Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

18 round and dartod from the office to the salo- rooin, which was in darkness, for it was long after business hours; and as Bragg dis- appeared, closing the communicating door behind him, Morgan dropped into the swivel- chair behind his desk, tugged at his collar and cravat to give himself a dishevelled appearance, then lay back in the posture of a man who was seemingly hard-spent. He was hunched there in an attitude oE assumed distress when Deadwood Hawkins burst into the room from the alley with his friend Idaho Ike and the immigrant known as Murphy at his heels. Tlie three newcomers had their "irons" ready in their fists, and, glancing first at the prostrate figure of Jeff and then at Moisfan, they automatically trained their forty-fives on the storekeeper. "I got a good notion to plug you, Mor- gan !" Deadwood grated. "Yeah, an' I will if Jeff's cashed in. Murphy, take a look at my partner. Me an' Idaho'll keep this var- mint covered." Murphy hurried over to JefF, and after a cursory examination of him announced re- assuringly that he was breathing. Mea;i- while ilorgan was clawing at his throat like one suffering from the effects of near- strangulation, and for the present gave the impression that he was in too feeble a con- dition to utter a word. "So Bragg was workin' for you, huh?" Deadwood now continued ominously. " Bragg was workin' for you, an' between you the two o' you slugged Jeff when ho came in here. Is that right, Morgan?" The trader gulped convincingly. "No, no, Hawkins," he croaked. "You've —you've got the whole thing wrong. Bragg forced his way in here and tried to rob me. Scott showed up and caught him at it. There was a scuffle, and Scott was laid out. I—I tried to overpower Bragg, but I was no match for him." "Yeah?" Idaho Ike struck in. "An' Where's Bragg now?" " He—he ran out into the alley an' turned left," Morgan panted. "You must have just missed him." Deadwood glowered at the corpulent fur- merchant. "Your story sounds kinda fishy to mo," he said. "I " And then he stopped, for it was at that juncture that his attention was diverted by a movement on the part of Jeff, and as he switched his eyes in the direction of his partner he saw the latter struggling to his feet with Murphy's aid. Rising, .Jeff detached himself from Murphy's supporting grasp and staggered across the room to where Morgan was sitting. He reached the trader's desk and leaned against it shakily, at the same time nursing a bruise that had been raised on his head as a result of the stunning blow he had sustained in falling against the filing- cabinet. "Mr. Morgan's story is true, Deadwood," lie slated, his words proving that he had re- covered consciousness in time to hear the storekeeper's account of what had occurred. " I can vouch for it. At least, I can vouch for the part leading up to the scuffle." Satisfied by Jeff's endorsement of the fur- trader's narration, Deadwood and Murphy and Idaho Ike put up their guns, whereupon Morgan spoke again. "I did what I could to help vou, Scott," ho mumbled. "But—I'm afraid 1 never was mucli of a fighting man." .Toff nodded understand ingly, then addressed himself to the three newcomers. "Boys," he said, "let's see if wo can pick up Bragg's trail while it'.s still hot." "D'you feel up to it?" Murphy asked. "You look kinda groggy, Jeff." "I'm okay," was the big fronticrs.man'a reply. "I figure I'd stand more than a head- aclie to got my hands on that weasel Bragg —and when I do get my hands on him I'll see I don't give him a second chance to put one over on me like he did in this office." He dctayed only to retrieve his forty-five, which was lying near the filing-cabinet, and in another moment he and his friends were quitting Morgan's sanC^iim to scour the town in quest of the former wagon boss. Junu.ity 20th, 19iO. BOY'S CINEMA Morgan remained where ho was until their receding footfalls had died out of earshot. Then he rose from his chair, and as he did so Bull Bragg issued from the adjoining sale- room. "Nice work, boss," Bragg commended. "You sure got rid o' them guys. Too bad wo wasn't able to put paid to Scott, though." "I'll settle with him in duo course," Mor- gan retorted viciously. " Meantime you'd better make yourself scarce. Where's your horse?" "Hidden in the brush north o' the town. I'll hafta stay hero until the hunt's died down afore I dare sneak out an' stage a getaway. But listen, boss, you gotta let me have some travcllin' money afore I leave this part o' the country." Morgan's eyes hardened. " I told you I don't give money to_ anyone unless they earn it," he reminded his beefy henchman. "But how can I earn it now?" Bragg pro- tested. "With Scott an' his friends ^nnin' for me, I ain't got a chance of pluggin' him like you wanted me to." The trader was silent for a spell. "I've got to keep the Mason wagon-train from pulling out to-morrow," he mused at length, fingering his fat chin pensively. " If I can hold that outfit here a week, there'll be so much snow in the mountains they won't ha able to get through till spring. And by that time " He broke off all at once, a look of inspira- tion dawning on his sallow features. " I've got it !" he announced. " I've got it! Bragg, when you're able to reach your horse in safety I want you to ride out to Luke Schaeffer's place. You know Luke. He's in tow with the gang and he'd do any- thing for me. I'll let you have a message for him—a message you're to give him word for word." "Do I get paid for takin' that message?" Bragg wanted to know. Morgan inclined his head. "Sure, you'll get paid," he answered. "You'll get paid." IN THE BACK ANEW day had dawned, and a great deal of activity was in progress at the Mason wagon camp on the east side of Clear- water. The immigrants there were