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Show Yl FICTION CORNER ' W, I THE END OF THE LINE I fi By CHARLES S. PARK Nogales was the end of the line for John Todd, and he arrived there in a blaze of glory the citizenry would never forget. ing the pain in his chest a sudden, live thing.' He moved back to the counter; leaned against it. The room became a whirling wheel, and he its hub. He never heard the girl speak into the telephone. The shriek of a siren si-ren was only a high note piercing the roaring in his ears. But he did feel her nearness, the press of her body when she moved around the counter and placed arms about him to hold him erect. His knees were giving away. Except for her he would have fallen. He was aware of other people in the room. But it was her voice to which he was listeninga soft, murmuring mur-muring kind of a voice, full of compassion. com-passion. He didn't struggle when he felt the blackness coming on him. It was better so. It was better to go now, in the arms of a lovely, sympathetic stranger, than to hang Nogales. end of the Line. When the three-car train pulled slowly alongside the tile-roofed, stone depot building and stopped, John Todd moved tiredly from his seat and from the car. Wit! -in him was a strange depression; a feeling that for him, too, this was "the end of the line." He walked away from the tracks, a tall figure in big city dress that hune on his thin frame poorly. He He hoped his nerve would hold up, to provide support yet a little longer as he continued down the block. He crossed a street and entered a small park. He seated himself on a bench. The streets were gradually emptying) emp-tying) A police prowl car eased quietly by and its occupants turned their heads to look at him. He stared back. Yet at the same time he felt a coldness around his heart. followed the traffic and made his way through the gate in the International Internation-al Fence. Long legs carried him past the slower moving, dark-clad Mexican women returning -from their marketing in Arizona stores. He had seen them before. He was not curious. But he envied them the comfort of the homes they would go to. though they might be only mud huts, with roofs that leaked and windows patched against the weather. He carried no luggage, so the Mexican customs men barely glanced his way, and then nodded him through. He knew where he was going; this was all a part of the plan. A plan only half-formed, perhaps, per-haps, but one that had been long in the back of his mind. All he needed to carry it out was nerve. Desperation was taking care of that. His hands had a new tremor. To still it he shoved them deep into the pockets of his slack coat. Fumbling Fum-bling there, they found pipe and tobacco. to-bacco. He stopped, stepped out of the moving pedestrian traffic into the vestibule of a curio store, loaded load-ed and lit up. With the pipe clenched between his teeth and drawing well. S " ' , ' v s " - ' " ' " " 7 sf 1 4 ' t '; ..- ' ' ; ' " . : 1 The room became a whirling wheel, and he its hub. I on a few feeble months more in a i foreign land. Finally to die alone : and unmourned. And how infinitely much better to go this way, clean. Life had given j him the best of the deal, after all. The policemen looked down at the I still figure lying in the girl's arms, at the ugly purple hole high in the bony, bared chest. One asked the room in general: "Who would have thought a sick old bum would have the guts to try to stop a hold-up with a pipe?" An enigmatic smile lay across the lips of the dead John Todd. That was his only answer. he glanced over the passersby. It was funny, he was always looking for a familiar face, yet even friends were of no use now. He knew what he had to do and at last, his mind was made up. Tl'.ere was even more purpose in his stride as he left his temporary shelter and headed across the street to the ticket office of the Mexican railroad. He was a young man, yet hollow cheeks and graying temples made him appear much older. He looked as sick as he was. Well, South Mexico was his last hope, just as far south as he could get. They said there was health to be had in the hot, high climates. But it was here in Nogales that the trail branched.. Even in Mexico, where it was said one could live so big on so little, money would be necessary. Almost his last oent went for the railroad passage, but he knew where there was more for the taking. So, with the ticket safely safe-ly in an inner pocket, he moved out into the Sonora sunset, found a place to sit. to rest and to wait, and gave himself up to his own bitter thoughts. Two border patrolmen passed in a jeep and he was conscious of their scrutiny. Down the street the lights in the money exchange went dim. He rose from the bench and stepped out briskly. The prowl car had turned the corner, the patrol jeep was out of sight. Todd judged the distance to the International Line; noticed with satisfaction that the officials had all moved inside their guardhouse. guard-house. A quick move, a fast sprint, and the business would be done. Once across the line he could easily eas-ily lose himself among the shadows between the adobe buildings, and as easily stay hidden Until train time. TURNING abruptly into the Money Exchange, he saw the girl in the red dress coming toward the counter with a tray of money from the safe. Her eyes were very wide, very brown, and she was very pale. In front of the counter, his back toward Todd, there stood a man. A tardy customer, perhaps, but desperation told Todd it was too late now to back out. He gripped the pipe in his pocket and poked the stem of it against the cloth convincingly. He curbed the fine tremor that was coming back to his fingers and spoke in a voice made harsh and sharp by the urgency of the moment. "Put that down and raise your hands." The man at the counter jerked around. His hand stabbed out. Todd felt a tearing, ripping sensation high in his chest even as the shrill bark of a small caliber pistol hit his ears. In a continued motion, the man broke into a dash for the door. Only instinctive reaction made Todd stick out a long leg and trip him up. The same motivation caused him to dive forward onto the prostrate figure, to scramble for the little gun and wrench it from temporarily tem-porarily limp fingers. The heavy blow delivered to the base of the man's skull with the butt of the pistol was a part of the same pattern. pat-tern. It was then that realization caught ; up with Todd He arose slowly, feel- Somewhat later he looked up to gnd a swift-coming night had fallen. He was worried that perhaps he had dallied too long. He pulled roughly away from a small and very dirty shine boy who tugged at his sleeve. He walked across the street, back into the United States, and moved by the border officials with his new assurance to hurry down the main street of the little Arizona border town. He glanced into darkened store windows, looked into shadows, testing and feeling the night and the tenor of the town with his senses. He walked past an open door; the neatly lettered sign that hung above it read: "Money Exchange." His heart action quickened as he looked inside. The room was divided by a high counter. Behind were two objects that called for his attention. One; an open safe. The other; a dark-haired dark-haired girl in a red dress. She was counting out money to a couple of tourists. Todd knew that under the counter and in the safe there were racks of silver and bills of all denominations. |