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Show 5&SaW! BROWN "Bien, then. An' the scene Is still the same," continued Monte. "Still Maxmilla City. StUl I shuffle the cards, play the game, for I have a living to make, an' cards are the things I know best. Yet the time now is not long ago; maybe two-three two-three years past, not longer. But there is change, as you know. Now gambling with the cards is no longer long-er legal in this state. A new law has been passed. This makes difference dif-ference in Star La Rue's Silver Palace. Pal-ace. La Rue nimself has changed in the daytimes he is respectable, vice president of a certain Maxmilla City bank. Only on occasional nights or when something happens does he come to the Silver Palace, which operates now behind guarded doors without music or many lights. None the less, all kinds of men come there to gamble. "There is one old man with a ver' bitter face who comes. He does not have much money, but he plays regularly. reg-ularly. He likes my table sometimes. some-times. I think he Is waiting for something. An' perhaps I have one ! - Deputy sheriff Jim Doane sets oat to track down a gang of robberi who had held op a train two days earlier. He lollowl their trail In the desert dust of Ban Loreto county until his horse dies from a rattlesnake bite. Then he travels on foot, seeking water, until he collapses. col-lapses. Three days, later he awakens In a bed, having been picked up by four horsemen led by a girl. When he calls out for a drink of water, a tall man, Monte Garcia, enters. Later Jim meets Dolores Alvaro. He Is charmed by her beauty. Garcia tells him that the house Is close to Sand Wells, and that Jim wal near the town when he fell In a coma. Jim thanks him, but points out that there Is a warrant out for Dolores. CHAPTER IV "Yes?" asked Doane. "Well, that's beside the point. But my story sto-ry Isn't." "You expect me to deny It, your itory?" "I expected you to yes. I see you don't. Then why the first lie?" For an Instant something sinister sin-ister flashed In the strange Spanish eyes; then Monte Garcia smiled suavely. "It will be best If you do not call me liar," he said. "Not many men do." "Maybe few have caught you lying." ly-ing." "Ha! That Is true." Then the smoulder came to the eyes again. "Lls'en, my frlen'. We have had your story; now we will have one of mine. Both true. You are ready to listen? Ehl" "Shoot." "My story," began Monte Garcia, with a wisp of a smile, "Is mos' twenty years old. The first part of It. It makes me ra young man, younger than you. But already I have skill with my hands. Always my hands are my fortune. They shuffle the cards, they deal. Jus' nineteen years old I am, but I manage man-age a table In the Star La Rue Silver Sil-ver Palace, up in Maxmilla City. In those days many men come to the Silver Palace. It is legal in those days . . . You wish to hear this story, senor?" Alvaro Family Was Evicted From Ranch "Shoot, I said," mumbled Doane. Monte smiled slightly, and continued. con-tinued. "It is legal, yes, yet this Star La Rue is not the man to care for things legal after all. Even In those days, the other way pays better. La Rue has one-two ranches of his own an' on the side, as you say, he buys cattle. Where do the cattle come from? That Is not the question ques-tion La Rue asks. You see? If cheap, he buys. Then one day he buys something more than cattle, but without greater price. You shall hear. "Senor don Pio Miguel Alvaro has one splendid rancho, far down here, which La Rue see, and which La Rue want Don Pio must sell cattle every year, to make profit. So Star La Rue comes to him. " 'Don Pio,' he says, 'I hear you have five hun'red head of cattle to sell this spring. That true? All right. I will give you twenty dollars dol-lars a head. Jus' as they come big, medium, or small. What do you ay?' " 'Done!' says Don Pio swiftly. "The price is high for those days. Ver' high. So Star La Rue, with his men all around him, draws papers pa-pers for the deal an' telis Don Pio to sign. The papers are wrote In English, whlrh Don Pio does not read ver" well. But then he is only selling cattle, an' the money has come to his han' already. A bill-of-sale is customary in an honest deal. So Don Pio puts his name there, an' other men with La Rue they sign. " "This rancho,' says Mistaire La Rue after a while, 'is a good