Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1915-10-07

my ears, and 1t felt like a steel band
that was being screwed tighter by
some devil-hand. yanked 1t Off and
carried 1t in my hand.
When 1t seemed that my numb legs
could go no farther my second wind
came. When that went, fear dinned
into my brain the fact that must go
oni On!
reached the tracks OF a railroad
finally. How got there; how long
had been running are blanks. But,
somehow, my dazed brain seemed to
understand that this was the end of
my troubles. A railroad had been
the goall
I sank down in the wet cinders be-
side the track and gulped the cool
night air as the drizzling rain cooled
my face and scared lips. The dane
ing spots left my eyes and the burn
went from them.
What mattered 1t that the rain Of
hours had made the cinders and dirt
a clinging black mud? What matter
ed it that my clothes were soaked and
ripped so that they hung to my body
like sodden rogs? What did care
that my patent leather shoes were
torn to pieces? I escaped!
I must have tainted then, for the
rumbling of the approaching train
seemed to arose me. The headlight.
cleaned through the blackness, and
Y 80 Lo hot ri a
not show me.
My breath was almost normal now,
but the cords of my legs were hot
steel wires and my chest ached terri
bly,.
1t was freight, and thanked
Heaven for its slow-moving, rumbling
length. The crew would prefer their
warm, dry caboose on a night like
this, and boldly grasped passing
hand-rail and climbed into a coal
filed car.
There may be beds OF roses some
where, or beds of down that are cloud
like in their very softness, but to me
there can never be any bed like that
coal on which lay.
The paste Of the road and coalduss
clung to me. My collar and tie had
been ripped off. now tore the cuffs
from my shirt and threw them away
when 1 had put the slceve.links IN
my pocket.
l would be tramp until l struck
my haven of refuge-Kennedy's In
New York. My instinct of direction
had told me that the train was head
ing toward the river, and lay back
or the coal, and the miles reeled by.
Why did l steer right back to the
big town with its thousands of wait
ing policemen. Because I'm not a
fool. I'd escaped from the scene Of
the crime. Once in New York, who
could ever say that I'd been near It?
Recollect that l wasn't the average
man who'd never strayed from the
straight and narrow path. There was
no tremble of fear in my body or fear
ing the law all my life.
knew I was slick enough to get
back without ever suspicion that I'd
been near Cranston. Kennedy would
stand by me till the last call of the
trumpet. Nothing could connect me
with the murder now. / was safe!
There was something else, too. Only
one man on earth wanted Slivers
O'Hagen out Of the way bad enough
to murder him. That man was Mike
Galyen. Get my point? Not that !
thought for an instant that Mike did
the actual killing.
l knew he could get some one to do
the job, as his resources along that
line were almost unlimited. But l
could swear to conversation I heard.
If Mike Garven pounded me I'd &c
to the police with my story and they'd
have to pay attention. They'd at least
worry the man whom nothing had
ever seemed to worry before.
haven't got what I'd wanted. But l
had something! l was safe!
These were the thoughts that were
Iii my mind as the train puffed Its
way toward the Hudson. and they
kept me from thinking of the
chill of the wet clothes on my skin,
and the river / had to cross, and the
girl.
The warmth of the smoke-filled tun-
mel was pleasant and grateful, and
when the train hit the open air on
the other side the first pink signs of
dawn were in the east!
CONTINUED Next Week.)