Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

"A noose?" Dick suggested, with a side- long glance at Jeff. "Or wait, MoUie— ma^be it's a ring—a wedding-ring. Does it look anytliing like this one that was made for the third finger of your left hand?" He fished into one of his pockets and produced a circlet of gold, and as he profl'ered it to her quizzically a thought fiashed upon the mind of Mollie Monahan. It was a thought born of the aching apprehension that was in her heart and it was a thought upon which she acted impulsively. "Dick," she said, moving close to him, "I don't hold with a man doing his courting in public, but I—I've been wait- ing a long time for you to propose. And if you mean it—and if Mister Jeff Butler and these two friends of yours wouldn't mind taking themselves out of my home —I might give you a straight answer." She rounded on Jeff. •'You see," she added, "Dick came here about five minutes after you left me, and he's been with me ever since—waiting to plight his troth, I'm thinking." Jeff's face had fallen, and for several seconds he gaped at her like a man dumb- founded. Then he drew in a long breath. "Mollie," he said, "you're a good church-goer. Since you've been in Cheyenne, there hasn't been a day but. what you've gone to the little chapel at the far end of town, where Father Ryan preaches. And now I want to ask you one question. Will you swear by the cross I've' seen you wearing that the money taken from that pay train isn't here?" The girl recoiled a pace and lifted a hand to her throat uneasily, but recalled immediately afterwards that the crucifix which usually hung from her neck was at present lying on a table in the other compartment of the caboose. "Jeff," she announced, "I—I can't swear to you by the cross, for I—I've lost it. But I'll swear to you by what's dearest to me on this earth " She broke off, and then cried out in an impassioned tone: "Oh, Jeff please go!" she commanded vehemently. "There's nothing in this car you want!" His brow seemed to cloud, and his eyes took on a hard expression. "I guess that's right," he said bluntly. "There's nothing in this car I want." She knew that he intended to convey to her by those words that any affection he had ever had for her was dead. She knew that he had no inkling she had played up to Dick Allen's proposal only to save him, Jeff, from hurt. And wretchedly she watched the going of Jeff as he strode to the doorway of the caboose and brushed past Brett and Cookie. The trouble shooter mounted his horse and, cantering off through the gloom of the night, Brett and Cookie eyed Dick smugly. But Dick was paying no atten- tion to them. His gaze was concentrated on Mollie Monahan, and when he spoke his voice was couched on a note of admira- tion. "Mollie," he enthused, "you were glori- ous! But, tell me, where'd you put that mail-sack?" "Never mind that mail-sack," she re- torted strainedly. "Get rid of these two good-for-nothings who are cluttering up the porch of my home. I want to talk to you." Dick motioned to Brett and Cookie to depart, but they appeared reluctant to obey his mute injunction. "Maybe we better stay an' help you with that coin," Brett muttered. "I carried it quite a way without any help," Dick countered sharply. "Out!" Again he made a sign of dismissal, and the gangsters took themselves off, where- upon he faced Mollie once more. "About that mail-sack," he began, but the girl cut him short. "Listen. Dick, do you really want to marry me?" she asked. "Why, of course I do," he assured her. Octoljii- 2Sth, 1«3». BOY'S CINEBIA "Mollie, I've been wanting to marry you for months." She clenched her small hands. "Then understand this. When you showed me that ring a few minutes ago, I only hinted I'd be willing to wear it because I was ready to snatch at any diversion—any diversion that might pre- vent a gun-battle and the killing of Jeff Butler in the heat of it. But I will marry you—on one condition. I'll marry you if you'll give up that mail-sack to the rail- road." Dick Allen's jaw had dropped. "Mollie. are you crazy?" he expostu- lated. "There's nearly two hundred thou- sand dollars in that sack, and some of the boys and I risked our lives to get it. Look, Mollie. I guess I know what you're think- ing. You're thinking I'm an out-and-out crook, as well as a loafing gambler, but I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to take my share of that lot for a stake, and I'm going to take you away from here. We'll start a new life together, and from now on I'll go straight, I promise you. I'll even give up the cards " She shook her head. "It's no use talking, Dick," she said. "My father works for the Union Pacific, and so do I, and the railroad has come to mean a lot to the both of us. And I'll not be helping you to rob the company, Dick. " Besides, use your wits, man," she added fervidly. "Do you think you could travel one mile with that mail-sack now? Jeff Butler went out of here without searching the place, and whether it was because he believed the lie I told him, or whether it was because he saw he hadn't a chance against you and Brett and Cookie, I don't know. But I do know he suspects you, and I do know the whole railroad will soon be after you." She laid a hand on his arm. "They've a swift way of dealing with bandits out here," she went on, "and, to my way of thinking, your best plan is to return that money yourself. If you don't, you're liable to be dancing with your feet off the ground, and