Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

The Black Quag Behind me, on Center Street, came the clip-clop of horse’s feet, the rattle and clink of an early milk-wagon, and a. cheery voice that called— “G’lang thar, Bill!’ T lifted my head and shouted mightily. CHAPTER XIV AN EPILOG ie WAS Ed _ Burlingame, always an early milker, on his way to the cheese factory. With many a hearty objurgation he untied me, listening to the story which I gave him in snatches, between rubbings of my cramped limbs. At last I could walk alone, and I clam- bered up on to his milk-wagon and rode with him toward Black Valley town. And fair in the road before us lay a parcel, and then another, ard another—neat pack- ages of currency. Before we turned off Center Street we had picked up five thou- sand dollars, jolted out of my flivver while Jerry and his mates had fled in panic be- fore the wrath of the Black Quag. We pulled up in front of the Putnam House, and I shouted to Phil Riley to call Roberts and then run down to the side- track after Mr. MacKenzie... I had news for them. : “‘Ain’t no news, doc,” said Phil. ‘‘Warren ’s out som’ers, an’ the other feller with ’im. They found out the pay-car was robbed.” “The pay-car?”” That seemed a matter of no importance now. ‘Here’s the mon- ey.” And I shook a package of bills in his face. “Go.get ’em both, Phil—hurry! It’s more than a few dollars I’m talking about. Did they kill the watchman?” For I had just recalled the words of one masked robber. “Naw,” said .Phil. Head busted open, comes Warren now.” Head down, the boy was walking slowly toward us, and I beckoned him to hurry. He looked up at me, and his face was drawn and haggard. “What now?” he asked dully. “ve got your money, Warren!” His face brightened. “But—but, Warren, boy —have you looked out on the Quag?” “No,” he answered, wondering. ‘‘Why should I? Thejob’sall done. I was worry- ing about the pay-roll.” “He’s aw right. thassall. An’ here 173 ‘Your railroad’s gone,” I told him blunt- ly. “Swallowed up, and Lily-White Hand with it.” Half a dozen farmers, early with their milk, had gathered around to listen. The hugest of them turned sharply at my words and clambered into his buckboard. ‘‘Where ye goin’, Simon?” called some one. Simon Black spat deliberately over a wheel. ‘“‘“Goin’?” he repeated. “W’y, down on to that south eighty on ourn. Ain’t got time t’ set gammin’ here— ’s terrible late f’r plowin’ now. Giddap!”’ The Black Quag had been fed, at last; and old Simon, wise in its ways, no longer feared to venture out upon its thin skin with team and plow. But Warren Roberts upturned to me a stricken face. | “Wh-what — w-why?” he stammered numbly. And then Phil Riley returned, bringing MacKenzie with him, and, still sitting in Burlingame’s milk-wagon with five thou- sand dollars in my lap, I told them my tale. They heard me out. And when I was quite done, and shivering a little in the memory of Lily-White Hand’s blotting- out, Stuart MacKenzie shifted his feet and spoke. ‘“‘Good!”’ said he. an honest r-railroad!”’ “Now we can build And that was the epitaph of Isaac Hand. ~ I HAVE no more to tell. My little Jf} car, quite ruined, was found next —— day at Dansville, over in the next county; but the Ontario, Railroad bought mea better in place of it. As for Jerry and his unnamed comrades, they had vanished, and the rest of the money with them. We never heard of them again; and I have wondered more than once if Jerry had his boy’s tonsils to be “took right out.” The private car stayed on our siding for three days. Stuart MacKenzie went afield with his men, who bore transits and set them up, and waved their arms cryptically, directing the placement of new rows of stakes. And within a month the freight cut-off of the Ontario System was completed, and huge “hump-backed” locomotives roared slowly past Black Valiey, tugging and push- ing at hundred-car strings of freight. But oO COmicloo CN Vp) CO