The Argosy, March 1907 — page 152: what you’re looking at

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

HOA Ss THE ARGOSY. The words gave Wib a positive physi- cal shock. His heart stopped for an in- stant, then leaped in rapid beats to an entirely different tune. He stared at the officer with watering eyes. - “Your man didn’t send in your board last night. You can go, Harris,’ Mfar- ren said gruffly, noting the emotion in Wib’s face. , The latter pulled himself together with an effort. The unexpectedness of the thing—the very impossibility of it— helped to keep him up. He had not thought since the previous afternoon of this being the beginning of a new week. He turned away and walked back to the debtors’ court. When Billy Grist saw his face he uttered a subdued cheer. “By thunder! you're going out, Harris!” he cried. The others gathered around him. He shook hands with them solemnly. ““T’ll miss you like the devil, old man,” Billy said. ‘ Don’t forget us.” ‘Goin’ to take the oath?” croaked Old John from his chair. ‘No, sir, I’m not,’”’ Wib assured him. ‘Good boy! I’m glad you’ve beat 7em!’”’ snarled the old fellow. Wib hurried back to his cell and gathered up his possessions. He stuffed them into his bag and made his way to the office. As Marren let him through the screen into the main office, the bell at the outside door rang to announce a visitor. The’ door was opened and in came— Lomark! ‘The little tailor was red-faced and puffing. ‘The first flakes of a snow- storm that had threatened since daybreak were clinging to his shoulders. Lomark had plainly run up from the railway station. | ‘There he iss—I vas in time yet!” panted the tailor, recognizing Wib on the instant. “ That man cannot go out of here—no, py Heaven! He vill stay!” “What’s the matter with you?” de- manded Marren roughly. “I peg your pardon, meester!” ex- claimed the tailor, instantly humble be- fore authority. ‘ That iss my man—lI pay his poard. Here it is.” “Too late,’ growled Marren, and turned his back on him. 7 Wib, who had been almost over- _ whelmed by Lomark’s appearance, sud- . denly straightened his drooping shoul- ders. “Too later Vat you mean py too late?’ stuttered Lomark. “You should have paid last night be- fore six o'clock. We cannot take your money now. The man is discharged.” ‘“{ dell you it iss a mistake,” declared the tailor, stamping his foots ‘ My law- yer forgot to tell me—I—I ? “Take it out of your lawyer, then. The man is free. Go on, Harris. He can’t hold you a minute. And _ good luck to you!” Marren wrung Wib’s hand, and in a moment the young man, his ead awhirl, found himself outside the prison-door, with the first breath of the storm—and of freedom—buffeting his face. The throbbing of his heart “choked him. The tears ran down his face. He walked blindly away from the peniten- tiary office, carrying his satchel. He had turned involuntarily down the hill toward the railroad station. Sud- denly he remembered that he hadn’t a penny with which to pay his fare, and he was eight long miles from the city. He turned into the road which, he - knew, led to Fallowsea. He stepped upon a little patch of snow which had gathered in a hollow of the hard path, and was reminded by the cold contact that both soles were bare to the ground. He had no overcoat, and no gloves, and the wind chilled him to the marrow. But he was free! (To be continued.) MUSIC. Music !—oh! how faint, how weak, Language fades before thy spell! Why should feeling ever speak, When thou canst breathe her soul so well? Moore. COMiIchOOkS.co im