"SECOND TIME WEST"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 September 1938, Page 10

"SECOND TIME WEST"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

T. C. BRIDGES

(Author of “Watching Eyes,” “Seven Years’ Sentence,” etc.)

CHAPTER XXVll—Continued. The sharp pain in his head had dulled to a steady ache, his strength was coming back and he found himself able to walk. Presently he rounded a curve and saw a light beneath him. It was a window with a lighted lamp behind it. So far as Jim could see all the other windows were dark. His watch had Stepped but by the height of the moon he judged that nearly two hours had elapsed since the rain-storm broke and it looked as if all the excitement was over and Fame’s men had gone to their bunks. If that was so the chances of getting a horse seemed fairly good. Jim went on quietly, keeping as much as possible in the shadow. There was one thing in his favour. In the old days he had visited the Kettle Drum more than once, so he knew the lie of the land. The house stood on rising ground on the west bank of the creek, and in front was a solidly built bridge, and there was a row of shedding close by with stables, sheds and harness-room. The harness-room would probably be locked, but Jim hoped to find a rope in the sheds. He reached the shadow at the back of the sheds without trouble and stood looking at the house. Not a sound came from it or from the large bunkhouse close by, and again he wondered what had become of the S. Bar S. men. It was too ghastly to think that they had all been finished. Yet since it seemed clear that they were not in the ranch-house, what else. could have happened More anxious than ever, Jim crept along the sheds and rounded the eastern end, the one furthest from the house. The moon shone brightly here, and Jim hesitated before venturing out of the shadow. Yet all was so quiet that he gained confidence, and, slipping round the end of the building, found an unlatched door, and went inside. Luckily, he still had his flashlight., which had escaped injury in his fall, and, switching it on, looked round. His relief was great when he saw a lasso rope handing against the wall. He was still more pleased to find a bridle, old but still serviceable. Now if nothing interfered, he could catch a horse and ride it. Carrying his spoil, he was leaving the shed when, through the quiet night came a sound of horses travelling fast. He stopped and listened. About a dozen horses were coming, and they were coming down the gorge. It was almost certain that they 'were Kettle Drum men, and Jim felt an unpleasant chill down his spine. Since fight was out of the question, he must hide, but the question was where. There was no loft here as there had been in the stable at Loomis; there was no hiding place of any sort. He started out and tried another door. This was not locked, and entering, he found himself in a feed room. Wired bales of hay were stacked against the walls, and on one side sacks of oats were piled. He squeezed in behind the sacks and crouched down. It was a poor sort of refuge, but better than hone. Next minute the riders had arrived, and he heard them reining in their 'horses and springing to the ground. The curious thing was that none of them spoke. All Jim could hear was the heavy breathing of hard-ridden horses. At last came a voice.

“This is a mess, Buck!” A quiver ran through Jim. The speaker was Fame himself. “It’s no fault of mine,” retorted Buck Coulton, sharply. “If it hadn’t been for that storm, we had them all ends up.” “We’ve lost them now,” said Fame, grimly. “You, Kinney, give my horse a feed of oats. As soon as I’ve had a drink I must go straight to Loomis.” A man entered the feed room. Jim heard him open the food bin. “Curse! —it’s empty!” he growled, and slammed the lid down. Then he turned to the pile of sacks behind which Jim was hidden. CHAPTER XXVIII.

It was not use waiting where he was. for in moving the top sack the man was bound to see him. Jim came out of his hiding place like a bullet from a gun ano" flung himself at the Kettle Drum puncher. Before the astonished Kinney could even raise his hands Jim had him by the throat. The two fell heavily together on the clay floor of the shed. Kinney, half stunned as he was, still struggled and tried hard to shout out Jim choked him till his face was blue and his body went limp. “Hev. Kinney, going to be all night? ’ What are you doing?” someone shouted angrily, and, as Jim struggled to his feet, he was faced by Buck Coulton. Buck’s eyes widened. For a moment sheer surprise held him speechless, and Jim seized the chance to charge him and drive a blow at his jaw. If Jim had been himself that blow would have knocked out the burly foreman. As it was, it staggered him but, as he stumbled back, he gave a yell Jim dodged past, made for the door and ran slap into Murray Fame himself. Fame’s great arms closed around him and Jim was helpless as a fish in a net. Exhausted, his head spinning, his lungs crushed by Fame’s mighty grip, he soon ceased to struggle. “Who the—” began Fame, then—“By thunder, it’s Andrews. If this ain’t luck. Pretty nigh makes up tor Haskell getting away.” .Buck Coulton came out. “Andrews! I might have knowed it. The swine nigh broke my jaw. Let him loose, Fame, and I’ll learn him what it means to run his damned nose into our business.” . “Not tonight, Buck,” Fame told him. “He's meat for your masters.” Jim struggled again. ... . “Let me loose, Fame. Ive still got enough to knock out your paid bully. Fame laughed. “You’ve guts, Andrews. Hl say that for you. And if wasn’t that I need you up at the house I’d let Buck settle you. But I reckon you’re worth more to me alive than dead, so walk along.” There was no help for it and, with Fame's great fingers holding his arm in a vice-like grip, Jim went with him across the bridge to the house. Jim s spirits were in the depths. So far Fame had not recognised him. He thought he was mere Grant Andrews, Dave Condon’s most troublesome follower. But at the house, in strong light, Jim could not hope for such luck

to continue. By the time they reached the house Jim was so done that he was reeling. Fame saw it, shoved him into a chair, then gave him a stiff drink. . “Here's back luck,” said Jim recklessly as he poured it down his throat. He saw Fame stiffen. The big man

came a step nearer and stared at him. Into his eyes came a look of incredulous amazement. Then his great hand smacked upon his thigh.

