Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

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8 been kccpin' my oars and eyes open in Bowclen, and tliis is what I've figured out—tliat there's some ruling force behind this town's lawlessness, and when wc rope in a bunch of rustlers. or horse-thieves, or hold-up men, it don't amount to much." The "roping in" of rustlers, horse- thieves and hold-up men did not, per- haps, amount to a great deal in Dave's estimation, since it was the bigger game he was after. But at that moment a discussion was taking place at tliC headquarters of the said " bigger game," and it was a discussion which proved that the activities of Bowden's R.mgcr wore not being treated lightly. The Man From the Desert. EDWARDS and Blako moved in across the threshold of the cattle buyer's ofTicc to find two or three men lounging tliere—members of that fraternity of lawlessness. of which they were the leaders, and which held wide- spread interest in anything that pro- mised loot. One of the gangsters was playing a mouth-organ, but Blake interrupted him in his melody-making efforts. ''Hey, cut out that music," he said, "and go down and take care of that ttock, will you?" The man went off. and Blake glanced a't the others broodiugly. " Aro you sure it was the Ranger that you- saw last night?" he de- manded. "Sure enough I saw him!" one of thom declared, and the other nodded emphatically. Edwards spoke. "Yeah," he ground out. "only for that Ranger we'd have had ton thou- sand dollars' worth of cattle stacked away in the hills right to-day." " Aw, take it easy. Ed 1" said Blake. "This Ranger isn't the first man who thouglit he could beat us -" He paused, for at that juncture there was a knock on the door, and next moment it was opened to reveal a sinister-looking individual who was powdered with dust from the crown of his battered hat to the heels of his liding-boots. Ho was below the average height, but looked a dangerous enough cus- tomer—a rat of a man with a pair of shifty eyes and a week's growth of stubble on his face. He was known around Bowdcn as Jack Bowie, and ho Ijad something of a reputation with a gun. " Howdy," ho greeted, coming in and nlosing the door. "Glad to see you, Blakc—and you. Edwards. How about a little mountain dew outa the bottle to wash down thi,s alkali in my throat?" .And he moistened his lips as ho spoke. Blake and Edwards regarded him sourly. " You're a fine one to send out to get somebody, ain't ya.?" snarled Edwards. Bowie's expression was one of bewil- derment. "I was just layin' low until it was safe to come back into town, that's all." he protested. "I got my man, nil' 1 didn't have no call to come a-iidin' into Bowdcn afore the affair had blown over." "You got who?" demanded Edwards. " Your man ?" ^ "Sure," said Bowie, "the man you hombres sent mc out to get—Dawson the Ranger." "Yeah?" sneered Edwards. "You iiuista been cross-eyed when you shot :it him. Why. Dawson's right here ir town—large as life." Bowie's expression of bewilderment gave place to one of blank amaze. ",Dawson ?" ho echoed. " Say, 1 Si^ptcmlKT ctli, 1930. BOY'S CINEMA plugged him when I was comin' through the pass. What kinda talk is this you're givin' me?" Blake touched him on the arm. His brows were drawn down in a frown. "Come here," he said, drawing him to the window. "Look there! If you shot Dawson, who is that man over there by the Ranger's office?" Ho-pointed. Dave had come out on to tho veranda of his quarters with Molly, and was in full view of Blake and Bowie. "That's Dawson," said Blake, "the man you claim to have " Bowie cut in on him. " Aw—I know Dawson better than 1 know you. Wlioever that hombre is, ho ain't Dawson." Then all at once his eyos narrowed till they looked like mere slits in his leathery face. " Say, what's he horning in here for?" he blurted, reaching for his gun. Blake checked the gesture. "I know a better way than that," he jerked. And, to Edwards: " We've got this Ranger just whore we want him." On the veranda of tho office across tho way Molly was passing some pretty compliments jm Dave for the headway he had made in cleaning up Bowden, and neither of them had a suspicion of the trouble that was brewing. "You know, I just coiddn't have believed that one man could have done all that' you've done for this town," ]\Iolly was saying, when Cloudy came out of the office. "Oh, Mr. Cloudy," Molly apologised, as she saw him. "I quite forgot to say 'How do you do?' when I dropped in just now." "How do I do?" Cloudy repeated grufHy. " Say, I'm right on the verge of nervous prostration—just the same as I have boon ever since I hit this