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Show gjS By EUGENE CUNNINGHAM SF&t s'lg; II EUGENE CUNNINGHAM W.N.U RELEASE THE STORY SO FAR: Much II he dislikes the Idea, Con Cameron, a cowboy cow-boy with no desire to kill anybody, Is 1 forced to turn outlaw to save bis life. Because be was seen with the Raniers, who are wanted for robbery and murder, he ii suspected of being Comanche Linn, one of their gang. Arrested when be rides into Tivan, be Is in danger of being banged, in spite of the fact that he had gaved the life of the marshal, Nevil Lowe, only a few days before. Lowe eems to have forgotten that, so Con escapes from Jail witb an outlaw named Jeff AUmon and goes witb him to join gang headed by Dud Paramore. Con is forced to kill one of Paramore's men, Gonzales, In self defense. Shortly after that, Lowe and a posse surprise them and kill some of the Paramore crowd. Dud swears vengeance. Tbey all go to Lowe's ranch while be is out. Con dis covers that Dad plans to kidnap Lowe's sister, Janet. He helps her to escape, but has to ride for his own life when Jeff AUmon warns him that Dud will kill him when he finds out that Janet is gone. Now continue with tbe story. CHAPTER IX Con rode at the easy lope back to the cottonwoods. Catfish went very willingly. The moment he was out of sight, Con ventured to start the horses back on the trail over which they had been driven. II there was pursuit, it missed him that day. He slept on a hill that night, ate breakfast the next day near four of the afternoon, at a Mexican house forty miles from the NL. His Spanistj helped; and he took a great deal of pains to make himself simpatico with the women and children encountered. Ragged, unshaven, he felt safe in riding into Gurney and having a few drinks at the Palace. There were enough rough customers in the county seat to cover him. Talk at the bar and around the gaming tables informed him that, since their failure at the NL, the Paramores had been very quiet. When he rode away from Gurney, he was barbered, wearing new shirt and overalls, well-fed. Los Alamos bunkhouse held him for nearly a week. Lit Taylor was selling some LA horses and Con rode in place of an injured peeler. He could have had a job, but even as "Twenty Johnson" he felt nervous. Lit paid him off with faint grin, if grave , voice. Nearing Tivan Con went more cautiously, watching from the high lines like any lobo wolf, keeping out of sight when a rider showed. So he came back to the Lobos and to San Marcos. It seemed at least a year since he had last been here. Only the drowsing population of the plazita was there, so he rode boldly up to the store-saloon of old Garcia and left Pancho behind the big adobe. Garcia greeted him like an old friend and set out the drinks. When they stood somewhat to themselves, them-selves, he leaned confidentially. "You have sufficient Spanish, now, to understand me? Bueno! Then I will talk with plainness. I am a friend to him. So are others here. We cannot be enemies and live! But I tell yu, Con, the good men here are like me: we do not like his trying try-ing to take that pretty sister of Nevil Loive! That was bad and it was also foolish. Now, ranchers who live ft lonely places, they are looking at their wives, their daughters, daugh-ters, their sisters, thinking that they are not safe. So he has hands turned against him which before would help at least, not hurt. It may be that he has shortened his life by that business which you stopped like the good man you are." Con thanked him. There was more in what the cantinero implied than appeared in the words he had used. When presently he drifted outside, he was thinking of that. So when a woman's shrill cry of warning sound-id, sound-id, he stopped short, not understanding under-standing instantly. Then a Winchester's Winches-ter's flat, metallic report down the line of houses was followed instantly by the rap of a slug into the wall behind him. There was a doorway just ahead and he plunged into it and flattened himself out of sight. The shot had come from a pile of mesquite roots thirty or forty yards ahead. It was Amelia, with whom he had danced at the baile, who had screamed a warning. She was in a window opposite op-posite him, calling to him to go inside, calling to someone named Margarita to open the door. The Winchester was drumming steadily. Bullets chipped the edges of the thick adobe embrasure and dust powdered Con's shirt Then the door opened behind him. A woman was-ythere, fat, middle-aged, calm. "Pas!" she invited Con. "I think from one of my windows you can lately kill him." He nodded and followed her through two rooms of her house until un-til she indicated a window. Now he could see a patch of blue shirt behind be-hind the great heap of mesquite. Grimly, Con aimed his pistol and let the hammer drop, thumbed it back and fired a second shot. A tall cowboy jumped to his feet and shrank back into shelter. Con wished fervently for the carbine that hung on his saddle wished for it even more strongly when from a new position his attacker opened fire on he window. He stepped back and the woman called to him. When he turned, ;he tood beside a grinning, wide-eyed boy of ten or eleven, holding out the Winchester from his scabbard. "I am glad that you thought to tell me." "He thought you would wish it," the boy said. "He told me to bring it to you. Now, you can kill him. It is that one of yellow hair and blue eyes called Saint. Kill him, El Comanche!" Con reholstered his Colt when he had reloaded swiftly the empty chambers. With the carbine he went outside through a back door and to the corner of the house. He sent a half-dozen shots into the mesquite mes-quite roots and stopped Saint's fire. Then he ran to another position where he could see a little of the blue shirt. He drove Saint around the root-pile, dodged back himself when the tall cowboy loosed a desperate des-perate burst of shots, then caught Saint when he was running for cover cov-er of a house. He saw dust puff from the blue shirt and Saint staggered, stag-gered, but caught himself and jumped around a corner. "He will carry my brand," he told Garcia as he bought the town's drinks and traded rough jokes with the men. "I see that when you of San Marcos say that you are my friends, it is more than words. I would have been killed without knowing whose lead struck me, I think, but Amelia called. Then Margarita Mar-garita let me into her house and the boy came with my long gun. I thank you all" "Those words did not come from the mouth only," Garcia said earnestly. ear-nestly. "They came from here, also!" He