The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

158 Now and then he opened the door to glance at the Metropolitan clock or to observe his companion in exile; and about eleven he was at first startled, then interested, by the sight of a veritable bonfire. The colonel, with sudden inspiration, had stripped all his parcels of their wrap- pings, made a pyre of the paper and pasteboard, and set fire to it inthe hope of attracting attention. While the paper blazed, crackled, and swirled about in the wind, the colonel danced grotesquely in the firelight and waved a handkerchief above his head, but the beacon was short- lived: an unfeeling wind sped over from the East River, roared around the Met- ropolitan Tower, and descended fiercely upon the dancing suppliant. It caught up the blazing fragments and embers of his offering and whirled them away into the darkness, while the colonel addressed impressive periods to the elements with- - out quoting the gentler poets. Spencer, aS a calm observer, was amused, and thought that some good might come of the experiment, but the hands of the illuminated clock crawled around to midnight, and the city was ap- parently still ignorant of the tragi-com- edy on the high roof. The cold crept into Spencer’s shelter more searchingly as the night advanced, and he had to go out at intervals and walk the icy chill out of his legs. But after two o’clock both men were over- come with weariness and they retired to their respective camps and slept fitfully until the darkness began to show a tinge of gray. Spencer ate a dozen or more of the chocolates as the dawn was breaking, then lighted his pipe and sat in the door- way of his shack to contemplate the sun- rise. In a moment he discovered the col- onel standing at the southern parapet of the roof and flinging handfuls of gravel down upon Madison Square. “ Rather like sprinkling drops of water on the ocean, I should say,’ remarked Spencer, as the colonel turned and saw THE ARGOSY. him. “ People familiar with Madison Square and the Flatiron Building winds hardly notice anything under the size of a paving-block, you know.” Crofton, however, was in slightly bet- ter humor. “T don’t think that this thing can keep up very long now,” he said. ‘“ Some of the men that have offices in the Metro- politan are sure to come in this morning for something or other, and if we keep moving they’ll see us.” ‘Tf it were not the day before Christ- mas I would share your hope,” Spencer replied. ‘“‘ But, you see, nearly all busi- ness men are getting ready for the holi- day; many of them have gone out of town, and it’s possible that not a single office in that building will be opened to- day. Of course, if somebody should come into this building it would do us no good. We can’t make the watchman hear us, so we can’t expect help from below.” ‘You're as cheerful as a London fog!” said the colonel bitterly. ‘“‘ Do you think [T’ll stand this damnable ordeal much longer? Why, Ill throw this fur coat overboard if I can’t make any one look up here any other way.” ‘Without a message accompanying it,” said Spencer, “I hardly think you’d have much success. Some Broadway prowler would get a very precious piece of fur, and you would slowly freeze to death.” “Tf I could hit a policeman with my watch, something might be done about it,” muttered Crofton. “TI wouldn’t give way to such extrava- gant ideas,” Spencer advised. “ Come, I'll share my chocolates with you; you need nourishment.” The colonel was about to decline proudly, but the sight of the open box in Spencer’s hand was too much for him, and he shamelessly ate of the sweets until a feeling of nausea put a check to his ap- petite. The sun warmed them a little and gave them courage, and the colonel passed a part of the morning dancing and leaping COPMICLOOKS (C@)