The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1916-05-12

stays and cross-guys. He was vaguely
conscious of Evart calling out that ev-
erything was all right, that there was
no damag which half-hour's work
couldn't patch up.
But Marley, in truth, was thinking
little of either Evart or his flier All
his thoughts, as he climbed frantically
up through the broken tower window.
were revolving about the problem as
to whether or not he was too late.
And that all-vital question still OBJ
sessed him as he mounted the iron
treads of the stairway leading to the
tower top, painting up flight after flight
until his lungs seemed bursting for
want of air, and his over-driven heart
beat drumlike against his rib-cage.
And as he reached the top and flung
out through the narrow door opening
on the campanile-like balcony crown
ing that skyscraping structure, he
knew, even as he saw two figures
standing there before him, that he
was too late
That much he knew, even before he
caught at enough breath to call out
warning to Enoch Golden or swing
about and spring for the second figure.
already shrinking back in the shadow
of that many-columned cupola. For in
the hand of the second figure Manley
had already caught sight of tell-tale
sheet of paper. 1t was yellowed
and time-worn scrap of paper, and lit
tie more, but to Manley it had become
the emblem and pennon of a desperate
cause, a flag to be rallied round and
fought for, to the last ditch and the
last gasp, as harried soldiers fight
through the smoke of battle for their
colors.
And Manley as he clinched with Le-
CARS stalwart emissary, fought for 1t.
Nor was his opponent one to be de-
spised. The two men fought along the
crest of that midnight tower as two
mountain lions might fight along the
brink of an Andean precipice. They
fought with gasps and grunts, with
strange cultural sounds, with teeth
barred and face distorted, blind to the
blows that were given and taken, I'M
conscious of the fact that the very pa
per for which they were fighting had
already fallen to the cupola floor, and
from there had been blown by the
north wind to the furthermost edge of
the cornice circling the stone column
supports.
Golden himself was already reaching
for that paper when Legar's confed-
crate caught sight of it, broke from
Manleys grasp and dove bodily for
where it lay. ~Manley, second later,
followed him. There, half astride the
balustrade of coppered wood painted
to look like marble, the fight was re-
newed Each crouched low as he
fought. drunkenly conscious now of
the abyss that yawned so close to his
feet But still they fought.
Then a second breath of night
breeze, signing through the tower top.
carried the paper slowly along the
cornice edge. 1t was Legar's man who
saw it as it moved. He wrenched
away, twisted about, and caught at 1t
as it fell. But already he was too
late. It lifted with the wind, drifted
and eddied slowly about in the moon
light, and floated swayingly down into
the darker canyon of Broadway, where
1t was soon lost to sight.
But neither Manley nor his enemy
saw that descent, for Legar's man as
he lurched suddenly forward threw all
his weight on the outstanding copper
cornice, painted white to look like
marble And it was a cornice made
only for ornamentation, and not for
support. For its fastenings surren-
dered to the strain of that suddenly
imposed weight and the buckling seq
ment of copper swayed outward as the
desperately-clinging fingers clutched
at its edges.
Manley, hanging to the balustrade
with one arm, reached out to grasp
that buckling strip of metal to which
a helpless man was hanging sheer
over space. He caught at 1t, even as
Golden caught at his straining shout
ders to hold him steady.
But law, stronger than the will Of
man, seemed to suck the metal slowly,
inevitably, out Of the clutch Of his
tired fingers. Then the last fastenings
gave, the strained and twisted sheet
metal tore slowly away, and the black
shadow of a man fell like a plummet to
the iron and stone of Broadway, three
hundred feet below.
(To BE CoNTINUEDA