Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

150 what they read there. Their meeting was that of tried and trusted friends. They seated themselves upon chairs that Dave Barker brought. The deputy sheriff with- drew from the room. “Flora has told me everything she knows, Victor,” said Edmund Scott, “ and I honor and admire you—more than I can say. But I did not come to tell you that. I came to ask you what immediate action I can take—what we must do to clear you of this charge. You alone are in possession of the true facts; but I am ready to fight in the dark if you will direct my opera- tions.” “T cannot thank you adequately for the friendship that has endured such a strain, and I know I do not need to ask your par- don,” Victor replied, deeply moved by the other’s sincerity. ‘‘ As for the charge of murder, it is unimportant, and neither of you must worry over it. I donot. I have sent a letter that guards against any pos- sibility of danger, and all that we can do is await the trial. There fs one gentleman, though, whose testimony I must have on that occasion. Will you send to White- waters and tell Father Quinn that I need him? When he learns that I am in trouble I know that he will come.” “‘T will write a letter to him to-night,” said Flora. ‘“ And a swift messenger shall leave with it in the morning. I will make the letter urgent, though I know he will not hesitate a moment. He will be here within four days.” | ‘“* He has been ill,” said her father. “‘ But I believe he is completely recovered now. It is a long time since I have heard any- thing about him. You have heard of the fire? His church and house were both de- stroyed.” He told what little he had heard con- cerning the fire. ‘“By the way, Victor,” he said, ‘ there are two gentlemen staying at the Cobalt— one of them is a lawyer, I believe. You might care to consult him. I know practi- cally nothing about them, and have only met them twice. Dodson and Smith are their names.”’ “No, I don’t wish to consult any law- ver,” Victor replied. ‘‘ But Dodson and Johnson. to greater effort. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, Smith sound interesting. I may have met them at some time. Could you describe them?” Edmund Scott related what details he had noticed of their appearance, and Victor listened attentively to the very scanty de- scription. It seemed to satisfy him. “I don’t desire to meet them just yet, sir,” he said. ‘ But I wish you would cul- tivate their acquaintance and do your best to hold them in Mooseyard until after the trial. Do not tell them that you spoke to me of their presence. That is all that can -be done just now, but it is. of the first im- portance.” Late the same night Long Alec Javet arrived home in a very bad temper. He refused to tell his wife anything about his adventures, and after eating a tremendous meal rolled himself in his blankets, and didn’t get out of them for twenty-four hours. He had had a hard trip with Angus The trader had made him do all the work of breaking trail, cooking food, and cutting fire-wood, and had treated him like a slave for seven days. In the eve- nings by the light of seven camp-fires he had gambled with him, and, contrary to his usual luck, had won steadily—so that at the end of that period Long Alec did not even own the coat on his back and was heavily in debt. At last Johnson grew disgusted with the chase and with his companion, and decided to return to Crooked River Camp and for- get the mythical reward. He told Long Alec what he thought of him before they parted, and the woodsman had no resource but to listen to the other’s vivid description of his character, though black rage swelled in his heart. Johnson gave him enough food—barely enough—to see him through to Mooseyard, but retained Alec’s pistol. Long Alec made a swift trip of it with the fear of the trader’s wrath constantly hounding him on His wife swore at him for coming home without the reward; but he didn’t mind that, for he knew that he could always get the best of her with a dog whip.or a cordwood stick. But he had had enough of the whole business of the mur- COMmiclboo SS C©