Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

THE FREE TRADER. football player. Ofe hand touched Bick- nell’s leg, but before he could make his . hold secure the man leaped clear. For a moment Alan lay on the floor lis- tening. defense, the rattle of the heavy chain an- nounced his position. He felt and heard the missionary leap forward, slashing wild- ly, but he crouched beneath the knife- thrusts and escaped injury. Bicknell plunged against a wall and knocked some- thing down. Alan took advantage of the noise to rise to his feet and back away. Panting from exertion and suspense, the two faced each other in the darkness. Con- fined in that small room, unable to escape, unable to see, with death the prize and the ticket to freedom, each collected his forces. And then Alan heard Bicknell start for- ward. In the stillness he believed he could hear the swish of the man’s arm as the knife rose and fell. The sound came from the left, then-in front, to the right, and then it came closer. He knew Bicknell was striking out in the dark, but systematically, listening after each thrust, covering the entire room, certain that in the end the blade would reach its mark. There was something so methodical, so deliberate, about the actions of his adver- sary, they spelled certainty to Alan. Ulti- ‘mately, perhaps at the next thrust, the blade would reach his body. He flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath for fear that even the faint sound of it would reach Bicknell, shivering at the thought of the cold, implacable blade darting through the darkness so close to him. At last he could stand it no longer. In a sudden, blinding rage he threw himself forward, striking with both fists. He felt one crunch against Bicknell’s ribs, heard the sharp exhalation of the man’s breath, and then the trap brought him up sharply and he pitched forward, his head striking against the log wall. For a moment he lay there dazed, and then the regular sound of the swiftly de- scending arm aroused him. He started to his feet, the chain rattled, and the next instant the knife swished close to his ear, ripping open the shoulder of his coat as it Then as he drew himself up for © a 623 passed. He struck, and again he felt his fist against Bicknell’s ribs. After the blow all sounds ceased. The methodical swishing of the knife arm was no longer heard. ‘There was no soft thud of moccasined feet, no faint sounds of breathing. For a moment Alan believed he was alone. And then he became aware of Bicknell’s presence—not only aware of it and certain of it, but of what the man was doing. It was nothing he could see or hear, only some- thing he could sense; but he knew Bicknell was coming toward him slowly, with infinite caution and patience; that the man had divined his. position accurately; that the knife was raised for a final thrust. For a moment he was fascinated. After all, he thought, there could have been no other outcome. If he swayed to one side or the other it would make no difference. That knife would find him. He struggled to throw off the effect of this thought, but before he could move he felt a blow and. a sharp pain in: his left shoulder and was hurled backward onto the floor. So great was the force of the blow he. The trap was - jerked to the full length of the chain, and was thrown into @ corner. even in that moment of defeat and death he felt the excruciating agony as the steel teeth gripped and tore his flesh. But as Alan struck the floor in the cor- ner his arms instinctively outflung, his right hand touched the butt of the automatic pistol for which he had been searching. He gripped it convulsively and lay perfectly still, waiting and listening, and then he heard Bicknell coming softly toward him. Even then he did not fire. He held the pistol ready, pointing upward, but he did not press the trigger until he, too, had sensed where the other man was. When he was certain he pulled, once, twice, three times, turning the muzzle slightly after each shot. The small room echoed deafeningly, Alan’s ears strained against the roar, and just as it began to die he caught beneath it the sound of a body striking the floor. There was a convulsive movement, a groan, - and then silence. For a long time Alan lay without mov- FEOmicboo cS (E@) ae a Sa wa ae =~ 2