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i ßed Range
| By EUGENE CUNNINGHAM I
I O EUGENE CUNNINGHAM W.N.U. RELEASE
THE STORY SO FAR: To save bls
Ute after be quarrels with the boss of
Wild Horse, Asa Brock, Con Cameron
hits the trail, leaving bls pal, Caramba
Vear, behind. On the trail he meets
the Ranters and rides with them until he
learns they are wanted for robbery and
murder. Discovering that Nevil Lowe,
whose life he had saved shortly before,
has a ranch near Tivan, Con goes there,
only to be seized as a murder and rob
bery suspSct. Because of his associa
tion with the Raniers, he is believed to
be “Comanche Linn.” Lowe has been
made marshal, but will not release him.
So he and Jeff Allmon break out of
jail and join Dud I’aramore’s gang. Par
amore hates Lowe and tries to avenge
the death of some of his men killed by
Lowe’s posse by kidnaping Lowe’s sis
ter, Janet. In spite of Lowe’s treatment
of him. Con helps Janet escape. Then
he foils Dud’s attempt to rob the Tivan
bank. When he finds Jeff Allmon, killed
by Dud, he leaves a note by Jeff’s body
telling what happened. Caramba Vear
catches up with him after looking for him
all this time, and persuades him to stay
in the neighborhood. If he is not seen
with the Paramore gang he may not be
recognized. If he runs he is almost cer
tain to be caught. Calling himself "Twen
ty Johnson,” Con goes with Caramba to
a saloon where they meet Gale Goree,
foreman of the Broken Wheel ranch.
Now continue with the story.
CHAPTER XI
Con and Caramba ate in a place
the bartender, recommended, a clean
house called only “Carmelita’s
Joint” where the cooking was wholly
Mexican. Con talked of Slash Ox
weld and speculated concerning the
gunman’s next movements.
Caramba nodded agreement with
Con’s measure of Gale Goree.
“The real quill! Yes, sir! Much of
a man. Reckon we measure up to
Busted Wheel size? We might hit
up Goree for jobs, huh? I wonder
how-come they call this Tenison out
fit the Broken Wheel . . . Wagon
Wheel I have heard of, lots of times.
But a busted one—”
Back in the cantina, explanation
of the brand came from the nervous
bartender.
“That was the Wheel, up to twen
ty-thirty year back. Seems old To
peka had him a partner in some
KT mine and they fell out and this
partner figured Topeka’d skinned
him. Which, maybe, Topeka done.
Anyhow, Emory was awful mad and
a hard man himself. He grabbed up
the Tenison boy that was six or
seven and he run. Nobody’s seen
the kid from that day to this—either
Emory killed him or maybe he’s
got kids of his own, by now. But
Topeka come back from the last of
his trailings and he knocked a chunk
out of his brand —changed it to the
Broken Wheel.”
“You know, I’ll bet my uncle knew
something about all this,” Con said
thoughtfully. “He never was much
to talk, but he did use around Tivan
and on over, in his young days, be
fore my aunt knocked his horns off.
I’ve heard him tell a thing or—”
“Slash Oxweld!” the bartender in
terrupted, his voice almost a groan.
“He’s got everybody plumb cat
eyed, since Goree and the Wheelers
pulled out. Slash is poison. As soon
kill you back or front without a
bobble. He just aims to get the kill
ing done. Now, he’s plenty fast—
faster’n Goree, I bet you. But some
how he just can’t get the glue out of
his holster around that Texas man.
If he could, he would kill him, I
bet you anything. But—”
There was a poker game going in
a corner of the big room. Presently
Con and Caramba drifted over to
watch. A cowboy got up, professing
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIW
BLAKELY THEATRE
Thursday-Friday, July 23-24
HENRY FONDA—OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND in
“THE MALE ANIMAL 0
Saturday, July 25 *
GENE AUTRY in
“UNDER FIESTA STARS”
Saturday Late Show 10:30
JOHNNY MACK BROWN in
“CHIP OF THE FLYING U”
Monday-Tuesday, July 27-28
CHARLES BOYER—OLIVIA DE HAVILLAND in
“HOLD BACK THE DAWN”
Wednesday, July 29
JIMMY DURANTE—JANE WYMAN in
“YOU’RE IN THE ARMY NOW”
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himself empty of both money and
liquor. Con slid into the seat and
began to play against three cowboys
and two nondescript townsmen. Ca
ramba looked on. Con had poor
cards for several hands and lost a
few dollars. Then, as he picked up
his cards on the sixth or seventh
deal and found three jacks, he
leaned back a little and swore with
artful amazement.
