(Continued from page 188)
Though the suspense, anxiety and uncertainty were terrible, Hulsey whistled calmly as he unlocked the first gate. The large bull lock on the outside gate was not so easily unlocked. Hulsey fumbled, his hands shook, in spite of all he could do to keep it up, wheezed, went off key, then died in a discordant wail.
"Say!" the gate guard suddenly blurted. "Look up here! By cracky, your actions don't look good to me."
HULSEY did not look up. He gave the key another frantic twist, and the locked opened.
In that short space of time the wall guard had raced into the lookout and seized a shotgun. As he stepped to the door of the lookout, a dark figure disappeared around the corner of a building twenty feet from the gate.
A moment later the alarm in the guards' quarters rang frantically, and a dozen sleepy-eyed men tumbled from their beds, slipped on shoes and trousers and ran out into the yard.
The gate guard could only tell where he last saw the escaping convict. To capture the man on such a dark night seemed hopeless, considering, too, that the fleeing man had a seven-minute start. However, the half-dressed guards scattered and made for a heavy willow thicket several hundred yards beyond the spot where the convict was last seen.
For five minutes after the pursing guards disappeared in the darkness, silence reigned over the prison. Then—
From a distant point in the dark thicket a hair-raising, half-animal, half-human shriek of mortal terror shattered the stillness of the night and echoed and re-echoed about the high prison walls.
White face guards, temporarily unnerved by that fearful wail, crashed through the brush, their flashlights playing about like the eyes of spending demons. Then they found Malcolm Hulsey the "lifer."
Groveling face down in the mud of a little creek bank, hands clutching at empty air, great spasms of maniacal
