Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 94: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

88 bush along the right-of-way, not over thirty yards from the base of the signal. A mile or two to the east Number Seven’s deep-toned whistle sounded. And at the same moment Tom and Munn perceived that a man was mounting the iron ladder that led from the ground up the signal mast to the light some thirty feet above the rails. The man’s body was outlined against the faintly luminous sky. “Bissel!”’ whispered Munn in Crane’s ear. The officer reached the top of the ladder and for a little time they could see him fumbling about the signal arm. Then he appeared to pull down on something; and abruptly the signa] arm fell to a horizontal position, the glowing light switched from yellow to red. A little more fumbling, and Bissel started to descend. The light remained at red. Number Seven whistled for the San Marcos crossing as the officer regained the ground. Rip-roaring, the night express came down the track. Then suddenly her steam was shut off; the brakes flew on. Indignant, she slid to a stop at the distant-signal. “‘Now watch!” spoke Tom Crane to his superintendent. They saw Bissel’s dark form dash past them. The door of the express car, second from the engine, slid partly open. An ob- long of light, a foot wide and seven high, stood out sharply in the car. An express messenger, crouching, was clearly visible in the opening. Bissel’s head popped into the oblong of light. He reached up his arms. From messenger to officer a compact square bundle was passed. “Beat it!’ said the messenger’s voice. The express car door was thrust shut. With sharp, explosive exhausts Number Seven’s engine slowly put momentum into the heavy coaches. From Munn’s and Crane’s sheltering bush to the express car door was but a half- dozen paces. As the car door closed Tom darted forward. “We'll whoop ’er up now!” he called to Munn. Bissel, the quarry, was streaking it to- ward the rear of the train. ‘Twenty steps, and Tom was upon him. “Touchdown!” cried Tom as he leaped. “T want that ball now!” : Officer and agent crashed to the earth together—a breath-taking bump. The po- liceman was like a wildcat. He kicked, bit, Adventure scratched, twisted. The rear coaches of the departing train revealed a savage battle. Tom held on. The package at the first fall had shot out of Bissel’s arms. The officer squirmed free. He sprang to his feet and pulled a pistol from his clothes. But Tom, observing, unexpected- ‘ly swung his foot and the gun flew from Bis- sel’s fingers; a grunt of pain came from the officer’s lips. “This has gone far enough,” said Crane, and drew his own pistol. “Will you agree?” The last lights on Number Seven’s train passed by and faded out. But Bissel’s hands were in the air. ‘Crane!’ It was Munn’s voice inquiring round, much after the manner of an old cluck with one chick. ‘‘Crane!”’ _“Present,” said Tom. “Right this way, sir.” The superintendent drew near to the two dim figures standing beside the track, his heavy breathing clearly audible. ‘Mr. Bissel has decided not to run away like that,” said Tom as Munn came up. ‘Please go through his pockets and see if you can find that daisy little flashlight, the one he had down in my office. You’re perfectly safe. He hasn’t any gun and I’ve got mine.” The superintendent did as requested and almost at once brought forth the light. He snapped it on. ‘You might pick up that package,”’ di- rected Crane. ‘‘There, over to your left. Read what’s written on it.” Munn lifted the paper-wrapped bundle and held it in the light of the torch. His head bobbed suddenly down closer to the parcel, as if some magnet there had drawn it. For a moment he seemed to find dif- ficulty in speaking. ‘“‘The—the what bank is that?” he mut- tered incredulously. ‘San Francisco!’ And then in a sort of rushing gasp: ‘‘One hun- dred and seventy-five thousand dollars!’’ The bundle almost dropped from Munn’s hands. He swerved the light on to Bissel’s sullen, working countenance. He _ stood staring at the officer. SUPERINTENDENT MUNN on Thursday morning sat _ looking across his desk at Tom Crane. His eyes were now warm with reflection, now warm with approbation. CESS COmiclbook CO