The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1904-12-22

madly for q footing. Yet l do not die!
I seem to suffer an eternity of agony
before it gives place to stupefaction. and
pass away.
CHAPTER H.
Family. fearfully my spirit Is futter-
ing In and out of the deserted house
from whence 1t has been driven, uncer-
tain to 60 or stay. giving me the faintest
hint of my identity. to leave me again
in darkness, yet returning each time
with greater confidence, until it finally
stays to feebly spread itself from heart
to brain, and I realize that am 1.
try to move, though 1t costs me an
effort My body feels as II swollen to
an enormous size. I am oppressed for
space. l strive to make elbow room.
What is this? l stretch out my stiifen-
ed arms. and come in contact with my
coffin! From ell my pores the cold
sweat 10 bursting. My brain is on fire
as recollection rushes upon me-the gal
lows. my death agony, and the appalling
conviction that / have been cut down
too soon and buried alive!
In my wild anguish I fight out madly
with both hands; but. strange, fight the
air! There is no lid, then, to my coffin!
writhe myself into a sitting posture,
and there dawns for me a glimmer of
hope. Cautiously / begin to feel about
me. growing every moment more nlysti-
fed. for my hand comes In contact with
wooden surface. on which the coffin
evidently stands. Though 1 am In my
coffin, certainly am not in my grave!
A ray Of light shoots suddenly from
behind me across the gloom. revealing
one side of the rough deal shell In which
sit, a strip Of the table on which it
rests, and facing me a door. 1 follow
with my tortured eyeballs the beam, and
see that ii is the moon shining through
q small window. There is a door and a
window, then. in my mysterious abiding
place. The hope leaps instantly into Wig
orous being, and with it the determine
ton to escape. feel strongly about
the second life of mine, that it is a d.
vine gift direct from the hands of God
To have to yield it up now would be to
die ten thousand deaths. My other life
risked on a forlorn hope. ard lost.
There was justice in it. l knew the
penalty, and had counted the cost.
suffered death in its most degrading,
most awful form. and have therefore
paid in full. l have satisfied the law,
therefore this life hold is all my own,
and to the last drop of blood / will
protect and defend it.
am in some clubhouse adjoining either
a d,ssecting room or the residence of
some doctor who has purchased my body
for dissection. There are two means
of exit, door and a window. The for
mer viii be certainly locked. Inc win
dow turn toward it's a easement
Alas, for my broad shoulders; it is small!
However, it is my one chance. l must
try it. AS we are In summer when the
nights are short, 1t must be the dead
hour. 1 have no time to lose l scram-
bic out of the coffin / drop my stiffen-
ed legs to the floor.
l reel like drunken mani make
the half circuit of the table, reach the
window. and seek with my shaking fin
gers for button or hasp, and there Is a
rush of cool night air on my brow. 1t
revives me somewhat. and now for it,
I set my teeth. and raise myself with
my hands by the Trace, thrusting out my
head and part OF my shoulders. Then I
pause to gather up my forces. Some
thing taps my crown, making my heart
leap to my mouth. 1t is only the sway
ing bough of a treel Another violent
effort and my shoulders stick fast!
And now commences a fearful strug-
gle. It is almost as bad as hanging
the sensations are certainly similar
eyeballs starting, skull bursting. and legs
plunging aimlessly, until a frantic kick
backward brings my foot unexpectedly
| In contact with the edge Of the tiblA and
II get a purchase
strain every sinew. There Is a crack
ing and crunching which I imagine to be
my shoulder blade. and I am precipitated
forward, carrying the window frame,
| with a crash to the ground, where lie.
cut, bruised and painting.
There Is no sound save the wind tus-
sling with the trees and bushes that en-
close me. No! what Is that? 1t Is the
faint -lusic Of trickling waterl Ny very
soul longs for it! Ny swollen and parch-
ed tongue makes . futile effort to lick my
| lips.
At length, putting out my shaking
hand. feel the ground moist Another
movement, and yet another, and come
in contact with a cool iron tank! Still
one desperate effort, and I have dragged
myself up by its edge My fingers are In
water, my lips touch it!
take-ah, what a draught: and sink
| to the ground again, whilst tears cam
not check rush to my eyes-a perfect
torrent Of unspeakable relief. / scram-
BILE to my feet. That drink has won
derfully revived me. And q moment
pause to lave my temples In the water
before starting &C my hazardous rer
| ture.
| To get out from amongst the trees and
ascertain my whereabouts must be my
| first step; 20 commence to feel my way
along the wall until ] turn the corner
Of my recent prison. and at length
emerge under the open sky, on what APP
pears to be 4 gravel drive. can dlmly
discern the outlines o. things near me.
and within few foet At me the sleep
ing bex Of Z Waterman, which lmpols
- = bea1 Aasty ssfssat ln amenge