About The Fayetteville news. (Fayetteville, Ga.) 18??-???? | View Entire Issue (May 28, 1920)
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The two meu met at the top of a mountain pass. Blackwell, headed south, was slipping down toward Stone’s horse ranch when they came face to face. Before the bad man had his revolver out, lie” found himself looking down the barrel of the rang er's leveled rifle. “I wouldn’t,” Bucky murmured gen ially. “What you want me for?” Blackwell demanded sulkily. “For the W. & S. robbery.” “I’m not the man you want. My name’s Johnson.” "I’ll put up with you till I find the man I do want, Mr. Johnson,” Bucky told him cheerfully. “Climb down from that horse. No, I wouldn’t try I hat. Keep your hands up." Buck took his prisoner straight to the ranger’s office and telephoned to Cullison. The lieutenant did not know any thing about book psychology, but lie .had observed that hunger and weari ness try out the stuff that is in a man. Under the Sag of them many a will snaps that would have held fast if sus tained by a good dinner and a sound night’s sleep. This is why so many “lmd men,” gun fighters with a reputa tion for gameness, wilt on occasion like whipped curs. In the old days this came *to nearly every terror of the border. Some day when lie lind a jumping toothache, or when his nerves were frayed from a debauch, u silent stranger walked into his presence, looked long and steadily Into his eyes and ended forever his reign of lawless ness. Sometimes the two-gun man was “planted,” sometimes he subsided into innocuous peace henceforth. The ranger had a shrewd instinct that the hour had come to batter down this fellow’s dogged resistance. There fore he sent for Cullison, the man whom the convict most feared. The very look of (he cattleman, with that grim, hard, capable aspect, shook Blackwell’s nerve. “So you’ve got him, Bucky?” Luck looked the man over as he sat handcuffed beside the table and read in his face both terror and a sly, dogged cunning. 'Once before the fel low had been put through the third de gree. Something of the sort he fear fully expected now. Villainy is usually not consistent. This hulking bully should have been a hardy ruffian. In stead, he shrank like a schoolgirl from the thought of physical pain. "Stand up,” ordered Cullison, quiet ly. Blackwell got to his feet at once. “Don’t hit me,” he whined. Luck knew the man sweated under the punishment his imagination called up, and lie understood human nature too well to end the suspense by mak ing real the vision. For then the worst would be past, since the actual is never equal to what is expected! “Well?" Luck watched him with the look of tempered steel in his liurd eyes. “I—I—Mr. Cullison, I want to ex plain. Every man is liable to make a mistake—go off half cocked. I didn’t do right. That’s a fac’. I can explain all that, but I’m sick now—awful sick.” Cullison laughed harshly. “You'll be sicker soon." “You promised you wouldn’t do any thing if we turned you loose,” the man plucked up courage to remind him. "I promised the law wouldn't do any thing. You’ll understand the distinc tion presently.” “Mr. Cullison, please—I admit I done wrong. I hadn’t ought to have gone in with Cass Fendrick. He wanted me to kill you, but I wouldn’t.” Bucky had let Cullison take the cen ter of the stage. He had observed a growing distress mount and ride the victim. Now he stepped in to save the man with an alternative at which Blackwell might he expected not to snatch eagerly perhaps, but at least to be driven toward. “This man is my prisoner, Mr. Cul- lison. From what I can make out you ought to strip his hide off and hang it out to dry. But I've got first call on him. If he comes through with the trfith about the W. & S. robbery I’ve got to protect him.” Luck understood the ranger. They were both working toward the same end. The immediate punishment of this criminal was not the important is sue. It was merely a club with which to beat him into submission, and at that a moral rather than a physical one. But the owner of the Circle C knew better than to yield to Bucky too easily. He fought the point out with him at leugth, and finally yielded re luctantly, in such a way as to aggra vate rather than relieve tho anxiety of the convict. “All right. You take him first,” he finally conceded harshly. Bucky kept