Evening Star Newspaper, June 16, 1935, Page 92

i Magazine Section THlS VVE FK June 16, 1935 Fugitive Gold casual as he said, *‘I’ve got some work to do before I can cut loose and celebrate. I'm getting some data for a client.” The man leered impudently at him. “Getting important business quick," he said, “for a new lawyer."”” “L.”" Dick told him, making his voice sound as though flushed by a sense of his own importance, “have got a job looking up some titles on property.” The cowpuncher lurched down the hall. “Well,”” he said, *‘if you start cele- bratin’ later on, I'll be seein’ you.” Dick watched the man sway around a corner of the corridor, then he turned to Perkett. “Your guess,” he said, ““is as good as mine. Was he listening or was he drunk?” “*My guess,” Perkett remarked, “is exactly the same as yours, Dick. He was listening, and when you opened the door, with rare presence of mind, he pretended to be drunk. Listen, who is that fellow?” “One of the new cowpunchers for the Flying-M.” “1 know that man,” Perkett said. “I’ve seen him before somewhere.” “That may be,” Dick told him. “The new boys out at the Flying-M are as tough a lot as you'd ever expect to see.” “Look here; that man didn’t see me clearly. You held his eyes, and he dn’t get a good look at me. I'm going to follow him. You wait here. I'll find out what he does when he gets to the street.” Perkett raced down the corridor, following the course taken by the Flying-M cowpuncher. Dick returned to the room and sat waiting. g He had smoked three cigarettes before Perkett returned, and Perkett’s face showed that he was much con- cerned by what he had discovered. “Well,”” Dick said cheerfully. *“‘what’s the verdict of the Coroner’s Jury?” “I don’t like it, Dick. That man hit the sidewalk, lurched into a doorway and waited. I walked on past him casually, not paying any attention to him, figuring that I didn’t dare to his suspicions; but after I'd reached the corner, 1 stopped a man who looked like a native and asked him some questions about the country back of here. That gave me an oppor- tunity to stall arcund until your cow- puncher friend decided you weren’t following him. Then he stepped out of the doorway and started down the street; there wasn’t even the suspicion of a stagger about his walk. He went straight to the telephone office and called a number. 1 located the man- ager of the telephone company and identified myself. I found he had called a man aamed Charles Selton in Los Angeles. Selton is the alias of a big-time crook, so clever we’ve never been able to get anything on him; but he’s been picked up several times on suspicion of murder, finger-printed and thoroughly investigated.”” “And always had an alibi?”” “Either that or something just as gead. Now, Dick, you've got to leave Quartzburg. The fact that this cow- puncher was listening outside the door shows that the Waxon Gang is sus- picious, and —" “Nothing doing,”” Dick said firmly. ““If 1 should leave now, it would con- vince the Waxon outfit that I was a government agent, that we were on their trail, and they’d dust out. You'd have to wait for another three or four murders before you could locate them again. No, Frank, I'm going through with it and play a lone hand.” Perkett frowned and said, ‘““You're right, Dick. I hate to admit it, but you are. You've got to go back and see it through. We can't make a raid yet. We aren’t working on much except suspicion. You've got to get evidence. If possible, get some of that gold. I'm going to be backing your play here in Phoenix with plenty of men.”” Perkett extended his hand, and Dick eripped it. Both men knew that Perkett’s re- inforcements could only help Dick if the government man could be the one ‘to pick the moment of attack. If the Waxon Gang struck first, reinforce- ments might as well be in China as in Phoenix. The automobile Dick had purchased in Phoenix purred smoothly up the paved incline to the top of the ridge. As the car gained the crest, Dick could see the pavement stretching like a ribbon of shimmering silver in the sunlight. At the foot of the grade was the junction between the paved high- way and the dirt road which lead to Quartzburg. That road. Dick saw, was dotted with vehicles, each one a black spot behind which drifted little powder puffs of white dust. Phoenix papers had carried news of the gold strike in Quartzburg, and already the gold rush had started. Veteran prospectors turned their weather-beaten cars toward the scene of the new strike. Callow tenderfeet, who would no more have known how to search for gold than to saddle a horse, were drawn by the lure of easy riches, fancying that to pick up gold it was only necessary to stroll out into the sage-covered hills. Glib-tongued men with shrewdly penetrating eyes hurried toward the place where the newest sucker crop was to be gathered. These were the modern confidence men, individuals who would disclose “in strict confidence” their affiliation with eastern syndicates and New York capital; men who would juggle claims, sell worthless locations, secure options for no consideration other than spe- cious promises. Dick reflected somewhat bitterly that, had he but waited a few days, he would not have needed the elaborate scheme by which he had sought to clothe his arrival in Quartzburg with the appearance of an accident. Now that the wires had flashed the magic news to all sections of the country, the lode stone of greed was drawing hun- Continued from preceding page dreds of men of all sorts and deserip- tions into the shimmering maw of the desert. As Dick’s car swung around the curves of the long, easy grade, he took his foot from the throttle, slowing in order to make the right angle turn to the dirt road. He observed a figure seated on a suitcase near the edge of the pavement. As his car approached, the figure straightened. . Dick chuckled to himself. Hitch- hiking to a gold rush! Then he ob- served on closer approach that the figure was that of a young woman. He slowed his car almost to a stop as he twisted his steering wheel for the turn. It was not until he had raised his hat that he realized he was looking at Virginia Daine. She was attired in a neat-fitting gray suit. The broad- brimmed Stetson had been replaced by a turban which perched jauntily on one side of her head. Recognition smiled from the silver-gray eyes. “Hello, Mr. Lawyer Man. So you've been buying a new car?” “What on earth are you doing here?”’ he asked. “I've been to Phoenix. I came out on the stage. Tom Wharton was to drive out to meet me. He hasn’t shown up. [ hope nothing’s hap- pened to him."” Flinging open the door of the car, Dick reached for her suitcase. “Let's investigate,”" he suggested. “You can keep a watch on the cars coming this way and if you see Wharton, you can flag him."” She permitted him to assist her to the front seat of the car. “Yours?”" she asked, as he took his place behind the steering wheel once more. He laughed and strove to make his laugh casual. “I picked it up in Phoenix second- hand. Alawyer needsa car, youknow.”’ He changed the subject. *‘Did you find out anything more about that shooting?”’ “l don’t want to talk about it,”’ she admitted, ““but you're entitled to an explanation. Tom Wharton, my manager, had been prospecting over on the Flying-M. One of the Flying-M riders had an argument with Tom and ordered him to stay off the range. Tom didn’t tell me about it at the time. This same rider happened to be where he could see us riding up the ridge, and looking the Flying-M outfit over. ‘At any rate, that’s Tom’s theory. He had finished his target practice and was riding up the trail to join us when he saw a horseman pull a rifle from a saddle scabbard and start crawling toward the shelter of a large rock. Tom thought the man was getting ready to shoot a deer. When he realized the man was shooting at us, Tom opened up with his rifle. The man jumped back to his saddle and went down the other side of the ridge at a dead gal- lop. He was out of sight before Tom could reach the crest of the ridge.” Dick nodded. accepting the ex- planation with courteous silence. He knew that it was an explanation which was, on the face of it, absurd. Either someone had spotted him as one of the hated “G’" men and had tried to kill him, or Tom Wharton himself had done the shooting, in which latter event, Dick felt certain the bullets had been intended for him and that the killing of Virginia Daine’s horse had been purely an accident. If, however, the shooting had been by the Waxon Gang, the hidden marksman might have supposed Virginia Daine had some affiliation with the government man because the two had been seen so much together. She was apparently confused by his manner of receiving her explanation of Drawing by William von Riegen “Guess what, fellows! I saw a horse today” the shooting. She leaned toward him, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. “Please,” she said, “keep away from that Flying-M. I heard that, for some reason, the men didn’t like you. They're a peculiar lot, Border riff- raff, and —" She was interrupted by a series of regular, rhythmic jolts as the car slowed to a stop. Dick looked at her withagrin, and said, “Well, it's a good thing I've got spares on this heap.” He swung the car to the side of the road and looked at the flat tire. “I'm sorry, Miss Daine,” he said. “I’ll have to get at the toolsunder t hat She touched his extended hand as she stepped lightly to the running- board. A car swept past them with a roar. Dust and fumes from the exhaust enveloped them. Dick made little spitting sounds with his lips as he sought to keep the dust from getting into his mouth. “Listen,” he said, “this is no place for you — not in those clothes. There are going to be plenty of cars using this road todayv. If you stand here, you'll be covered with dust. Suppose you sit over there in the shade of that smoke tree and let me change the tire. I won't be but a few minutes.” She wiped the dust from her face with a wisp of handkerchief, then looked in dismay at the dark smudges on the linen. *Good heavens!” she said. “‘Quartz- burg is becoming a center of things. It used to be that a dozen cars a day wouldn’t come over this road, and now look at them. I think I'll take you up on that, if I can’t help with the tire.” “'Of course you can’t help. Sit in the shade and be comfortable.” He pulled tools from under the front seat, removed his coat, and inserted a jack under the rear axle while she, moving over to the shade of the smoke tree, selected a comfortable seat, be- coming virtually invisible to anyone traveling the road. In the desert where the air is very dry and very clear, there is little or no diffusion of light in the shadows. The spots which catch the sunlight reflect it with such dazzling intensity it causes the eyes to ache, while the shadows seem, in comparison, almost pitch black. It is this trick of light which enables desert animals to make themselves invisible by sitting mo- tionless in the shadows. Dick started unscrewing the lugs in the wheel of the car. The tools were hot to his touch. The sun beat down with steady intensity. Perspiration, oozing from Dick’s skin, trapped and held the powdery dust which per- meated the atmosphere above the road and for some feet on either side. Dick heard the sound of horses’ hoofs, and looked up. Three men were riding, stirrup to stirrup. Their Stet- sons had been soiled with much usage. The faces of two of the men were tanned to the color of deep mahogany. That of the third was suspiciously pale, the pallor of skin which is starved for sunlight. Dick recognized one of the riders as the man who had ridden into Phoenix with him. All three, apparently, were hilariously drunk. “Whoopeeeee!"”" yelled one of the men. “Look at the gold rusher with a flat tire!” Dick stared, holding in his hand the wrench which fitted the lugs on the wheel. He saw one of the men lean to one side and whisper something to the pasty-faced individual. The pasty- faced individual promptly untied the braided rawhide lasso which hung in a coil on the right of his saddle. “Whoopeeeee!”” he shouted. “Let’s lasso the hunk of tin and drag it into town behind us!”’ He clapped spurs to his horse, and the startled animal jumped to the side of the road, then swerved as the dough-faced cowpuncher swung his riata into a wide loop. Dick, watching these men, sensed that there was some sinister purpose back of this drunken hilarity. He stood very straight and very still. For the moment there were no vehicles in sight. The long dusty road stretched out across the cactus covered hills. (To Be Continued Next Week) !