rancho, Don Pio. I think I will like it, an' the price was cheap, considering that I also get all the stock. Don Pio, I will not hurry you to move from my rancho, but be gone in ten days." "In ten days," continued Monte Garcia, "the sheriff comes down from San Loreto an' forces Don Pio, his wife, an' his baby daughter from the house. Because he does not read En'lish well, you see, Don Pio has signed one deed for his whole property, not a bill-of-sale for some five hun'red head of cattle. Star La Rue's men are witnesses, an' each states it is certain Don Pio understood when he took the money. Now it would only seem he wanted to back out of the deal by lies, Which is not allowable. Do yog un-derstan', un-derstan', my frien'? All this happened hap-pened long ago." "I understand," Doane nodded stiffly, paused. "I can tell you other oth-er stories of the same kind. Twenty years ago this was a pretty lawless strip of country. But the past is past. Today is today, and things have changed. I'm one of the men that's helped to make that change." "So?" said Monte, with a faint mile. ' You are giving me a peek t your own hand, now, senor." "You know who I am," said Doane. Monte smiled. "Of course. All long Mistaire deputy sheriff Doane. Telegrams through the railroad, rail-road, if for no other reason. But my story Is not finish. You wish to hear what follow, also? Eh?" "Yes. Go ahead." a man to pay a debt of the cards " "So Star La Rue didn't?" "Ver much he didn't, senor. You should know that. Does Star La Rue still not own Rancho de los Tres Hermanos? But less than a week following La Rue's debt another an-other thing happens. An aged Spanish gentleman Is shot an' killed in the yards of Tres Hermanos. His body is left unidentified. It is claimed this old' man has been caught attempting to steal horses from the corrals. Nothing at all is said about his coming to claim the rancho he thinks he has wonl" Seconds of silence followed Monte's words. "Was this old man very slight of figure?" asked Doane softly. "Did he have a silvery-white mustache and a slight scar over one eyebrow? eye-brow? Was the forefinger of his right hand slightly crippled, caught sometime in the dallies of a reata?" "You describe senor Don Pio Miguel Alvaro to me," said Monte Garcia. "It is a ver' exact description." descrip-tion." Again long silence. "Dios!" whispered Doane. "It was my first Job under Sam Flick. That's why I remember so well. I came down to Rancho Hermanos with the coroner. They told us the old man was some cholo horsethief. No name for him. I even congratulated congratu-lated La Rue on his marksmanship." Monte shrugged. "So it would have been better, you see, for me to have given the ol' man the two-spot." two-spot." "No!" snapped Doane. Monte studied him for a long while behind the wisps of blue cigarette cig-arette smoke. The gray-green eyes showed no emotion. Finally Monte smiled slightly. "My frien'," he said, "I thought that I would come to like you In the end." Sheriff Sam Flick of San Loreto was in a funk. Railroad officials were pressing him on one hand; Star La Rue on the other. There were fifty rumors, and one single fact. The fact was that five horsemen horse-men had turned north from the point of the train robbery at Sand Wells and hit for the desert recesses of San Loreto county. Flick knew that they might have ridden five, or fifty miles north, and also that they then had the quarters of the compass to choose from. Eight days had passed since the night of the hold-up at Sand Wells, and the ninth dawned with equal lack of promise. The sheriff had been back from bis own trip to Sand Wells for some forty-eight hours, returning by way of Maxmilla City. If he now took a posse Into the desert des-ert he knew It faced failure; If he didn't, he failed before he began, be-gan, with corresponding criticism. Flick's one hope was Doane. Better than eight days now since Doane had left for the scene. Nothing Noth-ing had been heard from him. Nothing Noth-ing was known, except that he had ridden promptly north on the supposed sup-posed trail of the fugitives. Doane was the very backbone of Flick's law enforcement, and In his secret heart Flick recognized the fact. It added to his helplessness. Day by day he had confidently expected Doane's return. In Sand Wells, he had confidently expected to see his deputy ride into