The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1913-05-16

week. Then we will manage to les
the company hear Of big spree ne 10
On in another city. Oh, that end 10
all fixed up and ready. I'll get the ]oo:
and you'll have him out OF your way
We caught Evans one night just az
he was coming out OF the WORKS.
where he had been helping new
night shift in blowing in some ur
naces. He was promptly seized. tieo
hand and foot, and gagged. We start
ed out with him, when the lookout re-
ported two watchmen in sight There
was a board out of the fence, and we
slipped through it. Then, beyond some
molding TASKS, some workmen were
discovered coming our way.
"Quick!" said Tompkins, we've got
to hide him till the coast Is clear.
There's No. 6 cupola. It's dead. Kun
him up the ladder and throw him into
the chute"
No. 6 was q furnace supposedly
blown out for lack Of working force'
At the top platform was the coal chute
which fed into the melting pot. Poll
tics had run high in the district tho
week previous, and a crowd had hung
the efflgy of disliked candidate there
two days before. We knew our GROUND
we'll. We rudely dumped our victim
through the feeding hole, the others
scurried to cover, and crouched down
on the platform.
was wicked enough to think how
scared and uncomfortable Evans must
be. It was at perhaps the end of five
minutes, when with shock my venge'
full emotion was changed to wild hor'
ror.
There was a rasping clang From
below some one had pulled the feeding
chain. A binding glare from the red
hot furnace singed me as the fuel be-
gan to slip down. I saw rolling
tumbling form shoot with the moving
mass and plunge into that molten void.
One blood curding shrek rent the air.
Clang! went the shut-otf again, and I
fell fiat on the platforms writhing.
terrified wretch.
They told me later how I ran by my
companions, raving maniac. l must
have dashed away from the works and
the town, rowing aimlessly through the
woods, over hills, into swamps, for,
when the awful blight Of horror and
remorse was past, my clothing was
found torn and gnarled with brambles,
my hands and face cut and bleeding
and l was drenched to the skin. And
my hair--turned white!
I have dim memory of coming
back to the village. Some powerful in
fuence drew me to the home where
Evans lived. A light in a room knew
to he his led me to look in.
1t was to view, TRANQUIL and visible
in all form and substance, the man
had murdered! Then the last shock
and fell, crashing helplessly through
the window.
When came back to life, lay on
couch. Bending over me, kindly and
anxious, was Evans. He smiled sad
ly, and gently stroked my whitenee
hair, with the pathetic words:
Poor, poor fellow"
I lay like man Of stone until
learned how he had escaped. Wher
thrown into the cupola bin, his cloth
ing had caught on tool hook 1t was
the effigy used to ridicule the politi
cal candidate that l had seen rolling
down into that molten furnace, though
1t was Evans own yell had heard a:
the hopper opened beneath where HI
hung.
Ross Evans did something NOR,
than nurse me--he brought Mar!
GLADDEN. to my bedside You can re
alize that was in state of mind tt
drift forever out Of the bad rut hat
got into. F'ull-grown man that I was
to the woman truly loved sobbet
out my gratitude and my remorse.
Copyright 1913, by w. G. Chapman.)