Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1917-05-31

trived TO plant a body blow Which had
sent the wiry little Irishman to the
mat, gasping and fighting for the
breath Of life. IF ever Yell be givin'
a man that heart-punch wild tn bare
fsht, Misther Montague, it's you FIR tn
fasht train widout shtoppin' to buy
amy ticket-it'H be murther in the
first degree" the trainer had said,
when he had breath to compass the
saying.
With the UNDECIDED warning resur-
gent and clamoring in his ears, Smith
knelt hOrrOr-stricken beside the fallen
man. On the presidents heavy face
and in the staring eyes there was a
foolish smile, as Of one mildly aston
iShed. Smith loOsened the collar around
the thick neck and laid his ear upon
the spot where the blow had fallen.
The big mans heart had stopped like
a smashed clock.
Smith got upon his feet, turned off
the electric light, and, from mere force
Of habit, closed and snap-locked the
presidents desk. The Waterman had
not yet returned. Smith saw the empty
chair beside the vault door as he
passed it on his way to the street. The
cashiers only thought was to go at
once to police headquarters and give
himself up. Then he remembered how
carefully the trap had been set, and
how impossible it would be for him to
make any reasonable defense.
With one glance over his shoulder at
the darkened front windows of the
bank, Smith began to run, not toward
the police station, but in the opposite
direction-tOWard the railroad station.
For j. Montague Smith, slipping from
shadow to shadow down the scantily
lighted cross street and listening mo-
mentarily for the footballs of pursuit,
a. new hour had struck. It was all
prOdigiOusly incredible. The crowding
sensations were terrifying, but they
were also precious, in their way. Long
forgotten bits of brutality and tyranny
on Watrous Dunham's part came up to
be remembered and, in this retributive
, aftermath, to be triumphantly crossed
Off as items in an account finally set
tied. On the Smith side the bank cash
ier's forebears had been plOdding farm
ers, but old John Montague had been
the village blacksmith and a soldier
a shrewd smiter in both trades. Blood
Ell tell. Parental implantings may
have much to say to the fruit Of the
womb, but ataviSm has more. Smiths
Jaw came up with a snap. He was no
| longer an indistinguishable unit ia the
ranks of the respectable and the we'll
behaved; he was q man fleeing for his
life. What was done was done, and
the next thing to do was to avert the
consequences.
At the railroad station a few early
Corners for the west-bound passenger
train due at ten o'clock were already
gathering, and at the bidding of a GER
tain new and militant craftiness Smith
avoided the lighted waiting rooms as
if they held the pestilence. A string Of
box cars had been pushed up from the
freight-unlOading platforms recently,
and in the shadow Of the cars he
worked his way westward to the yard
where a night switching crew was MAX
ing up a train.
Keeping to the shadows, he walked
back along the line OF cars on the
makeup track, alertly seeking his OPP
portunity. Halfway down the length
Of the train he found what he was
looking for: box car with its sidedoor
hasped but not locked With a bit of
stick to lengthen his reach, he unfas-
tened the hasp, and at the switching
crews addition of another car to the
makeup he took advantage of the
noise made by the jangling crash and
slid the door. Then ne ascertained by
cropping into the dark interior that the
car was empty. With a foot on the
truss-rod he climbed in, and at the
next coupling crash closed the door.