Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

THE DUKE AND THE DUCATS. QT battle he had loved gone, he was as aloof as though discussing the spending of ten dollars. ‘“I wonder about Ivers’ guards for the ship.” “Here comes Donnelly—with the dinero,” Tex whispered. The gambler had in his hands a small bag. “Come back here,” he told them, and took them into a small room. The watch- ful flyers had counted out for them win- nings of more than twenty-five thousand. dollars. “We'd better buy the bag,” grinned MacDowell. “How much, Donnelly?” “Take it with my compliments,” Don- nelly smiled back. It was a mere widen- ing of the lips. *So long, many thanks—and don’t have us fooled with,” Fex warned him. ““We’ve got a visit to make, and it isn’t far from here. Until we get there, our hands won’t stray far from these Colts—” “Good God, Duke! Donnelly! Want ‘to get out? What the hell is coming off?” Daly leaped to the door beside the amazed MacDowell. A stream of men were erupting from the stairway, and at their head was Jed Conklin. The faded eyes of the leathery, irascible little Texan were alight with an almost fanatical glow. Behind him heavily armed men were disposing themselves around the wall of the big room. “Don’t nobody be seared—you know me—but don’t make no wrong moves neither!” The dozens of gamblers sat as though petrified. There was no fear in their faeces—rather a dazed interest in the pro- ceedings. Donnelly brushed by the flyers and stood in front of the door. Over across the room Slats Derringer was motionless as a statue. Daly, his level eyes sweeping the room, felt that the lantern jawed oil operator loomed like a giant even in that crowd. Conklin was like a small gameceock, with his sombrero on the baek of his head and his small body fairly quivering with nervous eagerness. “Listen, all 0’ you!” he proclaimed. “T’m here to get Slats Derrimger out o’ the way for tomorrow, and then return "im. I’m electioneerin’, if you want t’ put it that way, and I'm speakin’ my piece all around town and doin’ other things in the bargain.” He caught sight of Donnelly, and bowed mockingly. “Evenin’, Draw One,” he said with elaborate sarcasm. “You're due for a little vaeation from these parts. Slats, don’t you make a move or Pll have you hogtied in three seconds less’n nothin’. I’ve got about three hundred o’ yore plug uglies where they won’t do no harm fur a day or so, and don’t forgit that.” “Let’s get. out of his sight,” Daly whispered, “‘and hear what’s going on.” It was like a dream, those armed men around the walls. Evidently Conklin had taken the downstairs part of the house without a struggle. The stairs were packed with curious gamblers from the lower floor, and from without the noise of the mob was growing louder. “Now git this, everybody,” Conklin went on, pacing up and down in the center of the room. “None of you care much about who runs this here town, one way or the other. You all know that Slats Derringer’s been runnin’ it, havin’ more men, more acreage, and more dinero that he’s stole than anybody else. He’s even hired the only airplane so no- body else can use it in a pinch. Yuh don’t want no Sunday School around here—you want fun. Now I’m tellin’ why, tomorrow everybody’s gonna git an even break; why my men are gonna be policin’ this town, and some other things. I’m willin’ t’ step aside fur any man except Slats. or one of his flunkeys. And I’m fightin’ him with his own methods. He’s gonna be out o’ this town, with all his crooks, until we git things set to handle him right and proper the first trick he pulls like the ones he’s been pullin’. “Y’ want t’ gamble, don’t you? Do y’ know that Slats owns most o’ the prin- cipal places in this town now, and that every one of ’em is crooked? Yeah, Slats, I’m callin’ you a card crook t’ yore face! comnlicloooks.com