Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1913-10-31

! babbling reporter. If he, left them for
] four and twenty hours war would
break out and his enterprise succeed.
But then-the thought came to him
with hideous meaning as he ap-
preached the door Of his residence
he had left the cork In the bung-hole
Of the barrel in which Miss Nancy
lay!
| He must release her. TO uncork the
barrel would mean that her screams
would bring aid to her He must free
her and SO the kaiser, too. The fate
of Europe rested with this obscure
Yankee girl, buried inside a tun. 1t
has hung on more trivial things
It was midnight when Paul got back
to GabriePs, and the frightened pro-
prietor stared at him as he entered,
and throwing up his hands, vanished
like an apoplectic angel into the re-
cesses of his house. Paul entered the
wine cellar, and, as he passed through
the door, cried loudly In dismay.
There was not tun or barrel in the
place. He saw bare cellar, with
bare, whitewashed wallis and the
marks Of muddy shoes around the en-
trance-no more. He ran back at full
speed and hammered upon the door
Of Monsieur Gabriel's apartment on
the first story.
open, open!" he shouted. cor I
break 1t in. Open, Monsieur Gabriell
shall not hurt you!"
At last the bolt shot back and the
proprietor appeared, nvid, shaking
with terror. He fell on his knees. He
did not recognize the waiter In this
peremptory visitor.
"Ah, forgive 1le, forgive me-" he ex-
claimed, almost distraught. II knew
nothing of this. Oh, monsieur"
He groveled upon the floor, incapa-
BILE of further utterance. Paul raised
him, not urgently.
Monsieur Gabriel, where are the
tuns that were in your cellar?" he
asked.
1.-THE tuns, monsieur? The tuns?"
babbled the Frenchman. "Ah, yes,
the tuns, of course, the tuns. Why,
monsieur, this is the night which falls
each quarter when the vans collect
them for shipping back to the south
of France. Tomorrow my new tuns
arrive They were all empty, mon
sieur, even the last of them, for some
body had turned the spigot and spilled
the wine"
You ass" said Paul; when were
they collected?"
Half an hour since, monsieur.
was distraught; l watched the men
like a mailman; / could say nothing.
My beautiful wine, all spilled, and"
Where have they gone? 2"
ITO the Southern station, monsieur.
All tuns go thither, to be shipped back
to the wine-growers each quarter.
Doubtless all Paris is yielding up
tuns this night. There is a special
train, monsieur, which starts in the
morning. and"
Paul thrust Monsieur Gabriel from
him and rushed out into the street.
He hailed a passing facre and ordered
the man to drive to the terminal sta
ton of the Southern railway. Arrived
there, he tossed the man a louis and
rushed into the freight yard. There
were thousands of tunsy piled up,
rolled into heaps which every now
and then collapsed, like topheavy pyra-
mids, and tumbled over other tuns,
sending dozens of them skipping and
rolling in every direction. And at
each gate wagons and vans were dis
charging tuns and barrels of every
sort and size. Paul stared in dismay
at this fearful panorama. Among
those thousands, which tun held Ger
many's ruler and which the woman
spy? He could never find either.
He staggered like drunken man
around the yards. At the gates por-
tiers were joking and chatting with
drivers as the hideous tuns were I'M
loaded and sent crashing upon the
tops of others. From their battered
sides thin drops of wine stained the
ground like blood. Which one? Dear
God, which one?
Stay! There was song. For had
not His Majesty composed a famous
song, the Song to Aegir," which had
been satirized and ridiculed and adj
mired throughout all Germany and
Europe, too!
Paul Lane began to hum that song.
Presently, as he threaded his way
among the maze of tuns, it occurred
to him that the barrels from Gabrieps
having been collected Only recently,
would of necessity be on the out
skirts nearest the gates This thought
gave him new hope. He picked his
way thither and began singing again.
And at last, just as he had abandoned
hope, he heard the faintest answer.
He stopped, hardly daring to hope
He sang loudly. Now he could dis
tinguish the tun from which the voice
proceeded. He listened; it was the
answer 1t was the Song to Aegir,"
and sung under circumstances such as
its royal composer had never in his
widest dreams imagined.
Paul went toward that end of the
barrel where he knew the Kaiser's
feet must be. He swung his arm back
and his fist forward. An instant later
he uyoc ho1pinO Gprmanv'a ruler ont