Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

BUM PRO station. You stick by the door here and when the bulls come, tell “em you was the guy that called up and point out Max to them. And then ride over to the station in the wagon. I'll be around somewhere when you come out —you'll see me. Got it?” Walt nodded, and Joe lost no time in disappearing. ) The gitl- was’ excited. =" A~ real murderer!’ she said, and her arm pressed against Walt’s hand. “I wonder if there'll be shooting!” The thought alarmed Walt. “ You’d better go out of the building,” he ad- vised her. “Come along. I'll wait by the door and you stay outside.” “T’m going to stay right at the door with you,’ she announced firmly. “ Outside! And miss everything? Oh, no?!’ He saw it was useless to argue, so he said no more. ‘They took their station and prepared to wait. Til. FivE minutes passed. The auction was proceeding in normal fashion. Walt wondered what the people would do when the big moment came; he wondered if the police would come clanging down the street in the patrol wagon; he wondered if there would be any trouble about getting the re- ward—whether they’d have to wait for it for days, or get it right away. Five hundred dollars—that would be two hundred and fifty for the girl. Carolyn. Now that was a peach of a name! Caro— A blue-coated figure stepped through the door, arms hanging tensely. Keen eyes swept about the room. Walt stepped up to the officer. “T phoned,” he said. ‘“ The man you want is sitting in the second row of benches. He’s wearing a checkered cap. I'll point him out.” “Never mind,” the policeman re- plied. “The cap’s enough.” He went out again to speak to some TEM. 671 one. Then he reappeared, and, with one hand resting on his holster, went down the aisle with swift strides. Through the door came four other of- ficers, who quickly distributed them- selves about the room. The auctioneer, suddenly aware of something unustial in the air, stopped in the middle of a sentence, arm up- raised. Carolyn Bradford, her eyes wide and unwinking, her face pale, uncon- sciously leaned against Walt. Then the silence was broken. “We've got you, Max! Don’t try—”’ There was a crash, and in an instant the room was a bedlam. There were shouts, the screams of women, the clatter of overturning benches, the hoarse bellow of the men in blue. The frantic crowd milled around; men and women fell, were stepped on, and dragged down others in frenzied attempts to get up. The auctioneer’s platform went to the floor with a splintering explosion of sound. Through it all the man in the checkered cap twisted and clawed and fought like a trapped rat. gun, but his fists flailed about with tell- ing effect. The odds against him were too great, however. Two policemen at last managed to land on him at the same time, and he was literally buried under the living weight. Unceremoniously he was dragged toward the door, jerked erect, and hustled outside. With the girl gripping to his arm tightly in her excitement, Walt fol- lowed immediately after the police. The patrol wagon was on the street, and after two of the officers had got aboard, the prisoner was thrust inside. Walt spoke to the nearest of the re- maining three bluecoats: “T’d like to go along. tip.” “You and the lady? All right— pile in before that mob spills out!’ I sent in the EOPMIE MOO KS He had no. (E@)