Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-05-07
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR MAY z. 1911

out an oath. 1t was Billy Withers!
"You sneak! How did you get in here?'
The warden, perplexed, came forward. 81
let him in" he said apologetically. Il
thought he was in your party
But Curley did not want to hear this. He
was already on the sidewalk. A carriage
stood in front of the jail-Billy Withers'
team. Curley jumped in it and, grabbing |
the reins, clucked to the horse and started |
highest tension. He must reach that opera |
tor first! Once he got him, Withers would be |
shut out for the night. He would see to that! |
He urged the horse on; but in spite of his |
best efforts the animal went at provokingly |
slow gait. He had gone about half the dis |
lance when he heard another team behind |
him. Presently it came alongside his car
riage. He glanced over at the driver.
1t was Withers!
And then the famous race began, with not
Il spectator in sight. Along the lonely road
they dashed. with the frenzied drivers hurl-
ing imprecations at the surprised animals. |
held it for many minutes; but Curley
whipped up his horse and soon they were
neck and neck again. Presently they came
in sight of the telegraph office, which was
located in general store at the crossroads.
The blue and white sign cleaned in the
moonlight. Both men were desperate by
this time. They were within few minutes
of the goal. Withers, who was patron of
| the turf, knew few tricks of the trade. He
| tried a strategic move. He deliberately
crossed the road in front of his opponents
team. But Curley, who understood the
maneuver, dashed his horse furiously. The
hubs of the back wheels of the two carriages
locked, and the next moment the two men
were lying in the road with the wrecks of the
teams surrounding them.
Withers lay fiat on his back, grooming with
pain. Curley felt numb for a moment. He
put his hand to his forehead and felt some
thing damp. The blood was squirting from
an ugly cash in the temple. But to his great
JOY he was able to get on his feet. He hur-
| ried staggering toward the telegraph office.
| In less than minute he was inside, wiping
the blood from his face and making incoher-
ent explanations to the operator He called
for pen and paper; but when he attempted
| to write gave groan of despair. His right
wrist was broken!
He noticed typewriter in front of the
operator. "Can you work that" he shouted
Yes, said the young man proudly, "and
write shorthand too"
Curley pushed his uninjured hand in his
pocket and pulled out all his worldly wealth.
He thrust it at the astonished telegrapher,
notes and silver, all IN lump.
dts yours!' he gasped. "Take my story
and get it off,
He dictated rapidly; but his language
was clear and remarkable vivid. Page after
page of the notebook was filled with curves
and twists and fishhooks. But Curley was
getting weaker and weaker. He finished
finally, almost in a whisper. AS he gave the
address, the operator had to lean over to
catch the words. Then the irresponsible one
fell off the stool in dead faint.
I'm the second morning after the accident
~ a nurse wheeled the cot on which Cur
ley lay into sunshiny room, and the erst-
while "Chronicle" man found himself oppo-
site the bed where Withers lay. They both
looked very pale and very weak.
Billy was first to speak. "Well, Curley,
you won."
The victor merely nodded his head.
There was another long pause. Then
Withers spoke again.
II s'pose it's all up with me. Wilkins will
be madden than a March hare. He blames
me for losing you, anyhow. wasn't strictly
on the level. | can stand being beaten on the
story; but I'm awfully sorry over the other
thing. Can you forgive me, Curley-"
"'Tc1eorarn for Mr. WitherS y intcrrrDted