Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1920)

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A Broadway Cowboy 63 station, and added under his breath : "I don't blame the moose." A brakeman shoved his head in at the door. "\" eat here!" he bellowed, and disappeared. Randolph found that the manager was right. No one paid the slightest attention to him. With Steve and Tommy Lathrop, who played two of the bandits, he walked into the eating house, "shot some grub into him," as Steve said, and walked hack toward the station. After that the manager wasn't right at all, because Randolph became the center of attraction. Sheriff Sims caught sight of him, hastily compared the face under the big hat to a photograph that he unearthed from an inside A*est pocket, and a moment later the heavy hand of the law rested on Randolph's shoulder. "Well?" Randolph said. "What th' " "Hands up !" Sims ordered quietly, and Randolph felt the muzzle of a forty-five — a vicious-looking darn thing, he thought — being poked into his belt with a vigor that left nothing of Mister Sims' intentions to the imagination. "You're wanted," the sheriff explained, "for murder." "All aboa — r — d!" It was the call of the conductor, standing on the steps of the train. Randolph saw half the troupe leaning out of the windows beckoning to him ; then, jerkily, the train started and disappeared, leaving him struggling in the mighty grasp of his captor. "Is this a joke?" Randolph demanded with heat. "If it is, it's a mighty poor " "Come on," Sims interrupted, and he dragged his prisoner to the jail, threw him into a cell, and turned the rusty key in the rustier lock. "Well, I'll be " Randolph panted, as he dropped on the cot. "Will some one kindly tell me what the deuce all this means?" Sheriff Pat McGann could have told him, but Pat chanced to be in Winslow, where a telegram from Sims reached him shortly after. It was brief, and to the point. "I have your man," it said, and Pat grinned as he read it. A castaway on a desert island was in clover, compared to the way Randolph felt, in jail, in what was to him a foreign country, accused of murder. "Good night !" he breathed, and began to whistle through his teeth as he scowled at the bars across the window. He spent the afternoon and the best part of the night in consigning Sheriff Sims to a land from whence no return tickets are sold, and gained some small comfort from the thought that he would hire a regiment of United States cavalry to tear Sims limb from limb, when, as he was getting drowsy in spite .of himself, he heard a tapping on the wall outside the barred window. A hand appeared, holding a gun, butt first, and Randolph snatched at it with eager fingers. At the same moment Sims' step sounded in the outer room, and Randolph dove for the cot, covering himself with a tattered blanket. The key grated in the lock, and Sims entered. For a moment he scanned his prisoner, then turned to go out. Continued on page 83 "Any last word you'd like to say?" another of the men asked.