Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

. ‘ na? » >t es Nobody answ ered. ‘The officer went on with his slow and exceedingly careful search of Bentley’s clothing. Lonesome looked toward her, smiled a tiny smile that seemed desperate rather than merry and turned his gaze aside. Gideon Ashford, who had been watching the entire proceedings with tri- umph written largely over his dark coun- tenance, touched Nancy Kirkland’s arm and whispered— “T’ll tell ye ef nobody else won't.” With several backward glances toward Bentley the girl went with Ashford to the ~ snow-covered ground outside. There Ash- ford. blew sparks from his home-made cigaret and bent forward with this: ““Lonesome was cunninger’n I thought he was,’ in low tones. ‘He was cunning enough to open the commissary safe and take out the six hundred dollars the’ was in it and leave it locked up jest like it was afore! It’s shore a joke on him—he went and brung the sheriff out and ’en got ar- rested hisself!”’ “He never done the robbin’!” flared Nancy, her brown eyes wide and sparkling with resentment. “He wouldn’t never do it!” Ashford shrugged his ox-like shoulders. “Forchunitly or onforchunitly, ye don’t haf to take my word forit. Look here!” Through the open door he had seen Garrett Henry unhook a safety-pin from the upper edge of one of Bentley’s inside coat pockets and take out a sizeable roll of bank-notes! Ashford stepped hastily back across the door-sill, and Nancy Kirkland followed with a lump in her throat. With one eye still on his prisoner Henry counted the money through, after which he said to Bentley: “Six hundred, I believe you told me. Here’s two hundred and ten. You didn’t quite get your share, did you, Lonesome?” Bentley was still ashen-faced, still defiant. He straightened even a little more. “You mean that me and Howlin’ Jim ” “YT mean that you and Howlin’ Jim went pardners in the deal,”’ hazarded the sheriff. “Better confess, Lonesome. It'll go easier with you, you know. Now just how did you and Howlin’ manage to get the money 97) without workin’ the combination?” “Charmed it out,” drawled Bentley in the ___ keenest sarcasm. He brought his hands M: a > to the lapels of his corduroy coat and » fa > eerie ep é 7 - m~., utes . o sae Qi om “= ° my ; ma A eee » - * a <3 ib . . ™~<' * . .* sa, F . Howling Jjim’s Pal III with a forefinger rubbed his chin as if re- flectively. ‘‘One of us stood on each side 0’ the safe. Howlin’ would say, ‘Keeno, Presto,’ and I’d say, ‘Presto, Keeno.? And purty soon the money jest tumbled right out.” Lonesome interrupted himself with a master play. He brought his two hands downward and in one lightning-like move- ment drove Garrett Henry’s revolver fifteen feet out of his grip and seized the roll of two hundred and ten dollars in bank-notes. That money represented Bentley’s savings for a year. Henry sprang to recover his weapon, and Lonesome sprang for the out- side. As the sheriff ran toward the door with his revolver in his hand, a peavy came hurtling before his legs, tripping him, causing him to fall heavily. When he rose, Bentley was in the laurels. Seeing that Lonesome, too, had escaped him, the fuming sheriff turned back and stopped squarely before Nancy Kirkland. “Vou, too!” he exclaimed. ‘You throwed the peavy, eh?” “T shore did,” Nancy admitted. “It ain’t any secret. What’re ye a-goin’ to do about it?” Henry’s countenance was threatenine— and, considering that morning’s run of luck for him, one may hardly blame him. “Tl arrest you as a—a accomplice; that’s what I’m a-goin’ to do about it!”’ he said. It was then that the camp rose and spoke as a single man. “T’ll be danged ef ye do!” Henry faced the loggers—loggers who adored Nathan Kirkland’s daughter. “‘What’s that?” he demanded. “Tl be danged ef ye do!”’ the camp spoke yet again, and it came a little more deter- minedly than before. os FOR the first hundred yards after he fl thy had gained the snowy underbrush, _awmE Bentley’s thoughts were occupied wholly with making good his escape. No man of his people had ever been to jail, and he wasn’t going so long as he could avoid it. Then, seeing that he was in no immediate danger of capture—the average down-South sheriff knows the hopelessness of chasing a mountaineer in the laurels—Bentley began to wonder what the small white object was that Garrett Henry had found lying under the safe. Soon he decided that he would strike Baskin’s trail in the snow, overtake eS > * & me