Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

6 Duke Ring's efforts did not last long at that. For, imprisoned under the large wheel, he was effectively held beneath the surface of the water, and, gulping and spluttering, rapidly weakening, the man was soon at his last gasp. Jeff allowed him to raise his head then, but only for a moment. In the next he had thrust the sorry wretch down again, and simultaneously he spoke to the assembled and now grinning railroad navvies. "Well, mates, so much for your bully," he commented. "And listen, nobody can make you work, but if you're through with the job you'd better hit the trail and make room for men who do want to work." There were none among the onlookers who still had any inclination to strike, and with one accord they pronounced themselves ready to resume their labours —were already gathering up shovels and picks when Jeff finally permitted Duke Ring to emerge from the trough. The bluster was completely gone from that outsize in* blackguards. He was as weak as a kitten from want of breath, and he was utterly demoralised and humiliated—more humiliated than he could have been by any more trouncing, for he had been made to look a prize fool and knew that never again would he be able to throw his weight about among the men of the road, to whom henceforth he must be a laughing-stock. " Fade, Mr. Ring," Jeff instructed briskly. "I'd travel east if I were you, and if you take my tip you'll keep travelling—with- out even stopping in Cheyenne to say good-bye to Campeau." Symbolically he turned the drooping, panting figiu-e of Duke Ring towards that point on the horizon v/here the prairie sun had risen a few hours before, and then he helped the agitator on his way—with a well planted kick that encouraged him to break into a tottering run. THE PAY ROLL TWO or three nights after the summary dismissal of Duke Ring, Leach Over- mile and Fiesta sought out Jeff Butler and found him seated with Mollie Monahan on the steps of a railway caboose which was her virtual home, and which was located on a siding in a depot the Union Paciiic had established just outside Cheyenne. Their presence was imwelcome to Jeff at that moment, for he had been on the point of plucking up his courage and pro- posing to Mollie. But he soon learned that Leach and Fiesta had not disturbed him in his tete-a-tete with the engine- driver's daughter for any trivial reason. "Sho' hate to bust in on you-all this- a-way," Leach Overmile apologised in his drawling Texan voice. "But you told us to keep an eye on that Campeau outfit, Jeff, an' I declare we don't like the looks o' things." Jeff rose to his feet. "What's up?" he demanded. "Well, sirec," Leach mused, rubbing the palm of one hand over a stubble of whiskers that decorated his jowl, "it might mean a sewin' bee an' it might mean a hayride, but eignt o' Sid Campeau's top gun-fighters are missin' from that saloon o' his that he calls the Big Tent—an' eight hosses are gone from the corral that's rigged up in back of it." The Texan's dry i-emarks concerning "a sewing bee" and "a hayride" failed to raise any smile on the handsome counten- ance of Jeff Butler. Nor had Leach uttered them with any semblance of mirth. His manner was deadly earnest. "Is Dick Allen with those men?" Jeff queried sharply. "Reckon he is," was Leach Overmile's reply. "He ain't at the Big Tent, anyway." Fiesta volunteered an item of informa- tion. "A Mexican boy I talk to, he say a bunch of men ride east Icetle while ago, Jeff." The former Army captain looked at his BOY'S CINEMA two subordinates through narrowed lids. "You're thinking the same as I am," he said. "You're thinking of the train that's due in here with the pay-roll to-night." "Yeah, that's what we v/as figurin', I do declare," Leach Overmile observed. Jeff spoke tersely "Leach," he ordered, "make arrange- ments for an engine and fiat car to be put into commission at once. Fiesta, round up a posse and get as many horses as we'll need on to that flat car. Hurry, now." Leach and Fiesta departed with alaci'ity, and, taking his leave of Mollie, whose face was now a pale cameo in the gloom, Jeff hastened in the direction of a makeshift office that had been constructed for him. Here he equipped himself with a suf- ficiency of ammunition, and thrust an extra revolver into his belt to supplement a forty-five he was already wearing on his hip. Then he made for one of several engine-sheds that had been built at the depot. A few minutes later a locomotive and a flat-car pulled clear of the frontier settle- ment and headed eastward along the iron way. The engine was stoked by a husky fireman and driven by none other than Mollie's father, a grizzled Hibernian of fifty-odd years; and for freight the flat- car bore eight of the finest ponies it had been possible to procure—together with Jeff, Leach Overmile, Fiesta and five armed and trustworthy railroad employees, who knew how to ride and to shoot. And precisely one hottr after quitting Cheyenne the occupants of that locomotive and flat- car clapped eyes on the lights of a stationary train that had pulled up near a curve in the line. No moon was shining, but there was a myriad stars in the heavens, and by their glimmer Jeff and his companions also espied a group of horsemen spurring off across the prairie on a northerly course. In another ten seconds old