Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

without arousiijg cither of the cowboys, he quietly moved across to where his bronc was standing. Climbing into tlie saddle he rode away. jiMil only the white pinto Tarzan and CloLidy's banc'-bodicd sorrel noted his departure. But lie had scarcely passed out of sight beyond a mass of huge rocks three or four hundred yards away when J'arzan moved over to ]Javo's recumbent form and nudged him with his muzzle. Dave muttered drowsily and turned over on his side. In doing so he rolled against Cloudy, who immediately sat up with a start, and next instant Cloudy was shaking Dave by the shoulder. "Say," he jerked, "the Ranger's gone! Wake up, Dave! The Ranger's gone, an' his boss ain't here neither." "Gone?" Dave echoed, rubbing his eyes, and then he caught sight of the note that Dawson had pinned to the blanket. ^ Dave read the message on it. It was addressed humorously to "Two Bad .Alen." "My duty was to bring you back and put you in the jug, ' it lan, "but after what you done 1 couldn't but think you was too white for any cell. So I'm going to say you gave me the slip in (he desert. " Don't cut loose in any more towns. A spree's a spree, but keep inside the margin. Solon;;, and best of luck. "Tom D.iwsoN." "That Daw.son sure is a good guy," declared Cloudy, when Dave had finished. "You know, I reckon he's But whatever extravagances of praise Cloudy was about to utter were inter- rupted by a sound that cut sharp and clear through the stillness of the morn- ing. It was the sound of a rifle-eliot, lired at no great distance from their camping-ground, and it brought them to their feet. It seemed to have come from beyond the barrier of rocks—around which Dawson had disappeared a few minutes before—and, swinging themselves astride their ponies, Dave and Cloudy galloped in that direction. Thej' passed the rock lonnatiou in a smother of dust, and, twerving to ride parallel with it, they saw the ill-fated Dawson's bionc career- ing in a panic across the wilderness. Dawson himself was lying huddled on the sand of the desert. He was con- scious when Dave dropped on his knees beeide him and gathered him in his arms, but his eyes were glassy and his face was grey. "I'm—done for, friends," Dawson whispered feebly. "They got me—clean through the back." He thrust his hand inside liis shirt. and with some difficulty he drew out a badge and a report-book. The effort of liroducing them brought the blood to his mouth, but he contrived to speak, and, by bending close to hie lips, Dave and Cloudy managed to hear his every word. "Will you do somethin' for me, Hayes?" Jie said. "Will you see that this here star—an' this here book—are tuined in—at lieadquarters " "Kure I will," Dave told him. "But say, Dawson, you ain't passiu' out. Why, just as soon as Cloudy and I etart doetorin' you up you'll be feelin' as fit »8 ever you were." He did his best to sound reas.suring, but lie could not deceive himself, let alone Dawson, wlio could feel the chill hand of <leath on him. "1 won't want that badge no more," the Ranger breathed. "I'nr through. Somebody—up there in the rocks—shot Scptciiilitr <>Mi, 1U30. BOY'S CINEMA me in the back. No use—lookin' thei:e. Gone by now—I reckon that gang from Bowden heard I was on their trail. I " His voice trailed away, and hie head fell forward over Dave's arm. "Dead!" murmured Cloudy, and Dave looked at him grimly. "Yes, Cloudy," lie said, "and some- thing tells me we're lieadin' for Bowden Bo^A/den. THERE wa.s the sound of a gunshot in a bar on Main Street, Bowden, and a certain Pete Rogei« dropped to the floor with a bullet in his heart. A killing was a more commonplace affair in Bowden than in most townships, but it was not such an everyday occur- rence that it failed to attract attention, and soon a crowd had gathered at the entrance of the bar-room. Among that crowd were several prominent citizens, and these included Jolin Blake, the banker, a tall, grey- haired individual who elbowed his way through the mob even as two or three men emerged from the saloon. One of the latter was a notorious character by the name of Denby, a pro- fessional gambler wlio made his liveli- hood in the bar-room with a pack of cards. Immediately he appeared it was at once clear that he had fired the shot that had killed Rogers, for there was a smoking six-gun in his hand. Now Bowden was a town where the law had no representative, the place having sprung up almost overnight less than a year before. But John Blake claimed to be one who was all for justice, and, singling out Denby, fie spoke to him in stern accents. ■''Denby," he said, "tais town has had enougli gunning, and I reckon