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ARNE HASSEL-GREN

“Ideal Spot for a Vacation”

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Headquarters for

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FISHERMEN NAMI TW, GOOD FISHING AND HUNTING
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{ to more or less feel our way along in
- dismal gloom. We were wet and cold
4 hungry and all of us felt dispirited. I
s wishing I were back in the warmth of
> police detachment and that the mad-
n was somewhere on the China coast.
t, we had a job to do and if we couldn't
ng him in, then some other group would
ve to start all over again.
Before we arrived at the tent we stopped
d made our plans, for we didn’t want to
<e any chances.
“When we get there,” I told the men,
yell fan out around the tent.
“Tl take the direct front and I'll call to
n to come out in the name of the law
. and with his hands up.
“If he starts anything, and if he shoots
us, we'll throw a volley into the tent and
1oke him out.”
That was the plan agreed upon and we
ited forward once more. Presently I
ew we were close, and down through the
om of the timber I could see the outline
the white tent.
Creeping like shadows through the trees,
e men spread out to cover the sides. I
eaked forward, dodging from tree to tree,
til I figured I was close enough to make
m hear my voice.

EERIE SURROUNDINGS

I can still remember that it was quiet as
e tomb in the bush that dark morning.
here wasn’t a sound. Not a leaf quivered
id not a bird chirped in the whole ex-
nse of timber. A very faint light started

climbing up in the east and it lent ghostly
shadows to the scene.

At that time of the year the day breaks
fast and in the short time while we were
getting into position the dawn had advanced
until we could make out objects a consider-
able distance away. I kept my eye on the
hole in the front of the tent, and such was
my state of mind at that moment that I
could swear I saw a white eye gleaming
madly through the torn flap.

When I saw that the boys were all in
their places, I ducked behind a tree which
I had picked out for cover, and I drew a
deep breath.

We knew this time that our man was
there, for in the gray light we saw the
tracks of his snowshoes in the new snow
before the tent. One snowshoe was broken
toward the end and we had heard that he
travelled on a broken shoe. He was home.
I was sure of that. And I felt that the
most important part of this manhunt was
just now beginning.

I looked to my rifle and saw that it was
ready. I cleared my throat and loud as I
could shout I called:

“Police! Hands up!”

The silence was intense, maddening. Not
a move came from the tent, and_I called
again.

“Police! Hands up!”

Then I detected a movement behind the
canvas and I heard a wild roar, loud and
wicked and full of fight.

“Get to hell out of here!”

Immediately there was a sharp crack of

Indians resting—Getting the body out of shack.

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