Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1920-01-02
"They do" Eugene agreed.

"Well, I'm off to the store" said Mr..
Kinney briskly; yet he fingered. II
suppose We'll all have to club in and
keep old Fanny out of the poorhouse
if he does blow up. From all | hear
it's usually only a question of time.
They say she hasn't got anything else
to depend on"
II suppose not"
"WeIl-I wondered" Kinney hest
tated. II was wondering why you
hadn't thought of finding something
around your works for him. You used
to be such a tremendous friend Of the
family-I thought perhaps you-of
course know he's queer lott know
he's"
Eyes, 1 think he is said Eugene.
EMO. haven't anything to offer him."
81 suppose not" Kinney returned
thoughtfully, as he went on. 81 don't
know that would myself. Well, Well
probably see his name in the papers
some day if he stays with that job"
However, the nitro glycerin
expert of whom they spoke did pot get
into the papers as consequence OF
being blown up, although his daily life
was certainly continuous exposure to-
that risk. Destiny has constant pas
sion for the incongruous, and it was
Georges lot to manipulate wholesale
quantities Of terrific and volatile ex-
plosives in safety, and to be laid low
by an accident so commonplace and in
consequent that it was comedy.
Fate had reserved for him the final in
suit Of riding him down under the
wheels of one Of those juggernauts at
which he had once shouted "Git q
hossr ~ Nevertheless, Fate's ironic
choice for Georges undoing was not a
big and swift and momentous car, such
as Eugene manufactured; it was spe-
cimen of the hustling little type that
was flooding the country, the cheapest,
commonest, hardest little car ever
made.
The accident took place upon a Sun
day morning, on downtown crossing,
with the streets almost empty, and no
reason in the world for such a thing
to happen. He had gone out for his
Sunday morning walk, and he was
thinking of an automobile at the very
moment when the little car struck
him; he was thinking Of shiny Ian
daulet and charming figure stepping
into it. and Of the quick gesture of a
white glove toward the chauffeur, mo-
tioning him to go on. George heard a
shout, but did not look up, for he could
not imagine anybody's shouting at him,
and he was too engrossed in the ques-
ton "Was it Lucy?" He could not de-
eide, and his lack of decision in this
matter probably superinduced lack
of decision in another, more pressingly
vital. At the second and louder shout
he did look up; and the car was almost
on him; but he could not make up his
mind if the charming little figure he
had seen was Lucy's and he could not
make up his mind whether to go back
ward or forward; these questions be-
came entangled in his mind. Then,
still not being able to decide which of
two ways to go. he tried to go both
and the little car ran him down. It
was not moving very rapidly, but 1T
went all thu way over George.
He was conscious of gigantic vio-
lence; of roaring ard jolting and con-
cussion; of choking clouds of dust,
shot with lightning, about his head !;
he heard swapping sounds as loud as
shots from a small pistol, and was
stabbed by excruciating pains in his
legs. Then he became aware that the
machine was being lifted off Of him.
People we're gathering in circle
round him. Cabling.
His forehead was believed with the
sweat of anguish, and he tried to wipe
off this dampness, but failed. He could
not get his arm that far.
"Ney' mind" policeman said; and
George could see above his eyes the
skirts of the blue coat, covered with
dust and sunshine. Ambulance here in
a minute. New mind tryin' to move
any. You want 'em to send for some
special doctor2"
mo" Georges lips formed the word.
"Or to take you to some private
hospital?"
"Tell them to take me-" he said
family, "to the City hospital"
"a right"
A smallish young man in a buster
f1dgeted among the crowd, explaining
and protesting and strident-voiced
girl, his companion, supported his ar
gument, declaring to everyone her
willingness to offer testimony in any
court of law that every blessed word
he said was the Gods truth.
tits the fella that hit you," the po-
liceman said, looking down on George
1T guess he's right; you must of ben
thinkin' about somep'n' or other. It's
wunnerful the damage them little ma
chimes can do-you'd never think it
but guess they amt much case ag'in
this fella that was drivin' it."
"You bet your life they amt no case
on mel" the young man in the buster
agreed, with great bitterness. He came
and stood at Georges feet, addressing
him heatedly: 'Pm sorry fer you all
right, and / don't say I amt. l hold
nothin' against you, but it wasn't any
more my fault than the statehouse!
Wasn't goin' a step over eight miles
an hour I'm perfectly willing to say
I'm sorry for you though, and SOS the
lady with me. We're both willing to