Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

COMPLETE IN THIS ISSUE. a? was his thoughtful gaze on. the W. S. S. placard behind the bar, and then the half-guilty attention he be- stowed on his well-filled glass. He must have caught my grin, for he inched toward me with a friendly, apolo- getic smile. ‘“‘ Saving’s done in some onusual ways,” ke confided softly. ‘“ There’s folks that says the saloon takes the poor man’s hard- earned dollar, and that gamblin’ is a curse. Mebbe they’re right: I ain’t sayin’. “ But that guv’ment savin’ sign there,” he went on, encouraged by my discreet nod, ‘reminds me of a saloon an’ gamblin’ place that was a regular savings bank for its customers. Yes, sir; the only deposit-slips used was the bar-checks, and it seemed as though about all the depositors had to show for their money was a headache the morning after. But it actually saved money for them—wzt/ interest.” Having thus7succeeded in tickling my curiosity, the stranger perversely lapsed into an embarrassed silence. “‘ What’s the answer?” I demanded, laughing. And, W ‘res first attracted me to Mr. Betts taking advantage of the freemasonry among all men at Jordan’s, I towed him to a cor- ner table and signaled Mike to stand by with the appropriate refreshments. 9 Arcosy 481 Some queer fish—quite soberly speaking —run into this famous café; usually swirled east with the crowds that eddy off Broad- way’s restless stream at Times Square. Even Mr. Betts—Tim Betts, of Cali- fornia, as he introduced himselfi—was not without striking characteristics. His big frame, fleshed to portliness, was draped cecently in a quiet suit of pepper-and-salt; his brown-straw hat, with the wide, floppy brim, and the broad-toed shoes, were not in themselves conspicuous. Yet, somehow, Mr. Betts’s appearance suggested a prosperous rancher not alto- gether at ease in his “ going-to-town ”’ togs. The genial smile, however, masked a shrewdness and inflexibility of purpose: that of a man who knew what he was about and was not lightly t» be imposed upon. Strange tales are unfolded at Jordan’s. Mr. Betts eased the strain across his chest by loosing the top coat-button; mopped a bald forehead, and began. Excepting many quaint . embellishments, unhappily forgot- ten, I have endeavored here to set down his story in a straightforward narrative. It is an odd tale of the desert; of good cloaked in evil; of baffling motives; and of a friendship that almost passes understand- ing. I gathered that when Macdonald made his nerve-racking drive into Death Valley conmicloolkkS.comnny