The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

48 rod and got to my feet. In the semi- darkness I don’t think M. Nicasse saw the rod in my hand. Anyway, he called me a dog of an American spy, and came for me again. I struck him on the head with the bar, and he went down like a log. One moan—that was all. ‘Then suddenly I came to my senses —or rather, my delirium took a new turn. All I could think of was escape. I knew I would stand no show in a French court. There I was, right close to the company’s hangar. M. Nicasse lay on the ground. How could I prove I had not gone there with the purpose in mind to kill him—to waylay him in the dark? ‘““T was crazy. My mind was in a whirl except on that one point—I must escape. “Tran to my hangar. My mechani- cian, or assistant rather, for I did most of my own work, slept in the hangar. I gave him scarcely any explanation, telling him he would know all about it in the morning, but that I must get away at once. He made nodelay. We got out the Alma and away I flew. “J had no clear idea which way to go. I knew if I landed in Belgium I might just as well be in France, and I was afraid of Spain, Italy, and Aus- tria. I put for the open sea. “Perhaps 1 had a half-mad idea I could soar across the Atlantic and reach the United States, where I would have some show of protection. Per- haps I thought of keeping in the air till an American-bound ship appeared. I don’t know. I can’t remember now all that surged through my brain. It was on fire. I had killed a Frenchman on his own ground. That thought seared its way through my brain, leav- ing little room for anything else. “Tran into a terrible storm. I could see nothing. I lost control of my air- ship, and was blown this way and that. A mere aeroplane would have dumped me to the ground or in the sea. I don’t know when I was over land or water. “T was almost frozen. I had no THE ‘ARGOSY. sense of direction. I had no sleep, and I had-no food. It was terrible. “When the storm cleared away I saw this land. I had no idea what land it was. It didn't look like any part of France I had seen. But I have never traveled any to speak of, and did not know. But the storm had crippled my ship and I could not go on. I tried to make a.landing. You saw my finish. You have heard my story. I don’t know what will happen to me» I tried my best. I have lost the game. I’m done for.” “Not yet,’ said Ordway quietly. “You are not alone in the world, San- derman. I for one believe you.” “And I for two,” I added. ‘And let me tell you, though we are poor castaways, living on what we can shoot and catch, in this barren land, once back in the world, that grizzly old scoundrel over there and myself are to be reckoned with. Ease your mind. You'll get fair play. I swear it.” I nodded. “T will kill those people if they come here,” added Donaldson, much the same as he might say he was going out to shoot a goose. Ordway smiled. “Tt would hardly do, Crusoe,” he said, “to make matters worse by any more killing. In that world our young friend has just left there are laws which govern these matters.” The dark eyes flashed, but the hand- some face remained as firm as ever. “You may have laws in your world,” he said. “ Here, I am the law. He said so.” “Who said so?” “ Mr. Donaldson.” 66 But—’”’ Ordway got no further. I don’ know what he intended to say. I don’t think he knew himself, really. He got up and walked out of the cave, and | followed. | “ Dagwell,”’ he affirmed soberly, “we've got a devil of a question tc handle here.”’ “T know it,” was my rejoinder. CoOMmicbook CO