making ready to resume their westward trek, and, while the settlers were busy preparing for the next stage of the journey to Oregon, Jeff Scott and Deadwood Hawkins carried out a tour of inspection to assure themselves that all camp- fires had been extinguished. It was as they completed that tour of in- spection and fetched up on the western fringe of the encampment that the two scouts fell in with Mason's daughter, Margaret. She was standing beside a saddle-pony that she used when she was not riding aboard one or another of her father's wagons, and as Jeff saluted her genially she returned the flashing smile he bestowed upon her. "About ready to pull out. Miss Margaret?" he queried. "Almost," she rejoined. "But I just dis- covered this horse has a loose shoe. I'll take him to the blacksmith and have it fixed." "Okay, Miss Margaret," said .Teff. "But tell the smith to speed it up, will you? We aim to start rolling pretty soon." The girl nodded. " AH right, Jeff. I guess it shouldn't take long to fix the shoo. I'U probably join up with the train ns it's going through town." She hurried off, leading her pony by the rein, and Jeff and Deadwood watched her enter the main street of the nearby settle- ment—were still watcliing her when they observed her acknowledge the greeting of a man who courteously louched his hat to her as he emerged from a building on the right- hand side of the thoroughfare. T!ie man was Sam Morgan, and after pass- ing the time of day with Margaret he vyalked briskly from the township in the direction of the immigrant encampment, hailing Jeff and Deadwood as he approached. "Good-morning, gentlemen," he said, con- fronting tihe two of them. "I hear you didn't be^;c Every Tuesday have any luck in your hunt for Bragg last night." "Nope," Deadwood grunted. "That hombrfs plumb vanished without leavin' a trace. I'd like to stick around here a day or two in the hope he shows up again, but Jeff is anxious to git the Mason column on the move." Morgan pursed his lips. "Too bad Bragg got away," he muttered. "Still, if he does show his face in Clearwater again I fancy the marshal will be able to take care of him. And so you're pulling out for Oregon, are you—in spite of all the dangers?" "Yes, sir," Jeff declared. "The wagoners are getting all set to hit the trail, and we'll be filing through the town in about fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, a bunch of the boys are rounding up our cattle on the other side of CJearwatcr. As you probably know, we turned the beeves out to graze west of the town on account of the pasture being better there. The herd will meet us a mile or so down the road yond the settlement." 'I see," Morgan remarked. "Well, I sure wish you and Mason and his people luck." "Thanks, Mr. Morgan. Maybe we'll need a lot of luck. But my friend Deadwood and I are determined to see that the Mason outfit is one wagon-train that will get through to Oregon. I know thei'e have been plenty of others that never made it, but " Jeff stopped short as he suddenly became aware of a commotion in Clearwater's main thoroughfare, whence Margaret had now turned a.'ide to enter a by-way leading to the local blacksmith's forge. A horseman who had spurred into the settle- ment from the west was responsible for the commotion that had reached Jeft''s ears. He was a horseman whose left arm was in a sling, and who was crying out in a voice that held a note of alarm as he bore down on a group of loungers gathered outside the town's saloon. " Something seems to be wrong," Jeff ex- claimed as the rider pulled up before the saloon and alighted from his bronc. "Let's find out what's ailing that fellow." Accompanied by Deadwood and Morgan, and followed by a number of immigrants who had also marked the arrival of the horseman, Jeff made tracks for the main street of the town. A minute later he and Deadwood and Morgan were elbowing their way to that horseman's side through a considerable crowd which had quickly formed around him—a crowd composed of men and women who had hastened from their houses and joined the knot of loungers in front of the saloon. The rider's left shirt-sleeve was stained with crimson, and he appeared weak from loss of blood. A thick-set, square-headed individual who looked as if he were of German extrac- tion, he was a total stranger to Jeft" and Dead- wood. But Morgan was evidently acquainted with him, as were many others in the throng. "Wliat's up, Schaeffer?" the storekeeper demanded, adding his voice to the excited in- terrogations that were already being directed at the injured man. The fellov/ known as Schaeffer braced him- self with a visible effort. "Injuns!" he groaned. "They attacked two farms on Bitter Creek an' wiped out everybody in 'em. They come pretty near to finishin' me as well, but I managed to outrun 'cm—though one of 'em winged me with a musket-ball, an' three or four of 'em got mighty close to pickin' me off with arrows. "They belonged to the Shoshone tribe," he added. "Looks like Spotted Elk's mob are on the war-path again in spite o' the treaty he made with the Government, an' you can take it from me it won't be safe for any white folks out on the prairie till the sojers have got here an' cleaned up them varmints." Jeff and Deadwood had halted besido Schaeffer's bronc, which was lathered and blown, and it was while its master was telling his story that the younger of the two frontiers- men ob3(*rved an arrow that had become im- pinged in the cantle of the animal's saddle. Now, there were few men in the ^^'est who were better versed in Indian lore than Jeff Scott, or who possessed a wider knowledge of the Redskin tribes than ho did. And as his eyes lit upon that arrow he noticed certain details in its manufacture which would havo meant nothing to most of the bystanders pre-