Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

The Law Comes to Singing River time to catch sight of a man’s arm twisting about a ragged spire of rock towering above him. This spire was the continuation of a fragment» of the rock wall which rose from a huge crack or fault. Lang noticed for the first time that this crack extended into the wall on the left so that it formed a narrow space protected from the front and open only toward himself and the north side. A man was climbing down, or lowering himself into this crack in some manner. Every hope Lang had held to went glimmer- ing as he realized the menacing purport of this latest move. He would be shot down in cold blood from above. Without so much as the narrowest margin of chance imaginable he would be potted without being given the most remote opportunity to defend himself. Rage blazed from his eyes as a shower of bullets came from the tall spruce. : Very carefully Lang took aim at the smoke- patch and waited to give the other time to reload. When he thought the man in the tree would be leaning out. for another round of shots he fired five times in a narrow cross-line at the spot where the smoke had appeared a moment before. He heard a crashing in the branches all the way to the bottom of the tree behind the granite outcropping. He had hit. Instantly he rolled over on. his back, refilling his gun. From about the spire of rock above he saw a man’s head appear. He leveled his gun; but with his thumb drawing back the hammer he paused with a pang of painful surprize. The man above him was Condon! But Condon was not looking down at him. He seemed to be propping himself on an in- visible ledge. He was in view only of Lang and possibly of the man in the trees by Lang’s horse. And now Condon was raising a rifle to his shoulder—Lang’s rifle, which he had taken from the cabin. With a dull ache at his heart, in which anger also slumbered, Lang drew a full bead on the head of the man above. The rifle leveled—not at Lang but on a line over Lang’s head and the protecting rocks. It struck upward with a sharp report as it breathed red lightning. Lang, too dazed and astonished to shoot, saw Condon’s head jerk back behind the rock spire. Before the echo of the rifle’s report had died away Lang heard a chortling scream that was smothered in a gurgle and the sound of a body falling upon the rocks near at hand. For a moment he was bewildered. Then the blood bounded into his throat, choking him with a wild; awe-inspiring, fas- cinating hope as the truth seared his excited brain. Condon had shot the man in the trees at Lang’s right! 47 XXX AFTER a spell of silence the bullets again whistled over Lang’s head; but —~ they struck higher upon the rocks, showing that the attackers did not purpose to take any more chances shooting from the tall spruce—or perhaps another sniper was climbing into place among the branches. Lang paid no attention now to the fusillade, which was doing no damage. He had even forgotten the dynamite in the new and amazing turn that events had taken. Was Condon sure enough an ally? He looked up into the crack and a thrilling sight met his eyes. With the carbine slung by a strap to his back, Condon was lowering him- self down a rope. He was coneealed from the men in the timber down the draw and could be seen only by Lang. Lang watched him, fascinated, as he came down hand over hand until he reached the end of the rope. Then he dropped to the ground within the crack. He crouched back im the narrow crevice and looked at Lang for the first time as he grinned amd unslung the rifle from his shoulder. The firing had ceased mo- mentarily, and Condon sprang.across the short intervening space in two jumps and landed in the prospect-hole. He gripped Lang’s hand as he said in a hoarse whisper: “That was Frued I got over there trying to creep up on you. What’s the row about?” “Bransom’s work,” replied Lang, ‘‘or else— I told Alice Thornton about that trouble down at Muddy, and——’” Condon nodded in surprize. “‘How’d you know I knew about it?” “T recognized the way you sat your horse in front of the store the night after the fight. I thought probably you’d gone for the sheriff, but I guess I was wrong.” “VYou’re dead right you’re wrong, Rush. The crash of six-shooters below them drowned his words. In Lang’s heart there was a raging tumult of joy because Condon had come up to scratch. He had proved himself a friend; lived up to the trust Lang had put in him after——~” Lang gripped his gun in a fierce grasp as he heard voices engaged in a wrangle behind the timber below them. The voices became louder as the firing died away. They could hear Bransom swearing frightfully. “Let’s make a dash for the timber by the cabin,’’ whispered Lang. For answer Condon rose stealthily. They leaped out of the prospect-hole and raced for the cabin. Evidently the men in the attacking party had not anticipated such a bold move, for Lang and Condon reached the shelter of the trees without a shot being fired at them. .OO (C@) = a (C@