The Argosy, December 1905 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

BLOCK TOWER SEVEN. the ravine was into which car 30-71-11 had plunged. But time passed and eabads came to Dan Crompton’s assistance. He had no idea why this was so; the fact that he was left to get out of the car as best he might was plain enough, however. “And, any way,” he thought, “ they didn’t know I was aboard here. Sousa and his men evidently thought I had fallen off the train before we started up the incline. By heaven, this is an awful position ! ” It was awful because of its discomfort. The box-car was practically new and well built. The drop into the ravine might have smashed the lower end, but this upper part was sound enough. Crompton soon found difficulty in breathing im his close quarters. With much pain he managed to roll to one of the side walls of the ear, and found a very narrow erack through which a little fresh air percolated. He would not smother in here, of course, but his lot was not a happy one. “They've gone on without trying to right the ear,” Crompton groaned at last. “A section gang or a wrecking crew will be sent after it. And God knows when they’ll get here and whether I shall be in a condition then to make myself heard before they begin to pitch the old car over. “If they move it with me inside, these cases may shift, and then where’ll I be?” This thought ieiehioned him and he recommenced his struggles. Writhing about soon brought him to a knowledge. of the fact that the boxes were bound at the corners with strips of sheet iron, and that the edges of the iron were sharp. _. The pain of the scratches he suffered brightened his wits immensely. If those irons caused him such discomfort, surely they could be made to play a saving part, too! His wrists_were tied behind his back. He found one of the sharp strips of iron (that was easy enough) and maneuvered until his bound wrists came in contact with it. ‘This was not so easy a matter as might be thought; the blood ran freely from 143 several deep scratches in his wrists and hands before he brought the linen hand- kerchief into proper contact with the iron. He had read (who has not ?) of the in- genious captive who saws his bonds _apart by similar means; it’s all right to read about, but Crompton soon found he had tackled a task of no mean mag- nitude. Had he possessed the acrobatic agil- ity of an inch-worm, sawing the linen apart might have been simple; but the manner in which his wrists were tied left him a bare three inches of leeway in moving his hands up and down the small of his back. And that his muscles were already strained to a painful de- gree, goes without saying. Every movement of his body, even the slightest, wrenched a muffled groan from his throat. His innate obstinacy —the trait which had made him stick to his situation at Block Tower Seven and refuse to carry firearms—upheld him in his task. He lost all run of the time, for there were occasions when his consciousness failed entirely. It was like a terrible nightmare; even while he worked at fraying the handkerchief against the iron, it did not seem real to him. “Tl wake up yet and find Mrs. Corri- gan rapping on my door,” he thought, in one more than usually sane moment, But obstinacy won at last. After fall- ing into a dazed condition of mind, in which he quite unconsciously continued to rub the linen against the sharp iron, he was suddenly aroused to the fact that the bonds had given way. He was cheer- Sen rasping the iron into the flesh it- self ! He groaned and rolled over, bringing his almost paralyzed arms around in front of his bedy. He was some mo- ments in coming to a realization of his freedom. “Gad, if I don’t get blood poison from that iron strap, itll be a wonder,” he thought, sitting up and tenderly rub- bing his wrists. ‘Then he realized that he was able to free himself of the gag, and quickly had the bandage untied and spat out the rags. Gomichbook CO)