town." "Aw; don't pay any attention to him, Miss Molly," said Davo laughingly. "Ho takes more pleasure in being miserable than any man I ever knew." He paused, for at that moment Tarzan moved along from the hitch-rack, and Tarzan seemed to be of the same mind as his master, for he gave Cloudy a nudgo that sent tho dismal puncher staggering. Having slipped its reins from the )-ack, over which they had merely been slung, the bronc proceeded to hustle Cloudy along the street. Cloudy protesting fruitlessly tho while ^and Dave was grinning over his pard's discomfiture when all at once he perceived a crowd of men approaching. "Hallo, what's wrong?" he said to Molly. " There's a mob headed this way. Blake and Edwards are leadin' it—and a hombre I never saw before." The last-mentioned was Bowie, and Blako and Edwards v.alkod him along to the veranda of Dave's quarters with a bunch of their hirelings on their heels. Davo mot them in front of his office, and glanced at Blake in- quiringly. " What seems to be the trouble. Blake?"' ho asked. "Dawson," said- the banker, "I want you to meet Bowie, who's just in .from tho desert. Shake hands with Dawson our Ranger, Bowie!" Bowie's lip curled. "D.awson the Ranger, huh?" he sneered. "So that's the kind of faro this guy's doalin'. Say, listen, folks— this hombre is an impostor." There was some murmining, and the situation looked ugly for Dave, but the crowd had boon swelled by tho appoar- iince of some of his fricn<l.<i—in tho shape of Pop Williams, tho Hook Brothers, and some of lho.se citizens who had welcomed him as a roprcsenta- Every Tuesday tivo of the law. And Pop Williti i caught Bowie by the arm. ." Wait a minute," he interposed. "Do you realise what you've sayin'? You've made a pretty serious charge, Bowie!" " I'll be sayin' more before I'm through," Bowie snarled. "I'm callin' this guy's bluff, and he knows it—the same as he knows that the real Dawson was killed out in tho desert—shot in the back ! He didn't tell ye that, did he ? No, an' he didn't know that Bowie was comin' to town to uncover him as the skunk that plugged Tom Dawson. Them's the charges I'm makin', and I'll back 'em up!" Thero was an ominous growl from the hirelings of Blake and Edwards, who were vastly in tho majority, but again Pop Williams intervened. "Don't you think the Ranger lias a right to say something in his own defence?" he protested, and it was Blako. who answered him with an assumed generosity of spirit. ^ " Sure," Blake declared. " Fair play in our community. Go ahead, Ranger !" Cloudy in the meantime had been mingling with the crowd, but now, with an anxious expression on his face, ho slipped away to where Dave's white pinto was standing. "Tarzan," ho said, "we've sure got to use our heads. Come oji—follow me !" And he took the pony's rein and led him along tho street. Cloudy commandeered every bronc that he could find- and a buggy with a pair of restive-looking " plugs " as well. Then ho drew his six-shooter. Flight. THE crowd was waiting for Dave'e fctatement, and, bracing himself. The youngster spoke in clear, steady tones. "Boys," he said, "I'll tell you the truth. I'm not Dawson "—the hirelings of Blake and Edwards gi-owled anew— "but I'm here in his place. This hombre Bowie was right. Dawson was killed out there in the desert—and that's why I came to Bowden—to find the guilty man." "Yeah!" It was the voice of Edwards. '"We've heard that kind of a story before. Come on, boys, let's get a rope an' string him up." There was a clamour of approval, but Dave made himself heard once more. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes on Bowie. '"Wait a minute. When Bowie says I killed Dawson, my answer is just this: I wouldn't sneak up on a snake an' shoot him in the back without givin* it a chance to defend itself." Bowie cringed at the words, for, hired , murderer though he was, he had some glimmer of conscience in him. But next instant he whipped round and appealed to the crowd impatiently. "What are you goin' to do?" he grated. " Stand here an' listen to his palaver all day ? By gum! I got a mind ter plug the coyote myself!" And in a moment he had snatche<l his gun from its holster and rammed the muzzle against the buckle of Dave'e belt. Simultaneously there was a racket of shooting farther along the street, and suddenly those on the outskirts of the crowd raised an \ipi'oar. For, firing into the air. Cloudy had stampeded the broncs that ho had mustered, and the mass of horscflesli was thundering through the town. There • was a momentary panic, and Dave took advantage of it. striking Bowie's gim from his fist and jum]iing into the middle of the ^^lieet. Blake and