15 Story Detective, April 1950 — page 74: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

74 the road, and turned down the window. “Hi boys,” Emery shouted cheerfully. “S’matter, Bob?” an annoyed . voice growled from the dark interior of the cab. ‘You gave us clearance at the check- ing point ‘bout forty minutes ago.” “That’s right, Andy. But a call came in a little bit ago. Your wife’s been taken to the hospital. Turn the rig over to Sam. He can wheel it to Scranton himself.” The annoyance in big Andy Welling’s voice was replaced by worry. “Let’s get going, Bob.” In the glare of headlights, Andy appeared even bigger than he was. Sam Dowell got out of the cab. He gave the worried man an encouraging slap on the shoulder. “Tt'll turn out okay, Andy. She’s young. { know how you feel, boy. I felt the same way when mine was about to have her ‘first,” Sam placed all the cheerful confidence he could muster into the words. He liked the big guy. Sam got in behind the wheel. The tail light of Bob’s car winked out in the dis- tance. “Hope everything turns out well,” Samy muttered to himself. He eased the rig off the shoulder and concentrated on the unraveling concrete ribbon. The night was warm and he caught whiffs of dewy pines and spruces and the fresh, sweet scent of flowering apple trees. He thought in disgust: why should trouble come to anyone on a swell night like this? Es- pecially to a prince like big Andy. The miles flew under the spinning wheels. Traffic was light. “Ten to four,” Sam read the neon clock of a closed beer joint aloud. “Bo andb Andy must’ve reached the hospital ’bout two hours ago. Bob should be returning back along the road by now,’ Sam was talking to him- self, as do many truck jockeys pushing a lone haul. A spike buck dashed out of the gloom bordering the highway. Blinded by the glaring lights of the truck it stood like a statue in the center of the road. Sam swore softly as he turned off his 15 Story Detective lights for a few seconds and pressed the brake pedal down. The frozen buck was gone when Sam turned the light back on. ‘Wish more guys would do that,” he sighed. “T’ll be looking for you this December with a rifle, my bucko, I'll—” Sam _ suddenly stamped hard.on his brakes as he rounded the sharp bend, A cry of horror burst from his lips. Etched in the white glow of his head- lights was a parked truck. Behind it was a dark sedan. Cutting across the front of the truck which stood fully on the road, was the white car of a Pennsylvania State trooper. Sam caught the entire scene in a flash. The trooper was beside the tractor waving the driver out. A hand clutching an automatic came through the open window of the sedan. A single re- port lashed out and the trooper fell heavi- ly to the hard road. Sam’s rig came to a screeching stop. There wasn’t enough clearance to pass the patrol car. Before he could leap out of the cab, a shadowy figure appeared at each side of the tractor. The door on his side was wrenched open. “Get out!” a rough voice commanded. Sam stumbled out, hands raised high in the air. In the bright light of the moon and that which reflected from the lights of the truck, Sam could see the men plain- ly. The short one was dressed in neat gray. He was the one who came out of the sedan. The other guy was tall and skinny. The little, neatly dressed man was holding the automatic on Sam, The eyebrow mustache almost disappeared on the thick dark lips as he snarled to his companion, “Quick, you fool!” The skinny guy raised his hand. A million lights blazed in Sam’s eyes as something crashed against his head. He went out like a blown fuse. He came to with a weak moan. Where did this crowd come from? He tried to feel the bump on his head, but both hands came up at SS COPMICLOO© (E@)