Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday • headed fellow of pleasinc: aspocl. V'iLh a countonai^ce that fairly raciiatod geniality. "Dick Allen!" the ex-captain ejaculated, and in another momeni was hurrying down the car's aisle, Fiesta and Leach Overmile filing after him silently. Gaining the seat occupied by the man who had shouted his name, Jeff Butler clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Why. you old chicken-thief!" he declared. "Fancy running across you! Say, the last limie I saw you " "The last time you saw me we were both celebratin' our demobilisation in New York.'' Dick Allen interposed. "Boy. was that a night! But what are you doing here, Jeff?" ''Working for the Railroad," was the reply. "My full title is assistant superin- tendent of the " It was at that juncture that Sid Campeau leaned across the gangway. He had watched the encoimter between Jeff Butler and Dick Allen with interest. "Don't they call you 'a trouble shooter '?" he inquired of the former Army officer, breaking in on him. "You know, one of these guys who are supposed to keep the railroad workers up to scratch?" Jeff Butler turned towards Campeau, and noted that there was a faintly deri- sive smirk on the latter's face. "Yeah," Jeff said slowly, challengingly. "A trouble shooter. That's what tiiey call me." Complacently Sid Campeau stroked a moustache that adorned his upper lip. "Well." he drawled in a significant tone, "it looks like we might see a lot of each other—for a while." Jeff Butler's eyes hardened. He knew Campeau. The man had been pointed out to him as the cause of the unforeseen hindrances with which the Union Pacific had been meeting. Unfortunately, how- ever, there was no law against Campeau runnin.j; a saloon and gaming-den in close proximity to the slowly advancing rail- road, and, though he was suspected of having been responsible for certain definitely criminal activities, there was no actual proof of his guilt in that connection. Jeflf spoke deliberatelv. "You know. Campeau, I was figuring on BOY'S CINEMA having a httlc talk wilh you," he .'said. Campeau surveyed him with cool inso- lence. "Mavbc you'd better have a little talk with your friend first," he suggested, indi- cating Dick Allen. "I gather you're old Armv pals." "That's right, Sid," Dick Allen was prompt to inform Campeau. "We were in the same regiment all through the Civil War. And say, if it hadn't been for Jeff I wouldn't be here now. He saved my life at the Battle of the Wilderness." Jeff had darted a quick glance at Dick, divining for the first time that he and Campeau were well acquainted, and he was suddenly reminded that, despite an engaging charm of manner, Dick had always struck him as being reckless, head- strong and in som? respects none too scrupulous. He was suddenly reminded, too, that Dick had been over-fond of gambling. He contemplated Dick Allen medita- tively, and was still eyeing him in a reflective manner when he realised that his erstwhile comrade of Army days was introducing him to a girl who was seated beside him. "Do you know Mollie Monahan. Jeff?" Dick was saving. "She's the postmistress at End of Track. IrLsh as a shillelagh. Her old man's an engine-driver on the Road, and right now he's in the cab of the loco that's puUin' this train." Jeff doffed his hat to Miss Mollie Monahan. observing her to be unusually attractive. She had the kind of face he admired in a girl—a face that implied courage and animation—a face very dif- ferent from those of Campeau's troupe of saloon-hostes.ses, whose made-up features were either hard in their expression or puerile in their lack of intelligence. "This is Captain Jeff Butler, Mollie," Dick was proceeding in jovial accents. "Jeff and I fought, bled and almost died together in the Federal Army." ■■ It wasn't you two that won the war. was it?" Mollie Monahan inquu-ed smil- ingly, the lilting brogue of her motherland running through her speech. "Practically," Dick confessed with a laugh, and then, tinning to Jeff again, 3 motioned him to a vacant seat in front of him. Jeff .settled him.self in that seat and bent close to Dick. In contrast to the latter'.s cheerful demeanour, his mood had become sombre, "How much of a friend of yotirs is Campeau?" he asked in a low tone. "Sid?" Dick Allen rejoined, casting a glance in the direction of the saloon- owner, who was now in conversation wi*h Belle, Cordra\ and Brett again, "Well, he and I are workin' together. I'm what you might term his right-hand man." Jeff Butler pursed his lips. "You'd bettci- get yourself another partner, Dick " he muttered. Dick grinned, and nodded to Mollie Monahan. "I've already got my eye on one," he remarked, whereupon Mollie thrust out her chin stubbornly. "Don't you pay any attention to him, Mr. Butler," she said to Jeff. "The man who gets me for a partner will have to work for a living." She had spoken lightly enough, but Jeff gathered that if Dick Allen was seriously in love with her she had not lost her heart to him, and, though she obviously seemed to like him, her words made it plain that she did not altogether approve of him. Jeff looked at her appraisingly for a brief interval, then addressed himself to Dick Allen once more—still in the same low tone he had previously used. "What about Campeau?" he queried. "What about him?" Dick retorted placidly. "Port of my job is to clear him and his outfit off the line if possible," Jeff men- tioned. At that his one-time comrade adopted a solemn mien. "No, you can't do it, Jeff," he said. "Don't try." "Meaning that two other trouble shooters who tried it before me were mysteriously plugged m the back?" Dick made no response, and after a moment Jeff spoke again. "We've been thi-ough a lot of stoi'ms to- gether, Dick. We've slept under the same fl Jeft lifted the shovel and took up a defensive stance as Duke Ring launched a further murderous onset October 23th. t939.