Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

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Every Tuesday Beaver, in the act of ordering drinks, awung round and blinked. McBride's rig'ht liand. ■was on the butt of his six- bhooter. "Please, mister," he said quieth-, "I don't know you." "Well, maybe this will introduce us!" snarled McBride, and the six-shooter was in his hand, its barrel pointed straight at Beaver's heart. "You ex- pectin' anybod}' to-night?" "You—you wouldn't shoot a i>oor little fellow in the only stoniick he's got, would you?" faltered Beaver in seeming terror. " You've got three seconds to answer civil," snarled McBride. "One of 'em's gone!" Winnipeg leaned forward in his chair and chuckled. The bar-tender ducked, and the dancing-girls fled. But Beaver was not by lany moans as scared as he appeared. Covertly his right hand had crept round to his liolster, and covertly be had drawn his gun. He fired it from the hip, not at McBride, but at the big hanging lamp which illuminated that end of the saloon—and as he fired he dropiied on all fours. The lamp was extinguished amid a shower of broken glass. Shots rang out in all directions. But Beaver, crawling under a table, whistled twice, then made for the swing-door. The eight men who had entered the saloon with him crawled out behind him. In the semi-darkness of the saloon q;uns were still being tired as Beaver and his men got to their feet in the compara- tive safety of the moonlit roadway. "Evervbody here?" inquired Beaver softly. "Yeah, we're all here," resiionded a burly bearded fellow in a chequered shirt named Alabam; "but what's the idea o' runnin" away from that outfit? You know how I like funerals!" "Son," admonished Beaver, "we're men of peace ! Let's go !" Their horses were tethered to a rail outside the saloon. They mounted them and rode out of town towards the desert. Other men came tumbling out from the saloon, but, finding the horses gone, did not pursue. On the moonlit alkali, far beyond the? town, Beaver ha'*^-' his followers. ^ ^^ "Listen!" he said | ^''^• "We'll get enough" fighting before we'n through witl McBride. Come on we've got a train ^o§■ meet!" Across the edge oiH- the desert they rodi for hours, with the foothills of the mights Sierras on their right and the mystery of night about them -^ They came to tin ^^. built-up track of tin Southern Pacifu where it crossed this Olid of the dry wasle, and there they halted In the distance a whistle shrieked at the night, uand a loug train came rushiiif and roaring towards the waiting horsemen Beaver unhitched from his saddle-bow a red lamp he hud acquired in Ryolite He lit and handed it BOY'S CINEMA to one of his men—a bearded fellow who rejoiced in the nickname of Whiskey. Whiskey dismounted and walked along the track towards the approaching train, swinging the lamp, while the others clustered together on their horses, waiting. The driver of the night mail shut off steam and applied liis brakes; the long train came creakingly to a standstill, its bell clanging stridently. Beaver and Alabam slid down from their saddles and climbed up into the first coach. "It ain't robbery. Mister Conductor," said Beaver pleasantly to the official who would have barred their way. "We just want to see a Mister C'ardew, that'.-^ a-ridin' on your train." "But I don't know Mr. Cardew,'' snapped the conductor. "Besides, 1 can't have my pas.sengers disturbed— they're all asleep in their bunks." "I wouldn't think of disturbin' no- body !" declared Beaver at the top of his voice. And with that he wont run- ning along the corridor of the sleeping- car, while Alabam stood truculently in the conductor's path. "This way, Beaver!" boomed a voice. "What's the trouble?" And in the dimly-lighted corridor between the cur- tained bunks Jim's head appeared. " Better get off here, Jim." urged Beaver. "Tell you more about it later." "Right! " said Jim and. in his shirt and trousers, moved further along the corridor. "We're getting ofT here. Anne!" he shouted. "Hurry, please!" "All right, Jim, darling." responded the voice of Anne from behind a cur- tain. "I'm nearly dressed." "Did she say 'darlin'?" inquired Beaver delightedly. Hugh Dixon clambered out from a bunk, half-dressed and yawning. "What's the matter, Jim?'' he in- quired nervously. "Train held up?" ■■ Naw, you ain't hold up," laughed Beaver. "Get the grips," said Jim. "It's all right, Hu'gh—we're getting oft here. Put on your coat !" In a very few minutes Anne and Dixon, fully dressed, stood beside Jim, who marched them off to the steps at tho end of the coach. Beaver had collected the luggage from a startled negro attendant, and they all descended to the track. Tho conductor had said everything he could think of by way of complaint. Tlie horsemen who had surrounded tho massive engine put away their guns, and the tram moved noisily off into the night. .Jim stepped aside with Beaver, while Anne and Dixon stared blankly about them. "Kinda looks like McBride meant what he said," confided Beaver. " He's been meetin' all the trains at Ryolite, and swearin' he was goin' to string you up. I got your wire, aiKi I thought, on account o' tho lady, you'd sooner see McBride later." "You're right, Beaver," approved .Jim. "Y'ou'vo brought horses, I see. Let's mount 'etn up, and go." Meanwhile : "What do you think this means?" asked Anne nervously of Dixon. "I'm wondering," was the reply. .Jim whistled shrilly, and his own big white horse. Silver, came trotting up Ut him. Beaver led two other horses over to Anno and Dixon. "We're ridin', miss," he said. "Did you ever paddle a horse canoe?" "I learned to ride at college," replied the girl. "How far is Skyfields from, here. Mr.-^er " "Beaver's the name, ma'am—and it'n forty miles." "Forty miles?" gasped Anne. "I thought there was a railroad running through the town?" "Why, no, ma'am," said Boavor cheerfully; "you see, they ran out of railroads just before they got to it. Right this way. miss. Get aboard, son— we're travellin' !'■' "Don't call me ' son ' I" snapped Dixon. W hen they were all in the S(addle. \ set off acro.ss tho desert, .Jim riding ide Anne. Beaver beside Dixon, and th<' rest of the party bringing up tho re ir The parson was sitting at a table with Jim ; they had just finished a meal. She poured a cup of coffee for him then held one out to Jim. July 4tU, 193U