SEVENTH INSTALMENT
The shell dealer, whose eyes had
never left Speed’s face, dived into
the crowd. No one else saw the
lightning gesture with which the
outlaw jerked his guns. There was
a glint in both his hands a split
fraction of a second before the for
ty-fives flashed and roared and
spoke again. Fallon’s weapons had
hardly shifted when they were!
wrecked in their holsters. The third
shot knocked the cigar from his
mouth, and the fourth went side
ways at another mark on the near
edge of the gaming table, where a
man who had drawn at the same
time as Fallon, dropped his gun
from a nerveless hand, his wrist j
streaming blood.
Speed backed away, eyes raking!
the crowd, guns held close and
ready.
"I told you I wasn’t patient, and
I ain’t,” he said, in a voice Maitland
never had heard. "But bein’ elec
ted camp boss on a platform of cus
sedness, I accept accordin’. Nothin’
on legs will cross Porcupine Bridge
till the trail from here to there is in
shape, and in good shape. The trail
is barred for four days work. If
anyone doubts about my havin’ the
guts to make that good, they can
signify their views here and now by
sayin’ liar and coyote.”
* * *
It was the third evening after the
barring of the trail. Maitland found
his partner talking alone, with
Brent near a roughly bridged cross
ing at the upper end of the road
work, which a landslide that day
had interrupted.
During three days, new steamers
had been pouring into Skagway a
mob of adventurers—"Sweepings”
of the Coast towns as well as bona
fide prospectors who knew nothing
of the cause of the dispute and car
ed less. Fallon had been packing
them in at Liarsville to vote the
trail open; had chosen a posse of
gunmen in advance from among
the wildest. Before this gathering
threat, most of the trail workers
had given way.
"They’s a short string of us will
go the limit, if you want to,” Brent
was saying.
Speed shook his head. "It
wouldn’t be no kind of a break for
the boys who made this trail to get,
hung for it. Tell them—to pick!
up their tools, leave her open and;
stand clear.”
"I’ve got an old deer gun back;
to camp,” Brent shifted the quid,
slowly in his cheek. "She ain’t seed
no real action sence she fit a string,
of hide thieves from a buffalo wal-|
ler away back in ’71. I’d ruther,
shoot her out than see you called
that way.”
There was acknowledgement in
Speed’s smile, but he declined the
proposal, and the old-timer gloomi
ly withdrew to carry his decision to
the few men who were still waiting
for it.
"Better trail with him, Bud,”
Speed said to his partner, "and look
up Garnet. We ain’t seen him for
two days.”
"What are you going to do?”
Maitland asked, with a foreboding
that Speed had not disclosed his real
intention.
"We agreed once,” said the out
law, after a pause, "that I’d warn
you and we’d split pardners if I
ever went up against the Law.
Seems like I’ve reached that junc
tion, Bud. I’m into this play neck
deep and I can’t quit.”
Maitland gave a sober nod of
half-comprehension.
"It’s on’y my hand Fallon’s
callin’,” Speed explained earnestly
and with more emphasis. "He’ll
head through here, first with his
shebang^ and either he don’t cross
this bridge, or I don’t live to see it.
But he has the backin’ of the min
ers’ law, or will have, by sun-up—”
"Mob Law,” Maitland amended.
"If you don’t see your way to quit,
Speed, you can’t count me out. On
principle, I’d—” j
The Westerner groaned. "You
ornery down-East Yanks, with your
principles and proverbs—Listen,
Bud. Whether I ever reach Daw
son or not don’t matter a whole
lot; with you it’s different. It’s
what you come for. I’ve figured
Garnet as your chance of gettin’
there. ...”
But there is no law, East or
West, and no tie as strong as that
which binds a man to a partner
against fighting odds, and with
Maitland the bond had been steel
woven by the memory of a bleak
day in the Sound. Speed here found
himself opposing something as ele
mental as his own refusal to yield.
