Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

16 111 a flasli Liiiisdori luid drawn liis gun, uiid was up the &tcps to the hoiisrc doov in tlirec anxious .stiidcs Tho moment he put his hand to the liandlc of tlie door there eaiue from within the sound of a hea\y, thiiddin;^ crash that could only mean one thing. He had the door open in another split sccOTid, and darted inside, ready to shoot the instant he saw the Laramie Kid. I5ut lie only saw a bi<i; riding-boot dis- appearing through the open window. Down on the floor lay Jim Halliday, whilst in the corner of the room an open safe told its own talc. Langdon fairly leapt for tiie window, peered out. spotted a running form, and took steady aim. The instant lie pressed the trigger of Iiis gun he knew lie had missed. The shadowy form was now between trees, and only ga\e him a fraction of a second's view, too little to give him any chai ce of registering a hit. His gtin was still in his hand as lie turned, white-faced with horror, to see what chance tfjero ■'vas of saving Jim Halhday. His hands were trembling as they reached out for the fallen man's heart. He was too late once more. Jim H.ilHday had been shot with the dreadful skill for which the Laramie Kid was notorious. "Jim—old Jim Halliday—we'll get that guy now, sure as my name is Lafe Langdon!'' he muttered thickly. "Poor old Jim ! I " He broke off' as the door opencdand three of Jim Hallidiv's men came in. "What's the matter, boss? We heard a sliot Lafe Langdon !" The 'puncher broke off with a gasp of surprise and wonder. "It was the Laramie Kid. I came in and fired a shot at him, but I missed," explained Langdon sorrowfully. "He's done for, hoys." "Sure, lie's done for!" growled the 'puncher, and, ^witli a flashing sweep of liis liand. he Imd snatched away Lang- don's gun. A moment sufficed to show tliat one shot iiad been fired. "And I reckon wc ain't got far to look for the inaji who shot him. Lafe Langdon!" " What I Me '/ Shoot Jim Halhday ? Why, he and I are the oldest fviends out" West!" gulped Langdon. "I tell you, boys, I saw the Laramie Kid. I heard liim demanding money! I heard a shot " "(luess we only heard one shot, and that shot came from this gun!" cut in the 'puncher grimly. "You'd better save >our explanation for the sheriff, Lafe Langdon !" "Sheriff'r" ' panted Langdon, and stared about him in the manner of a man dazed For seconds there could be heard the gulping of his breath, and he could only see the accusing, bitter eyes of Jim Halliday's men. Then his voice rose wildly in proteslation. "It's diirned silly to say I shot him—I tell you wc were old chums ! I " "Oh, cut it out," snapped the 'puncher. "Let's take him to the sherifl'. boys. I've been expecting that 'his would happen !" Lafe Langdon gave it up at that. It was useless to ))h'ad or argue with tho cowpunchers. It would bo better, easier and quite difl'erent when he saw the sheriff. But it was not. The sheriff accepted the custody of Lafe Langdon with a grimness that clearly showed his view of the matter. He listened quietly to the .story of liovv the cowpunchers had heard the one .shot, and of Lafe Lang- don's story of the two shots land Laramie Kid's escape. "We'll have to leave it to tho jury, r^afe Langdon." was his verdict in the matter. " liOoks mightv like as if tho Scpteniljer 5tli, 1911. BOY'S CINEMA hoys is right. Ail right, boy.s—I'll take him in '' Lafe Langdon did not protest further. The evidence was overwhelming against liim. The veteran who had been so agile but a few minutes before rode beside the sheriff towards the county gaol looking every one of his years and a good many more—-aged, bent, white, dazed by tho tragedy that had over- taken Jim 'Halliday and himself. And, miles across the prairie, a man rode with the desperation of a mad- man, putting more and more miles be- tween himself and the rancher he had left dead upon the floor. It was the Laramie Kid, quite un- aware of the fact that a man had been arrested for the crime, and that there would be little chance of a hue and cry for him in the face of the terrifically strong evidence against Lafe Langdon. A Desperate Chance ! LKTTER day at the ranch over which Tom Langdon ruled as fore- man was always an exciting occa- sion. In addition to the letters which meant so much to the more or less exiled cowpunchers, the mail brought in the newsjiapers that kept them in late but constant touch with the world represented by cities and industrial towns. Banty was a cheery postman. He gave letters to those for whom there were any, and to those for whom there was not a letter he had a cheery, kindly word that, after all, there was another mail to come in one day. The disappointed 'punchers settled down again