The Olney Enterprise. (Olney, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, August 25, 1916 Page: 3 of 12
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SYNOPSIS.
I
l
TOn Windward Island Palidori Intrigues
Airs. Golden into an appearance of evil
-which causes Golden to capture and tor-
ture the. Italian by branding his face and
crushing his hand. Palidori floods the Is-
land and kidnaps Golden’s little daughter
Margery. Twelve years later in New York
a Masked One rescues Margery from Le-
gar and takes her to her father’s home,
whence she is recaptured. Margery’s
mother fruitlessly implores Golden to find
their daughter. The, Laughing Mask
again takes Margery away from Legar.
.Legar sends to Golden a warning and a
demand for a portion of the chart of
' Windward Island. Margery meets her
1 mother. The' chart is lost in a fight be-
? tween Manley and one of Legar’s hench-
men, but is recovered by the Laughing
Mask. Count Da Espares figures in a
dubious attempt to entrap Legar and
claims to have killed him. Golden’s house
is dynamited during a masked ball. Le-
gar escapes but Da Espares is crushed in
the ruins. Margery rescues the Laughing
Mask from the police. Manley finds Mar-
gery not indifferent to his love. He save?
her from Manke’s poisoned arrows.
V TENTH EPISODE
' THE LIVING DEAD
"I'm opposed to your plan, sir,”
JSnoch Golden declared with heat,x“and
I always will be opposed to it!”
David Manley, as he stared across,
the table at the ruffled old millionaire,
tried to control himself to patience.
. “But you acknowledge that you are
equally opposed to Legar’s intrusions
into, this house, to having his secret
dfealts planted about at your elbows.
But when I work out a plan that offers
a. reasonable promise of trapping Le-
gar and his men, you stop the whole
'business by declaring it’s lacking in
dignity!”
v“Pignity is something which depart-
eqfrrom this house the day Legar first
forced his way into it!” was Golden’s
bitter retort. > ,
“Precisely!” cried young Manley.
"His whole campaign has been one of
intimidation, of threats and assaults
and reprisals. They have been try-
ing to fight us with terror. So my
contention is, why not give them a
dose of their medicine? Why not
fight them with their own weapons,
and in doing so, perhaps go them one
better?”
“But I can only repeat my convic-
tions that your plan can’t succeed!”
protested the tremulous-voiced old
financier.
“Why not leave that to me?” cut in
young Manley, with his first touch of
impatience.
“I’ve left a good many things to you,
Davy; but I don’t encourage men to
plan their own funerals!”
“Yet I’ve thought this out, sir, and
/' I maintain that it’s worth a try. You
Mjfknow as well as I do that these men
who work with Legar are an ignorant
and illiterate lot. They’re not afraid
of force. But when you confront them
with the supernatural, you get them
face to face with something they can’t
understand. And what they can’t un-
derstand they are going to be afraid
1
''And you think you’re going to
frighten ’em away with a casket!”
“I’m going to make them believe that
David Manley, having departed this
life because of an attack on his per-
son by one Mauki, with poisoned ar-
rows, is about to be duly interred in
the Golden mausoleum, and—”
“But you couldn’t even get a wax
figure that would fool a five-year-old
v child! You couldn’t—”
“I’ve already got the figure, inter-
rupted Manley. “And it strikes me as
being an exceptionally perfect one.”
“But what’s all this funeral business
to lead to?” demanded the old finan-
cier.
“It leads to the fact that Legar and
bis men will be duly informed of my
death, for I want all the servants in
this house to pass before the casket
and see me in it. And Legar’s spy
wftll be one of them. So Legar, you
may be sure, will get the facts as soon
as they are knowh. He will be tipped
-Aff as to the day and hour of the
^ funeral. He will also be told that the
cortege, say of three carriages, is to
proceed to the Golden mausoleum, and
that Margery Golden is to go in one
of the carriages. And that lonely spot
will strike him as precisely the right
spot for making a coup.”
“And what do we gain by that?”
“We’ll fill our big thirty-thousand
dollar mausoleum with thirty big police-
men, and round up the gang before
Legar can even smell a rat.” i
But Enoch Golden remained uncon-
vinced.
“Well, it may be a brilliant plan,
but you can please leave me out of it,”
he finally announced.
“That’s just what I’ve been asking
for,” explained Manley. “All I want is
to be allowed to conduct it in my own
way.” 1
David Manley, however, did not con-
duct that strange funeral altogether
in his own way. Carefully as every
detail had been planned, there were
on^or two minor features which at
t^R^ne escaped his attention.
