The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1915-04-13

felt about among his blank cts,
something hot fell on the back of
my hand. 1t burned me. and !
jerked my hand away. Then |
understood. Through the cracks
In the bottom of the upper bunk
he had set fire to the mattress.
He still retained sufficient use of
bis left arm to do this. The
damp straw OF the mattress fired
from beneath and denied air, had
been smouldering all the while.
AS ! dragged the mattress out
OF the bunk 1t seemed to disinte-
crate in mid-air. at the same
time bursting into flames. beat
out the burning remnants of straw
In the bunk, then made a dash for
the deck for fresh air.
Several buckets of water suf-
ficed to put out the burning mat
tress in the middle of the steer
age floor; and ten minutes later.
when the smoke had fairly clear
ed, allowed Maud to come be-
low. Wolf Larsen was uncon-
scious, but 1t was a matter of min
utes for the fresh air to restore
him. We were working overshim,
however, when he signed for
paper and pencil.
Pray do not interrupt me-" he
wrote. Il am smiling"
N Il am still bit of the ferment,
you see, he wrote a little later.
Il am glad you are as small a
bit as you are" ! said.
Thank YOU" he wrote. But
Just think of how much smaller |
shall be before | die"
And yet ! am all here, Hump"
he wrote with a final flourish. II
can think more clearly than ever
In my life before. Nothing to dis
turb me. Concentration is per-
feet. l am all here and more
than here"
1t was like a message from the
night, of the grave; for this man S
body had become his mausoleum.
And there. in so strange sepulChre,
his spirit fluttered and lived. 1t
would flutter and live till the last
line OF communication was broken,
and after that who was to say how
much longer 1t might continue to
flutter and live?
:. . CHAPTER XXXVIII.
~ think my left side is going"
Wolf Larsen wrote, the morning
after his attempt to fire the ship.
1The. numbness is growing. ! can
hardly move my hand. You will
have to speak louder. The last
lines are going down" -
! Are you in pain?" | asked.
was compelled to repeat my
question loudly before he an
swered.
mot all the time"
The left hand stumbled slowly
and painfully across the paper,
and II was with extreme difficulty
that we deciphered the scrawl. 1t
was like a spirit message, such
as are delivered at seances OF spir-
itualists for a dollar admission.
But ! am still here, all here"
the hand scrawled more slowly
and painfully than ever.
The pencil dropped, and we had
to replace 1t In the hand.
When there is no pain | have
perfect peace and quiet. | have
never thought so clearly. can
ponder life and death like q Hin
doc sage"
And Immortality" Maud
queried loudly in the ear.
Three times the hand essayed
to write but fumbled hopelessly.
The pencil fell. In vain we tried
to replace it. The fingers could
not close on 1t. Then Maud press
ed and held the fingers about the
pencil with her own hand, and he
wrote, in large letters, and so
slowly that the
t"B-O-S-H."
1t was Wolf Larsen's last word,
'bosh." sceptical and invincible to
the end. The arm and hand re-
Taxed. The trunk of the body
moved slightly. Then there was
no movement. Maud released the
| Father and Mot