The Press., 1907-11-13
PETE'S BAD HOUR.
By FRANK H. SWEET.
Copyrighted, 1907, by P. c. Eastment.

CN~O~~~~O~0~
 Pete Duffy ran crouching across the freight yards, scrambling under the cars on all fours. Then, ascending to the top of the box car with the agility l of cat, he lay panting beside the footboard.
 The city rose from the yards as from in dust, though a red gash still showed | in the west where the hostile sun with. | drew after a day that had filled the | hospitals. The heat was intensified by | reflection from the labyrinth of rails | and the metal of the rolling stock. A switch engine coughed unseen far down the yards, where harsh, jarring sounds accompanied the shunting and coupling of cars. Lanterns danced and hickered in jerky undulations. Pete was saturated with precipitation. He pressed his chest against the slope of the car roof, where 1t fell away from the footboard, to still the pounding of his heart. His temples throbbed, his mouth was dry as ashes, and he breathed with wheezy sobs. Yet, in the midst of his torture, he listened with sense so sharpened by preda- tory habit and present danger that the physical consciousness of 1t added to his pain.
 As yet he dared not move. Voices hoated to him, muff1ed and lndistinct, and he strained his ears to catch what was being said or, failing that, to gather from their tones some clew to the identity of the speakers. A burst of laughter relieved him. The police would not laugh.
 The revolver, thrust into the tight hipped trousers that he wore In com mon with his type, pressed against his ribs as he lay on 1t. He drew 1t out and placed 1t under the footboard with in easy reach. There were still three cartridges in it. The other two had done their work-done 1t well, he hoped, with grim tightening of his thin lips.
 Mulligan had been looking for it since the section mems down the river picnic, when Pete proved himself the better man, as everybody had de clared Mulligan deserved it too. Couldn't he have taken beating without making such rumpus about it and then spinning Old Man Leary whole string of lies? And Leary was just on the point of adding his consent to Norah and letting them hit it off together on the next picnic down the river. Even the priest had been spoken to with Leary's knowledge.
 Oh, well, there was no use whining about it now Mulligan was soft on Norah, too, as everybody knew, and that was the real bone of contention. and Mulligan was brother-in-law to the section boss, who was supposed to have a pull with the division superin- tendent himself The end was as plain now as if pronounced in the crisp tones of a judges sentence. Mulligan was in the doctors hands and good for at least month in the hospital. When he came out he would marry Norah, who would be mad through the lies told her, and-and- we'll he, Pete, would either have to skulk around in hiding or give himself up and take his medicine. And, of course, he had forever lost all chance of job on the road with Mulligan.
 Pete dug his nails into his palms and writhed. Remorse he had none. He would have done it all over again. What had happened was, from his viewpoint, inevitable, the one honor able thing He would resist to the last, of course. Now that Norah was lost to him, what was the use of liv- ing?
 They would search the freight yards, though they seemed to have lost the scent. The growing darkness favored him. Perhaps he might venture now on change of position.
 He raised his head. The switch en- zine still puffed, and the uneasy re- fiection of lanterns glimmered in spots, their bearers hidden by intervening cars. The tracks shook with the vi- bration of trains passing on the main line. To the north a massive bridge Overhung the yard where it narrowed. Under the arc light that snapped and flickered above it two policemen were posted, their faces blue black under the shadow of their summer helmets.
 He was about to descend between the cars when the sound of approach ing feet arrested Linn even as his hand closed upon the top rung of the iron ladder to swing of. He noiselessly cooked the revolver.
 The car door rolled open. There was a scramble and the crack of a match within. Pete lowered his weapon and peered downward just as a dark form emerged from the interior, closely fol- lowed by a second. There was that in each shambling figure which needed no more than outline to declare the tramp.
 They stood leaning with their backs against the sill.
 Hes goin' to croak," asserted one of them. "Me for Beertown."
 You've lost your nerve. It's nothin' but the heat. seen kids like that be- fore"
 T tell ye he's goin' to croak," reiter- ated the first voice. Listen to him breathe"
 There was a short silence.
 "Yon'Ea n chnmn.". the other struck in presently. Didn't we find him lost near the yards an lock him in the car for safe keepin'? What have we done? Nothin'-only took care of him. An won't his folks make good when we write 'em how we rescued little Willie from hOh0eS tho 1inoS Tt cs1@lH& =
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