^Hie most inconspicuous and yet the
most vital of these was, perhaps, the
personality of the driver of the third
carriage in that small cortege which
wended its way ao decorously from the
Golden home. For under the funereal
outfit of this placid-eyed driver re-
Author of
"THE OCCA-
SIONAL OF-
FENDER." “THE
WIRE tap-
pers;* “GUN
runners; etc.
r Novelized from
THE PATHE
PHOTO PLAY
of the:
SAME NAME
C***** «♦!> Bf ARTHUR STRINGER
posed the stalwart body of a certain
One-Lamp Louie, long known among
his associates as an habitue of the
Owl’s Ne*st and an Underground agent
for Jules Legar himself.
Now One-Lamp Louis gave no prom-
ise of either active or passive inter-
ference with these duly appointed mor-
tuary exercises until the city itself
had been left well behind. Then,
awakening to the fact that they were
traversing a desirably sequestered
stretch of road, he watched intently
for certain prearranged signals from
his one-armed accomplice. Immediate-
ly after the discovery of those looked-
fpr signs the spirited team driven by
One-Lamp Louie showed unexpected
yet unmistakable evidences of restive-
ness.
But there was a limit to what that
team of spirited blacks would endure.
And they suddenly, to all intents and
purposes, determined to follow their
own line of travel at their own rate
of speed, for, as the driver sat on the
box apparently sawing on the reins,
that exasperated team plunged sud-
denly forward, swerved across the
road, and went galloping down a tree-
screened bypath which was little more
than a cart trail winding in and out
through slopes of greensward and
shrubbery.
Half a mile deeper in that shrub-
bery this runaway team would surely
have reached the spot where a black
limousine stood hidden away in the
shadow of laurel-copse, had not still
another and an equally unheralded fac-
tor entered into the situation. This
factor took the form of a high-power
roadster in which was seated a man
wearing a yellow mask. His irrup-
tion into that orderly little procession,
indeed, proved as abrupt as One-Lamp
Louie’s eruption from it. And he
seemed plainly suspicious of both
Louie’s motives and movements, for
he lost no time in swinging from the
highway and plunging recklessly after
the runaway carriage.
As his car approached the runaway
cab that mysterious stranger, known
as the Laughing Mask, stepped to the
running-board of his roadster, leaning
far out as the two swerving vehicles
drew together. One-Lamp Louie, what-
ever he may have thought of that ap-
proach, had little means of evading
it. To swing off what narrow road re-
mained before him seemed frankly
suicidal. To lash his team to greater
effort was already out of the question.
To take his hands from the reins,
even, along that uncertain road, was
equally foolhardy. So. the strange race
went on, the swaying and bounding
cab with a white-faced girl tossed
about under its hood, the leaping and
lurching roadster, every second draw-
ing / closer down on its quarry yet
every second threatening to turn tur-
tle over one of the grassy embank-
ments above which it shuddered and
slewed.
It was the Laughing Mask, leaning
far out from his running-hoard, who
threw open the cab-door and called
sharply to the startled girl.
“Quick,” he commanded.
For one moment she hesitated.
Then she reached out for the unsteady
hand groping for her.
The next moment she found herself
sitting back, a little breathless, in the
leather-upholstered seat of the road-
ster and the man in the Laughing
Mask smiling down at her.
Golden mausoleum and verify the con-
tents of the mysterious casket there
deposited, Red Egan had returned with
the preposterous story of a white sheet
suddenly descending out of the black-
ness. of the vault and whisking One-
Lamp Louie out of reach and also out
of sight. And since the once valiant
Red Egan showed so craven a spirit
that nothing short of a quart of three-
star brandy could tranquilize his shak-
en nerves, and spice One-Lamp Louie
showed no signs of returning from
the mysterious realms into which
the afore-mentioned white sheet had
whisked him, Legar promptly and
wrathfully decided to take the matter
into his own hands. He would lay
this ghost, he announced, or something
would go smash in the process.
But he had no intention of approach-
ing that intimidating mausoleum with-
out due and definite preparation. With
him he took a powerful pocket flash-
light, a Colt automatic pistol and a
couple of extra clips of cartridges.
But the instrument on which he re-
posed the most confidence was a gun-
metal disk little bigger than a pocket
aneroid, some three inches in diame-
ter and no thicker than a man’s hand.
