Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

60 was going. Then the camp went mad. The last of the entries arrived that day. The contest was now in the lap of Mother Nature. Con Welch’s safe was closed and locked until the great day when the winner appeared to collect. Robbery? The thought never occurred to any one in camp. There hadn’t been a theft in years. Escape was too difficult in a land ‘ where all movements of humanity must of necessity converge at the neck of the bottle—the steamers connecting the country with the outside world. No telegraph line reached the camp, and yet, by a curiously circuitous method the miners learned that the ice was be- ginning to break far up the river. White Horse sent word to Vancouver and a Vancouver radio station broadcasted the news. A local set picked it up. The camp waited. A day or two; perhaps only a matter of hours, and the question would be settled. A low boom startled Con Welch. He opened his eyes and listened. “There goes the ice!’ he cried, and rushed to the window. * The tripod had not moved. He rubbed his eyes and waited. “Must have been dreaming. That sure sounded like ice breaking!” He returned to the warmth of his blankets and dozed off. At six o’clock his telephone rang. A voice came crisply over the wire: “Con, this is Kenmore speaking. How much money did you have in that safe?” “Roughly, twenty-five thousand dol- lars. Why?” “She’s been blown. quick as you can!” Get down here as MOB had surrounded his store when Con Welch arrived. Each man had made his guess on when the ice would go out. Each felt himself rob- bed of twenty-five thousand dollars. The men buzzed lkke hornets and they were as greatly aroused. “I’ve got a dozen men circling the camp,”’ Kenmore, the marshal, explained. “Tf they’ve taken a trail out of camp FRANK RICHARDSON PIERCE we'll catch them! Your place ain’t so badly wrecked as it looks. The job was done by men who know how to use powder, but don’t know much about safes!” Con nodded. “Half the men in camp can use pow- der!” Even as they talked a deputy hurried up. “We've found a trail. It ain’t much, but they went out over the ice. There’s at least two of ’em!”’ Twenty men were standing about, ready for the trail and spoiling for a chance to take part, backed by authority. Kenmore picked his men. “We'll travel light,” he announced, “and have others follow us up with grub. We’re taking to the ice before she goes!’ They fairly raced down the frozen surface. A half hour gained now was equal to several hours hard work once the ice was gone. An hour later they caught the scream ~ of a siren behind them. It was a sound that never ceased to thrill them. Other whistles in camp took it up and with it came the ringing of bells and the crack of ~ pistols and rifles. “TI wonder who won,” a deputy won- dered. “It won’t make any difference,”’ Ken- more replied, “if we don’t overhaul the crooks!” Something cracked ahead of them. They ran swiftly and leaped an opening in the ice. Water began to pour through, spreading slowly over the smooth surface. It would be a tough job, returning. An hour later they reached Boulder Creek and Kenmore threw up his hands and groaned. “They knew what they were doing. Timed things just right. We've got to quit the ice!” *There’s a bend in the river,” one of them shouted. “If we cut across it will save something!”’ “Lead off!’ the marshal ordered. The roar grew louder. First the ex- plosive sound of breaking ice, then the grinding of millions of ice cakes as the comnlicloooks.com