Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1912-09-27
CHAPTER XVI.
The Remains of Tragedy.

| The Remains Of Tragedy.
1t must have been the shock of thus
realizing suddenly how short time
remained in which should have light
which restored my senses. l know
stared at the dim yellow flicker DULY
at first, and then with a swift return
ing consciousness which spurred my
brain into activity. In that instant /
hated, despised myself, rebelled at my
weakness. Faith in Claire Mortimer
came back to me in flood Of regret.
II she had failed, it was through no
fault of hers, and l was no coward to
lie there and rot without making
stern fight for life. When I was found,
those who came upon my body would
know that died struggling, died as a
man should, facing fate with smile,
with hands gripped in the contest.
The resolution served-it was spur
! to my pride, instantly driving away
every haunting shadow of evil. Yet
where should l turn? To what end
should l devote my energies? 1t was
useless to climb those stairs again.
But there must be a way out
l gripped the old musket as the only
instrument at hand, and began testing
the walls. Three sides l raped, re-
ceiving the same dead, dull response.
was In the darkest corner now, be-
yond the stairs, still hopelessly beat
| ing the gun barrel against the stone.
| The dim light revealed no change in
| the wall formation, the same irregu-
lar expanse of rubble set in solid NOR
tar, hardened by century Of exposure
| to the dry atmosphere. Then to an
idle, listless blow there came hollow,
wooden sound, that caused the heart
| to leap into the throat. l tried again,
| foot to the left, confident my ears
| had played me false, but this time
there could be no doubt-there was an
| opening here back of wooden bar
| rier.
Half crazed by this good fortune,
caught up the inch of candle, and held
it before the wall. The dim light
scarcely served as an aid, so inge-
niously had the door been painted in
| resemblance to the mortared stone. I
was compelled to sound again. inch by
| inch, with the gun barrel before 1
| could determine the exact dimensions
| of the opening. Then / could trace the
| slight crack where the wood was fit
| ted, nor could have done this but for
| the warping of a board. Wild with ap-
prehension lest my light fail before
the necessary work could be accom-
| plished, | drew out the single-bladed
knife from my pocket, and began wild
| ening this crack. Feverishly as |
worked, this was slow of accomplish
ment, yet silver by silver the slight
| aperture grew, until | wedged in the
gun barrel, and pried out the plank.
The rush of air extinguished the
candle, yet l cared nothing, for the air
was fresh and pure, promising a clear
| passage.
God, this was luck! With new cour-
age throbbing through my veins I
CROPPED my way back to the table after
| flint and STEEL and relit the candle
| fragment, shadowing the flame with
| both palms as / returned to where the
plank had been pressed aside. How
ever, l found such precaution unnec-
essary, as there was no perceptible
draft through the passage now the
opening was clear for the circulation
Of air. There had been two planks-
thick and Of hard wood-composing
| the entrance to the tunnel, but found
| it impossible to dislodge the second,
and was compelled to squeeze my
way through the narrow twelve-inch
opening. This was a difficult task, as
was a man of some weight, but once
accomplished | found myself in a con-
| tracted passageway, not to exceed
three feet in width, and perhaps five
from floor to roof. Here it was appar-
emily as we'll preserved as when first
constructed. probably hundred years
stone, the roof supported by roughly
hewn oak beams. | was convinced
| there was no great weight of earth
| resting upon these, and the tunnel,
| which l followed without difficulty, or
| the discovery Of any serious obstruc-
ton. for fifty feet, inclined steadily
upward, until. in my judgment, it must
nave Coluc Within O very lew ISeI vi
the surface. Here there occurred a
sharp turn to the right, and the exca-
walton advanced almost upon a level.
knowing nothing of the conforma-
ton above, or of the location of build
ings, was obliged to press forward
blindly, conserving the faint light of
the candle, and praying for free pas
sage. 1t was an experience to test the
nerves, the intense stiffness, the bare,
gray walls, cold to the touch. the
beams grazing my head, and uphold
ing that mass Of earth above, the in
/ tense darkness before and behind, with
| only the pickering radius of yellow
light barely Illuminating where trod.