This innocent-looking disk, which
could be slipped into a vest pocket as
easily as a timepiece, was known to
the habitues of the Owl’s Nest as the
Black Watch.
While actually nothing more than
a small-sized hand grenade, its claim
to distinction lay in the tremendous
explosive power which stood com-
pressed between its' slender metal
walls.
Legar was not a coward. Yet as he
stood in the clammy midnight air of the
Golden mausoleum and quietly removed
the screws that held the top on the
black casket beside him, he found that
combination of silence and gloom and
unsavory surroundings a little more of
a strain on his nerves than he had
anticipated. Yet as he lifted back the
sable cover of the casket he did so
with a hand that was still steady.
Legar laughed as he confronted his
enemies.
“Do you want to take me alive?’
“Alive or dead, I’m going to take
you!”
“Then take this first,” cried Legar.
At the same moment that he spoke
the left hand in which he still held
what seemed to be a black metal
watch case swung forward. And as
that object which so closely resembled
a black watch hurtled through the air,
Legar flung himself flat on his face
along the vault flooring. Then the
black watch struck.
The next moment the walls of that
ponderous structure of marble and
sandstone seemingly built to defy time
itself, lifted bodily in the air, like the
hull of a torpedoed dreadnaught.
Then, following the roar and rumble
of that vast detonation, came the mo-
mentary catastrophic silence which
so strangely and yet so inevitably suc-
ceeds a calamity too gigantic and too
abrupt to be understood.
That ominous silence, however, last-
ed only for a few seconds. Out of it
arose muffled calls and thin cries for
help, followed by answering shouts
from many different points in the
darkness as rescuing hands set to
work on the ruins.
And. out of those ruins, while this
work was going on, emerged two
bruised and tattered figures strangely
divergent in appearances. The first
figure, worming its way out through
the interstices of crumbled rock and
cement, as cautiously and as silently
as a wounded blacksnake might crawl
from a cave, bore an iron claw at the
end of its right arm gnd betrayed an
unmistakable desire to creep away in-
to the darkness before being observed.
The second man, who, on recovering
consciousness found himself encaged
between two fallen pillars of marble
topped by one of the roof slabs, experi-
enced no little difficulty-.in emerging
to the open, so closely were these pro-
tecting pillars wedged about him.
But as he worked his bruised bdtly
A
i
All this Legar might have done, and
might have done without grea* diffi-
culty, had not a trace of his older ob-
session of hate impinged on his clear-
ly outlined course of action.
He was once more himself, by this
time, walking with a limp that was
scarcely discernible. But as he stole
down from the higher ground and
made his way back towards the West-
ingham chimney flares ..he became
once more conscious of the whiter
glare along the roadside he was so
cautiously skirting. This, he remem-
bered, as he stole nearer, came from
the headlights of a stalled limousine.
Then he made a second and a more
startling discovery. He knew, even
before he caught sight of Train work-
ing over his helpless car, that it be-
longed to Enoch Golden. But what
actually drew him closer to the spot
was a glimpse of Margery Golden her-
self, in a gray fur motor coat, as she
stepped from the body of the car and
came full into the glare of the head-
lights, closer beside her stooping
chauffeur.
“Are we stalled?” he could hear the
girl ask.
“We’ll be off again in a minute or
two, Miss Margery,” was Train’s pre-
occupied reply.
“But I can’t stand here helpless,”
protested the girl. “I can’t wait. I
must know what has happened to Da-
vid Manley.”
“Whatever it was, it’s over and
done by this time.”
“But he may be dead. He may be
lying crushed under those fallen piT
lars. I must go on. Tell father I
couldn’t wait, that I’ve gone ahead
on foot!”
Legar, crouching back in the shaw-
ows, heard these hurried words and
as hurriedly acted/ on them. Slinking
ba»ck through the bushes, he swung
about and followed the girl through
the darkness.
Yet it was not until the girl had
passed well out of hailing distance
of the headlighted car that Legar
circled even more hurriedly forward
&nd swung in again to intercept her.
SL was trudging, a little breath
lessly, up a sandy slope, with her
straining eyes still fixed on the mov-
ing lanterns ubout the ruined mauso-
leum.
Then,' swinging', apparently out of
the empty air about, her, a circle of
steel, suddenly encomp'SJsing her arm,
brought her to an abrupt' scSju
With one quick movement XHegar
tore the motor veil from her
. ■ , _ 3 ix _-_x- ___■!+'
When She Tried to “Pump a Needleful o’ Dope” Into Her Mistress, a
Dead Man’s Face Appeared.
