The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1910-11-10
CHAPTER XVI
jeans Story.

snow. His fingers dug into damp
earth as he made an effort to
raise himself, and with that effort
it seemed as though "a red-hot
knife had cleft him from the TOP
of his skull to his chest. The
agony of that instant's pain drew
a sharp cry from him and he
.clutched both hands to his head,
waiting and fearing. 1t did not
come again and he sat up. A hun
.dred candles danced and blinked
before him like so many haunting
eyes and turned him dizzy with .
sickening nausea. One by one the
lights faded away after that until
there was left only the steady glow
of the real candle.
The fingers of Howland's right
hand were sticky when he drew
them away from his head, and he
shivered. The tongue of flame
leaping out of the night, the thun-
6erous report, the deluge of fire
that had filled his brain, all bore
their meaning for him now. 1t
had been a close cal, so close that
shivering chills ran up and down
his spine as he struggled little by
little to lift himself to his knees.
His enemy's shot had graZed his
head. A quarter of an inch more,
an eighth of an inch even, and
there would have been no awaken
ing. He closed his eyes for few
moments, and when he. opened
them his. vision had gained dis
lance. About him he made out in
distinctly the black encompassing
walls of his priosn.
1t seemed an interminable time
before he could rise and stand on
his feet and reach the candle.
Slowly he felt his way along the
wall until he came to a low, heavy
door, barred from the outside, and
just beyond this door he found a
narrow aperture cut through the
decaying logs. 1t was a yard in
length and barely wide enough
for him to thrust through an arm.
Three more of these narrow Sits
in his prison walls he found before
he came back again to the door.
They reminded him of the hole
through which he had looked out
on the plague-stricken cabin at the
Maison de Mort Rouge, and he
guessed that through them came
what little fresh air found it's way
into the dungeon.
Near the table on which he re-
placed the candle was a stool, and
he sat down. Carefully he went
through his pockets. His belt
and revolver were gone. He had
been stripped of letters and papers.
Not so much a sa match had been
left him by his captors.
He stopped in his search and lis
tened. Family there came to him
the ticking of his watch. He felt
in his watch pocket. 1t was empty.
Again he listened. This time he
was sure that the sound came
from his feet and he lowered the
candle until the light of it glisten
ed on something yellow an arms
distance away. 1t was his watch,
and close beside it lay his leather
w dllSls w nat llC hlu Adl
ried in the pocketbook was un-
touched, but his personal cards
and half a dozen papers that it had
contained were gone.
He lokoed at the time. The
hour hand pointed to four. Was it
possible that he had been un-
conscious for more than six hours?
He had left Jean on the mountain
top soon after nightfall-it was
not later than nine o'clock when
he had seen Meleese. Seven hours!
Again he lifted his hands to his
head. His hair was stiff and mat
ted with blood. 1t had CONCEALED
thickly on his cheek and neck and
had soaked the top of his coat. He
had bled a great deal, so much
that he wondered he was alive,
and yet during those hours his
captors had given him no assist
ance, had not even bound cloth
about his head.
Did they believe that the shot
had killed him, that he was al
ready dead when they flung him
into the dungeon? Or was this
only one other instance of the
barbaric brutishness of those who
so insistently sought his life? The
fighting blood rose in him with
returning strength. If they had
left him weapon, even the small
knife they had taken from his
pocket, he would still make an eff
fort to settle a last score or two
But now he was helpless.
There was, however, a ray OF
hope in the possibility that they
believed him dead. If they who
had flung him into the dungeon
believed this, then he was safe
for several hours. No one would
come for his body until broad
day, and possibly not until the
following night, when grave
could be dug and he could be car
ried out with some secrecy. In
that time, If he could escape from
his prison, he would be we'll on
his way to the Wekusko. He had
prisoner on the mountain top.
The dogs and sledge were there
and both rifles were where he had
concealed them. 1t would be a
hard race-a running fight per-
haps-but he would win, and aft
er a time Meleese would come to
him, away down at the little hotel
on the Saskatchewan.
He rose to his feet, his blood
growing warm, his eyes shining in
the candle-light. The thought Of
the girl as she had come to him