“Throw ’em away before they
land you in trouble—and let a man
set down and show these tinhorns
how to play!” Slash Oxweld
snarled at his shoulder. “Three
jacks is nothing!”
Con put his cards down without so
much as turning his head. A man
who had been looking on from the
other side of the table edged away
and began to walk fast toward the
door, looking back. Con stood and
pivoted deliberately to meet Ox
weld’s grinning stare.
“You asked for it!” Oxweld said
in a high, flat voice. “You just
asked for it!” He grinned.
His thumb had been hooked in the
belt just over his tied-down holster.
Now, his hand twisted slashingly.
Con, fully alert, had expected that.
Left-handed, he slapped down and
outward, just as he would have
blocked a boxer’s punch, to knock
Oxweld’s hand away from the Colt
butt. His own gun was inside his
shirt, comfortably snuggled in his
waist-band. As he struck, he drew
and let the hammer drop as the
muzzle bore upon Oxweld, thumbed
the hammer back and fired his sec
ond shot. Oxweld staggered with
each impact of lead. The flaming
powder at this pointblank range set
his shirt afire. He spun with a
groan and lurched one step away
from the table, then fell flat.
A shot came from up the room.
Oxweld sprawled without moving.
Caramba’s shot was like an echo
to the report of that other man’s
gun. A cowboy came in sight be
side a table with lifted Colt and Ca
ramba shot again and puffed dust
from the man’s shirt. He dropped
the gun and went scrambling toward
the door on hands and knees. Ahead
of him, a fat little man jumped up
from under another table with a
high, squealing scream. He ran,
still squealing, to the door. The cow
boy whom Caramba had shot fol
lowed, still on hands and knees. The
fat man plunged out. Caramba sent
a slug into the floor just behind the
cowboy and he fell flat and began
to roll to the door. In the cantina
there was sudden quiet, then a
buzz of voices.
“Stick ’em up, you-all!” a nervous
voice commanded from the shadows
around the back door. “I’m the
constable. And I got you covered
with two barrels full of buck—”
He was a lank and fidgety and un
certain-seeming man, this officer.
But the short double-barreled gun in
his hands was trained upon them
and Con shrugged and lifted both
hands to his ears as the constable
moved slowly toward them.
“You don’t mean that you’d ar
rest a man for trying to save his
life!” he said irritably. “Oxweld
has been on the prod ever since Go
ree showed him up—and you know
it!”
“Maybe so. But there’s law that
has got to be followed. I—Ah,
Judge!”
A tall man, long of face and nar
row of dark eyes, pushed through
the growing crowd and waved the
constable’s shotgun down impa
tiently. He said in almost a confi
dential tone to Con:
EARLY COUNTY NEWS, BLAKELY, GEORGIA
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“I want a detective, but I’ll take two.”
“Put your hardware away. I can
hold an inquest right here, right
now. Some of you men! Up you
come for a jury. Those who didn’t
see it, by preference. If you did,
forget it. We’ve got plenty of wit
nesses.”
The formalities were very slight.
When three witnesses from the play
ers at the poker table had testified,
promptly the jury called Oxweld’s
death justifiable. The justice looked
at Con.
“That was fast work. But it was
more—it was thoughtful. I take it
that you didn’t think yourself fast
er, just because of the way Goree
treated Oxweld.”
“No. No, I didn’t,” Con answered
slowly, frowning. “All I thought
was that somebody would have to
kill Oxweld or he’d be killing him
a man. When he shoVed himself into
our poker game in away that not
only wasn’t necessary, but would
make almost anything on two legs fit
to tie—exposing a decent hand—l
figured that he’d picked me to kill.
He wasn’t in a poker humor; he
didn’t want my place. I just looked
the tender young pilgrim to him. So,
before I stood up I knew it was Ox
weld or me!”
“And knew what you intended to
do to make it Oxweld,” the justice
said, still studying him shrewdly.
“I thought so. Are you and your
friend working?”