it's high time an example was made of somebody. They tell nie Pete Rogers is dead—shot by your hand." Another prominent citizen had fol- lowed Blake through the crowd, a power- fully-built man wearing a broad- brimmed sombrero and a store suit, the trousere of which were thrust into a pair of patterned riding-boots. He was known a.s Burl Edwards, cattle buyer, and, like Blake, he was to all appear- ances in favour of law and order. "I'm with you there, Blake," he stated. "Bow'den's seen enough o' these killings." Denby had slipped his gun inside his waistcoat, and now he held out his hands appealingly. "I hadn't anj' choice, Blake!" he pro- tested. " Pete drew a gun first. It was him or me. Anybody that was in the bar at the time will tell you the same." He looked at a bunch of unsavoury- looking individuals who had emerged from the saloon with him. They sup- ported the statement, though, watching them closely, an onlooker might have noticed the flicker of a smile around the lips of more than one of them. Blake, however, merely shrugged. "Well, we'll have to take their word for it, Denb.y," lie said, and, in com- pany with Burl Edwards, he turned away. There was a girl on tlie veranda of the building in which Pete Rogers had met his deatli. That buikling was both saloon and hotel, and the girl w-as Molly Williams, daughter of Pop Williams, the propjietor. Her father was standing with her, and she turned to him as the crowd was breaking up. " Pelo Rogers didn't draw first!" she said hotly. "It's a lie. 1 was in the Every Tuesday hotel lobby and I saw what happened. He had his back to Denby '' Her father gripped Jier arm. "Quiet, Molly," he said in an anxious undertone. "Whatever you saw, keep it to yourself." Nor was Molly Williams the only one who knew that a dastardly crime—only one of many in Bowden—was going un- punished on a false testimony. For a couple of men who had been in the bar at the time, and who were now moving off with the crowd, were voicing the same sentiments as those which Molly had expressed. "It was plain murder, Jim," one said to the other. "I saw it with " He was interrupted. One of the rogues who had vouched for Denby's story wae light behind him, and spoke threaten- ingly. "Say," the ruffian ground out, "you didn't see nothin'. Get me?" ' The man he addressed moistened hie lips. "Sure," he answered uneasily. "I get you " In the meantime Pop Williams and his daughter Molly had gone back into the hotel, in the lobby of which Pop was pre.sently joined by two or three honest- looking citizens of serious mien. They looked around them first of all to make sure that there were no eavesdroppers, and then one of them broached the sub- ject of Pete Rogers' killing. "Williams," he announced, "there's some talk goin' around that Rogers was jest plain murdered, and, knowin' Denby and his cronies, I'm prepared to believe it. It's about time that the good folks in this town got together to protect themselves from the bad element." Pop Williams nodded grimly. "That's what I've always said," he rejoined, "but the trouble is that, out- side you fellei-6 and myself, you can't tell for certain which are the bad 'uns and which are the good 'uns." There was more truth in the statement than even Pop Williams himself sus- pected, and had he been in the neigh- bourhood of Burl Edwards' office at that moment he might have overheard a con- versation that would have given him cause for deep thought. Blake had accompanied Edwards to that office, and in the privacy of it the banker spoke to the other man im- patiently. "Listen here, Edwards," he said, "tell that gambler Denby he's got to calm down, or he'll get us all into trouble. You and I are playing for big stakes, and we don't want any of our men creating any kind of stir that might rouse these law-and-order citizens. Don't forget we're in the position of men who are sitting mighty close to a hornet's nest." "Aw, forget it!" growled Edwards. "The law-and-order clement in this town ain't sure enough of themselves to start anything. And besides, ain't you and I got 'em fooled a-plenty with our talk of justice and right livin'? Why," he added, with an ugly smirk, "'there's times when I feel a psalm-book wouldn't be outa place in my hands." "All the same," Blake grumbled, "Denby ought to keep that gun of hn unloaded for a spell." "Oh, be youreelf!" said Edwards. "And listen—I'm goin' across to the iiotel to see what Pop Williams thinks o' the affair. I'll look you up later.'' They parted, Edwards cixissing the street to the hotel and entering the lobby as Pop was seeing his friends off the premises. Pop and those who were of the same way of thinking as himself had