Cameron County press. [volume] (Emporium, Cameron County, Pa.) 1866-1922, 1904-05-19
GAMBLING
WITH FATE
By WILLIAM WALLACE COOK
Author Of "The Gold Cleaners: Story Of
the Cyanide Tanks" "Wiiby's Dam
"His Friend the Enemy, Rogers
Of Butte" Etc, Etc.
Copyright, 1908, by william Wallace Cook
CHAPTER VII.-CoNT1NUED.

Darrell groped his way forward and
ran against table. After pause he
took a match from his pocket and
struck it against the tabletop
In the dim light he saw the old
traveling-bag open before him. Clean
linen met his startled gaze, a razor and
shaving materials, a sole leather case
containing toilet articles and a small
round mirror.
A bit of candle, planted in it's own
drippings, stood in the center of the
used, lay near it. Darrell applied the
Pickering match to the candle-wick
and then, from sheer weariness, fell
on an old stool at the table side.
For a space he rested, his eyes TAX
Ing in the objects spread out before
them and growing keen for the slight
est detail. One-half of the opened
traveling-bag lay over some papers.
Pushing the bag aside he saw small
heap of letters and a red morocco
book, well worn and marked in tar
nished gilt: "Junius McCloud"
His gaze roved elsewhere and in an
instant he was brought up standing,
limbs rigid and eyes staring. Near the
papers, and lying so that it had been
hidden by the opened travelling bag,
was revolver whose ebony stock was
carved with deaths head.
Murgatroyd's Sudden strength
swept through barrels body and he
Dlucked the candle from the tabletop
liryl,
above his head.
At the other end of the room was a
bunk built against the wall. Beside the
bunk, across another STOOL were the
corduroys, neatly folded.
A form lay in the bunk-a still form
whose wide, unmoving eyes seemed
fixed upon the intruder. Darrell heaved
a deep breath. The form was not that
of Murgatroyd but of the easterner.
How came Murgatroyd's revolver
there? There were a dozen things
Darrell wanted to do, all at once, but
he set his hand to the thing nearest
him.
Picking up the revolver he examined
1T. That it was the same weapon he had
held in his hands a few hours before
five cartridges, their lead tips marked
with an M" convinced him beyond all
peradventure.
The weapon was As and the empty
shell of the sixth cartridge lay under
the hammer. Darrels breath came
hard and quick as he laid the revolver
back on the table.
He knew it, Murgatroyd had COM
mitted the murder for the purpose of
involving him and fate, working cir
cautiously, had developed Murgatroyds S
guilt through the agency of Junius Nc
Cloud, otherwise the man in corduroys.
Life is game of chance, Darrell
reasoned, and every man plays it
1t is perforce an honorable game" for
Fate will tolerate none of your short
card gentry.
The backs of the cards may not be
read and various tricks and makeshifts
are tabooed. Fate loves a daring and
honest player; one for example who
will discard aces in the hope of help
ing" inferior cards.
But the play of Fate is peculiar, as
the establishing of Murgatroyd's guilt
through the instrumentality of Nc
Cloud will witness. One thing alone
remained to make barrels assurance
doubly sure
The bullet that killed Sturgis was
an the possession of the doctor at
Sandy Bar. Would that bullet show
the mark which Darrell had put upon
every load in the weapon belonging to
.Murgatroyd?
Darrell picked up the candle and
stepped to the bunk. Other matters,
till now, had kept him from thinking
much of the strange silence of Junius
McCloud.
deathly pallor lurked in McCloud's
eyes. Darrell laid hand on the heart
but detected not the slightest pulsation.
The fugitive looked pensively down
on the silent form. Death had sealed
the lips which could have explained
the presence Of that revolver.