 Suspense and the producer of CBS radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William M. Robeson. Each year, thousands of short stories roll out from a multitude of typewriters and march across the pages of our magazines and books toward well-deserved oblivion. Few are memorable, few are still or classic. They pass the time and are forgotten even before the paper in which they are written is reduced to black and dash. But occasionally a story is written that is a true classic, an unforgettable tale. Listen to such a one now. Listen as Vincent Price stars in Ambrose Beers' weird and wonderful story of the Civil War occurrence at Al Creek Bridge, which begins in just a moment. The following message is from American telephone and telegraph. Come on! Have a nice trip! Don't forget to phone! Getting away at last, it's a great feeling as looking forward to a carefree weekend or vacation, especially if you've planned ahead by long distance. Now, let's see. You did phone about the cabin. Right. What about the Johnson? I called them too. They're expecting us. Oh, good. Well, I guess that takes care of everything. Yes, a little vacation planning ahead of time by long distance does a lot toward making a holiday carefree in front. Right now is a good time to call. The long distance rates are lowest. Remember, whenever, wherever you go this summer, go first by long distance. And now, a current at Owl Creek Bridge, starring Mr. Vincent Price, a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense. A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down through the ties at the swift water 20 feet below. The man's hands were behind his back. The wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross timber above his head. By hand, I might throw off this noose and dive into the creek. If I swam under water, I would be safe from their bullets. If my wind held out, I could make the southern bank take to the woods and get away home. Payton Farquhar, Alabama planter, stood at the end of a plank. A captain of the Union Army and a sergeant stood at the other end. When they step aside, the plank will tip upward. And Payton Farquhar, Confederate spy, will slip between the ties to hang until dead above the muddy water of Owl Creek. The captain steps aside, draws his sword, flourishes it to a carry. The men on the bank smartly spread their legs, thrust hands forward over their rifle barrels. The sergeant, on the end of the plank, takes one step to the left. The plank tips forward, and Payton Farquhar drops between the timbers of Owl Creek Bridge. It takes longer to ten it. As you drop down what you lose consciousness, you are as one already dead. Then you awaken sharply in pain to feel, not to think, just to feel. The cutting pressure on your throat, the agonies of pulsating fire shooting from your neck downward, to feel the fullness, the congestion, the head bursting with suffocation. Distance may be our louts, but your self-healing is a flash. Remotely you sense clearly wet, green darkness. The rope is broken. You've fallen into the sleep. They can't pick you. They're not given. Again, they'll try once more. They come to the surface. You must breathe quickly. For if they haven't hanged you, and they fail to drown you, you can't let them shoot you. And now it's deep. You dive deeply, but above the ring in your ears you hear the volleys of the rifle. What's the surface? You meet Shan and get some metal singularly flattened. The distorted and spent bullets oscillating slowly downward past you. One catch is in your collar, and it feels uncomfortably warm. You snatch it out, and this gray piece of yanky lead reminds you of the gray uniform on the soldier who is responsible for you being here. It was only night before last when the soldier had ridden up the driveway as you and your wife sat under the magnolia trees in the cool twilight. Good evening, sir. Good evening, Corporal. Won't you dismount? I wonder if I might trouble you for a glass of water. Well, of course I... Don't disturb yourself, please, and I'll go for a drink. You're most kind, ma'am. If you indicate the will... Go on, fans. You just set a spell with my husband. You look as if you could do with some ruckus. Yes, ma'am. Reckon I could. I'll be back in a jitter. Thank you, ma'am. Well, Corporal, whose command are you with, huh? It's going to tell of us, sir. 13th, North Carolina. Yeah, we get their little news down here. How are things going at the front? Not good, sir. The Bamiankis are getting ready for another advance. They're repairing the railroad. Got it in shape, almost the Owl Creek Bridge. And they got outposts there. Once they can run trains beyond the