Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

¢ a “Hey!” he yelled. “Keep away! Who “I’m Carlton. I own this place.” “So did I!” snarled the other, with an unearthly note of triumph in his voice. “But I’m even now! I got him! Dang his hide to Tophet, I got him—at last— oh!” He started gurgling. Carlton bent over him quickly and struck a match. “Tom Fulton!’ he gasped. “You're shot, man—your shirt’s all red!” “Yeh!” snarled Fulton. “He got me, He sat up in bed an’ shot till he keeled over. But we got him. Oh!” And he put his hand to his chest. Carlton knew whom Fulton had shot. In his mind he visualized the murderous pistol-battle in Finch’s old shanty, with a pack of vengeful demons spurting hot lead through the dark doorway and the miser dying as he had lived—alone in a corner. But Carlton heeded his duty to a helpless man. The poor monomaniac who could not forget an injury lay on the ground, gasping with pain. The engineer picked him up gently and tried to lead him to a horse, but the man collapsed. Carlton dragged him a little way but soon noted that others were coming across the dark fields. The firing had ceased. The sides of the old barn were tumbling down and the flames were reducing. It all seemed to be over. Another vague human form came toward the horses, then some more. Carlton called for assistance and explained who he was, _ to make sure of them. Mysterious hands grasped Fulton and put him over a horse. Other ghostly hands lashed him into place. Vague, bashful voices bade the engineer take Fulton to his home, promising to summon medical aid immediately. Then the dark forms sprang to horses and gal- loped away—presumably to hasten the medical aid. Leading the horse and stumbling forward, Carlton came to his house and yelled toward the closed door. The door swung open, and his wife and the two helpers appeared. And then he saw Dolan. i The boss was seated at the table, fully him on the red table-cloth. * ire ( , , The Boss of Mirage 37 were everywhere—yellow, white, blue and — "demanded. ~the beginning.” : Every window was il- © luminated, but he did not notice that. dressed, with ‘account-books and_ papers i a8 ough filing-cabinets piled high in body started the Thunder Mountain thing apers again. Then a “lectric c y a Se ee ee ee ~~ green—littering the whole table and even the floor. The boss seemed engrossed in them to the exclusion of everything else. Carlton and the others took Fulton to a room, after which the engineer rushed to join Dolan. Then he stood irresolute. The boss looked as if he had struck the treasure of the ages. “Gosh!” he mumbled. _. Then he struck another find, and his eyes opened still wider. “What is it?”’ interrupted Carlton. - The boss looked up like some old lion holding venison in his paw and loath to be disturbed. “Tt’s the evidence,” he snapped. He checked himself and explained. “The evi- dence. Savvy? Somebody took it from the Finch place and left it here accidental.” “A coincidence, of course,’’ said Carlton with gentle irony. “Sure. Coincidence. But it’s jest enough coincidence to bust open this county from end to end! It’s changed the whole deal. You thought you was in a fight for your ranch. I thought I was in a county political fight. Son, do you know where the trail leads to?” “‘Where?”’ “Into the gen’ral offices of a big railroad, into the Department of the Interior and mebbe into the halls of the United States Congress!” ea x 3 SER © WHAT?” shouted the engineer. gq The boss lit a black cigar having ; the dimensions and about the smell of a sewer-pipe. “Abso-lutely!” he responded. enough dynamite in them papers to rock the State!”’ Carlton sank into a chair while his wife joined him from the sick-room. “What's the general idea of it all?” he “What's happened? Begin at “Well, let’s see. Near as I can make out, there’s.a plan up in Congress to build a big — dam across Thunder Mountain Creek for *There’s x. fs x it~ irngation. There was a lot of talk about it some time ago, but it all died down. I'd clean forgot about it. Then this year, +. e . while Congress was fiddlin’ over bills, some * ‘ e . z ’ ~s — : » ~ecomicbooks.com