Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

6 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the bed of the cafion. Some hot-head —it was never established just who— opened fire on the party with a re- peating rifle, killing the surveyor and wounding two of his men, Los Chicos County promptly went wild with Berserk fury. The surveyor had been a harmless, kindly old man, well liked if not overly competent. His constituents, determined to avenge the cowardly murder and teach the Brid- gerites a lesson, swarmed down to the canon. For two nights and a day the op- posing forces banged away at each other across the debated ground, with a great expenditure of powder and am- munition, but without especial damage to either side. Then State troops, hurriedly dis- patched by the Governor to end the conflict, arrived. The combatants sul- lenly dispersed. But the bad blood en- gendered by the incident did not die down. On both sides of the line there was muttered talk of reprisals, and an ugly feeling persisted, which at any time was apt to flame into renewed warfare. And on top of that the irrigation project encountered another stumbling block, which looked more sertous than anything that had come up yet. The new county surveyor, in checking over the records of his somewhat careless predecessor discovered that a woeful mistake had been made in the latter’s calculations. The flow of water in Hairpin Creek was not alone sufficient to furnish the amount required for the system planned. It would have to be helped out by an elaborate pumping plant, thus increasing the expense of the undertak- ing to practically prohibitive figures. Los Chicos County, panic-stricken, sent out an S OS call for experts from the State engineer’s office. But these, when they came, only confirmed the disheartening report of the local man. Molly’s brave enterprise, which she had carried through against so many dis- couragements and obstacles, seemed at last hopelessly on the rocks. Still no one has a monopoly on mis- fortune. On the same day that Molly’s cherished plans came this cropper, Nor- man Rich lost his job with Blair & Co., of Detroit. Not much connection between two such widely separated happenings, one might say. But in this world of chance you never can tell just how the cog- wheels of fate are going to mesh. CHAPTER II. A SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE. HE, blue envelope was about the last thing on earth that Norman Rich had reason to expect. He had been with Blair & Co., a big machinery concern, ever since boyhood, winning steady promotion until he had finally arrived at a staff position of considerable importance, with every as- surance of still further advancement ahead of him. In addition, he appeared to stand ace-high with J. P. Blair, the head of the business, and even better with Gladys, the boss’s only daughter. It had become almost a settled custom for him to dine two or three evenings a week at their big house out on Dear- born Boulevard; and knowing ones among his associates were predicting that. before long he would take up his residence there permanently. Then, for no apparent reason, he was canned. Oh, of course, the pill Was sugar-coated to a certain extent. Instead of being fired outright he was given an opportunity to resign. But the results were the same. He was out. Naturally he wanted to know why. But all the satisfaction he could get in answer to his puzzled inquiries was some vague talk about departmental reorganization, which was palpably not an explanation, but a stail. It never entered his head to connect his discharge in any way with Hair- DOOKS (COLAMUCE (E©)