Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-05-23

never never But where were the
chisels Chris had spoken Of? He rum
mayed about feverishly, searching for
them-always with one eye on the
door. What If she had hidden them?
Could he dare go out and ask her
warn her? She must have missed him
by now and was doubtless in an agony
of suspense. But he did not dare; it
was not in flesh and blood to incur
the risk; he knew how certainly his
face would betray him.
Oh, those chisels! What fool he
had been not to learn from Chris
where they were. The whole thing
might fail for that-fail through his
stupidity. This was the time now,
now, now He sought them like a
maniac, splitting bolts of cotton, over
turning boxes and packages. Perhaps
under the counter? Good God, what
was that lumpy object his fingers were
closing on? A wrench! Then another
wrench, the prickle of a file, a draw
knife, yes, a chisel-dozens of chisels,
flung in pell-mell with the rest of the
TOOLS: and sparsely wrapped like them
in coarse paper. He pulled the chisels
out on the floor, gloating over them,
always with his eyes on the door, al
ways hearing the feet above, the
voices, the confused movement that
kept the ceiling creaking.
But how to descend, or rather once
down, how was he ever to scramble
out? The hold was about nine or ten
feet deep: he peered in again, guag-
ing it. Rope? There was rope every
where. compactly coiled and bur-
Tapped 1t would be quite a bother
though, to cut the fastenings; new
rope was also sure to kink-to tangle
and twist itself into snarls. Why not
bolt of that stout red cotton? 1t
would be just as efficacious-more
fficacious-limper. Yes. the stout red
cotton by all means. 1t was twenty-five
or twenty-four inches wide, and could
easily bear the weight Of a man. Matt
made the loose end fast to key of
nails and tossed the bolt down the
hatchway; lowered the ak after 1t on
a piece of Irvine; also key-saw and
a pair of chisels on another piece OF
twine
What pity Chris did not know!
What a pity she was not on guard in
the doorway of their cabin opposite!
But perhaps she was there-she was
so quick, so resourceful. Oh, If that
wretched Fusi were to blunder in for
case Of canned stuff or one OF those
hams; see the open hatch, and! But
the lazarette was his usual store
house; the trade-room was seldom en-
tered. Yet if Chris had been on guard
his heart would have thumped less
violently; she would have allowed no.
body to get past her; it made him
savage to thing he was engaging In
this alone.
Well, there was no help for 1t; 1t
was now or never. Crushing the cotton
in his hands he swung over the open
ing and let himself 60. His feet
touched the iron bars; all about him
it was as black as pitch except under
the twilight of the hatch. The air was
stale and sitting, and reeked Of bilge
water. It was a dim, foul cavern, lit
tered with the widowed remnants Of
former cargoes--decaying sacks, odds
and ends of dunnage, greasy filth that
had once been coprah. His first step
dislodged a rat, which fled squeaking,
rousing a horde Of others that
squeaked, too, and scurried IN every
direction.
IdIH6TllS Ills LOOlS Io6OIIiOi AC w
liberated as to the place he should
choose 1t mattered very little where,
so long as he had enough light to see
by-so long as it was not too high.
Brandeis was a quick witted fellow
and a thorough seaman, the kind OF
man to be rushing down with sheet
lead and ideas. The lower the better
then, in order that every drop might
count Here was as good place as
any, here at the turn Of the knees. The
inner skin had to come off first, OF
course but that would be easy. One
inch boards, probably; at the most,
one and half, sheathing the hold and
protecting the thicker sides of the
ship.
Matt got vigorously to work. ripping
off big patch of the inner skin and
laying open beyond the real object OF
the attack. The next step required
more delicate methods-more care
and skill One fissure, however small,
in the outer planking might admit so
fierce gush of water that the task
would have to be rebegun elsewhere
with all it's attendant delay. But there
was no time for delay-not an In
slant. Above him was the unlocked
door-the open hatch-urging him to
feverish haste.
He marked a good-sized square on
the planking, mindful that the copper
outside would help to check the in
flow, and set to pairing the wood away
as evenly as he could with the chlsel.
It was Oregon pine, and came off In
bright, clean shavings, sticky with
gum. He dug deeper and deeper; the
square sank into the yellow timber;
he was as assiduous as ever, though
the effort became harder to keep the
surface flat and uniform. He was
dripping with sweat; the ak was
heavy and extremely awkward to hold,
cramping his right hand and annoy
ing him with its cumbersome handle.
But he persevered, regardless of diff
culties, regardless Of his aching back
and tortured muscles-of the singing.
binding sweat; pairing, pairing, pairing
at the yellow wood till it grew damp
to the touch, till it ozzed and trickled,
till it Kissed with tiny streams that