The Black Watch.
A number of things had happened
and were happening to disconcert, if
not to discourage, the redoubtable Le-
gar. That astute young adventuress,
Betsy Le Marsh, alias Williamsburg
Elsie, who. with the aid of divers
forged recommendations, had installed
herself in the Golden household, re-
peatedly and stubbornly reported that
David Manley was dead.
Williamsburg Elsie also expressed
a strong desire to migrate from the
house in which she found herself so
inquisitive a maid, since that house,
she declared, was too full of “queer
things” for her comfort.
When, at Legar’s suggestion, she
had tried to “pump a needleful o’
dope” into her altogether unsuspecting
mistress, a dead man’s face had sud-
denly appeared between\ her and the
bedroom door. And on two different,
occasions, after midnight, when she
had ventured down to the housekeep-
er’s telephone to send in a secret mes-
sage to Legar himself, she had found
herself confronted by a ghost in white.
Nor was I^etsy Le Marsh the only
malcontent. Even Red Egan himself,
one of the best “cold-steel” men in
all the group that clustered about the
Owl’s Nest, had of late shown unmis-
takable signs of mental disturbance.
A dead man’s ghost, he declared, had
looked in through one of the head-
quarters’ windows. Red Egan, it is
true, had promptly emptied his six-
shooter at that phantasmal intruder,
but with nothing more to show for it
than a shattered window-sash and six
panes of broken glass.
When the master-criminal, to put
an end to all such absurdities, had by
the force of many dire threats and
oaths compelled both One-Lamp Louie
and Red Egan himself to repair to the
Thence he took up his flashlight, and
pressing close to the coffin’s side,
stood studying the pallid face that lay
surrounded by its even more pallid
drapery of white satin.
He stared at that pallid face long
and intently. He stared at it with stu-
dious and narrowing eyes. Then he
did a strange and an inexplicable
thing.
^Lifting his maimed right arm that
ended in its shank of steel, he brought
it down with a crash on the glass
cover of the casket. Then, as though
infuriated by some unreasoning hatred
for the pallid face still staring so im-
passively up at him, he struck again.
This time the blow fell directly on the
b^ad between the white satin swath-
ifigs. But that flailing arm, instead of
striking a human head of flesh and
bone, crashed down through a thin
shell of fiber and tinted wax.
Legar, focusing his light on that
shattered mask, emitted a short bark
of triumph as the meaning of it all
came home to him. He leaned for
several minutes over the violated, cas-
ket, staring at it with insolent yet ab-
stracted eyes, pondering just what
move could lie beyond so intricately en-
gineered a subterfuge. And the an-
swer to that question came more
promptly and more directly than he
had anticipated. For as he stood
there, turning a piece of the wax-cov-
ered tissue meditatively over in his
fingers, the electric bulbs that strung
the mausoleum roof broke into sudden
light. From different' quarters of that
shadowy building, at the same time,
stepped a group of hidden officers,
headed by David Manley himself.
So quickly and so quietly did that
transformation take place, indeed,
that the man leaning over the casket
had neither time nor chance to change
his position. He merely blinked a lit-
tle stupidly at the revolver which
glimmered in Manley’s hand. Then,
with a gesture that seemed equally
stupid, he reached for his watch and
held the heavy gun-metal case medi-
tatively between his fingers.
“Stick ’em up!” Manley was at the
same time commanding with a curt
head movement towards Legar’s
hands. “It may have taken some
work, but this is the time we gather
you in!” )
through that Giant’s Causeway of bro-
ken rock, he felt grateful enough, re-
membering what had happened, to be
still alive. And -sore as he was in
body, he was even more bruised in
spirit at the memory of the fact that
his enemy, Jules Legar, had at the
last moment escaped from his clutch.
*******
The Lake of Fire.
Legar, lucky as his escape had been,
knew that his margin of safety was
still too narrow for much immediate
comfort of either mind or body. So
he crawled away as best he could,
nursing his strength when he came to
cover and going on again when some
passing light showed that cover to be
none too dense. But he did not give
up until he had reached higher
ground. There he was able to hide
himself in a thicket and rest for an
hour or two. >
But to remain in that neighborhood
until morning, he knew, would be out
of the question. About that whole
suspected area, he felt, the police
would surely throw a cordon, and the
resource of disguise was no longer at
his disposal. Already from where he
lay, he could see dozens of moving
lamps of workers about the mauso-
leum ruins. He could also see the
glow of a powerful pair of headlights,
apparently on a motor car threading
its way to the scene of the explosion.
