Evening star., 1938-12-11
THIS WEEK MAGAZINE

while. take off his left boot
Then - the glow of the flashligl1t eastward
before him was only blurred pinpoint, but
his stinging eyes caught it. He rubbed his
stiff, snow-clotted lashes and stared again.
The light was not moving forward - it was
wandering about in narrow circle. faltering,
uncertain. Terry Minteer drew sharp pain
riddled breath That torch could be IN no
other hands but Walter Rawsons. Was he
lost, then? Or what was the matter with him
that the light didn't seem to move from that
small radius? Was he injured or had he fallen
because his feet had given out? Was that cry
Terry heard now coming down the fiendish
sweep of the wind?
For moment he stood STILL savoring the
sweet essence of triumph He need go no
further He could turn back now and struggle
to get to the shelter of the brush, where he
would have an even chance of saving his own
life Walter Rawson was done for - he would
freeze to death within three miles of his own
handsome lodge on the lake.
But Terry's satisfaction was short-lived.
Had he been psychologically less fine-drawn.
it might have remained with him, and he
would then have turned back. But now an
obscure wrath overwhelmed him. Not clearly,
but up through the layers of the brooding
years. he discovered that he was being cheated
by an earth force whose very existence he had
until this moment scornfully denied. In his
rage he dismissed with short contempt the
possibility that he might himself lose his life
if he did not turn back now.
While he staggered forward again, yard by
laborious yard, his eyes clinging to that tiny,
Pickering nimbus of light, he thought out
cunningly what he would say to Walter
Rawson But now the light seemed to wane.
to become nothing but an improbable little
pale blot! The battery of course. All right,
so much the better. Rawson would not be
able to see him at all. Would never know his
voice, of course. after so long time. He
would have the qualification of getting
Rawson. somehow, back to his cabin, which
would admirably suit his purpose
Terry lunged ahead. in the straight line he
had set for himself. He called out. Rawson
replied, wildly, incredulously. Terry almost
tripped over the man on the ground before he
caught himself upright.
What the matter" he barked out. Who
are you? saw your flash -"
I've spraned my ankle" Rawson replied
in voice of agony and profound relief I'm
Walt Rawson - Lake Lodge. For Gods sake.
where did you come from? How d you happen
to see my Light"
II started out for the Salter place. on the
lake I'm from up Plmer way Johnson's
my name thought Id try this short cut
when the storm caught me. Come on - we'd
better try to make it, Can you crawl?"
Rawson groaned This damn torch! It's
gone out entirely, now. l think l can get
there. though, if you'll just let me hang on to
your arm"
Terry set his teeth against the oath that
almost escaped him. But once more his pur-
pose won out He caught Rawson's arm up
into the bend of his own, while the other man
cried out in the effort to drag himself forward.
GO over to the right until you run into
the line fence" he gasped. 1T can't be far.
From there we follow the fence to my land.
About three miles. Woods there. and the
house is just in little ways. God! would
have died, if you hadn't -
His voice was lost in the solid sheet of
blown, powder fine snow that struck them
both at that moment full in the face.
1t seemed to Terry that it was hours before
his numb right hand made contact with the
line fence Rawson had given strangled
exclamation of pain once or twice, but on the
,bolo Terrv had to admit he was being