up the comedy. “I’ll take him, Mr. Cullison. But if he tells ine the truth—and if I find out it’s the whole truth—there’ll be nothing doing on your part. He’s my prisoner. Un derstand that.” Metaphorically Blackwell licked the Hand of Ills protector. “I aim to do what’s right, Captain O’Connor. What- ever’s right. You ask me any ques tions.” “I want to know all about the W. & S. robbery, everything, from start to finish.” “Honest, T wish I could tell you. But I don’t know a thing about it. Cross iny heart, I don’t." “No use. Blackwell. If I’m going to stand by you against Mr. Cullison, you’ll have to tell the truth. Why, man, I’ve even got the mask you wore and the cloth you cut it from.” “I reckon it must a-been some one else, major. Wlsht I could help you, but I can’t." Bucky rose. “All right. If you can’t help me, I can’t help you. Mr. Cul lison, 1 reckon I’ll run out and have some supper. Do you mind staying here with this man till I get back?” “No. That’s all right, Bucky. Don’t hurry. I’ll keep him entertained.” Perhaps it was not by chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip hanging on the wall. O’Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened gaze of the prisoner clung to him as If for safety. "Major—Colonel—you ain’t a-going,” he pleaded. “Only for an hour or two. I’ll be back. I wouldn’t think of saying good- by—not till we reach Yuma.” With that the door closed behind him. Blackwell cried out, hurriedly, eagerly: “Mister O’Connor! I—I’ll tell you everything—every last thing. Mr. Cullison—lie’s aiming to kill me soon as you’ve gone.” “I’ve got no time to fool away, Blackwell. I’m hungry. If you mean business get to it. But remember that whatever you say will be used against you.” “I’ll tell you any dog-goned thing you want to know. You’ve got me “Don’t Hit Me,” He Whined. beat. I’m plumb wore out—sick. A man can’t stand everything.” “Sit down. There’s a good dinner waiting for you at Clune’s when you get through.” His story was that he had found on the street a letter that had inadver tently been dropped. It was to Jordan of the Cattleman’s National bank, and it notified him that $20,000 was to be shipped to him by the W. & S. Express company on the night of the robbery. Blackwell resolved to have a try for it. He hung around the office until the manager and the guard arrived from the train, made his raid upon them, locked the door, and threw away his mask. He dived with the satchel into the nearest alley, and came face to face with the stranger whom he later learned to be Fendrick. Fendrick, who had heard the shout ing of the men locked In the express office, stopped the robber, but Black- well broke away and ran down the alley. The sheepman followed and caught him. After another scuffle the convict again hammered himself free, but left behind the hand satchel con taining the spoils. Fendrick (so he later explained to Blackwell) tied a cord to the handle of the bag and dropped It down the chute of a laun dry in such a way that it could later be drawn up. Then he hurried back to the express office and released the prisoners. After the excitement had subsided, he had returned for' the money and hid it. The original robber did not know where. BlackwelJ’s second meeting with the sheepman had been almost as startling as the first. Cass had run into the Jack of Hearts in time to save the life of his enemy. The two men recognized each other and entered into a compact to abduct Cullison, for his share in which the older man was paid one thousand dollars. Both inen asked the same question as soon as lie had finished. “Where is the money you got froqj the raid on the W. k S. office?” “Don’t know. I've been at Fendrick ever since to tell me. He’s got it salt ed somewhere. You’re fixing to put me behind the bars, and he’s the man that really stole it.” From this they could not shake him. ****** * Fendrick, riding on Mesa Verde, met young Bob Cullison, and before he knew what had happened found a gun thrown on him. “Don’t you move,” the boy warned. “What does this tommyrot mean?” the sheepnian demanded angrily, “It means that you are coining back with me to the ranch. That’s what it means.” “What for?” “Never you mind what for.” “Oli, go to Mexico,” Cass flung hack impatiently. “Think we’re In some fool moving-picture play, you blamed young idiot? Put up that