pounded his thick chest and others of the men nodded. Con went to find Amelia and Margarita, carrying carry-ing bottles of the most crimson perfume per-fume on Garcia's shelves. He was in Amelia's house, surrounded by her small brothers and sisters, when that woodcutter who had warned him against Gonzales appeared at the door. His dark face was excited. ex-cited. He motioned to Con. "El Comanche! You remember me Antonio Salazar? I have that to tell you which will not wait; which is for you only." "Of course!" Con cried. "I owe you for that other time, when you kept me from walking out upon Gonzales' pistol!" He went through the children and trailed the woodcutter to the corral behind Amelia's. "I was not here when you drove Saint from San Marcos," Antonio said quickly. "I did not know that you were here. But he met me on the road today and I had a bottle of tequila. He took it from me and when he had drunk the most of it, he talked. He boasts always, but more when he has been drinking. He came to San Marcos for cartridges. El Comanche. And for why? For robbery of the bank at Tivan, tomorrow to-morrow night! He did not say tomorrow to-morrow night, but I am sure." He had gathered from Saint's bragging talk that the Paramores were already on the move. He was to join them outside of Tivan with the shells. They were taking advantage ad-vantage of Nevil Lowe's absence from town to make Dud's biggest blow to date. "It seemed to me that you would wish to know," Antonio jogged him, when he was quiet for a long time, thinking. "I know that it is war between be-tween you and them, now." "I am glad that you thought to tell me. Say nothing to anyone, as you thought, there is war between me and Dud Paramore. So I have interest in anything he plans. Here! Buy drinks for yourself, something some-thing for the woman and the children. chil-dren. I am riding!" As he rode across the hills, he considered what lay ahead of him. It seemed to him that he could do no more than ruin Dud's raid, but he could do that effectively and with safety. He was early on the road next day. but that was only habit. The whole day and part of the night lay before him, for covering an easy ride. Con did not intend to show himself him-self in Tivan while there was light or movement; Bain or Chunky or some townsman of sharp eyes and long memory might see him. At dark he was within three miles of town. There was a moon, and with its rising he finished his cold supper and mounted, to look grimly at the hang of his pistol and the set of his carbine. He jogged along the road until almost at the edge of Tivan, then turned quietly oft to come to the rear ' of the buildings that lined the main street. When opposite op-posite the bank, he swung down and hitched Pancho behind a saloon. He moved up the side of the building, build-ing, along the yard-wide space between be-tween it and the store adjoining, to squat in the gloom with Winches-1 Winches-1 ter across his knees. It was still early, something after ten. As the minutes dragged toward midnight and the passers-by were fewer, he watched the bank impatiently. impa-tiently. He had no plan, except to startle the gang with his fire, stop the robbery attempt, bring the town swarming out and force the Paramores Para-mores to run. "Then I'll send word to dear old Dud," he thought, grinning tightly. "Let him know who put the cockle burr under his saddle; and how Saint talked too much and let out the scheme." Past midnight, when only a few lights were shining on the street and the saloon he watched beside was quiet, a shadowy figure appeared ap-peared at the corner of the bank. Con stood, carbine ready, watching strainedly. Another vague shape joined the first. Hardly visible, they seemed to wait as he was waiting. One by one, the lights of Tivan were blinking out. Then a dull explosion sounded. Con swore softly, shortly. They had moved faster than he had expected, at the bank. He shoved the carbine out and fired three shots at the lurking lurk-ing men and they disappeared From the saloon came yells. Con ran straight across the street as men appeared in the doors of the town's buildings. From that corner where the men had stood, he could see in the moonlight a flurry of figures fig-ures at the rear of the bank. They were busy with horses. He wondered won-dered if they had got the money from the vault, or if his shooting had startled them before they had finished. fin-ished. Between bank and horses a tall man appeared, running. Con placed him as Dandy. He was carrying a sack and Con began to fire at his legs; saw him pitch forward and drop the sack. The high, singsong voice of Dud lifted shrilly: "Hightail! They're onto us! Hightail!" High-tail!" He appeared out of the milling group, mounted. Con leaned against the bank wall and fired at him steadily. The horse went down and took Dud out of sight Now, from right and left of the harried robbers, rob-bers, Tivan men opened ragged fire. From the difference of reports, Con guessed that snatched-up guns of all kinds were being brought into play. Three riders whirled clear of the confusion and fairly hurled their horses forward. Low over the horns, they disappeared at the racing gallop. gal-lop. One horse was down, another began to trot off, riderless. A man lifted himself from the ground on one knee and, as firing continued, dropped again. "I think," Con told himself, "that this is where I roll!" He edged into the gloom under a wooden awning and kept close to the front wall as he worked toward a corner. Down the side wall of a store; to the rear where he could look toward Pancho; then quickly across the litter of bottles and cans and trash to the dozing sorrel, he moved with an amused grin lifting mouth-corners. Dud had got away, he was fairly certain. Out of the darkness of some doorway door-way or passage opposite Pancho, a man stepped suddenly. He was within with-in a yard of Con when he said, "Well " and automatically Con, seeing the carbine he carried, pivoted piv-oted and struck him in the face. The long swing carried all his weight and the fist connected squarely. square-ly. Back into the shadows the man fell with no more than a short grunt He sprawled there and Con, after a split-second of staring, ran across to Pancho and mounted. He rode at the walk to a safe distance, dis-tance, then skirted Tivan at the trot and came at the lope to pick up the trail of the three survivors of Dud's raid. He made no effort to actually trail them. But the general direction they would take was easy to decide, with the Lobos rising to the northeast (TO BE COTll ED) |