And to the north he could even more
distinctly see the fiery tongues of the
chimney flares above the Westingham
foundry, where hundreds of toilers,
turning night into day, worked about
the great blast furnaces and cauldrons
of molten metal.
In a foundry such as that, he sud-
denly remembered, lay his best
chance for escape. Disheveled as he
was, he could pass unnoticed among
those sooty workers. And when the
night shift went off, he told himself,
he could slip away in their midst, un-
noticed and unchallenged. And if the
worst came to the worst he could
crawl into hiding somewhere about
the tangle of machinery under that
foundry roof itself, and there lay up
until he knew the coast was clear
agaih, with the chance of stealing a
puddler’s “jumper” for a disguise and
a dinner pail or two full of foo<Ut0F a
meal.
iron. It led through an abandoned
boiler room, then on through a dimly
lighted and low-roofed structure of
pulleys and lathes, and from there to
the brighter lighted and higher roofed
metal room of the foundry itself.
There, beside glowing furnaces half-
naked men toiled over incandescent
annealing boxes and cauldrons of mol-
ten metal. ’ There gigantic track
cranes swung bowls-of liquid fire from
crucibles to mold beds.
And there the harried Legar, be-
wildered by the sudden bright light,
ran like a pelted hound down the
sandy paths between forge and coke
oven and cauldron crane. There, see-
ing bis way blocked by a group of
round-eyed Lithuanians, he swung,
catlike, up into the iron network of
the cable bridges, with his pursuer
still close at his heels. And there,
midway across that smoke-stained
roof, that echoed with the tumult of
thunderous hammers and directly over
a king cauldron of molten steel, the
two men came together.
There Legar, with his metal claw
hooked securely into the iron network
above his head, swung about and
faced his enemy. And tfiere, on that
grimy- bridge high above the equally
grimy workmen who left their forges
and lathes and cauldrons to witness
the struggle, the two enemies* who
had so long and bitterly opposed each
other, found themselves face to face
for their final struggle.
Yet the man in the yellow mask
seemed the cooler headed of the two,
for as Legar struck snarling at his
face he ducked low on his narrow
perch and at the same moment
whipped his revolver from the side
pocket of his coat. Yet Legar, with
a movement equally prompt, kicked
viciously at the fingers clustered about
the gun-butt before the weapon itself
could be brought into use. The next
moment that weapon fell with a hiss
and splash into the lake of molten
metal beneath them.
Then the struggle became one of
tendon against tendon, of straining
muscle against muscle, of empty-
handed mortal strength pitted against
mortal strength. There, like animals
of the wild, high in some Amazonian
eyrie, the two strangely entangled
figures fought and struggled and
clawed and struck.
In the matter ef mere physical
strength Legar seemed to have the
advantage. And what under ordinary
circumstances might have proved a
disability could now be turned to his
eoil, and flung it"L&dyantage. For the iron claw at the
end1'*-Qf bis right arm, hooked securely
into tlil? network of steel behind him,
held hims"‘&bere without effort and
without strain! .His opponent, on the
other hand, fount?- it no easy task to
make sure of his ’'gj^rch above that
ever-intimidating cauttatp11 °* molten
metal. His arm shook wftjupe ten-
sion imposed on his overtax!
cles. His fingers became numb
pain, threatening to lose their pre-
hensile power, and even as he fought
he weakened to a realization that be
must change his hold.
It was as he maneuvered to bring
about this shift of position that the
ever-watchful Legar, alert for the most
trivial advantage, saw his chance.
Swinging his body suddenly free from
its footing on the narrow ledge, of
metal where he stood, he pendulumed
towards his momentarily unstable op-
ponent, throwing his feet forward and
upward, as he did so, with all the force
of a football player kicking a double
punt.
