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Show Judsclfi of B!u6 LiSlcs Rsncli CHAPTER XI Continued 12 The horrible thing was thut her mine dad already boon bandied about from a rulllan's lips. Lee winced at that even as he had winced at the remembrance re-membrance of having been brutally rough wllh her himself. lint what was past was past; Quinnlon had talked mid must talk no inure. "He'll start something the minute he sees you," cautioned Carson, his own revolver loose In the belt under his coat, his hard lingers like talons tripped about Ihe butt. "Keep your eye peeled, ISlld. J'.etter cool off u upeck before you tie Into him. You're (.no mad, I tell you, for straight, quick shooting." Lee made no answer. Shit; by side the two men went on. They bad left Ihe sidewalk and walked down the middle of the rusty, rut-gouged street. Kvery man they met, every figure standing in the shadows, received their (iilck, measuring looks. "Most likely." suggested the cuttle foreman, "by now he's got drunk an' gone to sleep It oil'." Hut I.ee knew heller than (hut. (lulnnlon wasn't the sort that got drunk. He'd drink until the alcohol mined up all of the evil in his ugly heart; then he'd stop, always sure of his eye and his hand. It was far more likely that wilh a crowd of bis own sort he was gambling in the card room of the Last Chance saloon, the .Tail-bird .Tail-bird saloon as "white" men called it. Kor there was an ill-famed hang-out lit the far end of Ihe straggling town, just at Ihe edge of the Italian settlement, settle-ment, that of late had come to be frequented fre-quented by such as Quinnlon; men who were none too 'Well loved by the greater part of the community, men who, like Quinnlon, had nerved time In jaU or penitentiary. Black Steve, who was both proprietor and bartender, and who looked like a low-class Ttalian, though he spoke the vernacular of the country, was the god of the "dago" quarter, the friend of those who had gotten entangled with the law. Only lust year he had killed his man In Ids owli saloon, then gone clear, through the combined perjury of Ids crowd. ' The street grew steadily gloomier, filled with shadows. In front of the .Tallhird Ihe only light cume from within and made scant war on the lurking darkness without. Lee's ears were greeted with the crazy whine of an old accordion, and with men's voices lifted In laughter. He shoved the swing door open with bis shoulder, shoul-der, Carson pushed the other half back, and the two stood on the threshold, their eyes swiftly seeking Quinnlon. As though their presence had been a command for silence, sudden hush fell over the Jailbird. The accordion man drew out a last gasping note and turned black round eyes upon them. Black Steve, oily and perspiring be-, hind his bar, caressed a heavy black mustache and looked at them out of cold, expressionless eyes. The first glance had shown Lee that Quinnlon was not there. At least not in the main room. But there were . the card rooms at the rear. He gave no sign of having felt the hostility of the many eyes turned upon him, but went quickly down through the room, turning neither to right nor left. "llol' on there," enme the big booming boom-ing voice of Steve. "What you fellers want, huh?" Lee gave him no answer but strode on. Carson, at Lee's heels like a grim old dog, showed his teeth a little. lit-tle. Steve, striking the bar with a heavy hand, shouted in menacing tones : "llol' on, I say! Nobody goin' to break in on a play that's running in my card rooms. If you fellers want anything, you ask me." "Co ahead, Bud," said Carson jocosely. "It's only the ol' black cal? bawling same as usual." But I.ee needed no urging. He had heard voices beyond the closed door In front of him, among them a certain high-pitched, snarling, indescribably evil voice which he knew. He put his hand on the knob and found that the door was locked. With no waste of. time, he drew back a step, lifted his foot and drove his heel smashing into the lock. Then, throwing himself forward, for-ward, driving his shoulder into the door, he burst it off its hinges. At last he had found Quinnion. Here were half a dozen men, not playing cards, but interrupted in a quiet talk. Standing on the far side of the table was a man who was as evil a thing to see as was his voice to hear, his face twisted, drawn to the left side, the left eye a mere slit of malevolence, the