Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

ee Se Pe are The Closed Trail SO BUCK E G went to the $e dance that evélithg in the big flag- (Sea =bedecked hall with a very well- defined wish to punch Crawford’s head— which wish was not at all diminished by the sight of his rival dancing with his lady- love. When Crawford asked for more dances he found that he -was too late. Even Frank Gorham asked for one, explaining that he was too'old but would like to sit one out, and he told Kate about the “Pretty Girl,” and entertained her with comical stories until she forgot the fear that the tales of his wild past had given her. And Kate met Alice, Dick Lloyd’s girl- wife, who divided her time between dancing and running to look at a small edition of herself that slumbered peacefully in an adjoining room, along.with other small per- sons, and also in looking after another edi- tion, a little larger, who gravely waltzed with partners twice as tall as herself, calmly accepted four separate invitations to supper from different admirers, and deserted them all to eat with “Uncle Frank,” thus causing many bloodthirsty threats to be hurled at that much pleased gentleman by the re- jected swains. And Kate met big, good-natured Dick Lloyd, who was evidently very much loved by both big and little Alice, and many other persons who made her feel that they liked her very much, and never in any way showed her that she was the daughter of their bitterest enemy. So that she forgot all her troubles and danced and had a glorious time. And then Crawford, who had been so- lacing himself at the Diamond Flush, came in in a very ugly mood. Walking up to Kate he said, roughly— “T told your father that I’d see you Hone: get ready.” “But,” the girl objected, “I’m not going. home tonight; I’m going to stay with Mrs. Morgan and go home tomorrow.” Then Crawford did, what, sober, he would not have done. *“You’re coming now,” he snarled, and put his hand on her arm. Kate shrank away with a little cry, and Buck Ewing, getting into action with amaz- ing swiftness, landed a jolt on Crawford’s jaw that sent him spinning, to bring up with a crash against the wall. A dozen men were between them in- PPA _e a - ma <_* x 165 stantly, and Gorham put a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Son,” he said, “‘don’t you know that it isn’t the thing to start a fight when there’s ladies around?” Buck’s face was white and his voice shook. “He put his hand on her, —— nm; I hope [ve killed him,’ he said. Gorham was mildly curious. “Do you own the lady, that you are going to slaughter any one that touches her at a dance?” But Buck was beyond sarcasm or reproof. _ “She belongs to me, and if he ever touches her again I’ll kill him,” he said, and strange to say Miss Newton didn’t object to this outrageous claim of ownership; but perhaps she didn’t hear it. The day after the celebration Newton sent for Crawford. : “What’s this I hear about last night?” he wanted to know, and listened in silence to Crawford’s halting explanation. ~ When the latter had finished Newton - spoke: “T’ll pass this up just this once, partly because you were drunk, but if anything like it happens again it means your finish, understand. You’re a handy man to have around, but there’s others just as good. I'll play this game in my own way and attend to this affair to suit myself.” But from that moment Crawford began to play for his own hand. A few days after he had a talk with Andy Sawtelle. Sawtelle, gunman and killer, but one who met men in front, listened silently, a sneer on his reckless face. For his rightful name was one well-known in the nation’s history; he was related by blood or marriage to half the great families of an Eastern State, and wicked and ruth- less as he was, he still held some of the traditions of his class. “So you want young Ewing planted?” he said when Crawford had finished. “Ts this an order from Newton, or a private deal of your own after what happened the other | night?” “‘What difference does that make?” “Tt makes a lot of difference, Crawford,” Sawtelle went on. ‘Don’t try to play me for a sucker; a blind man could see through your game. Son-in-law to Jim Newton, eh? Some jump that for a common waddie. You — fool,” he continued, “cut it out. You a - . f 7 , : ' ve i ei oe 4 Hit act Ee ¥ (@) " com books: cor yy : eS , J : 8th ii