Adventure, August 1917 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

With His Record Clear Joe Donnelly leaned forward suddenly. “Yes, and there’s Fagan, too!’”’ he ex- claimed. ‘“‘Who is Fagan?” asked Banninger. “Tom Fagan—foreman of the extra- gang,” said Joe. ‘‘He’s lying down there near the camp cars with his leg broken, and needs looking after. I think he was trying to hold his negroes in and they turned on him.” - Banninger swung around to the con- ductor. “Have the porter give you a mattress from the sleeper, take a couple of men, and go get Fagan,” he ordered. ‘We'll take him along with us and see that he gets to the hospital. See if you can find a doctor in any of the coaches, too, and if there is have him see what he can do for the fore- man.’ And having given his orders he turned to Donnelly again. “How did this thing start? What hap- pened?” asked Banninger. = ‘“‘Pay-day, you know,” if that explained a lot. “And lots of bad liquor and some bad. boasts and rivalry led up to it, I guess,” he added and then told them in a few quick words all he knew of the matter. “By the Lord Harry,” exclaimed Ban- ninger when Joe had concluded, “here’s aman. Let meshake your hand.” He slapped Donnelly on the back and wrung his hand, Treeman and Barnes following. There was a trace of embarrassed restraint in Barnes’s manner when he extended his hand. He hesitated a little then, shame- faced. He cleared his throat. “Donnelly,” stumbled the superintend- ent, “I—you got a message from me?” “Yes,” said Joe. All his elation suddenly went from him. In the rush of recent events, the message and its import had been driven from his mind. Now it all came flooding back. He reached in his torn coat and took the mes- sage from a pocket. “There it is,” he said, laying it upon the table. Banninger and Treeman had been listen- ing with puzzled expressions upon their faces. ‘They read the words upon the mes- sage form. ‘“‘What does this mean?” demanded Banninger, looking up, frowning. said Donnelly, as 79 Barnes hesitated uncertainly, and while he searched for words Joe Donnelly spoke up. “Have you ever heard the story of the platform light at Maple Creek and how it cost Mr. Barnes, here, ten dollars to turn it out?” asked Joe. There was no humor in his voice now. Nothing but grim earnestness matched the returning anger in his eyes. Both Banninger and Treeman had heard the tale. They nodded soberly. “Well,” added Donnelly, then, ‘‘that’s what brought that message. It was too much for Mr. Barnes’s pride and he laid for me.” “But wait—wait,’’ broke in the crest- fallen superintendent, he having at last found his voice. Things were going badly for him—he’d have to check these revelations, some way. He looked around, beaming, his self- assurance coming back. He smiled at Donnelly. “Of course, after tonight, I could never let that—that message stand,” he said. “Vow ll stay at Maple Creek. Ill with- draw the order for your relief.”’ “You will?” flashed Donnelly, looking hard at Barnes. That would leave his record clear. A thought shot into his head. “You will withdraw this?” He held the message up. ‘“Yes,”’ said Barnes. Upon the table were pens and ink. Joe Donnelly took a pen and wrote beneath the words that were already on the message blank: The above order and instructions are herewith withdrawn and canceled “Tf you will sign this, please,” he said - to Barnes, holding out the pen. And when the superintendent had affixed his signature, with large good humor, Joe set down the date and the time, 12.35 A.M. He wanted things very definite in case of any question that might arise later. ‘Now one thing more,” said Joe. He flipped the message over and wrote upon the back: Mr. J. G. BARNES, Superintendent. I herewith tender my resignation to take effect immediately. J. DONNELLY. “Tf you will kindly write your acknowl- edgment on this and sign it, also,” said cComiclsoo (© S|