The force of this unlooked-for im-
pact was too much for the man in the
mask. He tottered back, caught fran-
tically at a soot-covered steel bar be-
side him, dropped the full length of its
diagonal course before he could make
sure of his clutch, and came into vio-
lent collision with the heavy iron
block of a crane ladle. There, half-
stunned by the blow, he fell sprawling
across a polished steel cable which
drooped floorward between the block
and its empty, metal pot. He tried to
clutch that cable as he fell, but his
speed proved too great and his over-
taxed fingers were too weak. As he
fell along its polished surface, how-
ever, it offered sufficient resistance to
carry his limp body beyond the peril
of that open lake of molten metal,
which, his frantic brain kept telling
him, meant death. And as he dropped
weakly from the cable loop to a pile
of molding sand lying between a cast-
ing box and an empty spill trough, a
score of watching men gave utterance
to a shout of relief and a score of
waiting hands were there to help him
twisted it into
about her neck. And all the while the
Iron Claw, grappling at her arm, held
her as a steel trap might.
She was already dizzy with pain
when she heard the sharp crack of a
revolver shot close over her shoulder.
This was followed by a quick shout
and a muttered oath. She felt herself
forcibly flung from Legar’s arms into
the arms of another man panting
breathlessly up the sandy slope. She
could see this man, even as he held
her from falling, stop to level his gun
at the fleeing figure of Legar. She
could see him shoot again, and still
again, at the same moment that Train
and' the plunging automobile came
throbbing and panting up to the scene,
the electric lamps throwing out their
wavering, long columns of white light
as they came. Then the stranger, ar-
rested by certain gasping and gur-
gling sounds from the throat of the
half-garroted girl in his arms, stooped
down and tore the constricting veil
away from the slender, white column
of her neck. And Margery, opening
her eyes, saw that it was the Laugh-
ing Mask bending above her.
“It was Legar!” she gasped as
Train, followed by her father, came
panting up to where they stood.
“And there he goes nowb” cried the
Laughing Mask, pointing down the
long lane of light columning out from
the car’s lamps. Across that narrow
river of light they could catch a
glimpse of a tall figure skulking off
into the darkness.
“Follow, that man with your car,”
the Laughing Mask suddenly cried out
to the chauffeur.
“No car could travel through coun-
try like that!” protested Train.
“Then keep your lights on the main
road to the west here, so as to pick
him up if he tried to break through
on that side. I’ll swing around by the
foundry yards and head him off in the
east!”
And the next moment the man in
the yellow mask had disappeared in
the darkness. Golden and his daugh-
ter stood staring after him.
Two minutes later the blackness
that had swallowed him up was
stabbed by a series of flame flashes,
followed by the repeated bark of a
revolver. From the gloom still nearer
the shadowy piles of the Westingham
foundry came an answering series of
shots.
“That means he’s making for the
foundry, sir!” cried the excited Train
as he swung his car about. . ^
“Then, for God’s sake, get us there,
as quick as you can,” commanded
Enoch Golden as the car lurched and
pulsed and crawled on between the
broken shrubbery, in perilous search
for some open pathway.
But both Legar and his pursuer
were by this time well beyond their
line of vision. That desperate-minded
master criminal, in fact, realizing
that his enemy was pressing close at
his heels, mounted a slag pile, dropped
flat, and emptied his revolver into the
darkness, where the Laughing Mask
should have been.
But the wary pursuer, dropping low
beside an empty pitch barrel, held his
fire and waited. The moment he
heard the crisp sound of footsteps
along the slag slope he once more
took up the pursuit.
That pursuit led through a narrow
lane between great piles of structura1
to his feet.
So intent were those astounded iron-
workers on watching that perilous fall,
however, that they paid scant atten-
tion to the second figure climbing spi-
derlike higher along the blackened
ironwork of the blackened roof. They
caught no glimpse of him as he scram-
bled, sooty and panting, through the
ventilating flue that opened on the
roof itself. Nor did any eye follow
him as he crept, gorillalike, along the
perilous slope of that roof until h©
came to the end of the building. Along
this end he found a lightning rod, run-
ning from the peak of its roof to the
ground. He promptly tested the
strength of this wire, satisfying him-
self carefully, foot by foot, by means
-of one hand and an iron hook which
struck and clung to the metal with the
vicious tenacity of an eagle’s claw.
When he reached the ground, still
breathing heavily, he looked cautious-
ly about. Then, making sure he was
not observed, he slipped into the shad-
ow of a pile of iron ingots, once more
waited and listened, and then, crouch-
ing low. crossed the foundry yard andi
climbed the high board ferice sur-
rounding it. And a moment later the
darkness of the night had swallowed,
him up.
(TO BE CONTINUEDJ )
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Shuffler, R. The Olney Enterprise. (Olney, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, August 25, 1916, newspaper, August 25, 1916; Olney, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1103151/m1/3/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Olney Community Library.