* * *
me creeK naa a giaciai canyon,
with smooth rock faces in the bed,
and a timber growth that started
well up on the steep banks. Above
a defile connecting with the bridge,
there was a rocky bluff which com
manded a long view of the canyon
and of the trail along the rim. Its
weakness lay in a broken gulch
that fell from it into the creek on
the north side, and its possible ex
posure to gunfire from the hills on
the other bank. It would be diffi
cult to take, however, on the side
facing the trail.
Here, within a rock corral, some
goods lay stacked; provisions, a
water canteen, several boxes of
shells and a forty-four Winchester
carbine. The outlaw had evidentlv
foreseen what was coming.
During supper he was broodingly
quiet. A blood-red moon was ris-|
ing through the timber. It lighted'
the mountain headlands, and left j
vastly deep shadows, made more;
tenebrous by the occasional howl
of a timber wolf, a lynx’s shrill!
bark, or the hoot of an owl. He
picked up the carbine, his eyes on
something invisible to Maitland, far
up the trail. But presently he set
the gun down. "That’s Pete’s
mare,” he said.
A blurred shape moved in the dis
tant timber shadows. When it
crossed a lane of moonlight, Mait
land recognized the mare and the
boy. Guided by a sight as keen as
Speed’s, Pete came toward them as
they descended the bluff. There
Viroc c nmol’ Vi i rr rrn 11 n »-»t
o o- - -J
Maitland thought, about that slight,
boyish figure.
On meeting them, Pete gave him
a reserved nod; glanced from the
bluff to the hills across the canyon,
and spoke to Speed. "Need an
exter gun hand?”
"I got one too many now,” Speed
muttered.
"Then, will you let me go
through? I could ford the creek,”
Pete pleaded simply. "That would
n’t be 'crossin’ it on legs.’ ”
Speed’s eyes rested on the mare’s
light saddle pack, and then on the
boy’s face, which looked pale in the
half-darkness. "Headin’ for Bennett
alone?” he asked.
Pete nodded. "My partner—
Bill’s dead.”
The words gave Maitland a pe
culiar shock. "How?” Speed asked
softly.
"He was in a game—in Skagway
—with some of Fallon’s men. Lost
his outfit. He’d been drinkin’.
They found him on the beach—
afterwards—drowned.”
Speed did not speak for a mo
ment. Then he said, “How do you
aim to make out, kid?”
"There’s a man in the Yukon Bill
was to meet on the lakes,” Pete
said hesitantly. “I’m goin’ up to
find him. If I don’t see you boys
again—” the formal tone broke
slightly—"I’m wishin’ you luck . .”
He was in the saddle and away.
The mare shot down the defile at a
headlong gallop, took the full span
of the bridge in a beautiful leap,
and flashed up the hill on the other
side into timber.
* * *
A half mile to the south the trail
came in view over a timbered
mountain shoulder. In the rising
sun, the trees cast long shadows
across it, and it was a flickering in
the rosy aisles between them that
gave the signal.
A team of gray mules topped the
rise, shielding the men behind.
Other pack animals followed, and
their drivers gathered on the van
tage ground, peering down the long
vista toward the creek crossing.
There was a puff of smoke; a bullet
screamed over the bluff through the
morning silence; then came the
sharp rifle crack. Out of the blue
canyon mist, a great-winged golden
eagle rose and soared away.
"We’re jake so long as they keep
in the creek, ’ said Speed. "She flat
ten out short of the bridge . . .
Unless they can dig past under the
near bank. Watch that gully,
Bud.” He drew the six-shooters
from his belt and inspected them;
then raised his head carefully above
the rim of the rock corral to get a
steeper view.
His eyes raked the canyon below
for a glimpse of Fallon. Suddenly
a bullet went "spang” over the ram
part, and he slid back with a grunt,
shaking away the blood that oozed
from a raw seam above his temple.
Smoke was swirling out of some
brush a few yards below the point
where the trail reached the creek
bottom.
"Nobody lied,” said Speed, as he
tore a handkerchief and tied it
round the wound, "when they said
this man Fallon could shoot. But
I got him placed now.”