bridge, there's nothing to stop them between here and Atlanta. Well, then why hasn't the bridge been destroyed? The military couldn't get near it. A civilian might. Owl Creek Bridge, huh? Well, that's not far from here, is it? Less than 20 miles. That bridge is important. Sure is. What if it were destroyed? Hold up the Yankees for several weeks. Suppose a man, a civilian like myself, should have used the ticket post. What could he accomplish? Well, I was there a week ago, just before we had to pull out. Look, there's a heap of driftwood come down in last winter's flood caught on the trestle at this end. Looks mighty dry and tender to me. I see. A fellow with enough gumption might get through and set fire to it. It ought to burn like coal. Yes, yes, it should. Here's your water, Corporal. Right out of the springhouse. Thank you kindly, ma'am. Ah, it's cool and nice. I think I'd better hit the leather. I got a lot of ride in the head of me tonight. Well, good luck to you, Corporal, and thank you for the information. You'd be taking a chance, sir, but you couldn't do a greater service for your country. I remember that, Corporal. Bye, ma'am. Bye, sir. Many thanks. Yes, sir! You break the surface of Bowel Creek for a second time, and now you are much further downstream, and further away from Union soldiers on the bridge, reloading their guns, the ramrods flashin' in the morning sun. Something seems to grab you in your twirl, round and round, spinning like a water log pop. You're caught in a vortex, a whirlpool. The water, the banks, the distant bridge, the soldiers become indistinct blurs of your helpers. You feel dizzy and sick to your stomach, as you felt last night when you crept up the bank for the lone sentinel at the south end of the bridge, and discovered that the sentinel was not alone. There he is, boys. I got him, Sergeant. Mr. Peyton-Forkwell, we've been expecting you. How did you know my name? We got ways. But look here. I'm a civilian. I was just... Take a breath. Thank you, maker. We didn't shoot you in the back. We don't do things like that up north. Well, everything fair and square. I'd bring him along, then. Here he is, Captain. I don't schedule. Good work, Sergeant. Is this a man, Lieutenant? That's him. Why, you... You're the copro who stopped at my plantation last night? That's right, Mr. Farquhar. But not of the 13th North Carolina Volunteers. Mr. Farquhar, this is Lieutenant Salton Starr, officer of Fifth Massachusetts Regulatory. You've trapped me. You deliberately led me into a trap. I'm a civilian, a planter. And also a southern patriot, caught in the act of sabotage. You can't prove it. We don't have to. But why have you done this? Why have you deliberately trapped me? It's so much easier to eliminate civilian resistance by luring it into the open. You felt the debate too bad. Now, look here. It is my constitutional right. Which constitution? Constitution of the United States of America or Jeff Davis? You insubstantial... I don't remember your manners, sir. I demand a trial. You've just had it. Put the guard over on Sergeant. Yes, sir. We'll hang him in the morning. Your Columbia pornograph dealer is proud to present the new Sound of Pleasure, Stereo One by Columbia, number one in the wonderful world of sound. Only Columbia's leadership and advanced engineering could bring you so many exclusive features, so many handsome models. There's a Columbia Stereo One pornograph for every room, for every budget, every listening need. If space is a problem, Columbia has a new so-away speaker model. If you want twin stereo units, Columbia has them. If you want true stereo sound in one unit, Columbia has it in several handsome models. Prills with the excitement of true high fidelity combined with the realism of stereophonic sound. No matter what you want in stereo, Columbia has it. And your Columbia pornograph dealer is headquarters for Columbia Phonographs. Portable start as low as $24.95. Elegant consoles start at the amazing low price of $129.95. See them all, hear them all today, your Columbia pornograph dealer. And now, starring Mr. Vincent Price, acts two of occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge. Hey, the rope broke and the world will carry you away, and now you realize you're running a stock. Open your eyes, you're lying on the southern bank of the stream out of the sight of your enemies. Say it, you leap to your feet and run into the woods south towards home. It's nearly noon now, and for a half hour you've been plunging through a swamp waist-deep in green ooze. Your neck hurts constantly, your head throbs in your tongue, your thick mask swarms before your eyes and catching your eyelids. The