The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1939-06-02

flung an arm round my neck, and /
had Just time to draw breath before
that hellish water once more closed
over our heads. I tore away his
arm. but before could seize his
throat, his arm was back on my
neck. Again I cast it off and forced
his wrists together into one hand;
but, as we rose again, he locked
his legs about mine and threw his
weight down. And then I thought !
was done, for though at last I had
managed to seize his throat, ! could
not kick us UP to the surface, nor
spare hand to deal with the grip of
his legs. Unless I could kill him
quickly I put forth all my
strength, and my fingers sank into
his throat as though it were dough.
The blood was pounding in my
temples and / felt that my senses
were swaying for want of air, when
all of sudden his limbs and his
body went slack and knew was
free And then / was back on
the surface and was blowing like
any grampus and thanking God for
the gift of that tainted air.
Now whether in fact I killed vir-
gil or whether he drowned himself
in an effort to end my life, I never
shall know: but I know the man was
dead or else had lost his senses and
so was presently drowned, for
though he rose beside me, he never
moved and I think shat after little
he sank for good.
Though my case was not so bad,
it was evil enough.
I was not wholly exhausted, but
the struggle had snapped my
strength, and I badly needed the
respite I could not take. AS was to
be expected, the walls of the well
were smooth, and though I proved
them all round, dislodging slugs and
slime and all manner of filth,
could find no sort of handhold to
which I could cling. There were
cracks in plenty between the blocks
of stone of which the walls had been
built, for either they had not been
cemented, or else the cement was
gone: but they were too small for
my fingers, and there was nothing
else.
All the time my strength was fail
ing, for the deadly chill Of the wa
ter was laying hold of my muscles
and stealing into my blood, and
though did what could to hold
it at bay, the realization that must
very soon sink began, as an i'll
hammered bully, to thrust aside my
efforts to think what to do to be
saved.
To show how desperate I was,
wasted the last Of my strength in a
frantic effort to find Elizabeth's key
this, with the mad idea Of thrust
ing it into a crack and SO creating
a projection to which I could cling,
and though, suppose, a more ut
terly futile design was never con-
ceived, as luck would have it, il
actually saved my life.
To get hand into my pocket
was very hard, but the moment my
fingers were in, they closed upon
something which I had not known
was there. And that was the hum
BILE tool which once already that
night had saved two lives. 1t was
the screw-driver, indeed.
In a .twinkling I had the screw
driver out and had pressed its blade
into a crack perhaps some eight or
ten inches above my head.
Praying that the steel was honest,
I gradually let the handle take some
of my weight, and when I found
that it would hold me, I let it
take more. But for the help of the
water, it must have bent or broken
beneath my weight; but the two to-
gether bore me and gave me just
that respite my weary muscles re-
quired. And, what was still more
important, 1t gave me definite