gun.” Shrilly Bob retorted. He was excited enough to be dangerous. “Don’t you get the wrong idea. I’m going to moke this stick. You’ll turn and go back with me to the Circle C. You’re wanted for the W. & S. express rob bery. Blackwell lias confessed.” Cass sat immovable as the sphinx. He was thinking that lie might as well face the charge now as any time. More over, he had ieasons for wanting to visit the Circle C. They had to do with a tall, slim girl who never looked at him without scorn in her dark, flash ing eyes. “All right. I’ll go back with you, but not under it gun. I won’t stand for any gun-play capture.” ’ “You’ll have to stand for it.” Fendrick’s face set. “Will I? It’s up to you, then. Let’s see you make me.” Sitting there with his gaze steadily on the boy, Cass had Bob at a disad vantage. If the sheep owner had tried to break away into the chaparral, Bob could have blazed away at him, hut he could not shoot a man looking at him with cynical, amused eyes. He could understand the point of view of his adversary. If Fendrick rode Into the Circle C under compulsion of a gun in the hands of a boy he would never hear the end of the laugh on him. Bob put up his big blue gun reluc tantly. Never before had it been trained on a human being, and it was a wrench to give up the thought of bringing in the enemy ns a prisoner. But he saw ,he could not pull it off. They turned toward the Circle C. Kate was seated on the porch sew ing. She rose in surprise when her cousin and the sheepman appeared. They came with jingling spurs across the plaza toward her. "Where’s Uncle Luck, sis? I’ve brought this fellow hack with me. Caught him on the mesa,” explained the boy sulkily. Fendrick bowed rather extravagant ly. “He’s qualifying for a moving-pic ture show actor, Miss Cullison. I hadn't the heart to disappoint him when he got that cannon trained on me. So here I am.” Kate looked at him and then let her gaze travel to her cousin. She some how gave the effect of judging him of negligible value. “I think he’s lu his office. Bob. I’ll go see,” She went swiftly and presently her father came out. Kate did not return. Luck looked straight at Cass with the uncompromising hostility so char acteristic of him. Neither of the men spoke. It was Bob who made the nec essary explanations. “I’ve been looking for you,” Luck said bluntly, after his nephew had fin ished. “So I gathered from young Jesse James. Anything particular, or just a pleasant social call?” "You’re In bad on this W. & S. rob bery. I reckoned you would be safer in jail till it’s cleared up.” “You still sheriff, Mr. Cullison? Somehow I had got a notion that you had quit the job.” “I’m an interested party. We’ll take the stage into town and see what O’Connor says—that is, if you’ve got time to go.” Luck could be as formal in his sarcasm as his neighbor. “With such good company on the way I’ll have to make time.” The stage did not usually leave till about half past one. Presently Kate announced dinner. A little awkwardly Luck iuvited the sheepman to join them. Fendrick declined. His host hung in tlie doorway. Sel dom at a loss to express himself, he did not quite know how to put into words what he was thinking. His ene my understood. “That’s all right. You’ve satisfied the demands of hospitality. Go eat your dinner. I’ll be right here on the porch when you get through.” Kate, who was standing beside her father, spoke quietly. “There’s a place for you, Mr. Fend rick. We should be very pleased to have you join us. People who happen to be at the Circle C at dinner time are expected to eat here.” Fendrick looked at the young mis tress of the ranch. He meant to de cline once more, but unaccountably found himself accepting instead. Some thing In her face told him she would rather have it so. Presently a young man came into tin* dining room and sat down beside Kate. He looked the least in the world sur< prised at sight of the sheepman. “Mornin’, Cass," lie nodded. “Morning, Curly,” answered Fend rick. "Didn’t know you were riding for the Circle C.” “He’s my foreman,” Luck explained. Gass observed that he was quite one of the family. Bob admired him open ly and without shame, because lie was the best rider in Arizona ; Kate seemed to lie on the best of tepns with him and Luck treated him with the off hand bluffness he might baye used to ward a grown