Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

566 When the lock of the cash box clicked, Bud relaxed, seeing the saddlebag slide from his view as Grover dropped it to his side. He was conscious of a cold sweat _which stood in beads on his forehead. He brushed his hand across his brow, and grinned up at Marion. ‘Tf anything goes wrong—”’ he said. She cut him short. ‘“ And who takes the pay roll to Clay City?” she asked in a clear, ringing voice. All the men in the room fell into si- lence. The door opened and old Moon entered. He strode over to the table where Bud Stood with hand on the cash box. ‘What now?” asked Moon. His voice was nervous, betraying his fear that the youngster might fall short. But his eye ob- viously approved the presence of the sheriff and of Grover, an old-timer who could be trusted. “ The money goes directly to Clay City,” said Bud. “ All right, Mason.” He turned to place in the hands of a trustworthy guard the cash box, empty of all save a dead weight of worthless paper. Mason, accepting it, turned to the door, calling for the men who were to accompany him. The group trouped out to the waiting automobile. ‘“ Ain’t you goin’ with them?” Moon’s voice was querulous, incredulous. Bud shook his head, smiling. There was a momentous pause which held Moon spell- bound, until the noise of the engine an- nounced that the motor was under way. “ But who’s there to take it?’’ Moon’s voice rose in sharp protest, harshly break- ing the silence which filled the room. Bud, save for a reassuring smile, ignored him. “ All right, Sanville.” He handed to the lean plainsman whom he addressed the sealed leather bag which was as empty of valuable currency as the cash box had been. “Take that over to the bank. If any stranger butts in, you know what to do.” “T know.” Sanville grinned and patted the butt of his unhampered gun. As he left the room he exchanged a grin with Grover. “See you later, boss,” he said. Sanville was Grover’s man, loaned for this occasion. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Again there was a silence while Moon stared, bewildered, and the four other oc- cupants of the room awaited the noise of another engine. With the several chosen guardians of the coveted pay roll present, the place had seemed very small. Now, with Marion and her father, Stockbridge, Moon and Bud left alone, it seemed ab- surdly large. Stockbridge, Marion and Grover were grouped at the doorway, and to Bud it seemed that a great space Jay be- tween them as he stood, his eyes glued to the saddlebag in Grover’s hand; and again that sweat came to his brow. “What in God’s name?” cried Moon. His eyes, too, had caught the saddlebag. ‘Say, Bud, where’s that money? Where’s the pay roll?” ‘Just a minute, Mike.” Bud, his face tense with the realization of all that he staked in the safety of that saddlebag, held up his hand. From outside there came the noise of a cold engine roaring into life. They stood in silence until the raucous voice of gears enmeshed gave way to the receding hum of a motor car in swift pass- age. “Tt’s your turn now, Mr. Grover,” said Bud softly. Paley Grover smiled in a manner pe- culiar to himself. It was little more than a grim tightening of the lips. ‘Yeah,’ he said, “it’s my play.” He, too, turned to the door, one hand on the butt of his gun, the other clutching the saddlebag. Stockbridge, as alert, but ob- viously the lesser man, followed him. They Waited at the doorway a moment to permit Marion to precede them. ‘“ Marion!” cried Bud. Then, addressing the world at large, rather than any one in particular: ‘‘ She isn’t going!” Grover turned upon him as Marion left the room. ‘Marion, she’s riding with me,” he grinned; and the door snapped to behind him. Bud sank into the chair. Old Michael Moon strode up and placed a hand upon his shoulder. ‘““Where’s that money, Bud?” he de- manded gruffly. Bud sprang to his feet. VOO CO CO