The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

44 He gave a start. “Where is it? Where is the Alma?” “Do you mean the air-ship? ” 66 Yes.” ‘ “Tt went up when you went down.” “She couldn’t go far. The storm wrecked her. Where is this? ‘It isn’t a house. And you are Americans, too.” “We are Americans, and this is a cave. How do you feel? Any better? ”’ “Yes, I’m all right—I will be, any- way, in a few minutes. But I don’t want to lose my ship. It means a lot to me.” “It would have meant death to you if it hadn’t been for Donaldson here.” He looked at the islander, and held out his hand. “You swam out to save me. can I thank you?” ‘What is that thing you came in?” was Donaldson’s reply. “I never saw a bird so big.”’ The airman now looked puzzled. 1 saw we should have much explaining to do on both sides. “Tt’s an air-ship—my own inven- tion,” said the airman. “You say you did not come from the United States,” I put in, reverting to my unanswered question; “ from where, then? ”’ “From Paris.” “Were you attempting to reach New York? ” ‘“T was—I was—” He hesitated, and looked searchingly into Ordway’s face and mine. His own, made white by his suffering in the air, seemed to turn an ashen gray. There was terror in his eyes. His lips trembled. “Vou are among friends,” I said, seizing at once upon the idea that he feared to finish what he had started to say. will not hurt you. Or, if you wish to keep a secret, we have no wish to wrest it from you.” A great sigh, as of relief, burst from How “Whatever you wish to tell us - THE ARGOSY. him. His eyes closed and then opened again. He was a handsome, smooth- faced young fellow, scarcely more than a boy. I judged his age to be not more than twenty-two, possibly less. His lips were mobile, every thought being expressed fully in his counte- nance. He was a marked contrast to the iron-faced islander. ‘““T was running away from France,” he said. “Running away from France? In an air-ship? That’s a new one on me,” I remarked. “ Why were you running away from France? ” “To escape arrest—and prison—or death.” | I gasped. hard. “ Arrest—for what?” I could not resist the temptation to ask. “Murder. I killed a Frenchman day before yesterday in Paris.” His eyes closed again, and Ordway, pale and shaken, gazed into mine with a look that seemed to burn. I heard Ordway breathe CHAPTER XXII. THE AVIATOR’S AMBITION. Havinc delivered himself of his as- tounding statement, the young navi- gator of the atmosphere fell into a deep sleep. No wonder. If he had spent two nights and days in the air without sleep, exhausted nature, who cares nothing for confessions nor con- science, might be expected to assert itself. Ordway and I walked out of the cave together, Donaldson remaining, silently looking down at the pale, upturned face. I turned just at the entrance to the cave and saw him tenderly arranging the furs in which we had wrapped the newcomer. “Now,” said Ordway, when we were clear of the cave, “things do occur in this world that will admit of no explanation. The way of events staggers the most brilliant minds. CoOMmicbook CO