“No. We thought about hitting up
the Wheel. If Tenison hasn’t got
jobs, we’ll go on to see Lit Taylor.
I rode for him a while and he told
me to come back when I wanted
to.”
“The Wheel,” the justice said soft
ly. “Why, you couldn’t peel ’em for
a better outfit. Are you Vear, or
Twenty Johnson?”
“Twenty Johnson. But—Oh, I re
member: I told the bartender our
names. Does the justice here check
on every saddle lobo?”
He looked with open curiosity at
the tall man. Caramba was watch
ing him, also, with blank face and
narrowed eyes.
“Not every saddle lobo, no. Not
as justice, either. My name is Wi
ley. Suppose we have a talk. You
wait five or ten minutes, then drift.
Go past Carmelita’s, swing right
around the next house, walk straight
ahead until you bump into a little
corral. I’ll be there.”
Nobody seamed interested in their
movements when they got their
horses and rode through damp dark
ness up to the corral Wiley had indi
cated. Beyond was a small adobe
house and one shaded window was
a yellow square. They put Pancho
and Caramba’s black Jeb Stuart
under a ramada and went cautiously
to knock at the house door. Wiley’s
calm voice answered and Con gave
his alias. The door opened and Wi
ley stepped back to let them in.
The elean, comfortably untidy
kitchen and bedroom had no place
that would have hidden a man. Wiley
gave them chairs in the bedroom, by
a table that held whisky and cigars
under a shaded reading-lamp.
When they sat with glasses and
cigars, Wiley shifted his lean length
in the old leather chair opposite.
“I think you two shape up as the
answers to a question,” he said
calmly, swirling the liquor in his
glass. “Before we go any deeper
into our business discussions, let me
make it plain that who you really
may be, or what you may have done,
is nothing at all to me. I want a
detective, but I’ll take two, since
you boys seem to be siding each
other. Will you pass your words not
to mention anything I’m going to
say, without my permission, wheth
er or not you go to work for me?”
“Why, I think we can do that,”
Con said, after an inquiring glance
at Caramba. “I promise!”
“I trot with you,” Caramba
agreed. “No talk.”
“Bueno! I’m not only a justice,
but I own half the Walking X. Some
times my partner and I have said we
own half—thieves own the other half
and collect a damn’ sight more in
come than we can. Well, most of
the outfits in the Territory are in
our fix. Some months ago we or
ganized a private association. Any-
way, there’s more and more expen
sive stealing going on than we’ve
had for a long time. And a detec
tive’s job is more dangerous.”
“I want you to take on with the
Broken Wheel if Tenison will hire
you.”
“Well, then,” Con said slowly, “as
I 'see the layout, you want us to
work for Tenison in two ways—as
hands and as detectives. But he’s
not to know that we’re anything but
hands and we keep our eyes skinned
to see if the rustlers have got help
on the Broken Wheel. Suppose we
uncover something?”
“You’ll have to use your own judg
ment.”
“Well, it sounds all right to me,”
Con told him. “How about you,
Caramba? Want to give the proposi
tion a whirl?”
Caramba shrugged. But his eyes
were twinkling.
“I’m a scary man, Judge,” Ca
ramba said whimsically. “But if this
smoke-stomping, fire-breathing ter
ror of the prairies, here, he’ll g’ar
antee to protect me, I’m your gos
ling. We’ll hang and rattle for you
—if the pay’s right.”
“Two hundred a month. You can
split it to suit yourselves. And—
here’s something for each of
you ...”
He got up and crossed to a bat
tered desk, fumbled in a drawer and
turned, holding up two dull brazen
disks.
“English pennies. I’ll scratch my
initials on each one: W.W. A word
goes with them: Eye. Any member
of our association will recognize the
penny, the initials, and the word, as
identifying a detective. Suppose a
detective working for us joined a
sticky looping gang and was caught
with the rustlers. He’d say he was
just a passer-by. “Search me!” he’d
yell. Our member in the necktie
party would do that, very promptly.
Sight of the penny would be almost
enough to tell him the truth. The
word would make him sure. So he
would arrange for our man to get
off, without ever exposing himself
if possible.”
“Does Nevil Lowe belong to the
association?” Con asked.
“Oh, yes! In fact, he’s an original
member. Don’t worry at all about
him!”
They drank a little, played a little
stud poker, and turned in at mid
night in the livery corral near their
horses, without excitement.
