Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

12 BOY'S CINEMA THE POSSE TEX men were riding two abreast across the slarinff desert of Arizona—the Bad Lands. All aiound *hem for mile after mile stretched a harsh land of rocks, sand, fantastic cactus, K'''iii. Hiany-coloured mountains. The horses t-iuifflcd thi'oush the .-and with drooping heads. The men were unshaven, with channels of sweat through the dust that coveied them, and eyes inflamed by the piti- les.s sun. Now and again they exchanged jests or .scraps of conversation, and their voices croaked through ISek of water. They grumbled, but despite the ever-present sense of danger, they knew they would keep on foHowing Slierifl' Bill Cummings. The man with the sheriff's star on his vest was strong in every way—strong of body, strong in character, strong in his sense of ju.stice. The law depended on the six-gun, for this was the year 1875, and the West was being opened up. There were good men, honest citizens who wanted nothing better than to help to form law-abiding communities amongst the pioneers. But there were others, vultures preying upon them, who knew no law Init their own de.^.ires; men who held life lightly. In this posse made up of widely differing men there was one ■(vho rode in a kind of daze —misery on his swarthy face and the desire for vengeance in his dark eyes. He was Manuel Lopez, a young Mexican, and it was because his wife had been brutally murdered that Sheriff Cummings had sworn in the.sc deputies and iod them out on a man-hunt across the inliospitable Bad Lands. Already one man, who had gone scouting ahead, had died. They liad heard the shot, far away. They had urged their jaded horses to a stumbling gallop and found their com- rade with a bullet through his heart. Near him lay a horse with a broken leg, screaming in its pain. And a mile away was a clo\id of dust mark- ing th(j retreat of Apache Jack, who had done this. "The snake wouldn't even put his own horse out of its misery," said Rayburn, a queer, bitter man who knew no fear. Sheriff Cummings mercifully shot the horse, and the posse ronlinucd. Cluff, a liltle man with a comical face and a shaggy moustache, muttered: " So ho gets us all dragged into po.ssc duty to catch this killer, just when (Jarth and mo was on the ."cent of a nice rich vein of silver!" }fe was referring to Lopez, who had raced off in a fruitless attempt to catch the killer. "Don't care about that silver now," said Oarlh. his ciony. "That Apache lobo done a cold blooded crime. 'Tisn't his first ono, cither." January 27tli, 1940. Garth was a huge, shapeless old man with the peaked cap of a Civil War veteran pulled over his wrinkled eyes. "Gettin' so's a woman aiu't .safe in her own house, like this wife of Lopez', and like— ~ Say, you think those others are Apache Jack's doin'?" "Dunno; that's what they say in tovyn. Yelpin' to take him apart if we bring him back." "Won't he nothin' left to take apart," said Cluff grimly, "'ii Lope/, get.s his claws on him." Sheriff' Cummings, slouching easily in hi.i saddle, was wrapped in his own thoughts. He knew he had taken on a tough job. Not only were there the Bad I>and.s to be fought; thero was the cutming renegade they were trailing, and the hostile Indians who were his friends: and the dissension bound to spring up amongst such diffei'ent types of men. Already there had been outbursts of temper, cau.sed by frayed nerves, thirst, and the scorch- ing heat. The sheriff had his eye on Chic Lyman, a tough young cowboy with a wide, twisted mouth who .seemed to liave taken an unreason- ing dislike to Mulford, an eagei-, fair-haired lad from the East who was the only member nf the posse lacking experience of flic Bad Lands. They had C|\iarrelled in camp the night before over Mulfor^l's friendlv incjuirv about the scar that disfigured the face of Eaton, a silent Englishman. "Out here!" snarled Chic Lyman, "we don't pry into anybody's affairs. It just ain't iiealthy!" "Well, if my health isn't threatened by any- thing more dangerous than you," Mulford re- torted, flushing. "T won't worry much." Cunuuings' good-humoured, rumbling 'voice had calmed