 Escape! Through a fighting your way through a frozen wilderness torn by the icy blast of an arctic blizzard and driving you on towards certain death is a man with a gun from whom you cannot escape. Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to the Canadian north woods to a lonely wilderness where justice pines strange paths as James Oliver Curwood told it in his famous story, The Match. Just below the arctic circle where blizzards scream in the winter and tear frozen branches from the pine trees where the driven sleet cuts human skin like flying glass there men know and fear the eternal spirit of the icy north the great cold spirit that weaves the patterns of human destiny both weaves and destroys. Forever and again the spirit throws out strange swirls of chance and coincidence that meet eventually in a terrible whirlpool which swallows up the old pattern and creates some new and different one for men to wonder and marvel at. One such swirl in time and space began months ago and far to the south in a logging camp near the southern border of Canada where two men faced each other on a narrow trail in the light of a full moon. It began in violence and hatred. Come on, Lauren. Lauren, I've been talking to Jeannie. She told me what you did. Well, what about it? She told me all of it, the whole thing. Too bad, Lauren. But if you can't keep your wife from casting her eye around then that's your tough luck. There are no eyes cast around and you know it. All right then, what are you going to do about it? I'm not sure yet. Then I'll tell you, nothing. You haven't got a leg to stand on. I'm running this camp and every man in it. And if you don't like what I do, then get out. I'm planning to stay. In that case, you'd better get used to the way I run things. Men and women. And the next time I drop in... Why, you dirty... That's it, eh? Well then... Drop that knife, Thorne. Drop it! Get up, Thorne. Come on, get up on your feet. Get up, Thorne. What's the matter with you? Thorne! Thorne! Under his head... He's... He's dead. Jeanne? Billy, what's wrong? Jeanne, I ran into Thorne a few minutes ago. Oh, Billy. Your hand. What did you do? I hit him, Jeanne. He started to pull a knife so I knocked him down. His head hit a rock when he fell. He's dead. No. Oh, no! They probably won't find Thorne until morning, so I've got to get out of here in the next half hour. Please? I'm no here, Jeanne. They don't know me. It's just my word. I wouldn't have a chance. Where do we go? Not you. You're going to take the baby and go back to the cottage in New York State. But where are you planning to go? North, honey. A long ways, North. I'll have a better chance up there in the woods. They'll catch you, Billy. They always do. Don't worry. They won't catch me. And somehow, sooner or later, we're going to be back together again. And so in the south, one black swirl of chance is born and moves slowly northward through time and space. Moves even as the great Arctic storms move across the faces of continents. And there ahead of it, among the tumbled ridges of spruce and pine, another swirl of human fate moves at the whim of the bleak spirit of that frozen land. Moves first one way, then another. But centre's always near one certain red-coated uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Centre's on the hard, lean figure of a man called Sergeant Brokaw. Nice shot, Sergeant. Thanks, Trooper. The captain sent Peter. Wait. There's one more target still up out there. Dead centre. Brother, I wish I could shoot like that. Work on it. Good shooting is something you'll need if you stay in the mountains. I guess it's helped you plenty of times. Yeah, a few. What have you got there, a telegram? Oh, yeah. It's an order the captain told me to bring out to you. Here. Let's see. Special assignment for apprehension in return of a fugitive named Billy Loring. Height 5 feet 11 inches, weight and so on and so on. Senior Hobbs landing on October 3rd and reported heading north, wanted for murder. Sergeant Brokaw assigned instruction, bring back fugitive. They make it sound plenty simple, Sergeant. Bring back fugitive. Not just the way it ought to sound. When you're assigned to bring a man in, you bring him in. That's all there's to it. There's no excuse and no alibi for not doing it. You can take my word on it, Trooper. I've been doing it for 12 years. And so far, you've never missed getting your man? Not so far, not ever. When I go after a man, I'm gonna get him, sooner or later. And one way or another, I'm gonna bring him back, every time. And that goes for this what's his name, Loring. You can bet your life on it. And so they grew in time and space, these two great swells of chance, the one hovering in the north and the other moving toward it slowly across a thousand miles and through 227 