Los Angeles herald., 1908-06-07

| -niStef, please, please take me across!
pleaded Nat. ooh. sir"
"a glance at his lace was enough for the
stranger, for the man read honest anxiety
there, and looked wonderingly, as Nat with
q tnmutuous "oh. thank Tou. sir!" dashed
Ten minutes later Nat rushed into the
railroad station in Jersey City, but was stop
ped by the man who punched the tickets at
the door leading to the trains
| "Iicket!"
II haven't got any. Say. please tell
me-, faltered Nat. "has the train for the
South gomez?
tits Just leaving"
Several trains were moving.
Beyond the door was platform, then a
high gate. A traveller was required to show
hs ticket at both places. The gates came
shut with sliding slam as Nat gazed.
Its limits Cyrus Meserve" thought
the excited boy
| Just throwing away cigar, half-smoked,
and stepping to the platform of a moving
train. Nat caught sight of the steel-gray dus-
| ter and white-felt hat of Meserve
| The sailor was already aboard, he reason
| ed. That was the departing Southern train,
sure.
There was no time to stop for tickets. Nat
made sudden dash.
| He passed the ticket puncher ere the man
| could detain him.
'.Stop him! Here, come back!"
| high gate barred progress to the trains
| beyond
The man guarding it stared at Nat as he
gathered himself for spring
+hld,rb Inc next moment T;It flying figure shot
ed the locked gate. landed on his feet on
the planking beyond, stumbled, recovered him
SELF and running on. Just grabbed the plat
form OF IT., the las last car Of q departing train as
He gasped for breath as he sat down on
the step and held on to the iron railing of
the platform.
He must formulate some quick plan of
procedure.
Penniless, likely to be put off by the first
train hand he met, Nat determined that bold,
prompt action alone afforded bare possi-
bility of turning his exploit to material ad-
vantage.
Cyrus Meserve was on the train-the sailor;
| too, of course.
| He would go through the cars till he found
them, call the sailor aside, or openly tell the
man that he was Jo Morris friend and that
Meserve was trying to keep 10 in the back
ground, and throw himself upon the bluff
mariners protection and generosity.
There were four cars to the train. Nat
hurried through each car in turn, scanning
every passenger.
At the locked door of the front one he came
to blank halt. his heart in his mouth, his
face white with dismay.
"They amt here, yet l saw Meserve," he
said to himself, perplexedly, as he retreated
mister, isn't this the Southern train that
left"
"No; it isn't; it's the Plainfeld suburban
The Southern left as we did, and branched off
yonder. There she goes" responded the brake
man Nat had addressed.
A whirling semi-circle of illuminated car
windows showed at distance against the
disappearing lights Of the city. They were
sH5 Ss to as vsSn sn et Rs0s cd N psy soo tn.
wrong train! They've gone, and my last
chance is gone tool"
He grasped an iron guard for support, sick
at heart and discouraged.
A sight of the Pickering lantern of the con-
ductor warned him that new dilemma would
soon face him.
Confusion, dread, misfortune, unnerved Nat.
He relaxed his grasp Of the rail to retreat
the length of another car before the ap-
preaching Nemesis, the conductor.
As he did so, the train ran on a rapid curve
with sharp jerk.
Nat was conscious of clutching frantically st
nothingness. Then he fell.
Minutes might have elapsed-maybe hours,
he knew not; but when he again opened his
eyes, he was lying on his back, and the stars
blinked down through misty haze.
The city must be near, but he could see no
lights except track signals here and there.
There was curious throbbing of his tenn.
pies, and his head felt dizzy.
Nat. Arms all right. l think 1 can get up,
although l feel as if the train had passed
over me-. Oh, my right les-left leg! / can't
move either. They're broken!"
His voice sounded hollow and scared; his
face grew pale, shudder shook his frame, a
sense of helplessness came over him with
crushing force, and then he tried to rally his
sinking spirits into something like the reck-
less courage of the past
All, it was different then! He might laugh
at a sprain, bee-sting, cut finger sur.
rounded by chums at Newton, but to be here
deserted among strangers. Even the thought
that his misfortune had come in heroic deyo-
tion to the service of wronged friend could
not suppress the groan that arose to | lips.
"Jo win get there" he tried to say, bravely.
| (Ah, if he had only known the truth about
Jo!) 81 tried to help him, but couldn't /
declare-I can't novel Pm laid UP. Nat
Davis, you'll-never-join- he-circus-nowi"
The groan ended in a sob. He could hide
the seriousness of his condition no longer. He