Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

20 Undor tlio trees the robber reined in his horse, dropped several bulky pack- ages oti tlie ground, and slid from the saddle. The man hitched his liorse to a pine, and squatted down on the ground beside his loot. A d;irk-haired, red-faced ruffian of dago descent—-a halfbrecd of the worst .sort. Portuguese ancestors had gifted Bill Buckly with a smootii tongue and a keen brain. Soon a, groat heap of notes lay on the grass, and buckly laughed lioarsely at the welcome sight; little did he guess of the figure that edged so quietly to- wards him. The ruffian spoke his thoughts aloud. "A thousand bucks for the asking. Geo, there'll be a bi" reward offered now for the capture of " "The Apache Kid !" drawled a quiet voice. "Don't move, Buckly, and don't try to drop yer hand to yer belt. Get up. you skunk !" Bill Buckly's small eyes flickered ner- vously. He knew the Kid's voice, and iie wondered what kind of treatment he was going to get. The law of the West is hard on doublc-crosser.s, and revenge is often swift and bitter. He shivered as if he felt a bullet tickling his ribs. "Get up, you yeller dog!" snapped the Apache Kid. "My fingers fair itch to fill yer carcass with lead." Reluctantly Bill Buckly stood up and raised his hands heavenwards. "You ain't got any need to get sore. Jack," he nuittered, his eyelids flicker- ing with shifty cunning. "I got sick of punching away up in Tennessee, so I dccitled to beat it back here. I was riding down the valley, and I saw the stage-coach, and I held it up, but the spoils I would have brought to you to share fifty-fifty, us of old." "Oh, yeah?" drawled the Kid. smil- ing gently. "That was sure thoughtful. You did the hold-up just to convince ine that you wanted to be my pard again. Sort of bringing me a dot like one of those French danics when they get married. A swell idea, Buckly, and you expect me to swallow that mush." "I'm on the level. Jack," whined tlic other. "I was just counting out the swag, and then I was going to find yer." " .4nd. of course, you knew where to find me," mocked the outLaw. "You lying dog, you intended to keep that pay-roll for yourself, and let the world think the Apache Kid did the hold-up —yeah—and the shooting." He did not miss the fear in the other's eyes. "I watched it from yonder peak, and you plugged one of the gtiards. Now I want the truth, vou dog—did you hit him bad?" "No, Jack. I swear it was only in the shoulder," whined the wretch. "He tried to draw, and I had to shoot." The Apache Kid strode forward, and with a quick movement wrenched a coloured and spotted handkerchief from the breast pocket of Buckly's dirty blue .shirt. "One of mine!" he snapped. "Kept .so you coidd rob and pillage and let the sheriffs reckon the Apache Kid was the guy. Now I know why Sheriff Waril Mud others are .so mighty hot on my trail. You've never been near Tennes- .«ee. you dirty crittur. I ain't ever shot to kill yet, but my fingers itch to pump you full of lead!" He whipped the guti from Buckly's belt. "Pick up that mail bag and stuff those notes inside." "What yer aiming to do, Jack?" muttered the crook. "I swear you've got me all wrong." *'Do as I say!" rcxired the Kid. and shook the tw'o guns ominously. "Jump to it." Swiftly Bill Buckly knelt and began to gather together the notes. "■S'ou're taking that lot to the Bar July nth. 1031. BOY'S CINEMA il." The Apache Kid pointed up the valley. "Dump 'em with a message that they're returned with thanks. The Apache Kid will add a message of his own, then you can beat it. Don't try any tricks, Buckly, because I'm going to watch you like I'd watch a rattler," Greed gave Buckly sudden courage, for he swimg the heavy mail bag at the Apache Kid's guns. One gun went spin- ning, but the Kid coidd have shot liis crstwliile friend with the other. Instead, he dropped his gun and adopted the attitude of a fighter. Buckly tried to get powerful arms round the slim figure, but the Kid whipped a right and left to the unshaven jaw. "Now take yer medicine!" snarled the Kid, and pasted the thickset ruffian with every kind of punch he knew. Buckly tried to kick and get to grips, but the Kid was much too quick on his feet, and at last a right upper-cut and a left to the jaw put the exhausted Buckly to the ground, where he lay moaning and staring up at his old master with swollen, bloodshot eyes. "Now you'll do as I say," ordered the Kid, picking up his gim. "I'hat time I tised my hands, but next time I fire! Get busy, you " He broke off and swung round. His keen ears had caught a sound. Demon also had heard, because the horse stood rigid with ears pricked. Someone was riding through the pines. Keeping Buckly covered, the Apache Kid stepped back towards his horse and then sprang into the saddle. "I'm keeping you covered." The Kid edge*I his way into the