son. The stage brought the two men to town shortly after sundown. Lpck called up O’Connor and made an ap pointment to meet him after supper. “There’s a matter that needs ex plaining, Cass. According to Black well’s story, you caught him with the goods at the time of the robbery! and 'in making bis get-away He left the loot with you. What have you done with it?” "Blackwell told you that, did he?” “Yes.” “Don’t doubt your word for a mo ment, Bucky, but before I do any talk ing I’d like to hear him say so. I’ll not round on him until I know he’s given himself away.” The convict was sent for. He sub stantiated the ranger reluctantly. He was so hemmed in that he did not know how to play his cards so as to make the most of them. Cass heard him out with a lifted upper lip and his most somnolent tiger- cat expression. After Blackwell had finished and been withdrawn from cir culation he rolled and lit a cigarette. “By Mr. Blackwell’s say-so I’m the goat. By the way, has it ever occurred to you gentlemen, that one can’t be convicted on the testimony of a single accomplice?” “We’ve got a little circumstantial evidence to add, Cass,” Bucky suggest ed pleasantly. “Not enough—not nearly enough.” "That will be for a jury to decide,” Cullison chipped In. Fendrick shrugged. “I’ve a notion to let it go to that. But what’s the use? Understand this. I wasn’t going to give Blackwell away, but since ha has tallied, I may tell what I know. It’s true enough what he says. I did relieve hhn of the plunder.” “Sorry to hear that, Cass," Bucky commented gravely. “What did you do with it?” The sheep owner flicked his cigar ette ash into the tray and looked at the lieutenant out of half-shuttered, Indo lent eyes. "Gave it to you, Bucky. Got that letter I handed you the other day?” The officer produced It from his safe. “Open it.” With a paper knife Bucky ripped the flap and took out a sheet of paper. “There’s something else in there,” Fendrick suggested. That something else proved to be a piece of paper folded tightly, which," being opened, disclosed a key. O’Connor read aloud the letter: “To Nicholas Bolt, Sheriff, or Bucky O’Connor. Lieutenant of Bangers: “Having come into possession of a little valise which is not mine, I am getting rid of it in the following man ner. I have rented a large safety-de posit box at the Cattleman’s National bank and have put into it the valise with the lock still unbroken. The key is inclosed herewith. Shaw, the cash ier, will tell you that when this box was rented I gave explicit orders it should be opened only by the men whose names are given hi an envelope left with him, not even excepting my self. The valise was deposited at ex actly 10:30 a. ru. the morning after the robbery, as Mr. Shaw will also testify. I am writing this the evening of the same day. "CASS FENDRICK.” “Don’t believe a word of it,” Cullison exploded. “Seeing is believing,” tlie sheepman murmured. He was enjoying greatly the discomfiture of Ills foe. “Makes a likely fairy tale. What for would you Iceep the money and not turn It back?" “That’s an easy one, Luck. Ho wanted to throw the burden of the robbery on you,” Bucky explained. “Well, I’ve got to be shown.” In the morning he was shown. Shaw confirmed exactly what Fendrick had said. He produced a sealed envelope. Within this was a sheet of paper, upon which were written two lines: “Box 2143 is to be opened only by Sheriff Bolt or Lieutenant Bucky O’Connor of the Rangers, and before witnesses. “CASS FENDRICK.” From the safety-deposit vault Bucky drew u large package wrapped in yel low paper. He cut the string, tore away the covering and disclosed a leather satchel. Perry Hawley, the local manager of the Western & South ern Express company, fitted to this a key and took out a sealed bundle. This he ripped open before them all. Inside was found the sum of twenty thousand dollars in crisp new bills. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Tbe average politician is ns tough ns India rubber and his conscience i? more elastic- BRACE UP! The man or woman with weak kid neys is half crippled. A lame, stiff back, with its constant, dull ache and 6harp, shooting twinges, makes the simplest task a burden. Headaches, dizzy spells urinary disorders and an “all worn out’* feeling are daily sources of distress. 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