Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

At rey pee ROP hd sta a Wen in + “~~ AU brad het CALAN syieeieet at Y we it’ Py. Se ¥ J hy 4 Ws > ae wae eos Sy Sv 5 oa 7 f= “ ard cs “— ae ea ae ' os is _ his vanity. very large. : Reed Bei ym 1 yes pemoanerbiad , i , S= leathery expression might have meant any- thing. It probably did. | ‘Like wildfire the word flashed through the mills: _ “A yaid! <A bootlegger raid!” “With the suddenness of a summer shower, many wild and absurd rumors, which had been circulating lazily, fused in initiative that would mean the front pages in the northland’s news of the morrow. For the better part of a year the new sheriff—held by some to be of the wild-eyed reformer type, and by others to be the most faithful guardian of Polk County’s péadce who had ever presided over the local jail—had been sharpshooting, gunshooting and unlimbering heavy artillery in the interest of local en- forcement of the eighteenth amendment. And here he was, with his deputies, evi- dently determined to’run down the rumors — that the Blackwater Mills sheltered the principal Volstead — _lawbreakers in the county! And nobody was more interested than the denizens of Blackwater! - Hungry-eyed, the sheriff walked with Gregg, the papermaking apostle. of aridity. Vardaman prowled always in search of the tidbit of publicity. He took pride in the fact that his recent Wild West contraband liquor raids had won telegraphed paragraphs in the metropolitan papers. To behold his name in a headline was meat and drink to This Blackwater situation, con- cerning which Gregg had been in commu- nication with him for some weeks, promised — to be the richest yet! Across the narrow bridge to the door of the finishing room tramped the sextet. The door slowly opened. Upon the threshold appeared the superintendent, Calvin Cal- omel Bly, iron hat and all. stopped. Which perhaps explained why, for thirty-five of his sixty years, Bly had been a full-fledged superintendent. ‘“‘ What’s yer business, gents?” _ Impressively the sheriff, posing, handed Bly a folded paper which he withdrew from _ the inner pocket of his rakish gray N orfolk | jacket. “Search warrant, eh?” Cal drawled, scowling over the written “ information and Soe a ag Se Cal was not However, somehow, everybody — -a booming voice. “Tt know ‘Slavvery’ s habits like a book. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. belief... He looked up, straight at Gregg. For the first time since Mal had come to Blackw ater a hard dislike for him, mingled with suspicion, shone in Bly’s eyes. “ Cagey signatures, make-believe,” com- mented Bly. “‘ Which sneak are you, Gregg? John Doe or Richard Roe?” — “Don’t abuse a man for upholding the law!” fussed the sheriff. While, despite himself, Gregg could not meet Bly’ S eyes. “He can uphold the law outside these mills after to-day. Gregg, don’t come back to work. You’re through, right now! Now get me, sheriff! The stuff in this paper is news to me. Maybe it’s true, and I’m a fossil, ready to be retired. All right; Vl take my medicine honest. But any skunk Pa like this specimen here, that'll deliberately let his place of employment i in for advertis- ing like this, is through, by Judas priest! Gregg, you lead yer hounds around on the dirty work, then you get yer time!” —- Gregg’ s aS twisted in an ugly snarl. ‘He had not expected this. He had mistaken Bly’s easy good nature. This soft berth of his he had expected to hold indefinitely. Besides, there were strategical reasons is wy he had wanted to stay unmolested. With a sneer he led the sheriff and dep- uties past Bly, who had stood aside. The girls at the counting table had heard the superintendent’s ihenne speech. Gregg’ S glance chanced to cross “Mattie. Briscoe’s, directed toward him. Her look held a sparkling enmity that startled him. Bly fell in behind the last two deputies. There was a little, scurrying rush, Mattie appeared beside him: The superintendent might have told her to go back to her work, but he did not. Somehow, whatever Mattie did seemed in the outcome to be for the good of affairs. From the head of the procession came Grege’s, of course. You'll just about catch him now with the ~ goods on him. I been watchin’ him.” So! Cal Bly’s heart sank. He had heard some things here and there; the net was apparently closing about poor old Pete. Old? Yes, Pete must have been old from his ’teens. -cariot who had informed on a fellow work- But—blast the hide of. the Is- =comicbooks ened = Me ae