Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

A ROMANCE IN REDEMPTION, 197 promised to carry safely out of that land of chaos and transfer to America via Japan. If. LoupER and more threatening grew both pounding and foul profanity. The attempt to get into the car was alla piece of foolishness at best—nothing less than a battering-ram the size and shape of a telegraph-pole could break down the sturdy plank door. For the moment the two inside the car were safe. But only for the moment. The train was burning. With a cry of despair the Czech discovered it. “The money first, Joe! We've got to lug along this money. Get a light — for God’s sake find a candle!”’ Joe struck a match somehow and found a stub of candle sticking to a bench. He got it lighted. The American caught up a valise lying partly under the bunk. Into it from his mattress he began dumping packages of money—fine lithographed notes on paper as heavy as parchment with watermarked likenesses of the old royal family beneath the exquisite engraving. He counted his packages and snapped shut the valise. From beneath his pillow he secured his automatic. With the valise in one hand and the weapon in the other he backed out to the middle of the tilted floor. There he did some dynamic thinking. For the first time in his career Jim Her- ring was up against the primal. He was a city man, editorial worker on a great sen- sational American paper—a paper whose patriotism had been more than open to question—which had sent Jim to the Far East to stir up trouble between Japan and America and keep American boys out of Europe. It was a far different Jim Herring in a Red Triangle uniform in Siberia from the Jim Herring who, five months before, had sailed from San Francisco. But that is beside the point. The law of the city is hardly the law of the jungle. The fittest survive there by the battle of wits. Here Jim Herring must fight physically in order to live. He must kill or be killed. There was no escape from it. He had been forced to a wall. His courage at the moment was the frenzy of desperation. “We got to get out of here, Joe. We got. to get out of here in a damned big hurry!” ‘‘ We will be shot, Meester Herring. You leesten! Bolsheviki everywhere!” “Maybe, Joe. But I don’t intend to roast here in any fiery furnace. One Yank is good for every fifty of those scum, and one Yank and one Czech are good for two hundred. Are you with me?”’ ‘Sure I follow you, Meester Herring.” | “All right; there’s only one way out. We're going through that window. Get me?” With the glare that outlined the corner window increasing, the American started for the aperture. With a bang of his heavy valise he knocked the panes into a thousand slivers. A couple more lunges smashed out the sash. ‘“ Here goes, Joe. Out of the frying-pan into the fire. Watch my smoke and keep close to it.”’ And the Yankee squirmed through. He went through so suddenly that he surprised even himself. The window was on the side of the car tilted upward. The man felt himself slid- Ing, going down the inclined walls on his’ chest. He thrust out the bag to break the shock of the impact. He landed with a smash on his side. Instantly a man fell on top of him. But it was only the Czech coming down after. Down the deep gully beside the track the two men rolled, an avalanche of men, valise and broken snow-crust. Because of the gully there had been none of the attacking Reds on that side of the train. The two crouched there at the bottom of the ditch for a moment, awaiting the in- evitable shooting to follow. The inevitable shooting did not follow. The noise and confusion on the other side of the wreck had momentarily covered their escapade. Crouching low, carrying the precious valise in one hand and with his automatic. ready for instant’s use in the other, Jim Herring started away from the burning train. The Czech followed closely on his heels. They came finally to a clump of bushes, 34 Eomicbooks.cc - — = Ton =>