The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 1 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

144 THE GOLD DELUGE. See! What was that at the window? A bird? No, only a small piece of white paper, carried there by the wind and clinging tothe iron bars. Such a small incident was an event in Erik’s life. Strange how it clung there ! Soon it would blow away again. Erik looked at it closer. It did not appear as though it would leave the window ; it seemed to rise a short distance, fly outward, and then return to the same place! How strange! Erik stepped close to discover the cause. Good heavens! What was it? ‘The paper was suspended by a thread. No one but Szemsky could have done that ! Erik tried desperately to secure the paper. Impossible ! He could just touch the iron bars with his finger tips. He could not reach out. What was to be done? ‘The blood throbbed and hammered in his temples ; he looked around the cell in agony to find something to stand on. The bench was fastened securely to the wall. Suddenly an idea flashed through his mind. He slipped softly to the cell door to see whether he was observed and looked through the wicket. No one was in the corridor. Erik took off his clothing, rapidly formed a cushion on the floor near the window, and stood thereon. Once—twice—he reached and failed—the wind sent the paper fluttering from his eager grasp ; but at last he had it. He untied it and fastened the end of the thread to the grating ready for his reply. He dressed hastily and devoured the precious message with his eyes: ; “Treachery | Petterson captured by the British. Letters taken from me. Am employed as assistant in the medicine shop. Answer—quick !”? Reply !_ How could he do so? He had nothing with which to write. Szemsky must furnish him material with this. But how was he to send the first message ? f A story of a prisoner who allowed the nail on his index finger to grow and then cut it into the shape of a pen came to Erik’s mind. And ink? Blood would do for that. He now hada better idea. Rapidly he bit off a sharp piece of one of his finger nails, and in the paper sent by Szemsky punc- tured holes enough to form the words ‘‘ Send me pencil and paper.’’ He again quickly disrobed, formed a cushion of his clothing as before, and then standing thereon, fastened the paper to the thread. Erik tried to sleep, but could not from excitement. He slumbered uneasily for but a few moments at a time, and in his feverish dreams the little message, suspended in the air, played pranks on him. Shortly before dawn he sank into a restless sleep. Bright daylight permeated every corner of the cell when Erik awoke. He looked towards the window: the paper was gone and in its place hung a small packet. Ina moment he had drawn it into the cell and opened it. A short piece of pencil, a few strips of paper, and this message were inside : ‘“ Could not reply before. Had to attend to press in medicine room ; people are watching me ; I can walk alone in the corridors; not outside. ‘T'ried to reach your door; could not. Guard is there. Flight impossible. Cliffs all around us. Only exit through the large gateway, which is always guarded. Sz.” Eomichook (E)