uneven teeth showing in an eternal, mirthless grin, a man whose hands, when his arms were lax as now. hung almost to his knees, a man twisted morally, mentally, men-tally, and physically. Bud Lee had eyes only for this man. But suddenly Carson had seen another anoth-er man, seeking to screen himself behind be-hind the great, misshapen bulk of Quinnlon, and with new eagerness was crying : "It's Shorty. Bud! He's mine!" But Shorty was no man's yet. At his buck was a window; it was closed and the shade was drawn, but to Shorty it spelled safety. Head first he went through it, tearing the green shade down, crashing through the glass, leaving discussion behind him. With' a bellow of rage Carson went after him, forgetful In the Instant thut there was another matter on hand tonight. Shorty, consigned to Carson's care and the gralnhouse, had slipped away and had laughed at him. Ever since, Carson had been yearning for the chance to get his two hands on Shorty's fat throat. Before the smash and tinkle of falling glass had died away Carson, plunging us Shorty had plunged, was lost to the bulging eyes which sought to follow him, gone head first into the darkness without. Lee kept his eyes hard on Quin-nlon's. Quin-nlon's. He moved a little, so that Ihe wall was at his buck. His coat was unbuttoned; his left lvand was in his pocket, his arm holding back his coat a little on that side. The right hand was lax at his side, like Quin-nion's. Quin-nion's. lie had seen the other men, though his eyes had seemed to see only one man. One of them he knew; the others oth-ers he had seen. They were the sort to be found in Quinnion's company. They were the nucleus of what was spoken of as Quinnion's crowd. "Quinnion," said Lee quietly, "you are a d d dirty-mouthed liar." The words came like little slaps in Ihe face. Of the four men still in the room with Quinnlon three of them moved swiftly to one side, their eyes on their leader's face, which showed nothing of what might lie In his mind. "I have taken the trouble," went on Lee coolly, when Quinnion, leering back at him, made no reply, "to ride forty miles tonight for a little talk with you. You are a crook and a card-cheat. I told you that once before. be-fore. Y'ou have been telling men that I am a coward and a four-flusher. For that I am going to run you out of town tonight. Or kill you." Then Quinnion laughed at him. "Just for that?" he jeered. "Or because I've been tellin' a true story about you an " He didn't get her name out. Perhaps Per-haps he hadn't expected to. His eyes had been watchful. Now, as he threw himself to one side, he whipped out his gun, dropping to one knee, his body partly concealed by the table. At the same second Bud Lee's right hand, no longer lax, sped to the revolver re-volver gripped under the coat at his left armpit. It was a situation by no means new to the four walls of the Jailbird nor to the, men concerned. It was a two-man two-man fight, with as yet no call for the four friends of Quinnion to interfere. It would take the spit and snarl of a revolver, the flash of flame, the acrid smell of burning-powder to switch their sympathetic watching into actual participation. No new situation certainly for Chris Quinnion who took quick stock of the table with its heavy top and screened his body with it. no new situation for Steve, the big bartender who was at the shattered shat-tered door almost as Bud Lee sent it rocking drunkenly. Since a fight like this in a small room may end in three seconds and yet remain a fight for men to talk of at street corners for many a day there- I 0t il ' ' Head First, Shorty Went Through the Window! after, it is surely a struggle baffling adequate description. For while you speak of it, it is done; while a clock ticks, two guns may carry hot lead and cut in two two threads of life. Quinnion was down and shooting, with but ten steps or less between him and the man whom he sought to kill ; Bud Lee was standing, tall and straight, back to wall, his first bullet bul-let ripping into the boards of the table, sending a flying splinter to stick in Quinnion's face, close to a squinting, squint-ing, slitted eye; and as the two guns spoke like one, a third from the open barroom shattered the lamp swinging from the ceiling between Lee and Quinnion. Steve, the bartender, had taken a hand. The card room was plunged in darkness dark-ness so thick that Lee's frowning