Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1913-10-29

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Would the dogs beat him out? Slough
ing in 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 be called
upon the last of his strength in a squirt
that carried him to where the thick
spruce gave place to thin bush and the
bush to the barren and rocky side of
/ huge ridge, up which the trail climbed
strong and well defined. For a few
PAGES 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
of the starless sky.
For long time he was mOtionless.
Then he began slowly to era wi ND the
trail. Some of the dull paralytic acne
was gone from his limbs, and as he
worked his blood began to warm them
into new strength until he stood up
and shifted like an animal in the wind
that was coming over the ridge from
the south
There was something in that wind
that thrilled him. 1t stung his nostrils
to a quick sensing of the nearness
of something that was human. He
smelled smoke. In it there was the
pungent odor of green baIsam mixed
with a faint perfume of pitch pine,
and because the odor of pitch grew
stronger as he assembled he knew that
it was small fire that was making
the smoke, with none of the fierce, dry
woods to burn up the smell 1t was
a fire 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 a club. It was
short, thick club with the heavy end
knotted and twisted.
Cautiously he lifted his face over the
rocks 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 a little distance it might have
been taken for a snow hare 1t went
Whittier 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,
steadying a small pot over the fame.
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 fat in the
snow. Then the dogs muzzle dropped
between his paws, and the boy moved
on.
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 a fash Jan took
the last leap, and his club crashed
down upon the missioners head. The
man pitched over like a log, and. with
a shriif cry, the boy was at his throat.
Il am Jan Thoreaup be shrieked.
II am Jan Thoreau Jan Thoreau-
come to keel your He dropped mis-
club and was upon the mans chest,
his slender fingers tightening like steel
wire about the thick throat of his en-.
envy. IL keel you slow-slOwP' be cried
as the missioner struggled weakly.
The great thick body heaved under
him, and be put all his strength into
his hands. Something struck MIN 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's notified face growing more
notified and his eyes staring in greater
agony up into his own.
Il am Jan Thoreau," he painted again
and again. 81 am Jan Thoreau. an
keel you-keel your
The blood poured from his face. 1t
blinded him until he could no longer
see the one from which be 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
in tenacious death to the jugular Of it's
prey.
The missioner's weight was upon
him in 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-
scious of a terrible effort to take in
breath, but be was not conscious of
pain. The clutch did not frighten him.
1t 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
ing like that which came from between
the gaping jaws of the man whose life