They ate at Carmelita’s in the
early morning and drifted about
Onopa, returning to the cantina to
sit talking to loafers like themselves.
Near midday Wiley appeared and
looked at them as at the merest ac
quaintances.
“Didn’t you men say you’re job
hunting? Well, Topeka Tenison of
the Broken Wheel is down at the
rooming house. I don’t know but he
might have a place for you.”
-Jt
(To Be Continued)
ARE YOU
putting Ten Percent of
your Income into U.S.
War Bonds t Stamps?
Let Us Serve You—
We are ’ n Grocery
and Market business,
and no other ; t^iere
-Bfore, we devote our
full time in buying,
studying and planning
the ne eds of our cus- .
tomers on quality goods at the right prices.
We insist that you give us a call before you
make a purchase on
Groceries, Fresh Meats,
Vegetables, Fruits, Etc.
FRYER’S MARKET
BLAKELY, GEORGIA
FRONT
FOR EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT *
From time to time the WPB has
issued orders stopping the manufac
ture of things we use every day.
Wherever the WPB had to choose
between allotting materials for ci
vilian conveniences and war necessi
ties, they choose the war necessi
ties. That’s what we all want .
A look at the list of things on
which the WPB has stopped produc
tion in the past six months makes us
realize that war is striking right
into our homes. Here are some of
them:
Radios, sewing machines, vacuum
cleaners, lawn mowers domestic oil
burners, electric ranges, electrical
appliances, domestic washing ma
chines and ironers and outboard mo
tors.
And here’s another list of every
day items on which production has
been sharply cut down:
Baby carriages, bedding and mat
tresses, bicycles, cutlery, caskets
and burial vaults, domestic ice re
frigerators, fountain pens and me
chanical pencils, kitchen utensils,
and razor blades.
Thus we home folks put more ma
terials, more plants, more machines
and more workers into all-out war
production.
FATS AND GREASE—
Bacon drippings to fight the Axis!
Who’d have thought it!
But fats make glycerine and gly
cerine makes explosives. If Ameri
can housewives salvage only one
fourth the kitchen greases ordinarily
thrown out, they will provide the
power for firing 1,250,000,000 anti
tank shells at our enemies.
But to get those colossal figures
down to Home Front kitchen size,
one pound of fat contains enough
glycerine to make the explosives for
Don’t Guess at the Weight of Your
SCRAP IRON—
ITS VALUABLE
NVe Weigh and Pay Highest Market Price.
We Buy and Sell Used Tires
J. W. ALLEN
NEAR DEPOT
■MMWMai.JWH MB—
BRING YOUR COWS AND HOGS TO US!
Out pens are located at
the old Early County |M
Club yards near Bryant’s
Mill. We buy. trade or WQHH
sell. Your business will
be appreciated.
Telephones: Office 256; Residence 186
Mosely Livestock Yards
W. L. Mosely, - Blakely, Ga.
four anti-aircraft shells. Take your
waste kitchen fats to your butcher
in containers holding not less than
one pound. iße sure and strain the
grease before you turn it in.
From the frying pan to the firing
line! That’s the slogan.
SUGAR FOR CANNING—
It takes sorting and straightening
out to make any program run
smoothly . . . And it takes time to
iron out the wrinkles in sugar ra
tioning. Here are some facts that
may be helpful to home canners:
The local rationing boards are in
structed to allow sugar for canning
fruit on the basis of one pound for
every four quarts of finished fruit.
They are also instructed to consider
each application individually before
issuing a sugar rationing certificate.
Here are some factors the boards
must consider in deciding how much
sugar each applicant is allowed: Size
of the family, family’s requirements,
availability of fruit, canning prac
tices of the locality, amount of
canned fruit on hand, „time during
which canning is to be done, number
of quarts canned last year. These
things are variable.
Here are some invariable factors:
This sugar must be used only for
thin-syrup canning of fruits and
berries; the amount of sugar you
are allowed is limited only by the
amount of fruit and berries you can;
there is no flat allotment for every
applicant; no sugar is allowed for
canning vegetables; you can go back
for more canning sugar as many
times as you need; you don’t have
to have your fruit when you get
your sugar; if you feel the amount
of sugar you are allowed is insuffi
cient, you can appeal to your state
OPA director.