eyes could no longer make out Quinnion's head above the table, so black that to Quinnion's eyes the tall form of Lee against the wall was lost in shadow. As Steve fired his shot into the lamp. Bud Lee understood just what would be Steve's next play ; the bartender bar-tender had given his friends brief res-pile res-pile from the deadly fire of the Blue By Jackson Gregory Copyright by Charles Scrlbner's Sons Lake man, and now would turn his second shot through the flimsy wall itself on the man standing there. Lee did not hesitate now, hut with one leap was across the room, avoiding the table, seeking to come to close quarters wdth Quinnion and have the thing over and done with. In the bitterness bit-terness still gnawing at his heart, he told himself again that it would be no calamity to the world if the two men who hud insulted Judith Sanford went down together. Again Steve fired. His bullet ripped Into the wall, tearing a hole through the partition where a brief instant ago Lee had stood. The light out in the barroom was extinguished. In the card room it was utterly, impenetrahly dark now, only a vague square of lesser les-ser darkness telling w-here was the window through which Shorty had fled. A red flare of flame from where Quinnion crouched, and Lee stood very still, refusing the temptation to (ire back. For Quinnion's bullet had sped wdde of the mark, striking the wall a full yard to Lee's left. Quinnion's Quin-nion's eyes had not found him, would not find him soon if he stood quite motionless. The fight was still to be made, Quinnion's friends would be taking a hand now, Steve had already joined issue. There were six of them against him and with one shot fired from his heavy Colt there were but live left. No shot to be wasted. A little creaking of a floor board, a vague, misty blur almost at his side, and still Lee saved his fire. Quickly he lifted the big revolver, held welded weld-ed to a grip of steel, throwing it high above his head and striking downward. down-ward. There was almost no sound ; just the thudding blow as the thick barrel struck a heavy mat of hair, and with no outcry a man went down to lie still. At the same moment the dim square of the window showed a form slipping through; one man was seeking seek-ing safety from a quarrel not his own. And as he went, there came again a soft thudding blow and Carson's dry voice outside, saying calmly : "Shorty got away, but you don't, pardner. Give 'em h 1, Bud. I'm in the play again." "Two men down," grunted Lee to himself with grim satisfaction. "And old Carson back on the job. Only two o our one now." The form in the window crumpled and under Carson's quick hands was jerked out. Suddenly it was very still in the little room. Steve did not fire a third time ; Quinnion held his fire. For Lee had made no answer and they were taking heavy chances wdth every shot now, chances of shooting shoot-ing the wrong man. Each of the four watchful men in the narrow apartment breathed softly. Once more Lee lifted his gun above his head. As he held it thus, he put out his left hand gently, inch by inch, , gropingly. Jtuxtenaen run lengtn, it touched nothing. Slowly he moved it in a semi-circle, the gun in his right hand always ready to come crashing down. His fingers touched the wall, then moving back assured him that no one was within reach. Lifting a foot slowly, he took one cautious step forward, toward the spot where he had last seen Quinnion. Again his arm, circling through the darkness, sought to locate for him one of the men who must be very near him now. Suddenly it brushed a man's shoulder. There was a sharp, muttered exclamation, ex-clamation, and again a flare of red flame as this man fired. But he bad misjudged Bud Lee's position by a few-inches, few-inches, the bullet cut through Lee's coat, and Lee's clubbed revolver fell unerringly, smashing into ,the man's forehead. There was a low moan, a revolver clattered to the floor, a body fell heavily. "A new situation," thought Lee. Three men down before a clock could tick off as many minutes and not a single man shot. It was a place for a man like Charlie Miller with his old pickhandle. "Bud," called Carson's voice sharply, sharp-ly, "are you all right?" "Yes," answered Lee briefly, and as he answered moved sharply to one side so that his voice might not draw a shot from Quinnion or the other men. There came two spurts of