the horizon at every turn. Such delay had meant Just one thing to the sheriff at first: Doane had hit a hot trail, too hot to drop, hanging on alone. Doane might do a thing like that. Knowing his deputy, the only thing Flick didn't expect was utter failure. The sheriff sat over his office desk brooding, sweating, irritable. The hour was mid-morning, the ninth day. Deputy Jim Doane Turns in His Badge "How are you, Sam?" Flick spun around, like a top. Stared a moment, and relaxed In bis chair with an audible sigh. "Well Doane! Here you are at last!" i They shook hands, and Flick puffed: "Let' get to business. Things sure in a mess! What happened? hap-pened? Where are they? Who pulled the job? Was it that Alvaro girl? . . . Say, you haven't got an arrest ar-rest up your sleeve, have you?" "No," said Doane. His hand reached out and something hard dropped from the palm onto the smooth surface of Flick's desk. "No, Flick. No arrests. Just nothing, except Well, there's my badge." Flick stared at Doane for a long, long time. An unbelieving, stunned expression came over his red face. "Your badge?" "My badge," repeated -Doane. "My resignation. I'm no longer a deputy sheriff in San Loreto county. I resign the position." Flick's eyes grew. His face took a purplish cast. "But, but " he stuttered. "You you can't do thatl" "I already have," said Doane. Flick's hands were grasping the edge of the desk so hard that the knuckles were white. "I I never thought I'd see you fail, Doane! Break! Quit!" "And you haven't yet!" said Doane, leaving. (TO BE CONTINUED) , "Was this old man very slight of figure?" asked Doane softly. better memory for the Spanish faces than another man. Anyhow, I know this ol' fellow he Is Don Pio Miguel Alvaro, once owner of the Rancho de los Tres Hermanos, down In this country. Usually he loses at the cards. But always he comes back, waiting for that something. some-thing. "Then one night it happens. It is luck! Senor Alvaro wins one thousan' dollars. Half he puts back; wins again. Twice more. Loses. For an hour the play goes. But when the ol' man finally stands at his chair, he has broke the bank of Star La Rue's Illegal gambling palace. pal-ace. It is twenty-five thousan' dollars dol-lars he has won! "Star La Rue is called. He comes like one animal. He gets the ol' man aside. " 'Play once more,' he says. 'Play your luck once more against me! At another table!' " 'For one thing,' says the ol' man firmly. 'Down In San Loreto County you have a rancho, Senor La Rue. It is called Rancho de los Tres Hermanos. I would like to wager against that rancho.' "There is much debate. For one thing the rancho is worth more than twenty-five thousan' dollars. On the other hand, the old man is about to walk away with all the money he" has won, or so Star La Rue thinks. So they compromise. The ol' man gives back to La Rue his winnings, to be kept no matter how' the cards fall. That evens matters. The Rancho de los Tres Hermanos is put at stake on one matched draw of the cards. "I have worked for Star La Rue a long while. I am the most skillful dealer he employs. So they come to my table. Star La Rue looks at me a long while an' gives a certain signal. I shuffle the cards as I know how. Three times through the deck. There is a double cut. . . . But, my frien', I already begin to plan where I will look tomorrow for a new Job. Something hones' now, maybe a school for telegraph operators, I think an' so It has turned out." Monte Garcia smiled thoughtfully thoughtful-ly to himself. He lighted a fresh cigarette with an unconsciously swift gesture. Deep in his eyes was the trace of a keen, hidden satisfaction; and also a deadly anger. an-ger. "And Senor Pio Miguel Alvaro drew what card?" asked Doane. "The ace, of course," said Monte. "But to make my little, last gesture ges-ture the more perfect. Star La Rue gets the two-spot. Lower than that a gambler cannot draw." "Uh-huh. And the after-result?" "Yes, the after-result," considered consid-ered Monte. "It would have been better had 1 given the two-spot to Don Pio. Sometimes fate and justice jus-tice are like that." "Meaning?" "Star La Rue's gambling palace was illegal. We have mentioned that change. State laws have now been passed against gambling. Such a thing as a gambling debt no longer long-er exists in the eyes of the law Do you see? There Is nothing to force |