Changing his position, he edged
along the boulders till he touched
the outer rim. A bullet hissed be
tween his neck and the rock, with
a glancing spark. Speed wheeled
out and fired in the same instant.
"Nicked his gun arm,” he said,
as he whipped back into shelter.
"Fallon shoots best left-handed.
Watch your gulch, Bud.”
Wisps of smoke eddied out from
various points high in the timber.
The men who had started the as
cent, paused irresolutely. These
shots from above came as a surprise,
throwing a new and disturbing fac
tor into their plan. They suspected
that Speed had planted a guard on
the hill to protect the bluff, and
they had no way of guessing its
strength. Finally they dropped
back into the canyon to consult, it
seemed, with their leader.
"You haven’t any men up on that
hill?” Maitland asked Speed.
Speed’s grin was mysterious.
"Ain’t I, though. I got one, and
he’s as good as a gang. The little
devil had it all figured when he
crossed the bridge.”
j "Pete.” Maitland exclaimed.
But their attention was now sum
moned back to the posse. They
caught a glimpse of Fallon with his
arm in a bandage, giving orders.
Until now Speed had contented
himself mainly with making the
trail impassable. Now he shot with
a searching intent to kill, hoping
the while that Pete would vacate his
position. But the gun kept speaking
j on the hill; the boy was standing
| his ground. After the first few
|yards of ascent, the timber on the
near bank offered the attackers a
helpful screen. Speed’s eye came
back to the boulders on the other
side of the creek. If he could reach
these, he could sweep a wider arc
’ of hill, with no impending trees,
j He was gathering up the ammu
jnition to make this desperate move
■ when a sudden din from below
'stopped him. Maitland, from his
lookout shouted above the rear,
"Look!”
The deep voice of a heavy-calib
red gun was booming and rever
berating through the canyon. It
had halted the men on the hill, who
now answered it by pouring a hot
fire into the creek. Bullets were
splashing like rain around a wiry,
gray-headed figure who was fording
the creek through a blue smoke
haze, toward the boulders Speed
had had in view. Coolly munching
a large tobacco wad, he returned
the broadside as he went, without
haste, but with terrible effect.
"By Ginger!” cried Speed. "It’s
Brent’s deer gun. And ain’t she a
talkin’!”
At this point there was a waver
ing in the rear of the crowd. A
hum ran electrically down the pack
train, and Fallon summoned back
his men with an exultant shout. The
crowd spread out to give way to a'
cavalcade coming down the trail.1
"Soldiers?” Maitland asked in'
wonder.
Continued next week.
Control Flower Pests
With Sprays or Dusts
Contrary to the general belief,
insect pests on flower gardens are
not a necessary evil from which
there is no relief, says C. FT. Bran
non, extension entomologist at State
College.
Although there are a few pests
for which no satisfactory control
method has been developed, he
points out, most of them can be
eradicated by application of inex
pensive sprays or dusts.
Sucking insects, which draw
their nourishment from inside the
plant, must be treated with a poisin
that kills when it comes in contact
with their skin. Plant lice, aphids,
thrips, and scale insects fall in this
group.
Chewing insects, which eat leaves
or small stems, may be eradicated
by a stomach poison. When they
eat the poison, death follows in a
short time. Caterpillars, leaf eat
ing beetles and grasshoppers are
among the chewing insects.
For sucking insects, Brannon re
commends a spray with one and a
half teaspoonful of nicotine sul
phate to a gallon of water, or a
dust with a half ounce of nicotine
sulphate to nine and a half ounces
of hydrated lime.
For chewing insects, he recom
mends a spray composed of three
teaspoonful of arsenate of lead to a
gallon of water, or five teaspoonful
of magnesium arsenate to a gallon
of water. Or a dust may be pre
pared by mixing one part of arsen
ate of lead with four and a half
parts of hydrated lime, or one part
of magnesium arsenate to three
parts of hydrated lime.
These mixtures are safe for deli
cate plants and bright colored
flowers, Brannon says. Tougher
plants will not be injured by a
slightly stronger mixture of the
foregoing sprays or dusts.