mesquite. "Don't try any tricks." Bill Buckly rubbed his aching head. Ho felt too sore to try any tricks. Slowly he scrambled to his feet and staled through the pines. Riding towards him came Sheriff Ward, and the sheriff had drawn his gun. Buckly Strikes a Bargain. SHERIFF WARD dismounted, but always he kept Bill Buckly covered. "And so, Apache Kid, we meet at last.'' he drawled. "Stick yer mitts up high. Kid. and don't get fresh." "Sheriff, I ain't the Apache Kid," cried Buckly. "Listen—can you hear anything—a horse?" The sheriff was puzzled, but he lis- tened. "Yeah, I can," he admitted after a while, and glanced towards the mesquite. "Stay there, and not a movement." The Apache Kid had gone, but the .sheriff glimpsed a distant figure riding up through the pines, and the horse was white. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Sheriff Ward came back to where Buckly stocKl with hands held high. He glanced at the thin, badly-fed colt that must be the robber's horse and asked a question. "If you ain't the Apache Kid," he said, "then who are you?" "My name's Buckly," came the quick answer. "I trailed the Kid after he held up the stage-roach. Yeah, he held it up less than an hour ago. We had a fight here, and then the Kid heard your boss an<l vamooses), the yeller quitter." "lie did. did he?" The sheriff's eyes bored like gimlets into the other's mind. "You're lying, hut you ain't the Apache Kid, that's certain. You're the guy that used to work, with the Kid until he kicked you out or you quit. We ain't got a description of the Kid, but we got a picture of you. Yeah, now tell me some more." Bill Buckly shifted uncomfortably. "I found the Kid's camp fire, and I read it like a book," the sheriff went Every Tuesday on. "That fire told me he couldn't have robbed the .stage-coach an hour ago; but I guess the coach was held up—I saw it from the upper trail with one man sagged across the driver badly hit. And I heard the shooting and did some quick riding. Now tell me some more fairy-stories." "The Kid made me hold up the stage." Buckly was cornered and lost his head. "I didn't hit that guy badly, sheriff; he'll be " "Come clean!" The sheriff kicked the mailbag with his foot. "You held up the mail and hoped I'd think it wa-i another robbery by the Apache Kid. The Kid saw it all and was just about to take the swag when I came along." "Yeah, yeah, that's right." Buckly was thinking quickly. "I've been starv- ing and I was desperate. He held ma up, and, having taken away my gun—" he pointed—"there it lies, where he flung it—he started in to beat me ud. but in one hand he held his gun. You saved my life, sheriff, and I reckon I can pay you back. You don't gain much by capturing me, but maybe I could help you capture the Kid. If I lielp you get the Apache Kid will you over- look this and forget I ever worked with him?" "I promise nothing," Sheriff Ward's eyes gleamed. At last had come a real chance of capturing the most desperate of outlaws. He could read men pretty well, and ho knew this man Buckly hated the Apache Kid. "If you can help me get the Kid maybe I might do something." He picked wp Buckly's gun and lowered his own. "What's yer scheme?'! "The Kid has a shack along them ridge of hills—a hide-out," his.sed Buckly. "I'm the only man what can lead yer to it, and I'm sure that the Kid will ride there to rest up for a spell. Sheriff, I'm on the level, for I'd give a year's prison to get that guy." The sherifl looked his disgust, but he showed no signs of this in his next words. "Right, lead the way!" He tassed Buckly his gun after taking out the shells. " You go first, and remember that when I shoot I always get my man." "I swear, sheriff, I wouldn't double- cross " "You'd better not try," came the quick answer. " And remember this. If you don't help me get the Apache Kid you'll swing from a tree. Now get moving." The Shack in the Hilts. THE Apache Kid was in a very thoughtful frame of mind as he rode through the forests and ravines towards his lonely shack. He was reviewing his life and regretting his past deeds. His father he had never remembered, but his mother had been a sweet woman. But all people make mistakes, and she had marrie<l again—a man who had a smooth tongue, a crafty mind and a dissipated nature. The Kid had received a good education, but now he saw newr and unpleasant companions as his step- father dragged tliem lower and lower in the mire. The brute forced him to help in a robbery that had started his life of crime. The step-father had died and his mother soon followed. Adventure, the i)itting of brains against fellow-men, and danger became the spice of life. Yet now he sickened of this career. The Kid did not rob for personal gain, but to help others as much as anything else, yet every other outlaw was so dif- ferent. Filthy and callous and capable of any evil—scum such as Bill Buddy,