Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1901-11-21

tions. With Sturgis' assistance he
mouth-piecc of the spealiing-tube A
few whiifs of comparatively fresh air
sent the sluggish blood coursing
| through his veins and gave him a new
hold on life. With removed vigor
came the animal instinct to fight to
the last for existence.
AS the shadows of death which had
been closing in upon him receded, he
became conscious of Sturgs' voice
beating upon his ears in broken and
scarcely audible tones
1T is-the last chance-Stick-to
the tube-When he comcs--surprise
him-your revolver--sh t--before-"
The reporter was clinging unsteadi-
~ to his friends shoulder Spraguc
suddenly realized that Sturgis in his
turn was succumbing to the effects of
the gas. He sprang back in time TO
catch the staggering man in his
arms.
Selfish brute that | ami" he ex-
claimed. Here; it is your turn to
breathe!" And he pushed the report
er toward the tube.
"No, no. said Sturgis. struggling
family; ut cannot be both-and you
-have-everything-t live for"
But the artist was now the stronger.
and he seeded in forcing his friend
10 inhale enough fresh air to restore
his departing consciousness.
At leputb StnrpiS
strength, was about to renew the gem
erous struggle with Sprague, when
suddenly the place was ablaze with the
glow of an electric light.
He wants to see if his work is done"
whispered Sturgis, to his companion.
Then, observing that Sturgis was
again on the verge of asphyxiation, he
continued hurriedly:
Fill up your lungs with air. quick.
quick, ! tell you. Now drop and
feign death. Do as do
Suiting the action to the word, Stur-
gis threw himself upon the stone floor,
face downward. and lay motionless.
his right hand Erasping a revolver con
cealed beneath his body Sprague,
tube, followed his companions exam
pie.
After a short interval there came a
metallic click, which Sturgis recog-
nized as the sound made by the open
ing of the slide in the panel of the door
at the head of the stairs.
a moment-which seemed an eter-
T.
which the prisoners felt, without being
able to see, the cold CLEAN of the steely
eyes of Murdock at the grating.
Would he enter? Would he suspect
the ruse? Would the two men retain
their grasp OF consciousness and their
strength long enough to make last
fight for life?
These thoughts crowded upon the re-
porter's brain as he lay Stimulating
death and making desperate effort TO
control his reeling senses.
If Murdoch were coming he would
have to shut off the gas and yentilate
the room. What was he waiting for?
Come in"
The words were Murdock's as he
turned away from the grating and
closed the sliding panel,
AN interruption which probably
means death to us" whispered Sturgis
to his companion; take another
breath of fresh air, old fellow; we
must hold out little longer"
Sprague, however, lay motionless
and unresponsive. The reporter shook
him violently and turned him over
upon his back. The artists body was
limp and inert; his eyes half closed;
his face livid.
The reporter himself felt sick and
faint. But. with mighty effort, he
succeeded in raising his friend in his
arms, and dragging him toward the
speaking-tube. There, of a sudden, his
strength failed him. His head swami
his muscles relaxed; he felt Sprague's
limp form slip from his grasp, tottered,
reeled, threw his arms wildly about
him for support, and fell, as the last
elusive ray of consciousness was Slip
ping away from him.