With a hasty glance this way and that, she crept from her hiding place and darted from shelter to shelter until she caught the dark gleam of the river.
Beyond the last car was a steep incline built of ashes and street rubbish. At the river’s brink this broke off abruptly. She knew its purpose. Men backed dump trucks up this incline to spill their contents of rubbish into a scow waiting at the bank of the river.
Darting into the shadow of this crude embankment, she crouched, waiting, straining her ears for the sound of her pursuers.
For a moment she allowed her eyes to stray to the river. “There,” she assured herself, “is the last scow towed in for loading.
“Not been used for months,” she thought. “No smell of freshly dumped rubbish here.”
Hardly had she arrived at this conclusion than a new crisis presented itself. Two dark shadows had darted from one box car to another.
“They’ll be here in another moment. Find me. I can’t escape. But then, I—”
She thought of the scow. It was deep. She could only guess how deep. It was as dark as a well.
“They’d never expect to find me there.” She was away like a streak. Over the side of the scow she went, and dropped. But not all the way. With her hands she clung to the side of the scow. Her feet did not touch bottom.
As she clung there, wondering whether or not to release her hold, the paper-wrapped package slipped from beneath her arm and dropped with a splash.