man Mona- han was bringing his locomotive to a standstill before that of the train which had halted near the curve, and shouts from the driver and fireman of the other engine apprising them of the fact that the receding horsemen had stolen the pay-roll after shooting a guard who had been in charge of it. Jeff and his posse lost no time in mounting up and giving chase. A running fight ensued, for the raiders were still within gunshot, but np casualties had been suffered by pursuers or pursued when the fugitives suddenly elected to scatter. "Split up!" Jeff called to his comrades, as he saw the crooks breaking formation. "Each of you pick a man!" He himself singled out an individual who seemed heavily burthened, and for mile after mile he stuck to the fellov/'s trail and traded lead with him. But though he prided himself on his gunplay he failed to bring his quarry down, and gradually he began to lose ground, the bandit's bronc revealing a pace and stamina that Jeff's pony could not match. Jeff did not know it, but the man he was following was Dick Allen. For that matter, Dick was unaware that it was Jeff who was galloping in pursuit of him —only knew that the rider in his rear was a dead shot, for any one of the bullets discharged by the latter mu^t have drilled him save for a lucky circumstance. The burden that Dick was carrying was a leather mail-bag of large dimensions and stuffed with coin. It was slung -over his back, and it afforded him a blessed protection, for again and again death- winged slugs thudded into it, only to spend themselves against tight-wedged silver dollars that defied their impact. Impervious to the shots from Jeff's guns, Dick careered onward in break- neck style, bearing ever westward now in his flight. But though he increased his lead he coTild not shake off his foe entirely, and when at length he reached the outskirts of Cheyenne he was acutely Every Tuesday conscious that he had not given his pursuer the slip. The route that Dick Allen had covered had brought him back to the vicinity of the railroad tracks, and, drawing near the Union Pacific's Cheyenne depot, he was weaving his way between lines of rolling stock that were' standing empty on various sidings which had been laid down when suddenly he descried the lights of a caboose ahead of him. He recognised it as the railway car that was the only home Mollie Monahan knew, and in the instant of perceiving it he caught sight of a boy who was limned by a shaft of illiunination which streamed out from one of its windows—a loutish youth who was sauntering past the caboose, and whom Dick identified as a creature employed by Campeau for the purpose of rimning en-ands. Averse to ptishing straight into town at the gallop and taking the risk of creating attention by his headlong entry, Dick made an impulsive decision and swerved towards the boy he had seen. Next instant he had swung himself out of the saddle beside the lout, and motioning to the Monahan caboose, he spoke to him hoarsely. "Tell Campeau to send a couple of men over to this car," he panted. "And take my horse to the corral. Run!" He thrust the pony's reins into the bewildered youth's grasp and gave him a push to lend urgency to his commands, and, the lad stumbling off with the bronc in tow, Dick Allen then ascended the steps of Mollie Monahan's home on wheels. The door of the caboose was closed, but a thump on its panels brought Mollie to it, and as she opened that door Dick thrust the mail-bag into her arms. "Hide this or you'll have a killin' on your front porch," he jerked. "Hide it, Mollie, if you've a spark of affection for me in that heart of yours." She stared at him for a moment, guess- ing what the bag contained. Then she nodded arid bore it towards the far end of the caboose, which was divided into two compartments that were trimly furnished in caravan style. Yet even as she was seeking a hiding-place for the weighty receptacle she made a mental reservation that whatever else happened, the bag and all that it held would be returned to its rightful ownership ere the night was out. She was not in love with Dick Allen, but she liked him and was willing to save him from the consequences of his folly. Nevertheless, she had no intention of aiding and abetting him in an act of theft. In the meantime, while she was casting about her in quest of some likely place of concealment for the bag, Dick re- mained in the doorway of the caboose. He had turned his back on the interior of the railway van and had produced a cheroot from one of his waistcoat pockets, and he was lighting the cigar with every appearance of sangfroid when Jeff Butler came riding up. Jeff drew rein at the sight of Dick, and, looking at him penetratingly, directed a question to him. "Did you see anyone ride by here just now?" he demanded. "Why, sure, feller," was the reply. "A guy went past the caboose like a bat out of Hades only a minute ago. Anything wrong?' Jeff was still regarding him in an intent manner "Maybe," he said. "You been here long, Dick?" ; "Yeah quite a spell," the other re- sponded cheerfully. "And right now I'm waitin' for a cup of tea and a kiss from Mollie." Jeff had lowered his eyes, and for a few seconds he seemed to contemplate Dick's riding boots. Then slowly he alighted from his horse. "1 think I'll join you," he observed, "'for th€f tea." • - " •• ^ • ■'