Boy's Cinema (1933)

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"I think you almost believe that story yourself," the Chief of Police remarked sourly. "All right, boys, take him away." Griffin was escorted from the inter- rogation room to a cell, and Milligan turned to Big Ben Cooper. "What have yon got to say" he de- manded. "Chief, I'll tell you all I know," Ben announced, parrot-fashion. "I was standin' on the corner when me friend Spike comes along in his car " He repeated Griffin's bland explana- tion without varying in one particular, and he in turn having been removed, the chief glanced at Spike Weber. "Well, you heard what they said," he commented. "It was your car that was used on the job, and you did the driving. Now, Spike, I don't want to see you go to the pen." "That's where he ought to be," put in Detective-Lieutenant McDermott. "You're wrong, Mac," the chief pro- tested. "I'd like to give this kid leniency." Spike advanced a step. "Kid Leniency!" he scoffed. "Say, I knocked that guy out ten years ago in Spokane. If you want to do me a favour, chief, gimme the champ." "All right, Spike," Milligan rejoined, with a good-natured laugh. "Bat seriously—you tell us where that money is, and I'll let you walk out of here." In appearance Spike was the very essence of simplicity, but he had a crafty side to his nature that Milligan did not suspect, and, when the little prizefighter seemed to waver, the chief honestly believed that he was on the verge of disclosing the whereabouts of the haul. "You know where we were stopped on the road," Spike began. "Well, there's a branch-track there, and you go right along it till you come to some trees." "Yes," said Milligan eagerly. "Well, you keep walkin'," Spike con- tinued, " and you come to some more trees—great, tall trees, and teeny little trees." "Of course, of course," the chief agreed, with some impatience. " We know that, Spike. There's a forest there—the biggest forest in Texas." Spike nodded. "Sure," he said, "there's dead trees, an' big, healthy live trees. Nothin' but trees—thousands of 'em, millions of 'em. And the swag is buried " "Yes, yes, where is it buried?" "Under one o' them trees," Spike murmured, with a sly wink. "An' that's the truth, chief, 60 help me." Milligan leaned back in disgust. Thousands of trees—millions of trees— and under one of them the funds of the Cattlemen's Bank was buried ! Spike Weber was certainly informative, but not to the extent of betraying the hid- ing-place of the spoil. "Take him away," snapped Milligan. From Ranch to Prize-Ring. A BUNCH of cowboys were gath- ered near a corral on the Lane Ranch, about thirty miles west of San Antonio. Headed by Tom Marley, foreman for young Nora Lane, the owner, they had been engaged in teach- ing a herd of young ponies to leap a circus hurdle. For the Lane outfit bred and trained horses for race-track and rodeo. "Well," Tom Marley declared, "we've got 'em up to three-and a-half feet, and if wo keep at it we might have 'em jiimp.in' a six-foot fence in a couple of weeks." "If we do," put in a lean fellow known as Peewee. "these horses will be worth January 28th, 1933. BOY » CINEMA about fifteen hundred apiece, instead of seventy-five dollars." Tom nodded. He was a tall, strapping Westerner with black hair and a pair of fine, clear eyes—hard as a diamond physically, and straight as a pine in his dealings. "You're right, Peewee," he declared, "and I reckon we'd all like to see Miss Nora make a little money out of this ranch. What with one thing and another, she's had a pretty tough time of it." "Here comes Miss Nora now," another of the group interposed, "and by the looks of her face she seems all het-up about something" A girl was approaching the ranch on horseback. Her riding-kit accentuated the slenderness of her figure, and wisps of hair as golden as the sun peeped from under her hat. Strikingly beautiful was Nora Lane, and she was as coura- geous as she was lovely, for on the death of her father she had not hesi- tated to undertake the responsibility of carrying on the outfit, with Tom Marley's aid. Tom went forward to meet her, and, as she drew rein, he took hold of the bridle and looked at her anxiously. "Anything wrong. Nora?" he asked her. "Oh, Tom," she said, almost in tears, "I've just come from town. The bank's closed—on account of that robbery the other night. They can't pay out a cent." "Gee. Nora," Tom murmured, "that's too bad." The girl made a despairing gesture. "Every dollar I had was in the Cattle- men's Bank," she told him. "The money to pay bills and wages—it's all gone. Oh, Tom, the whole thing is hope- less. Our stock is too young to try and sell yet, and I—I guess the boys will have to quit." "They won't quit," Tom assured her, but Nora only shook her head