days. And one night at last, they met in a tiny, raw pine cabin hidden in the blizzard-frozen marsh hard up against the Arctic Circle. And the wild whirlpool born from that meeting created strange, new patterns of human life and death and destiny. All right, Loring, let's have your other wrist. And there. You don't need these handcuffs. You've got me, that's that. I don't take chances, Loring. You know it already, of course, but you're under arrest in the name of the Crown for murder. You can sit down in that chair with a stove. Thanks. It's funny, I've lived here all winter and I've had pretty good luck trapping. I've been selling furs to the Indians. In another month, I'd have had enough to go away and meet my wife. Then you come along. Tough luck, Loring. We'll start back for the post in the morning, or at least as soon as this blizzard lets up. That'll be three days, it always is. What's your name? Brokaw, Sergeant Brokaw. That's kind of funny, somehow, today being the day you found me. Glad I did. I hate to be camping out in that blizzard tonight. What's so funny about today? It's her birthday. I mean, my wife, Jeannie. Here, let me show you. Hold it, Loring. Oh, no, no, no. It's all right. It's just her photograph. Here, let me unwrap it. See? She's a pretty girl. Yeah, that and everything else, Sergeant. You married? No. Had some of her hair, that curl that's pinned to the picture. Yeah, red, isn't it? It's like red gold. It's her birthday. So today's our wedding anniversary, too. She wanted it that way. She said the best things in her life always happen on her birthday. Yeah, well... Yeah, I... I guess it was crazy. But I was so happy when I got up this morning about what day it was and only two months to go and all. I put two places at the breakfast table and I propped her picture up by one of them. I sat there talking to her while we ate together. I guess you get like that up here alone. I haven't seen a white man for three months. I had a little dog for a while, but he died about six weeks ago and there wasn't any chance to get another one. Jeannie always liked dogs. Dogs and kids. You don't mind my talking this way, do you, Sergeant? It kinda helps. I don't mind. Why should I? Well, the thing is we've always been so blame-crazy about each other. We've never been apart until this came up. And then we had to be. And in another month or two, we'd... we'd have been back together. It's your own fault, Loring. It's not my concern. My job is to find you and bring you in. I've done part of that and I will do the rest of it. Maybe so. I warn you right now, Sergeant. I'll make it as tough for you as possible. I'm gonna get away if I can. You see, I promised her that we'd be together again. It's up to you, Loring. But if you start to play rough, I can play a whole lot rougher. One way or another, I'm gonna bring you in to stand trial. And there's nothing can stop me. Maybe so, Sergeant. You see? I'm probably the hardest man in the whole Royal Canadian Mounted Loring. And that's your hard luck, too. Because you might have softened up another man with that stuff you were telling. You think that's why I talked about it? I don't know, and I don't care. The only thing that matters is that I've got a job to do. I always have done it, and I'm going to do it this time. You can depend on that. I guess duty is a big part of your life. Not a big part of it, Loring. It's all of it. Now, if you don't mind, I've come 15 miles through the snow today. Last five against the blizzard. I'm tired. Let's turn in. All right, sure. You can take the bunk and leave your clothes on. Is it all right if I get that photograph off the table? Go ahead. All right. Put your feet together, huh? What's the chain for it? Another reason to call me hard. I'm going to padlock it around your ankles. You are cautious. That's right, Loring. There. Call out if you want anything in the night. If you try to get up without calling, I'll kill you. I'll sleep here in the chair. And this gun happens to be caught. Thanks for warning me. Good night, Sergeant. Good night. By the way, Sergeant Brokaw. Yeah? It's too bad you never got married. Why? Because when you go to sleep, you've nobody to dream about. Billy? Billy, darling. Can you hear me? Yes, Jeannie. Yes, darling? Never mind the blizzard. It doesn't matter. We've been in storms before. Yes, I remember. And today's my birthday. And also the day we were married. Nothing can really hurt us. Everything's going to be all right. Yes, Jeannie. Oh, right. Yes, Jeannie. Yes, everything is going to be all right. Billy? Yes, Jeannie. Remember one time in the far? We built a bonfire on roasted ears of corn. That was in the field back of the cottage. Yes, two years ago. That was on your birthday too. Yes, yes. And do you remember how the smoke would