speed of buzzing in your ears drill deep into your hands and your swollen neck. You can't go on any longer. You slow down, you stop. You reach toward a palmetto root for support in it. It sliders from your grasp and slides softly into the water. Water moccasin. Fear finds you at last. Terror which stood aloof when you fled the executioner's bullets now embraces you with clammy unction. Water moccasin. Now each branch and root seems to ride under your glance. The swamp is undulating with certain death. You plunge on through the dark, stinking ooze on and on, tripping, stumbling, and never stopping. You'll ride your back flogging you with a swift lash of fear. Jeff Rowe's gonna have mouth-fog while spitters are spittling jig time. Now you just drink this A.P. mouth-fog while... Oh thank you, thank you. Jeff Rowe. Y'all some mouth-fog while... What are you doing here? I lived here. You lived? Where am I? What happened? I was pulling my dugout and coming home through the swamp with a mess of catfish and sees you lying out there on the bench in front of my cabin. Jeff Rowe, I heard I... I thought you were dead. Who, me? Dead? Of course you thought Jeff Rowe was dead. You knew he had consumption when you sold him. You knew he couldn't last long and he wasn't earning his keeps. His wife and his daughter had carried on some at first, but after a while they calmed down and last you heard Jeff Rowe was dead. You thought I was dead, mouth-fog while... Well sir, don't you know what then happened to me? I'm free. I'm free at last. Yes sir, I'm free. And I suspect pretty soon my woman and my little girl are going to come along and join me. How is there mouth-fog while? Is they where? Oh yes, yes, yes indeed there. They both find Jeff Rowe. I don't know how to say this, but I really was sorry about having to tell you. But there wasn't anything else I could... Oh I understand mouth-fog while. Just no mind. I didn't forgive you long ago. Don't the Lord tell us to forgive those whose trespasses against us? Don't the Lord promise us we shall be free? Don't you worry none about it mouth-fog while. Hey, hey now! Quiet that mouth-fog! Quiet, take it! I must have to raise it back in the breast. Oh, there ain't no hog at all. Look, mouth-fog while. Why, where's the soldier? There's one of our soldiers too caught for look-like. Jeff Rowe, Jeff Rowe, you've got to hide me. Well, why does I got to hide you mouth-fog while? So that's for many questions, you insolent... Mouth-fog while you forget, so I'm freezing on. Oh yes. Yes, well, then it's an old friend, Jeff, so please just hide me and don't tell that soldier anything. Why, Jeff, I reckon I can do that old friend mouth-fog while. Here, you get out under this bed here and I'll put the covers over the side facing. There. Hey there, Uncle. Have you come this far just to be turned in by a wool-gathering black who talks crazy? If Jeff Rowe knew this gray-clad corporal was really a union lieutenant, he'd guarantee his freedom by turning you in. That's of course... That's of course he's planning to dispose of you himself. Yes, that's it. He's going to do you in himself. You live longer. Y'all can come on out now, Mouth-fog. Thank you. Lord, I declare I don't understand none of this. You says not to tell him you're here and he says not to tell you he's been here. Now, what's this all about, Mouth-fog? Nothing, Jeff, from nothing. I owe the man some money and I'm not ready to pay it yet. Oh, I see. I wouldn't know nothing about that. Something ain't never bothered me like it bothers some. Money and me's always been crazy. Jeff, what are you going to do with that knife? What? Oh, I was just sticking to split up some of them catfish I got in my dugout. It looked like you could do with a little food, Mouth-fog. No, no, no, thank you, Jeff. I want to get home by sundown. If you just tell me of which way I should go. Well, I don't rightly know, Mouth-fog. But I reckon from the way the sun's reclining, it would be down the road that way. Quite a fur-a-feet down. Yes, it should be about right. I've never been back, you know. Never tried to go back since I've been free. Yes, I know. I reckon it won't be long till my woman and my little one comes here to me. Of course. If you get back, Mouth-fog, if you see them, you tell them I'm here waiting for them. Yes, I'll do that, Jeff. Oh, I'll do that. Car owners, here's news about a revolutionary new product by the makers of famous K-Site. It's new K-Site 3C, a heavy-duty crankcase concentrate for use in all engines. Added to your motor oil, K-Site 3C with Vareman quickly stops hydraulic valve lister noises, cushions and soothes the engine. It cleans your engine and