flame, one from each of the corners of the room opposite him, the reports of the two shots reverberating loudly. But this was mere guesswork shooting at no more definite thing than a man's voice, and Lee having moved swiftly had little lit-tle fear. And he knew pretty well where those tw-o men were now. So did Carson, who from without fired in twice through the window. Then again it grew so silent that a clock ticking somewhere out in the barroom was to be heard distinctly, so that again the men guarded their breathing. Lee thought that he knew where Quinnion was. in the corner at his right close to the rear wall. Not square in the corner, of course, for having fired he was fox enough to shift his position a little. True, no sound had told of such a movement. But Quinnion could be trusted to nikUe no sound at a time like this. I,ee, equally silent, again set a slow-foot slow-foot out, moving cautiously toward the spot where his eyes sought Quinnion Quin-nion in the dark, i He was calculating swiftly now: Quinnion had fired twice from the screen of the table Just as Steve shot out the light ; he had fired again just now, it was a fair bet that at least one of the other shots had been his. Thut meant that he had fired four times. If Quinnion still carried his old six-shooter he had but two shots at most left to him, for there had been no time which he would risk in reloading. re-loading. Lee swept off his hat and tossed it out before him to the spot where he believed Quinnion was and dropped swiftly to his knee as he did so. There was a snarl, Quinnion's evil snarl, and a shot that sped high above his head. His hat had struck Quinnion Quin-nion full in the face. Then Lee again sprang forward, again struck out with his clubbed revolver. The blow missed Quinnion's head but caught him heavily heav-ily on the shoulder and sent him staggering stag-gering back against the wall. Lee could hear the bulk of ids body crashing crash-ing against the boards. And again leaping, he struck the second time at Quinnion. This time there was no snarl, but a falling weight and stillness. still-ness. There was a sound of a chair violently vio-lently thrown down, the scufile of hasty feet and in the door the faint blur of a flying ' figure seeking refuge in the bur. Lee flung the crippled door shut after the fugitive and then with bis left hand struck a match, his revolver ready in his right. Holding the tiny flame down toward the floor, he made out two prone bodies. One, thut of the first man he had struck down, a man whom he knew by name,- as Lefty Devine, a brawler and boon companion of Quinnion. Quin-nion. The other' Quinnion himself. Devine lay very still, clearly completely com-pletely stunned. Quinnion moved a little. Carson's weather-beaten face peered in at the window. "Better do the hot foot, Bud," he grunted softly, "while the trail's open. Steve will be mixing in again." But Lee seemed in no haste now. When the match had burned out, he dropped it and slipped fresh cartridges into his gun. That done, he stooped, gathered up Quinnion's feebly struggling strug-gling body in his arms and carried it to the window. "Here," he said coolly to Carson. "Take him th rough." Carson obeyed, jerking the now complaining Quinnion out hastily and unceremoniously. Lee followed as Steve threw open the barroom door. "It's a new one on me, just the same," said Carson dryly as he watched Lee stoop and gather Quinnion Quin-nion up in his arms. "After a little party like this one, I'm generally traveling trav-eling on an' not stopping to pick flowers flow-ers an' gather sooveneers ! You ain't got cannibal blood in you, have you, Bud?" While Carson was cudgeling his brains for the answer and Steve was making cautious examination of the card room, Lee with his burden in his arms passed through the darkness lying ly-ing at the rear of the saloon and out into the street. Carson followed to take care of a sortie should Steve and the rest not have had all they wanted for one night. He chuckled, remarking remark-ing to himself that Bud Lee and Quinnion Quin-nion were the very picture of a young mother and her babe in arms. Not until they again reached the Golden Spur did Lee's burden completely com-pletely recover consciousness. Many a man on the street looked wonder-ingly wonder-ingly after them, demanded to know "what was up," and, receiving no answer, an-swer, swung in behind