The Clio messenger., 1915-10-08

my ears, and il felt like steel band
, that was being screwed tighter by
, some devil-hand. yanked 1t off and
F, carried 1t in my hand.
When it seemed that my numb legs
could go no farther my second wird
came. When that went, fear diRned
, into my brain the fact that ! must GO
, on! On!
l reached the tracks OF railroad
| finally. How / got there; how long l
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 goal!
l 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 it that the rain Of
hours had made the cinders and dirt
Il 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 l 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
! stepped back so that the glare would
not show me.
Ny breath was almost normal now,
but the cords of my legs were hot
steel wires and my chest ached terri
bly,.
It was a freight, and I thanked
Heaven for it's slow-moving, rumbling
length. The crew would prefer their
warm, dry caboose on night like
this. and I boldly grasped passing
hand-rail and climbed into coal
filled 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 coal-dust
clung to me. My collar and tie had
been ripped off. I now tore the cuffs
from my shirt and threw them away
when I had put the sleeve-links IN
my pocket.
would be tramp until / 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 I lay ba''k
or the coal, and the miles reeled by.
Why did I steer right back to the
big town with it's 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 il?
Recollect that l wasn't the average
man who'd never strayed from the
straight and narrow path. There was
nc tremble of fear in my body or fear
in my brain. You see, I'd been beat
ing the law all my life.
knew / 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.
knew he could get some one to do
the job, as his resources along that
line were almost unlimited. But
could swear to conversation / heard.
If Mike Garven pounded me I'd &c
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! | was safe!
These were the thoughts that We're
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-
rel was pleasant and grateful, and
when the train hit the open air Oh
the other side the first pink signs OF
dawn were in the east!
Continued Nexi Week.,