always get in your eyes and how it would follow you around in your dreams? Sure, I remember. Remember? The smoke, Billy. The smoke. Sure, I remember. Billy, the smoke. The smoke. What? Smoke? The cabin's on fire. Sergeant, Sergeant Brokaw. Wake up, the cabin's on fire. Good luck. The whole roof's on fire. I'll carry it. We made it. I gotta get back in. You can't make it. Yes, you know the spot we're in, Loring. Yes, I know. Our heavy coats, mittens, slow shoes and all of our food is burning up inside there. And it's 40 below and the blizzard's just starting. Here, you can't lie there in the snow. Get that chain off your ankles. There you are. Thanks, Sergeant. What about the handcuffs? They stay on, Loring. Are you crazy? What difference does it make? We haven't a chance. You know that as well as I do. Yeah, I know. We couldn't be any worse off. We don't even have a match. I saw you fill your case and put it in your coat. It's inside there. We don't even have a match. I know that, Loring. And I know everything else you're gonna tell me. You don't have enough clothes to keep us from freezing to death. If we stay here and keep the fire going, we'll starve. It's 60 miles to the nearest post and 20 miles to Thorose, the next cabin down the trail. We might make 10 miles if we're lucky. More likely five. That's right, so why the handcuffs? You've been living up here for three months, Loring. I've got an idea. You probably know some cabin a lot closer than Thorose. Some Indian or a trapper. Maybe not more than two or three miles away. You want to start breaking trail? Well, suppose I did. What of it? Something good has always happened to me on Jeanne's birthday and I think it has this time, Sergeant. It's a lot easier to freeze to death than to go back and die the way I'd be doing it. So... Oh. So it's like that? It's like that. Unless you want to make a deal. What kind of a deal? The handcuffs, give me that revolver and I'll get you out of this. There's a cabin alright. Sorry, Loring. No deal. You're a fool, Broko. I got nothing to lose with you just tossing your life away. How about it? It'll take turns breaking trail. You can lead off first. We may as well start... Where? Thorose, of course. 20 miles. You'll die here instead of 5 miles from here. Because I'll be 5 miles closer to bringing you in. Come on. You're a fool, Sergeant. You're beaten and you know it. Why don't you give in? Come on, Loring. Let's get going. How far do you think we've come by now? I don't know. Let's rest for a minute. Yeah. I'm pretty winded myself. 5 miles you think? I'd say about 4. 16 more to Thorose. I think we'll make it, Sergeant. We'll try it. We only had some way of building fires so we could stop and get warm once in a while. Not even an Indian could build a fire in this position without matches. Yeah. The wind is slacking off a bit. Which means it'll get colder. No, we better move on. Sergeant, how about taking off these cuffs they're freezing to my skin? Look, I'm bleeding on both wrists. Then why don't you take us to that cabin you know about? Want to make that deal? No deal. No deal, no cabin? Then I'm sorry for you, Loring. But the cuffs stay on. Why? What difference can it make? We'll both be dead in two hours anyway. If we are, you'll still be wearing those cuffs and this gun will still be in my holster. Dead or alive, you'll still be my prisoner. The hardest men in the Maldives. Are you ready, Loring? Sure, why not? I'll let out for a while. Come on, let's go. Of all those who dwell in this frozen land, the bleak cruel spirit of the north is known best to men on the open trail. There, facing the breath of the blizzard, eyes blinded by the driving sleep, a man feels his soul grow small within him. And when that happens, his mind may turn to strange fantasies and to memories of a faraway voice. Can you hear me, Billy? Yes, Cheney. Everything's going to be all right, Billy. And everything's going to be all right. Sure, honey. The snow doesn't matter. And the blizzard doesn't matter. They'll be gone soon. And they'll be only us. Yeah. I can see you now standing there at the gate. In front of a cottage. That's right, darling. Don't look at the snow and the icy trees in the storm. Look at me instead. See? It's spring. The sunshine. And I'm wearing my hair the way you've always liked it. It's in curls all tumble. See, Billy? Yeah, yeah. Cheney, Cheney. Look, oh, what's the matter? Well, uh, I'm tired. Well, rest of it. You can't lie there like that. You'll be asleep in five minutes. That'll be the end. Thorough. How much further? Four on 14 miles. Come about six altogether. Hmm. Your hands. They're pretty bad shape. I don't know, Sergeant. I can't feel anything now. Might as well take those calves off. Still got your hands. Thanks, Sergeant. Yeah. Here's my gun. How