Carson. In the Golden Spur the arrivals were greeted by a heavy silence. Sandy Weaver forgot to set out the drinks which had just been ordered by three men who, in their turn, forgot for-got that they had ordered. Men at the tables playing cards put down their bands and rose or turned expectantly expec-tantly in thei r seats. Lee put Quinnion down on the floor. The man lay there a moment blinking at the lights above him and at the faces around him. At length his eyes came to Lee. "D n you," he muttered, trying to rise, and slowly getting to his feet with the aid of a chair. "I'll get you " Then Bud Lee gave his brief explanation, ex-planation, cutting Quinnion's ugly snarl in two. "This is Quinnion's farewell party," lie said bluntly. "He is a liar and a crook and an undesirable citizen. I have told him all that before. He took it upon himself to say about town that I am all of those things which he is himself. I have d n near killed him for it ; I am going to give him ten minutes min-utes to get out of town. If he doesn't do it, I am going to kill him. And in thut ten minutes be is going to find time to eat his words." "I'll see you in " began Quinnion, as something of the old bluster came back to him. "Shut up!" snapped Lee. "Carson, let me have your gun." Carson, wondering, gave it. Lee dropped it on the floor at Quinnion's foot. "Pick that gun up and we'll finish what we've begun," he said coolly to Quinnion. "I won't shoot until you've got it in your hand and have straightened straight-ened up. Then I'll kill you. Unless first you admit that you are the contemptible con-temptible liar every one knows you are. und second, get out of town and stay out. It's up to you, Quinnion." Knowing Quinnion, the men moved swiftly so that they did not stand behind be-hind either him or Ie. Sandy Weaver, Weav-er, shifting a few feet along his bar, shook his head and sighed. "It'll be both of them," he muttered. mut-tered. Quinnlon turned his head a little, his red-rimmed eyes going from face to face, his tongue moving back and forth between his lips. For an instant in-stant his eyes dropped to the gun at his feet, and a little spasmodic contraction con-traction of his body showed that he was tempted to take up the weapon. But he hesitated, and again turned to "It's up to you," repeated Lee. 'If you're not a coward after all, pick it up." Lee's hands were at his sides, his own revolver in his pocket. Quinnion Quin-nion was tempted. The evil lights iD mmm Wv J J WW V v t i dm 1 rr "One, Two," Said Sandy, Watching the Clock. his eyes danced like witch-fires. Again he hesitated ; but his hesitation was brief. With his whining, ugly laugh he lurched to the bar. "Gimme a drink, Sandy," he commanded. com-manded. "Neither now nor after a while," Sandy told him briefly. "I ain't dirty-in' dirty-in' my glasses that-a-way." "There you are," jeered Quinnion, with a sullen sort of defiance. "You swat me over the head while I ain't lookin' an' then bring me in here where they're ail your friends. If I drop you I get all mussed up with their bullets. No, thanks." "For the last time." said Lee, and his low voice was ominous, "I tell you what to do. If you don't do it, I'll kill you just the same. You've got your chance. Count ten seconds, Sandy." "One," said Sandy, watching the clock on the wall, "two, three, four, five, six, seven " "Curse you !" cried Quinnion then, a look of fear at last in his eyes. "I'll get you for this some day, Bud Lee. Now you've got me " "Keep on counting Sandy," commanded com-manded Lee. "Eight," said Sandy, "nine " "I lied !" snapped Quinnion. "An' I'm leavin' town for a while." And lurching as he walked, he made his way out of the room, Ids eyes on the floor, his face a burning red. "Carson and I are riding back to the ranch as soon as our horses rest up and get some grain," said Lee, his fingers slowly rolling a brown cigarette. ciga-rette. We'll mosey out now, see Quinnion on his way and drop back to make up a little game of draw for a couple of hours. Strike you about right, Billy? And you, Watson? And you, Parker?" They listened to him, took the cue from him, and allowed what lay between be-tween him and Chris Quinnion to lie in silence. But there was not a man there but in his own fashion was saying say-ing to himself: "It's a good beginning. But Where's the end going to be?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) |