Page:Amazing Stories Volume 01 Number 07.djvu/94



with a loud report. We were already in the rare upper air, and the friction of our swift rush through it had begun to inflame the steel.

In a few moments more, I thought, I could throw open a window and let in fresh air to revive Jack and to restore my own strength.

But alas! Jack was already beyond all help. When I had opened the window and drawn one refreshing breath, I turned to him and found him pulseless.

It is a wonder that I did not go mad myself, I had brought the car almost to rest, and now it slowly settled until it lay motionless. I was at home at last—but what a home-coming!

Long I sat, discouraged and desperate, with bitter thoughts, and Jack lying there before me. Finally a soft breeze stealing into the open window roused me.

The electric lights were glowing in the car, but as I opened the door I found that it was night outside. I turned back and looked once more at Jack.

He lay as peaceful as a sleeping child. I could bear it no longer. I turned off the light and emerged from the car.

It had landed in a swamp. Straggling trees covered with wild grape-vines were all about.

EEDLESS of where I went, I began to run. Several times I fell headlong, but, recovering my feet, went on. After several hours I found a hunter's deserted hut and entered it. Tired out, I lay down there and slept until the morning sun awoke me.

It is needless to detail all that followed. I found out that the car had come down in the very heart of the Adirondack wilderness. I occupied a whole day in walking to an inhabited clearing. When I arrived there I had made up my mind what to do. I would keep the secret.

As soon as I could reach New York I hunted up Church. His amazement upon seeing me was boundless. He had long believed that we were all dead. But he agreed with me to keep the secret. Together we went to the Adirondacks, found the car after a week's search, buried Jack's body under a great pine tree, and labored for two whole days to sink the accursed car forever from the sight of men in the mud of the swamp.

Now at last I have told the story, and the world knows what a genius it lost in Edmund Stonewall.

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