“Chernocke!” he cried and for an instant his eyes went red like those of a wolf so that Jim believed his last moment had come. But Fame was not the sort to allow empty vengeance to interfere with his plans. The glare died.

“You fooled me,” he said. “I own you fooled me. I didn’t believe that even you would be crazy enough to come back to Loomis with that charge hanging over you.” He laughed. “British Baronet Hanged for Murder.” Say, that’ll made headlines for your London newspapers.” He paused then spoke in a lower tone. “On second thoughts you’ll hang as Jim Preston. We don’t want to focus too much attention on this neck of the woods.” “You’ve done that already,” Jim told him. “Ward Haskell and Dave Condon aren’t dumb.” Fame’s lip curled. “Them! They don’t count. . I’ve strength to wipe them off the face of this State and that’s what I’m going to do before I’m a week older.” Jim laughed. “You talk big, Fame. Dave’s crowd licked you so badly night before last you lost nearly half your men and 1 heard you confess just now that Ward got away, after you though you had him trapped.” The rad glare showed afresh in Murray Fame’s eyes, but again he controlled his fury. “The best generals blunder once, Chernocke. But not twice. At the Painted Cross it was you who foiled my plans but that won’t happen again; tonight it was the luck of the weather saved Ward Haskell. If it hadn’t been for that storm not one of you would have been alive this minute.” Jim said nothing. He knew it was true. Fame went on boastfully. “You were expecting Condon’s crowd. You never knew I’d caught your Mex boy and read the note Haskell gave him. The note Luiz actually took to the Painted Cross told Condon that Haskell could not collect his men in time, and put the attack off until tomorrow night. Tomorrow the Painted Cross will start, and, while they’re away, my men will burn the ranch and bring Joan back to me.”

Jim sprang furiously from his chair only to be met by the threatening muzzle of Fame’s revolver.

“If you want to live to be hanged I reckon you’d better sit still,” sneered the big man. Jim dropped back. He was furious with himself for losing his temper. Fame grinned sardonically. “Seems to me I heard you were already engaged to some British girl. Don’t want two wives, do you Even the Mormons ain’t allowed more than one these days.” Jim clamped back the fierce retort that rose to his lips. He wasn’t going to betray himself a second time. Fame, feeling master of the situation and of the man whom he hated so savagely, went on.

“Yes. Joan will be here tomorrow and that’s the chief reason I’m keeping you alive. You’re the hostage, Chernocke. You may remember you smackLopez in the jaw and knocked him out. You’d have done better to shoot him. Lopez is half Mex and a Dago never forgives a blow. If Joan don’t show herself willing to marry me 1 shall tell her that I’m handing you over to Lopez and what he will do to you I don’t need to describe.” He laughed again and Jim had never heard an uglier sound. He had to bite his lips to keep down the rage that consumed him. Fame grew angry at Jim’s silence.

“Lost your tongue,” he sneered. “You had plenty to say when you thought you were top dog. But tomorrow I’ll hear you howl for mercy.” Jim had got hold of himself. “Aren’t you a little previous?” he asked. “You have a lot to do before you’re top dog, even here. You may murder me as you murdered Joan’s brother, but you might remember I have friends who will make sure that you don’t profit by it.” For a third time that night Fame’s eyes shone red. His forefinger twitched on the trigger of his pistol and Jim stiffened, believing that a bullet was about to crash through his body. It did not come. Fame’s lips stretched in a mirthless grin. “Trying to bait me into finishing you, eh?” he said. “Afraid of what Lopez will do to you. But you don’t get off as cheaply as that.” “March!” he ordered, prodding Jim with the barrel of his gun. “Up the stairs. That’s where your prison is. And I’ll lay you .won’t be so chippy this time tomorrow.” The room into which he forced Jim was small and bare, and the one window was guarded by stout iron bars.

“Sweet dreams!” Fame sneered as he went out, locking the door behind him. Done to the world, Jim dropped on inc straw mattress against the wall. There he lay while his tired brain grappled with one problem after another. What could have happened to Ward and his men? Where were they? How had they escaped? Surely, if they had escaped, the first thing Ward would do was to warn Dave Condon, yet Fame seemed sure of trapping Dave next night. Such thoughts drummed through his aching head until at last he dropped off into a stupor of sleep, nor did he move until he was roused by the door opening. The surly-faced fellow who had entered carried a tray in one hand and a gun in the other. “Grub.” he said, “and make the most of it. It's all you’ll get today.” (To be Continued.)