Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-03-17

| helted, painting, to glance again below,
then to stand, for a moment in I'M
certainty.
Better not hang around here wastin
time!" he unused. That won't help
me none!'
On again. Pulling himself up the last
Of the rock-slides to the higher expanses
Of the divide--a man fighting hard for
the chance of freedom behind him, he
knew, that black dot was steadily pro-
crossing along a trail already broken,
moving faster than he had moved and
upon a definite course
He lowered his head against the gale
shrieking down from the white fringed
peaks to the left. Steadily he pro-
crossed, at last to veer sharply along a
bare-swept shale-field and turn toward
the squatty outlines of tiny cabin. He
fumbled for the key to the heavy pad
lock; steel grated against steel, fol-
lowed by the rasping yield Of rusted
tumblers. Jed Lawrence stumbled with
in, passed round the little table, with
its offerings Of snow that the mountain
wind had sent through the chinkings,
and bent behind the stove. An ejacula-
ton escaped him: he raised an object,
looked above to where a small hole in
tllC CbNCS"lUB tOlQ VI d tldll tIldG ildu
slipped from its fastenings. then duly
stared at the thing in his hand.
1t was one Of two snowshoes The
other lay upon the floor, its gut web
bling torn and frayed and ragged, even
as this one. Beside 1t was a tin can,
empty now-but nevertheless eloquent.
The nail gave way" mumbled Jed
Lawrence in explanation. The grease
in that can must-ve been warm from
the sun. Snowshoes hit it when they
fell-got greasy. Pack-rats did the
rest"
He tossed the web to the fioor-merely
so much bent gnawed wood and useless
strings now, chewed beyond repair by
mountain pack-rats. He turned and
stamped slowly about the little room, a
hopeless man, halted at last to look
above him where upon their pegs rested
the curved stretches of what he had
planned as a pair of skis-as useless as
the snowshoes that lay behind the
stove.
It'd take a nights work to Ak EN-"
he said They've got to be shaped
yet. and grooved an everything. Who
ever 1t is that's after me"
There was no need in finishing the
sentence. Jed Lawrence's left hand had
gone instinctively to his belt there to
tumble at emptiness. To shape skis
one must possess q keen blade-and his
scabbard was empty.
FROM over the ridge roaring
sounded. far away. then horribly
close as the blast veered-the scraping
and grinding of rocks. the scattering of
shale and the booming of boulders as
they Numbered downward to crash
through the ice of tiny lake a thou
sand feet below.
The cabin began to grow gray with
the passing Of the day-soon the win
dows were only blue smudges against
the reflections of the snow. and the
man a black hulk before fireless stove
Sooner or later. he knew, there would
come a knock on the door. And he
would face an officer who carried a
warrant for murder. There was no other
way-those rugged rat-chewed snow
shoes behind the stove had ended every
other hope. One could not travel with
out them. The snow was crusting now
not enough to hold a human form,
but sufficiently to bind ones feet when
they broke through and hold them as
in a trap. Without snowshoes Of with
OuG SKIS JeQ IuTneQ III Tie DldCk~
ness and glanced above. No knife. No
time for the slow process of smoothing
them and fitting their straps.
They won't get anything out Of mel"
he snapped. with sudden surge Of
emotion. They're not going to mix
anybody else up with this. L"
He leaped from the chair, arms
swung from his sides. head down, legs
spraddled. He moved toward the door.
hating after few steps, listening for
1t to come again, as though his brain
were making sport Of him. But 1t was
repeated. and re-repeated, in voice he
could not mistake:
"Jed-Jed Lawrencel"
"Here!" He had swung open the
door and was staring outward. Where
are you-where are you? Call again,
Nary
Come help me. jedi" It was over
to the right. and he swung forward.
bucking blindly against the drifts,
shouting again and again. and then
waiting for the response. At last he