Paced By Death

PACED BY DEATH.

How a Brewery Hand raced for his Life with Giant Knives

When Abraham Sapiro of Paterson, N.J., practiced running in his boyhood days and earned laurels as a sprinter, he probably did not dream that some day he would have to race for his life with competitors not of flesh and blood.

Sapiro has charge of the mixing vats at the Katz brewery. Some of the vats were empty the other day, and the opportunity for cleaning the machinery was considered good. In the center of each vat is an upright shaft. To this are attached two sets of large paddles, the edges of which are sharp as knives. These are driven around at high speed, and the boiling malt is thoroughly mixed.

Sapiro had been cleaning and sharpening the huge blades and told McKay, his assistant, to go to the next room and raise the lever that allows the malt to flow in. He wished to see if it was in working order. He remained in the vat and a moment later was horrified to see the great blades move.

Sapiro also began to move, for he rightly concluded that McKay had raised the wrong lever and that he would have to keep moving until the mistake could be rectified. But fright had incapacitated McKay, who heard the cries of Sapiro and was seen at the side of the vat. What he there saw transfixed him and robbed him of all presence of mind.

Sapiro, now racing about the little circle, might as well have been alone. He knew just how fast he had to go, for while one set of knives was pursuing him, the other, moving at the same speed, was making pace for him. The pace finally reached its limit, and as Sapiro ran, fearful of slipping on the smooth copper bottom, he began to realize that it could not last long.

Already his limbs began to fail him, and his breath came hard and fast. But Sapiro was determined to die gamely, and thus his life was saved. A workman in a distant part of the building heard his cries. He took in the situation at a glance and signaled to the engineer. The knives a minute later began to slow up, and so did Sapiro. He watched the knives with a look of terror. It became more difficult for him to keep his distance from the awful pacers, even though the latter were going more slowly. Sapiro fell exhausted as they stopped. He was lifted out and taken home, suffering only from the effects of his race and the strain upon his nerves.