Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

136 assistant. ‘‘Five in succession, and the chief due here in a day or two on his tour of in- spection! Five fires, and we’ve been able to do nothing to prevent a sixth. And Baldy reports daily that somebody’s trying to set off Black Swamp!” - Franklin’s youthful face reflected the gravity of his superior’s. _ “What’s the answer, boss?’” © Driscoll sat in silence for a time, looking | ievelly at the other, his lips upturned slightly in a “half-expressed smile. He said finally, emphatically— “The answer is Bradley!” The younger man laughed with a hint of sneer, the quick pride of the service unconsciously condemning his superior’s decision. “Bradley? Why, he’s a quitter!” Driscoll’s difficult smile broadened. “Don’t be too sure.” “But if he was any good why did head- quarters let him go?” “Headquarters didn’t have anything to say about it. Bradley quit because the chief wouldn’t give him that big down-river post. And Bradley was in line for it.” “What did the chief have against him?” The question seemed to annoy Driscoll. He made an impatient gesture. _ “Not much; but the principle of it meant a lot to the chief. You know the chief is absolutely opposed to gambling. Well, last ‘time he and I were here on inspection Brad- ley laid several bets with him, and although the old boy didn’t take up the bets, ignored them in fact, yet things proved out so that Bradley’s bets would have won, and the chief couldn’t help noticing.” Young Franklin’s eyes were wide. “So the chief gets back at Bradley by turning him down on the promotion?” Driscoll laughed shortly, eying his assis- - tant sharply. “That’s funny! Do you know, that that’s just the way Bradley has it figured out. And you're both all wrong. Too bad! We need Bradley now. I’ve always trusted him so much that I’ve neglected his patrol. He knows it like a book and I never figured he needed overseeing. Whatever Bradley did, I knew was done right. I never both- ered: so I don’t know the patrol, and with him gone I need to know it now.’ Quick apprehension was visible in the assistant’s eyes. “But we can’t ask help of him!” Adventure Driscoll sat staring at the reports of the es. ‘The chief is due any time within a day or so. He won’t like these reports.” He glanced defiantly at the younger man. _ “T think we can ask help, Franklin! What the is a little thing like my pride at a time like this? I can pocket it! You know the dictum—it’s the service that’s got to be served. Go get Bradley.” Bradley came at once. He had divined that the summons was in the nature of a call for help, and he was eager to hear Driscoll voice it that he might refuse. He greeted the district man cheerfully, and, drop- ping into a chair, faced Driscoll across the flat top of the desk that had once been his. The district man laid his cards frankly on the table and attempted to appeal to the pride Bradley had once had in the service. Bradley shook his head. “T’m out of the service, Driscoll.” “Not entirely. Your resignation hasn’t been officially accepted by the chief yet.” “You haven’t heard of me cashing any _ pay vouchers since you came, have you?” “That’s beside the problem, Bradley,” the other replied, obviously laboring to con- trol his impatience. ‘“‘You’re familiar with this patrol; you know every nook and corner; and I don’t. You ought to give a last lift for the good of the service.” Bradley laughed mockingly. “The good of the service? Good Lord, Driscoll, you know the deal the service handed me!” The district man nodded sympathetically. “Yes; you wanted that down-river post, and I indorsed your application favorably. But, Bradley, it was a lot your own fault that the chief turned it down. You know what kind of man the chief is, and you can remember what you did last time he was here. Bet, bet, bet, and you knew he’s — opposed to gambling among men he pro- motes to the big jobs in the service. Why, when he happened to mention casually his pride in being something of a revolver shot you even bet him that at fifty feet you could pick the cameo out of his stick-pin without injuring the setting!”’ Bradley laughed with-relish. _ “And the old moralist didn’t have it in him to call!” Driscoll’s impatience burst bounds. é ‘it, Bradley, let’s come open or Will you give us a lift?” shut! —— cConnicooolkx (E@) i. = . a = > "i cS ~— <2 es . Pm ~~ ee