them. He thought of all these things as they stuml)led across the desert, for they were lead ing their horses now. He had given the order to dismount. They knew that water—if there was any—was many miles awav yet. The last water-hole, on which they had pinned their hopes, was quite dry. They foimd the warm embers of a fire, and some gleaming white skeletons, grim reminders of former wretches who l^ad not found tiie strength to go farther. CuiiuTiings kicked the embers. "Apache Jack is headin' for the Dragoons," ho grovvled. "That's fiftv miles," Chic Lyman remarked. "How rio we knov.' there's water there?" "Well, we don't know for certain, my l)ov." said fJummings easily; "but it's a hundred back to the river." So they went on. Mulford was already Every Tuesday Their horses stolen and trapped by unseen enemies, a sheriff's posse sell their lives dearly in this thrilling RKO Radio picture which stars Robert Barrat half-reeling, his swollen tongue between his cracked lips. "He.v, Sweet," he mumbled to the man next to him, "what are the Dragoons?" "For a veteran plainsman, you ain't very smart, are you?" Billy Sweet griimed. He was a young gian! with small, twinkling eyes and continual good-humour. "Well, I've never been this far west," Mul- ford smiled painfully. "Well," said Billy S-veet judiciallj', "they're a sort of practisiii' ground for the hereafter. They're supposed to be mountains, but they're really the wrong place tinned inside out." Sheriff Cummings dropped back after a glance showed him that JIulford was near to collapsing. "Hang on to yom- saddlehorn," said Billy Sweet. "I'll lead your horse." Garth waddled over with his water-bottle. "Here you are, lad," he croaked. "I've been saving a drop for .you. Go ahead, take it." Cluff, who had long ago drunk the last drop from his own bottle, watched enviously as Mul- ford, after a feeble protest, swallowed the precious water gratefully. The sheriff patted the youngster's shoulder and turned away as he heard his name called in Eaton's strangely outof-place accents. "What is it?" "That's what I want to know," drawled Eaton. "What is it?" All eyes followed the direction of Eaton's ix)inting finger. From the shimmering foot- hills ahead puffs of smoke were rising into the brassy sky. "Injuns!" "Apaches," Cummings shrugged. "Oh, nothing to worry about." "Oh, no, nothing to worry about," Chic Lyman sneered. "That's just whore Geraldiue hangs out." "Say, who's Goraldine ?" Mulford croaked. "That's the sort of pet name for Geronimo, the fightin'est Indian chief this side of Hades," said Chic drylj-. 'The red devils talk to each other with smoke. Right fittin', too!" "Well, mount your liorses, men," said the sheriff calmly. With ono last look at the ominous smolco signals, they climbed stiffly into their saddles and shuffled on\var<ls towards the forbidding, silent Dragoons. DEAD MAN'S HOARD RICillT at the beginning, the Dragoons- belied their evil r(-))utation. Riding slowly up a rough trail winding between piles of huge boulders, the posse came suddenly on a small plateau. Thero was a patch of fresh grass, some trees and bushes, and a deep pool of clear water. It was a grand sight after those long and thirsty desert treks. With hoarse gasps of joy, the manhimters flung themselves from their mounts. Some leaped right into the water. Others lay on the edge, sluicing it over their heads, drinking deeply. Grinning, they wiitciud their horses taking their fill. "Pure, unadulterated ambrosia," cried Cluff, sitting up in the water. "Better than beer," chuckled his friend Ciarth. Sheriff Cummings laughed. "All right, men, bust yourselves if you want to—but look to your horses. Eaton, get your horse out of there. You'll be needing him to- morrow." "Are we moving to-morrow, sheriff?" "That's right." Cluff and Grath looked at each other in comical surprise. But nobody argued. They set abijut unsaddling and making camp. Curly Tom, a big fellow with deep-set, squinting littlo black eyos. was just ))iilting his saddle on the ground when he spotted sonu-thing in a deep cleft in the rock w\ill behind him. He shuffled over for a closer look and let out a yell: