The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1915-07-02

dress Of the alleged officiating clergy.
man. Il don't believe it: it's too sud.
dem"
Forthwith he engaged . taxicab to
convey him to Jersey City, at top
speed, for an exorbitant reward.
And when, from the forward deck Of
Q ferryboat. he beheld a dense volume
Of smoke advertising q conflagration
OF the Jersey shore. not far from the
waterfront, he shook q modify 30
gacious head.
III Alan isn't mixed up in that,
somehow" he declared. hes missing
. bet for once-and I'm q sorry failure
as a prophet of woe and disaster!"
There was az much intuitive appre.
hension as humor responsible for this
remark; witness the fact that, on land.
ing, he 'risked the delay required to
turn aside and have a look at the fire.
It proved to be situated in the heart
of a squalid slum-a wretched tene-
ment Of the poorest class. whose roof
had already fallen in and whose walls
ere momentarily threatening to go
by the time Barcus arrived on the
scene.
At a considerable distance from him
a small disturbance had broken out
a clamor Of protesting voices lifting
about the rumor of the mob-as q
number of men. ~case-hardened roughs
one and all, began to force their way
In a V-shaped wedge through the
throng, making toward it's very heart,
the point on the fire.lines nearest the
burning building.
What this meant, Mr.. Barcus had
not the slightest idea. But his atten.
ton was first distracted by the maneu
yer, then fixed by the face of a man
who was following in the hollow of
the Van evil white face that seemed
somewhat vaguely familiar, somehow
reminiscent of something strange that
had happened in the history Of Mr..
Barcus.
At the same time, at the point where
the v had paused, a wild uproar lifted
up and, coincidentally, a wilder confu.
sion became noticeable. A cry was
audible-"Firebug! Lynch him! Lynch
him! Lynch the firebug!"-and at
this the mob turned as one mar and
streamed away in pursuit of an in
visible quarry, who chose to attempt
his escape by a route directly oppo-
site to that which would have led him
within view of Mr.. Barcus.
Startled, and of a sudden persuaded
that there might have been more in
his "hunch" than was sanely to be
credited, Barcus started up and was
on the point of stepping out of his
cab, If with a rather aimless purpose.
when he was stayed by sight of that
evil white face returning the way it
had come-still in the hollow of the
flying v, which now made faster prog.
ress, thanks to the disorganization OF
the mob by the chase of the alleged in.
cendiary.
the white face was not alone. There
was omeon with him-someone
whose head was bent and face con.
cealed, but who seemed to be femi.
nine.
And so, Barcus argued, why might
it not be Rose Urine, suffering new
persecution at the hands of her unnat.
ural fathers creatures?
He was too far away to make sure
and attempt any interference; but he
pointed White Face out to his chauf-
feur as the v reached a touring car
on the edge of the mob and the woman
was lifted in (unresisting and appar-
emily in a dead faint, and when the
touring car swung round and picked
up it's heels, the taxicab of Mr.. Barcus
trailed it as unostentatiously as If it
was a pertinacious shadow. p.
Ten minutes later, from the real
deck of a ferryboat in midstream-a
boat bearing back to New York not
only the touring a of White Faced
but the cab of Mr.. Barcus-the latter
gentleman formed one of a small but
interested audience witnessing IN in
cident of uncommon character. ;
He saw a young man, hatless. coat
less, almost shirtless, tear down to
the edge of one of the Jersey wharves,
his heels snapped at by a ravening
rabble, jump aboard a square-rigged
vessel which lay moored there, and
execute a maneuver Of despair by
climbing up the rigging in a hopeless
attempt to escape his prosecutors.
They were too many for him, and what
was worse they were headed by a
squad of police apparently as grimly'
bent on comprising the destruction OF!
their quarry as was the mob. 4
And they swarmed up the rigging
after him without a moments hesita-'
ton. :
Holly pressed, the fugitive climbed
higher and still higher, until at length
he gained the topmost yard; with
three policemen not half a dozen feet
below him and popping away for dear
life, If happily with the VIGOROUSLY
poor craftsmanship Of policemen gen.
orally.
None the less. there was no telling
when some accident might wing a bull.
let into the young man; and it was