despon- dently. "I'm just heartsick," she said, with a catch in her voice. "We've pulled through everything so far—and you, Tom, you've worked this ranch as though it were your own. I feel I'm letting you down, but this is the finish, and I'm licked." Tom took her hand and pressed it affectionately. "No, you're not licked. Nora." he stated. "We'll pull out of this little difficulty, too. Listen, I'll go over and tell the boys all about it—and don't you worry." The young foreman made his way to where tho hands were standing in a solemn group, and he ran his eye over them before he spoke. "Well, boys," he said at length, "I've got some good news for you. You've had your last pay-day, because the bank's failed." The men exchanged glances, and then one of them offered a reply. " I don't allow that's gonna have much effect on me." ho drawled, "an' I figure I'm erivin' you tho sentiments of tho rest o' the boys when I say so. Wo can wait for our money." There was a chorus of approval, and Tom looked at them gratefully. "That's just what I told Miss Nora," he observed. "Wellj the bank failin' don't hurt me none." Peewee mentioned, with a chuckle. "I borrowed my wages in advance from Miss Nora last week, so I guess I owe the ranch money." Tom grinned, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If that's the case," he said, "I'm gonna take you with me where I'm goin'. You know I've learned to punch other things besides cows in my time, and I aim to try a little of it. Every Tuesday You can be my manager, Peewee. and the rest of you boys had better suck aiound the ranch and look after ^liss Nora." Accompanied by Peewee, Tom strode into the barn where a number of hams were hanging, and he started to pummel these with his fists. The next day !,c repeated tho process in a San Antonio gymnasium, but it was an orthodox punching-bag that felt the weight of his blows there, and, exactly two weeks from the date of leaving the Lane ranch, he was in the ring against a tough heavy-weight pugilist known as Kayo Kelly. The boys of the outfit were there in force, and, though they formed but a trivial section of the big crowd gathered in the stadium to witness the programme of events, they made their voices heard above all the others as the referee intro- duced Tom. Formalities over, the fighters danced from their corners at the clang of tho bell, and, after sparring around under the glare of the arc-lights, Kelly whipped in a wicked left that shook tho cowboy. But Tom parried the right with which the bruiser followed up his lead, and then flashed home a stinging cross-counter. Next instant the two men were bat- tling fiercely, and the smack of the gloves mingled with a din of yells as tho spectators waxed enthusiastic, the boys of the Lane ranch shouting themselves hoarse in their efforts to encourage their favourite. Tom had been amateur champion for the state of Texas a year before, but Kelly was a seasoned pug with plenty of experience, and he knew how to pile up the points. The first, second and third rounds were all his, and in the fourth ho loosed a regular bombardment of blows on tho cowboy's face and body. It was an attack that must have hammered tho resistance out of most men, but Tom stood up to it doggedly, though he was unsteady on his feet when the gong re- called both combatants to their corners again. Determination counterbalanced the punishment, that Kelly had handed out. Tom had a purpose in mind, and was resolved to achieve it. Ho wanted tho prize money to help Nora Lane out of her difficulties and he did not mean to leave that stadium without a cheque for the winning share of the purse. Under the directions of Peewee, Tom's seconds worked hard to brace him up in the one-minute interval, and, as the bell sounded again, the cowboy fairly leapt from his stool. Kelly sprang to meet him, confident and self-assured, reflect- ing smugly that he had allowed tho contest to proceed far enough, and might as. well finish it with a knock-out. He was still conjuring with that thought when a blow like a burro's kick landed on his chin and smote him to the floor. He was down for a count of seven, and, on rising, he tore at his opponent. Tom did not give back an inch before the fury of that onset, but fought his man toe to too and gradually assumed the offensive. He lacked the finesse and experience of Kelly, perhaps, but ho was strong as a lion, and Kelly had never known such punches as those which he now received. Tom's right bored into the bruiser's solar plexus and laid him low for another long count. When Kelly scrambled up his eyes were a little wild and glazed, and within thirty seconds he again left himself open for a knock- down blow. It was a right once more, and it caught Kelly on the jaw with terrifto impact. Up went the fighter's hands',