The Argosy, December 1905 — page 166: what you’re looking at

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

144 He could hardly close his jaws; his neck was so stiff that every movement gave him exquisite pain, and altogether he was as sore and shaken as though he had been scientifically hammered by a trained pugilist. He tried to rise after a time, discov- ered that his ankles were tied (he had forgotten them), and tumbled back upon the boxes. When he had un- fastened his remaining bonds he could scarcely control his lower limbs. His whole body, indeed, seemed half para- lyzed. The air in the car had become. very foul, too. He lit a match at last and looked at his watch. It was going, despite the shaking up he had had, and pointed to two-fifteen. It was afternoon—it could not be night again, he was sure—and the railroad people had not yet found the car. “Or, if they have found it, they seem to be in no hurry to right it,’ he thought. “ Had they come near, surely I would have heard their voices. And they would have heard my groans—of course! ” It seemed as though he must get out of the car by his own exertions, and, ex- hausted as he was, and without tools, how was this to be accomplished ? He managed, after some time, to ex- amine pretty thoroughly the inner walls of the car, or of that part in which he was confined. There were only two or three places through which the least air or light penetrated, and the planks of which the car was built were perfectly sound and bolted to the framework. He shouted now several times, but the only reply he received was the mocking whistle of an engine, and that, to his amazement, seemed a considerable dis- tance away. The faint rumble of the train as it passed, so far above his head, finally as- sured Dan Crompton that this car in which he was confined had fallen a great distance when it jumped the track. “ And God knows whether they will ever get her out,” he muttered. “ What will happen to me, then? Am I to be confined here for the rest of my natural existence—which won’t be long at this rate?” THE ARGOSY. He knew the car to be up-ended in some sort of a hole. It might be more badly wrecked than he had at first sup- posed. A cursory glance might satisfy a rail- road inspector that it would be cheaper to let the car he where it was and make good its cargo to the shippers than to go to the expense of hoisting it back to the roadbed. Why, this was startling; it actually affrighted him! | It was a possibility not devoid of a certain horror which brought to his brow drops of moisture and set his breath to a gasping key. Locked into this car for God knew how long! The thought was terrifying in the extreme. He began to wonder what the cargo of the car was. If he had heard Sousa say, he had forgotten, and now lighting another match he looked over the top boxes to satisfy himself how best to open them, or to discover by their marks what manner of goods they contained. “Matches! Nice prospect—I don’t think!” murmured Crompton, after reading the address stenciled on the first box. “ Didn’t know but I might run up against some canned goods or something else eatable. What’s next?” But all he found were stenciled to the Norwegian Match Company, at Massail. He hauled up one of the cases and packed it away at one end of his narrow pocket, so as to get at other boxes, hope- ful of finding food in the car. But every box was marked in the same way. That is, so far as he could make out. Moving the boxes was very difficult at best. Hach had to be dragged up by main strength and packed away next to the end of the car. He soon got a new idea from this, however, although he found nothing but boxes of matches. If he dug down deeply enough into the pile (he had begun to take them out at one side), he might reach one of the sliding doors, and so escape. ‘This thought inspired him to greater and more vigorous effort, and despite his weakness and pain he dragged up box after box, packing them securely behind him. But there began to be forced upon his GomiGcdooks (C@