The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-08-23
sFfieEtonor
By Dann@s Oliver GWIuW@0@l
9 a(Continued.)

fort. His feet stumbled occasionally in the snow. His legs from thigh to knee began to ache with the gnawing> torment that gcenters in the marrow bone, and with this beginning of the runners cramp' he was filled with neEeand poignant terror.
 Would the dogs beat him out? Slough ing fn his trail; bleeding at every foot, would they still drag their burden be- yond the reach of his vengeance? The fear fastened itself upon him, urging him to greater effort, and he called upon the last of his strength in a spurt that carried him to where the thick spruce gave place to thin bush and the bush to the barren and rocky side a Auge ridge, up which the trail climbed strong and we'll defined. For few paces he followed it, then slipped and rolled back as the fatal paralysis dead ened all power of movement in his limbs. He lay where he fell, moaning out his grief with wide staring eyes turned straight up into the cold gray ef the starless sky. ...a
 For a long time he was motionless. Then he began slowly to crawl up the trail. Some, of the dull paralytic ache was gone from his limbs, and as he worked his blood began to warm them into peW strength until he stood up and sniffed likean animal in the wind thakzWaa coming over the ridge from the south.
 There was something in that wind that thrilled him. It stung his nostrils to a quick sensing of the nearness of something that was human. He amelled smoke. In it there was the pungent odor of green balsam mixed with faint perfume of pitch pine,. and because the odor of pitch grew stronger as he ascended he knew that 1t was a small fire that was making the smoke, with none of the fierce, dry woods to burn up the smell. It was n Gre hidden among the rocks, a tiny fire, over which the fleeing missioner was cooking his breakfast.
 Jan almost moaned aloud in his glad ness, and the old mad strength return ed to his body. Near the summit of the ridge he picked up club. It was q shOrt, thick club with the heavy end knotted and twisted.
 Cautiously he lifted his face over the recks and looked out upon a plateau still deep in snow swept bare by the winters winds and covered with rocks and bushes. His face was so white that at little distance it might have been taken for snow hare. It went whiter when few yards away he saw the fire, the man and the dogs.
 The man was close to the little blaze, his broad shoulders hunched over, steadEing 8 small, pot over the flame. Beyond him were the dogs huddled about the sledge, inanimate as death.
 Jan drew himself over the rocks. Once he had seen a big footed lynx creep upon wide awake fox, and, like that lynx, he crept upon the man be- side the fire. One of the tired dogs moved, and his pointed nostrils quiv- cred in the air. Jan lay flat in the snow. Then the dogs muzzle dropped between his paws, and the boy moved 0qr svrSfr
 Inch by inch he advanced. The inch es multiplied themselves into a foot, the foot heightened into yards, and still the man remained hunched over his simmering pot. In flash Jan took the last leap, and his club crashed down upon the missioner's head The man pitched over like log, and, with shrill cry, the boy was at his throat.
 sTe am Jan Thoreauy' he shrieked. ssF am Jan Thoreau--Jan Thoreau- come to keel youy' He dropped his club and was upon the mans chest, his slender fingers tightening like steel wire about the thick throat of his en- emy: "I keel you slow-slowr' he cried as the missioner struggled weakly.
 The great thick body heaved under him, and he put all his strength into his hands. Something struck him in the face. Something struck him again and again. but he felt neither the pain nor the force. of it, and his voice sob bed out his triumph as he choked. The mans hands reached up and tore at his hair, but Jan saw only the mis. sioner'sz mettled face growing more mottled and his eyes staring in greater agony up into his own.
 q am Jan Thoreau," he panted again and again. "I am Jan Thoreau, an keel you-keel you!'
 The blood poured from his face. It blinded him until he could no longer see the one from which he was chok- ing life. He bent down his head to es- cape the blows. The mans body heaved more and more; it turned until he was half under it, but still he hung to the thick throat, as the weasel hangs N tenacious death to the jugular of its prey.
 sThes missioner's weight was upon him zfn crushing force now. His huge hands struck and tore at the boys head and face. and then they had fastened themselves at his neck. Jan was con- sciots of terrible effort to take in breath, but he was not conscious of pain. The clutch did not frighten him. It did not make him loosen his grip. His fingers dug deeper. He strove to cry out still his words of triumph, but he could make no sound, except gasp mg like that which came from between fhe gaping jaws of the man whose life his body and soul were fighting to smother.
 There was death in each of the two grips. but the mans was stronger, and his neck was larger and tougher, so that after time he staggered to his