that's not a pretty sight. And, Dick, though I'll not be saying I'm in love with you, I'll not be denying, either, that I've always liked you a lot." Yes, she had always liked him a lot. For that reason she could never have brought herself to betray him, and for the sake of the railroad she was ready to sacrifice her real happiness by striking a bargain with him, and by consenting to marry him on the understanding that the pay-roll was sun'endered. It was in vain that Diqk Allen attempted to argue with her, and, profoundly sincere in his desire to wed her, he finally gave a grudging assent to her terms. Thus it was tha'., bearing the mail-bag between them, the two of them at length made their way across the depot to a building v/hich com- prised the quarters of the chief superin- tendent of the Union Pacific, a personage by the name of General Casement, who had commanded a division of the Federal Army during the Civil War. They found General Casement in close conference with Jeff Butler and a man known as Reed, the engineer in charge of the construction of the railroad. Dressed only in shirt, trousers and slippers, the general had obviously been roused out of bed only a short time previously, and was clearly in a distracted frame of mind. But his demeanour changed to relief when Dick and Mollie entered and deposited the mail-sack on a table by which he was seated. Mollie had figured out an explanation to account for the manner in which she and Dick had come by the stolen receptacle, and told how the pair of them had been walking across the tracks when they had discovered it lying athwart a siding. "The bandit that was carrying it must have got deperate and thrown it down," she finished. " Or maybe he was wounded, and dropped it from weakness." Her story seemed to satisfy Casement and Reed, who were now in high .spirits over the recovery of the pay-roll. On the Every Tuesday other hand, J'eff had listened to the narra- tive with the mien of one who did not credit a word of it. Yet his expression in- dicated that he understood Mollie had been responsible for the return of the money, land, from the way he looked at her, the girl felt that if his faith in her had been shattered during the scene v;hich had been enacted in the caboose, she had at least regained something of his esteem. Whatever he was thinking, however, he volunteered no comment upon her account of the finding of the mail-bag. The only observation he made concerned a number of scorched bullet-holes in the sack. "I wasn't shooting as badly as I thought," he said, pointing them out to General Casement. "Here's where some of the slugs from my guns hit home—only they didn't go through the coin. It's lucky for the bandit he was can-ying the bag on his back." He glanced at Dick as he uttered that last statement, and the gambler met his eyes coolly. "You're right at that," Dick Allen de- clared. "But, say, Mollie didn't mention we were on our way to Father Ryan's to get married when we stumbled across that mail-bag. You wouldn't like to be best man, would you?" Casement stood up before Jeff could answer. The general's thankfulness over the recovery of the pay-roll had given place to an air of grim resolve. "I'm afraid Captain Butler has work to do," he struck in. "Butler, we've got the money back, but the men involved in the robbery shot up an official of the company, and I want those men tracked down." THE LAST OF THE BIS TENT LATER that same night Jeff Butler, Fiesta, and Leach Overmile called un- expectedly at Sid Campeau's place, in com- pany with a formidable band of railroad employees who had failed to succumb to the doubtful attractions of the saloon and gambling-den. Sid Campeau was located in an office at the rear of the building, and, leaving Leach Overmile and the rest of their fol- lowing to cover the bar-room and gaming- tables and to keep the saloon-owner's hire- lings under control, Jeff and Fiesta passed into Campeau's sanctum and closed the door after them. " Campeau, the pay train was held up by eight masked men to-night," Jeff said, coming straight to the point. " All of them got away, but I think you know who they were." Despite its nomadic character, the establishment over which Sid Campeau presided was garishly resplendent, and his office was exceedingly well furnished, its walls being adorned with various trophies of the chase. And Campeau himself was in keeping with the room—a flashily dressed figure radiating prosperity. He radiated nonchalance, too, as he stood by a side-table above which a stag's head was mounted, its mimic eyes staring glassily across the room. Nor did Jeff's reference to the hold-up shake Campeau out of his self-possession, though he had undoubtedly been surprised by the sudden intrusion of the former Army captain and Fiesta. " I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Butler," Campeau mur- mured. Jeff turned to his Mexican aide. "What did Mr. Campeau say. Fiesta?" he inquired. Fiesta showed his teeth in a grin. " He say pretty soon he tell you all about it, Jeff," he averred. The Mexican was, as usual, carrying his long stock-whip, and all at once he lashed out with it, effecting an amazingly dex- terous stroke that plucked from its socket one of the imitation eyes which were set in the stuffed deer-head on the wall above Campeau. The ominous feat caused Sid Campeau to wince. But, recovering himself, he perched himself on the side-table by which he had been standing, and from a casket