The number of divorces in this
country has fallen off during recent
years. Some men haven’t been so
fascinating since they had less
money.
_—Buy In Salisbury—
Suddenly a bullet went "spang” over the rampart.
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In describing how her health im- ;
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Scientists Find Fast Way;
to Relieve a Cold
Ache and Discomfort EasedAlmost Instantly Now
ITake 2 BAYER Aspirin Tablets.
• Make sure you get the BAYER
i Tablets you ask for.
—■■■■ " ■
2 Drink a full glass of water. Repeat
•treatment in 2 hours.
3 If throat is sore, crush and stir 3
• BAYER Aspirin Tablets in a third
of a glass of water. Gargle twice. This
eases throat soreness almost instantly.
NOTE .
"DIRECTIONS PICTURES"
The simple method pictured here is
the way many doctors now treat
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bring with themt
It is redognized as a safe, sure,
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Ask your doctor about this. And
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Fish Filet With Pineapple Juice
Andre, chef of the Hotel Roosevelt,* New York, putting the finishing
touches to Filet of Fish, Waikiki for visiting Hawaiian celebrities.
pmUIT and fish are fine foods.
Usually though we think of
this combination in terms of fish
with a dash of lemon squeezed over
it at the table. The fish entree to
be described here is as simple to
make as it is delicious to taste. It
differs from the ordinary fish dish
in that it calls for fruit juice in the
actual preparation—in other words,
the natural unsweetened juice of
sun-ripened pineapples.
Filet of Fish, Waikiki with pine
apple sauce, originated in the Ha
waiian Islands, where it now en
joys great vogue. Now that fine
pineapple juice is available every
where, it should become a national
favorite in the opinion of a famous
New York hotel chef who recently
prepared it for distinguished vis
itors from the Hawaiian Islands.
Before giving the recipe, it should
be emphasized that- straight pine
apple juice must be- used—not the
syrup in which sliced pineapple is
packed.
Filet of Fish, Waikiki
With Pineapple Sauce
6 filets of sole (or 1- cup Hawaiian
any other white pineapple juice
fish) 1 cup of stock (a
4 finely chopped bouillon cube may
shallots be substituted dis
1 teaspoon finely solved in cup of
chopped parsley water)
ift teaspoon herb 6 tablespoons butter
bouquet 2 tablespoons flour
1 yolk of egg
Butter a baking pan or dish,
place the shallots in it and the
filets of fish on top of the shallots,
sprinkle with parsley, salt and pep
per and add the pineapple juice
and stock. Place the herb bouquet
in the liquid, cover with a buttered
paper and put on the top of the
Steve. Bring to the boiling point,
then put into a moderate oven, 325
degrees, and let simmer until the
fish is cooked.
Use remaining butter to make
sauce. Melt butter, add flour and
stir well until cooked, then add the
broth from the fish and let cook at
least five minutes, then add the
slightly beaten yolk of egg and cook
one more minute. Pour over the
filets, sprinkle, with parsley and
garnish with lemon and pineapple.
When Your Head
Feels “Stuffy”..
Apply Va-tro-nol
...just a few drops.
Va-tro-nol pene
trates deep into
the nasal passages,
reduces swollen
membranes, dears
away clogging mu
cus, brings welcome
relief.
• • •
Two generous sizes
... 300 and 500.
. . . USED IN TIME
HELPS PREVENT MANY COLDS
$90 Of Lindbergh’s
Ransom Said Passed
Since Bruno Arrest
Boston.—The Boston Post says
that approximately $850 in Lind
bergh ransom money has been pass
ed in and around Boston during the
past year.
Federal authorities declined com
ment on the report.
The Post says that $90 of the
money has been passed since the ar
rest of Bruno Richard Haupt
mann now under a death sentence
for the kidnapping and that $_30
was passed here only last Friday.
According to The Post, the re
covered money is now in the hands
of officials of the U. S. Attorney
General’s office at Washington.
"When do we eat?” is a popular
question, and "When don’t we eat?”
would be a good question for the
hungry boys to ask.
vx: III
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