come? I'm through. Beat. I'm giving in, Laurie. Take us to that chem. Ha, ha, ha, ha. What's wrong, Joe? You're too late, Sergeant. What do you mean? That cabin's about two miles from where mine was. We're over four miles from it now. Neither one of us can last another half mile. Yeah. I guess you're right. Well, looks like you win, Laurie. You might call it that. It's tough on you, though. I was gonna die anyway. Well, we might as well keep moving. Why? This is as good a place as any. I'm not gonna stop trying as long as I can move. You can do what you like, Laurie. I'm going on. Wait a minute, Sergeant. If we had a fire and we could get warm for a while, then we could make that cabin without much danger. Yeah, we haven't. Let's save both of us and get us out of this. Will you go back to headquarters and tell them I'm dead? No. No, I can't do that. In 12 years of this service, I haven't run up a white flag once. I'm not gonna do it now. Dying or no dying. Duty, huh? God, whatever you want. We'll make you square off, though. Pull us out of this. I'll give you a 24-hour head start as soon as we're both on our feet again. You're all right, Broko. Funny, I don't even know why I'm doing this. I could let you go on down the trail or you'd stumble into a drift and be dead before you've made half a mile. I'd have been safe then. Funny, I don't know why I'd do it. Maybe it's an account of her. What's your plan, Laurie? What have you got in mind? I'll take the offer of 24-hours, Broko. I've got a match. Yeah, just one. I remember dropping it in my pants pocket yesterday. It's on this side. Maybe you can get to it. Your hands are in better shape than mine. All right, I can't seem to... Yeah, you hear this? It's dry, too. Now drop it, it's the only one. Yeah, I've got to have some branches. Dry by here. You hold it while I get some off that birch tree. All right, match. Don't drop it, Lauren. Hold it carefully. Yeah, I got it. The bark's dry underneath. I ought to be all right to start it. That should burn all right? Yeah. I ought to have some dry paper just to make sure. I've got some. Hold the match. Oh, paper, after on that photograph. There you are. Funny, I was thinking about her when I remembered the match. I guess she's the one that's really going to like this fire. Well, there it is. You want to strike it? Or you want me to? You go ahead, my hands are still pretty stiff. All right. You want to have something dry to scratch it on? There's a gun file in my same pocket. We shouldn't get it. All right. Yeah, yeah, here it is. All right. Well, it's up to her now. All right, Jeannie, strike the match. Oh. Oh, Broco. Oh, Broco, what's the matter? The match. Lowering it went out. I had only chance and it went out. So that's that. I got to get moving. I got to get to Thorough. Broco, you can't make it. I got to go on. As long as I'm alive. I got to keep going. Broco, you don't have a chance. Broco! Well, what's the difference here It's not so bad. It's kind of peaceful. Dreamy. So peaceful it's just like going to sleep. Don't go to sleep, Billy. Wake up. Everything's going to be all right, Jeannie. Wake up, darling. You can't go to sleep. You've got to wake up. Everything's all right. The smoke, Billy. Don't you remember the smoke? We're going to be together again. Open your eyes. What? Smoke. The fire. It's burning. Spark from that match must have caught. Jeannie. The fire is burning. The fire. And so one man finds eternal sleep on the frozen breast of the snow. And one man dreams beside a fire whose tongues of flame are like the red curls of a woman's hair. When the blizzard has stripped the little things away and the soul of a man stands facing the blast clean and bare and alone then what is right and what is wrong Does justice depend on the striking of a match? Is human destiny only a thing of accident and of chance? Ask the icy voice of the Arctic storm. Ask the cold, bleak spirit of the great North woods. Escape is produced and directed by Norman McDonnell and tonight brought to you the match by James Oliver Kerwood adapted for radio by Les Crutchfield with Frank Lovejoy's Billy Wilms Herbert as Sergeant Brocaw since the film is genie Nestor Piva as Thorn and Clark Cuny as the trooper with Stan Waxman as the narrator the musical score was conducted by Wilbur Hatch Next week You are trapped on a remote plantation in the crawling Amazon jungle and an immense river of ravenous ants is closing in on you swarming in to eat you alive a deadly black army from which there is no escape Next week we bring back the escape story you have most requested in your letters Carl Stephenson's gripping tale Linenjin versus the ants Good night then until this same time next week when once again we offer you Escape This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System