The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1908-12-24

He made one or two attempts to
change his position, but the agony was
so great that he was compelled to re-
main as he was. He saw the square
patch above his head grow brighter
and brighter as the morning advanced,
but no face appeared over the rim.
He called and called until his voice
died away in the feeblest whisper. He
had a feeling that judgment had over
taken him, and that there was no es-
cape.
Some time during the day he dis
covered in one of his pockets pencil
and paper, and he began to record in
an incoherent way some of his sensa-
tions, but toward the end the writing
became quite illegible. The record
showed that he suffered horribly from
thirst, and that the fear of death was
by no means lessened by his bodily
torments.
Sometimes he raved, and sometimes
he prayed, and sometimes he gave
way to fits Of violent sobbing. Hope
remained with him while reason kept
it's place. Surely some one would pass
that way, he thought, and hear his
shouts. He listened, but not a sound
broke the awful stiffness. He could
not even hear the moaning Of the
sea.
Once he heard the cry Of a seagull
as 1t wheeled in the still air high
above his prison, and he cried to it
for help while the tears ran down his
cheeks, but the bird passed on its
way to the cliffs, and that was the last
earthly sound he heard.
AS the day waned and the square
patch of light above him grew more
and more dim he knew that help
would never come, that he would have
to lie there in that dark pit, broken,
~forsaken, suffering, till death came
and sealed his eyes for ever.
How little life seemed t. him now!
How vain were all the things for
which he had toiled and sinned! He
had succeeded in nothing. 1t seemed
to him, as the shadows deepened, that
he never had a chance. He was not
without ability of q certain order. He
had not been a spendthrift. He had
placed his w interests before every
other thing. He had cared for no one
but himself-perhaps It was for that
reason no one trusted him. Since
Mayhem dismissed him, things had
gone hard with him. He found other
people as cute as himself.
The coming of Marion West to see
him seemed like the turn of the tide.
He saw his chance, and seized it with
out delay. For several months he
had lived in st. Chloe in comparative
idleness and in what he regarded as
luxury, and he had saved money too.
Then came the browning success of
his life. The very thing he had been
looking for lay under his nose. How
he had thrilled when his eye alighted
at length on the silver box! The odds
and ends Of jewelry seemed If little
or no value In comparison, though he
was careful to stuff the most valuable
of them into his pockets.
And now? Was II all some
III Cdiu, sOiic IGN vi tuS llldSllldIlOH I.
Could 1t be true that he had killed
the curate, and that ne was dying by
slow inches at the bottom Of a pit?
He had hardly strength left to lift
his dim eyes to the fading patch OF
sky. He could no longer call for help.
His tongue was swollen and filled his
mouth, his throat seemed gradually
closing up. SO that he found it difficult
to breathe.
He had fought and struggled with
his arms and hands till he could strug-
gle no more. He had clawed and
clutched at the sides Of his prison till
all the skin and most of the flesh had
been ripped from his finger ends.
When reason. and memory failed, then
the madness Of delirium seized him,
and he writhed and struggled while
torture succeeded torture, and the
broken ends of the bones forced their
way through the quivering flesh.
When the. second morning dawned
his eyes were glazing fast, and he
could no longer see the Frightening
patch above his head. Had he been
on the surface he might have heard
the faint music OF Sabbath bells.
borne fitfully across the lone stretches
Of Penny Downs; but eighteen feet
below the surface no sound of mirth
or sadness could aver reach his ears
again.
Whether any tender whisper Of for
~giveness from the far-off skies
touched his spirit ere reason failed.
who can say? He was beyond the
reach Of man, but not beyond the
vision or the mercy of God.
At what hour he died no n knows.
| When he was discovered, nearly a
fortnight later. corruption had long
been busy, and the remains we're
scarcely recognizable.
1t was Esther Mawgan's Irish ter
rier. Bill, that found the clue. Glenn
ent and he were walking ~leisurely
across the downs after a visit to Gray
ton at R~ownskilly, when suddenly Bill
bounded forward like the wind with
his nose to the ground. Later on he
stood still and began to howl and
| bark In a most unusual manner
Clement whistled and called to him,
thinking that he had merely trapped a
rabbit In a hole. But finding that the
dog was determined to remain where