keeps it clean. K-Site 3C gives protection against acid, rust and corrosion, too. Add to the oil every 2,000 miles and you'll have a tough oil that won't thin out, oil that cushions the load on every working part. Cut down friction, wear and noise. With K-Site 3C in the crankcase, gas and oil mileage increases and your engine has more pep and power. Remember, you get results with K-Site 3C or double your money back. Get it at your service station, garage or car dealer now. Only a dollar and fifty cents. And now. Sorry, Mr. Vincent Price. Act free of a current that I will preach bridge. Get away from there fast. The shells of the back road crunching under your muddy boots. That grinning savage standing in the doorway of the shack, the knife in his hand. At each moment until the road bends and cuts off the cabin from view, your fear has come after you. The knife poised to plunge you in the back to pay you for the thrust you gave him when you sent him away to die. But he's still spending there grinning foolishly and waving as you turn the bend. How long have you been running down this endless road? Stop now. Is it night or has the blood trapped in your head by that suffocating rope that last burst into your congested eyeballs and blinded you? Now, now, the darkness is only the black of a sudden summer storm. That lightning flash clearly shows the white road ahead in the black silhouettes of trees along the side. And the flash of lightning directly overhead. For an instance, you seem to see the soldiers of Owl Creek Bridge standing at the side of the road, rifles leveled their eyes, boring down the sides, aiming at your heart. Begin your running. The rain has turned to hail. Pellet, the biggest harmony, beat down on you. Found your swollen bruised neck, hammer on your countless cuts. Again the lightning. And on the other side of the road, the gray-clad corporal sits the stride of his horse, waiting for you. No, no, you can't get me now. No! This bolt of lightning strikes a tree ahead of you. And in the white blinding light stands Jeffro, black and grinning. Knife raised in the air. No, no, Jeffro, Jeffro, forgive me, forgive me! And now you see dangling from each tree along the road, a noose winging in the wind. Wherever you turn, wherever you look, a noose waiting for you. A noose which wriggles like a water moccasin. No, no! Stand on the green lawn of your plantation before the high column entrance. The storm is over. The clouds are black and menacing all around the horizon, but through a break in the sky overhead glorious sunlight streams down, bathing your garden in your house in heavenly light. You are home. Now you hear a rustling of crinoline and down from the wide portico steps your beloved wife. She runs across the lawn on the outskirts. Hey, my dear, you're bad just as you promised you'd be. For this moment you've endured the agonies of this day. And were those agonies multiplied a thousand times, they would be small price for the benefit of this blessed the sanctuary of these arms, the security of these wings. You step forward to fold your wife in your embrace. Rope stretched tight, sang like a bowstring. Peyton Farquhar was dead. His body with a broken neck swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of Owl Creek Bridge. In place starred in William M. Robeson's production of A Current That Owl Creek Bridge. Adapted for radio by Mr. Robeson from a story by Ambrose Beers. In a moment the names of our supporting players and a word about next week's story of suspense. If you're the happy driver of the Chevy or a Pontiac Oldsmobiles, you ignore a fabulous Cadillac. Here is something you ought to know to keep your car on the go. It's garden makin' it, garden makin' it the best kind of service for the best kind of cars. GM train mechanics, the most modern equipment too. Using factory approved parts to keep your car as good as you. See your General Motors dealer and get garden makin' it the best kind of service for the best kind of cars. Right now your dealer is offering performance service specials. The things that should be done before a vacation motor trip. This is the time for engine tune up, tire rotation, front end adjustment and a complete lubrication the garden maintenance way. See your General Motors dealer and get the best kind of service for the best kind of cars. Supporting Mr. Vincent Price in tonight's story were Kathy Lewis, Barney Phillips, Sam Pierce, Roy Glenn, Norm Alden and Sam Edwards. Listen. Listen again next week when we return with this Marsha Hunt starring in Night Man. Another tale well calculated to keep you in to suspense. The latest news follows, then have gun will travel on CBS Radio.