to her those last 20 minutes. And
80 he sat on, his face drawn and ghast-
~, but his courage firm-sat and babe
a long goodby to the girl he loved;
thought strong, manly thoughts of her
that kept fear from his heart. But
while his utmost self talked with Dorrie
his flesh grew gray and pinched, the
lonely silence broken only by the steady
ticking Of his clock of doom.
Dorothy that night sat reading, then
later fell to wondering Of Arthur alone
in that great building, and at the
thought Of his loneliness all her heart
went out to him, and perhaps some of
her soul, for her body fell asleep. Then
she, too, woke with a start-a start of
~perplexity and fear; fear for Arthur.
What was it? She passed her hand over
her forehead, bewildered. What was it
why could she not remember? Then
the ticking Of the clock Oh the mantel
caught her ear-caught it strangely,
and she listened, breathless, trembling.
Tick tack, tick tack! What did it mean:
Then slowly and softly a solemn voice
fell III her inner ear: "Goodby, Dorriel
Goodby, darlingl"
"Ah!" She rose to her full height;
was rigid there for an instant; then
quietly: eyes, I know. l understand.
She walked quietly to her father room,
took his keys and, taking her hat and
coat, slipped unseen out into the night.
Tick tack, tick tack-eight minutes
more.
Eight minutes-eight years. Godl
Can I wait? One brave spring now
would end the torture, and No, no,
for Dorrie's sake, for the honor Of love,
I'll live my life out to the last bitter
second" Shotwell closed his eyes "a few
moments; then. opening Thorn, ho ga a
face in the doorway gazing at him. To
him it seemed the soul of Dorrie, come
to say "Goodby."
He was not afraid, hardly awed. 1t
was not real. Dying mems eyes are
sometimes strangely clear. He noticed
the hat, the coat, the face drawn with
fearful anguish. Souls did not look like
that. 1t was Dorrie herself. A moment
Of wild joy was swallowed up in a still
greater horror-'Dorrie !"-here, with
that thing 0 God! This was worst
Of all. But her quick hands touched
him, deftly untying the handkerchief
that gagged him, then delicately slip
ping those fearful strings from his
wrists.
"How long, Arthur?' she whispered.
He glanced desperately at the clock.
1.-Two minutes. Don't stop to unite
me. Water, quick! There's a bucket
Fill it ut the tap. It's our only chance. y
She comprehended instantly. Oh,
how slow the water ran! She walked
swiftly to the desk, took the box in her
hands and carried it, ticking, to the
bucket, placed it in and held it, treln-
bling, as the water swallowed it, until
there was little rasping jar in the tick
ing. Shotwell drew one deep, long
breath as he stopped over the girl and
waited for what never came. One, two,
three minutes passed. Then, with a
breath Of half fearful relief, he looked
down at Dorrie. She was fast asleep,
nestled in his arms and breathing peace
fully.
He walked her with a kiss. She stared
at him in sleepy surprise. why, Ar
thur, where am !? What is it, dear?
How white you look, and see, the wa
ter's running all over the foorl You
careless boy-I-oh, Arthur, I-take
me home. "-Aquila Kempster in PROV
idence Telegram.
Sight READING.