Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

504 branch line to which his crate was eventu-— ally transferred. proved worse. bed was far from the best, and the old- . fashioned freight car that served for bag- The road-— gage rocked “crazily from side to side, stopped with violent jerks that sent iis - numbed, aching body crashing against the - side of the crate, and started forward. agame : with the same violence. He conceived a bitter anger at the crate: at the wooden slats that confined him with- -in its narrow space. Even the baggage — car itself seemed desirable. There were but few trunks and a couple of boxes on _its splintered floor. | 3 Tf he could summon the strength to. a one of the slats from its place; if he could push but a little harder against the one that. appeared to give when his body had — been hurled against it by a sudden stop, then he could get out. Perhaps, some place _in the car, he could find some water. _ whole throat was parched with fever. The train came to a stop with a sickening succession of crashes. A guard came into ee the baggage and flung open the side door. North Star watched his every motion. His — 2S fever-ridden eyes saw the man’s hand take — hold of the peg and pull it from its staple, saw him roll back the door, saw, through - _the aperture, a sight that. awoke long dor- mant memories in his weary heart. Pine forest, great trees, a patch of sky. a flood of assuaging things. He stayed still until the man had closed the door and left the car. The train peaaacd rte course. ‘Then he stood upon his feet and, lowering his head, pressed a shoulder against the yielding slat. It began to give. He forced his last re- maining courage into a final heave. The slat gave and he tumbled weakly out upon the floor of the car. He lay still, trembling, oe hang- ing out and Ais breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He got up and made a circuit of the car. There was no water. But through a crack under the door came grateful gusts of fresh air. - He lay alongside of it, pressing his nose as close as he could. The bewildering scent ut tugged at his memory grew stronger: ~of his pirth, Hs ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, ‘the scent of the pine forest, the scent of home. That was it!—the home of his birth. His pain, his lethargy passed from him like the shadow of a cloud. He was on his feet in an instant—trem- bling, but this time with an emotion of un- believable relief and jo yy. Stronger and Suoree: rushed back the flood of his mem- _-ories.. _ With every familiar scent = increased ‘until, as he sensed with that psychic power ee defies explanation that he was even ‘at that moment passing the exact locality of his true home with old - Daddy Michael Lebombard, of his sister Vidinette, and his brother Jacques, he could no longer restrain himself, but” Bave. voice to his joy in a sharp bark. He felt that his single eiance for life day i in immediate escape, in immediate flight to his home and to Daddy Lebombard, who ‘would know what to do for his torments. ‘He stood upon his hind legs and braced himself against the door. He took hold of the wooden peg with his teeth. He pulled. And the peg came out of its staple. He jumped backward just. in time to stop from falling. through as the door rolled open. - Before his eyes stretched a flashing row a tall pine trees. Familiar scents over- whelmed him with their flood. He steod. upon the edge of freedom. He tensed his ~ muscles for a leap from the moving train. _ Even were he to embrace death he was determined to make that leap. It repre- sented to him his solitary chance of escap- ing to the haven of his birthplace and to old Daddy Michael Lebombard. Large drifts of dazzling snow still lay parallel to the roadbed, snow, whose crust had been thawed out by the sun. A pile larger than the rest came flashing into view. He crouched. He leaped, hurtling his body through the air and aney from the crashing train. He plowed up to his neck in the great bank of thawing snow. He lay quiet—mo- tionless. The train clattered past, clattered ever softer into the distance. North Star was free. He could not know that a great tragedy would confront him in this freedom. — TG BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK Eomichooks co