to wait for that day, soften- ing their disappointment by playing ap- propriate music upon their instruments and singing at the top of their lusty voices. But the singing stopped immediately fllicn Banty held up his hand and nodded towards the bed upon which sat Tom La ngdon. Tom held an open letter in his hand, but his staring eyes were not looking at it. They conveyed the impression that they were looking right through tho letter to th.e floor beneath. "Not bad news. Tom?" asked Banty sympathetically. "'I''raid it is,'' said Tom, and forced a smile to his lips. "Fact is, I'm hit- ting the trail for home right here and now." "Bad as that?" "Bad as it can possibly he," mut- tered Tom, and read the letter again. " My old father has been taken in for shootin' a guy, but he says he can't prove he did not. I'm gonna see what it's all about." "Sounds mighty bad. Tom," mur- mured Banty, and added thoughtfully : "Reckon we can't let you hit that trail alone. I guess I'm going with you." "Good for you, Banty !" chorused the others. "Come on, boys! Let's get 'em i«icked. Sooner they're off. sooner they're back !" Tom laughed then—it was good to feel that the boys were with him. In- deed, so anxious were they to help him he hardly know what was packed. They threw everything they could find into saddlebags, and kept up a run- ning banter that was desij^iied to keep Tom's drooiiing spirits into something like normal shape. Within an hour of tho mail's arrival Banty led the way on to the trail—but it was Tom who stopped to show that the grimness of their journey was al- ready upon him. He held up his hand to .still the tongues of tho iolly 'punchers. Every Tuesday "Boys. I sure don't know what may be in this; but we may want some help," said Tom. "If we do, stand by to answer the call instanter." "Make it soon, Tom—and good luck !" Tom nodded, waved his hand, and m a moment more lie was hitting the trail for home, with the eager, grim Banty riding hard at his side. It took them a couple of days to get. to Circle B, and about as many minutes to find their way to the sheriff's gaol. Here Tom found his father, a forlorn figure weighed down by the torriblo crime with which he iiad been charged. Their meeting was one which made even the hardened gaoler turn his head for a few moments. "Boy. I didn't shoot Jim Halliday," said Lafe Langdon. very earnestly. "We had been bad friend.s, but wo had made it up. I don't know how they can think 1 did it." But his explanation as to tho manner in which he was found gave Tom all the good reasons why the suspicion should have been fastened so closely upon him. and to Tom it was now really a matter of how they were to get the old fellow free. "Tell me—who is this Laramie Kid you mentioned?" he asked suddenly. "His name is not known,',' was the reply. "He's a gunman of the worst- type, Tom. If only lie could be caught and made to confess I'm mighty sure I shouldn't be here very long. But He shook his head sadlj'. "Well, what about that?" demanded Tom warmly. "Does that waggle mean that he cant be caught?" "Sure. No one ever got where he is and came back alive," said Lafe Lang- don grimly. "West of Cheyenne, Tom, lies a small town called Ghost City. That's where the Laramie Kid hangs out if rumour is right for once." Tom's eyes glinted. "So you reckon that if I get in Ghost City I'll find the Laramie Kid?" he said, between his teeth. "I reckon so; but you'll never make it. my boy." icplied Lafe Langdon. "No man ever went in alive and came out ali\e—except, of course, the gang that runs the place." Tom rose to his feet and pulled his belt in just one more hole. • .. "Well, here's one who is going to get the Laramie Kid." ho said, with grim dcicrmination. "If he's in Ghost City I'll find him just the same." "You'll never make it. Tom. He's quick on the draw, and shoots straight. He's never been known to want two shot\ for anything ho wanted to hit !" warned Lafe Langdon. "No, better give it up. I'll take what's coming tO me." "Sure, so will I." said Tom coolly. "So-long, father—and keep your head up." A moincni later, to avoid any further pleading from his father. he had slipped out of tho cell and was out- side the sheriff's gaol, where Banty awaited him. "It's us for Ghost City, Banty." said Tom. as he took his horse and mounted. "That's west of Cheyenne, and by all aciounts it's a place whore a feller goes in as a man and stops as a ghost. Well. I fancv mvself as ji ghost, Banty." "Not so much me," growled Banty. "But what vou says goes. Tom. How's the old feller takin' the bad stuff?" "Plenty tough." grunted Tom. "Say, how do vou reckon I'm going into Ghost Ci'tV?" "How are we going in?" sugge.'itod B.-intv naivelv, and shook his head. "I'll i