The Pulaskian., 1916-04-14

A n they would have taken it without leave You'll have to pass the responsibility on to someone higher up.''
 The militant one accepted the chal- lenge promptly.
 Tt lies ultimately at the door of those whose insatiate greed has built this new Gomorrah in the shadow of your dam" He wheeled suddenly and flung long arm toward the half-dn- ished structure filling the gap between the western shoulders of Chigringo and Jacks mountain. There stands the future from mankind, MT. Brouil- lard. Because a little section of hu- manity here behind that great wall knows the end of it's hopes, and the manner and time of that end, it be- comes demon-ridden, irreclaimable!
 At another time the engineer might have felt the force of the tersely elo- quent summing up of the accusation against the Mirapolitan attitude. But now he was looking anxiously for Amy Massingale or her escort, or both of them
 "Surely Smith wouldn't let her stay down here a minute longer than 1t took to get her away" he said impa- tiently as pair of drunken Cornish men reeled out of Haleys place and usurped the sidewalk Where was it you saw them, Castner?"
 "They were in front of tPegleg John's,' in the next block. Miss Mas singale was waiting for Smith. who was just coming out of Pegleg's den shaking his head. put two and two together and guessed they were look ing for Stephen"
 If they went there Miss Amy had her reasons. Let's try it." said Brouil- lard, and he was halfway across the street when Castner overlook him.
 There was dance hall next door to Pegleg Johns barrel house and gam bling rooms, and, though the daylight was still strong enough to make the electrics garish1y unnecessary, the orgy was in full swing, the raucous changing of a piano and the shuttle and stamp of many feet drowning the monotonous cries of the sidewalk barker" who was inviting all and sundry to enter and join the dancers. Castner would have stopped to ques- tion the "barker"-was, in fact, trying to make himself heard-when the sharp crash of pistol shot dominated the clamor of the piano and the stamp ing feet. Brouillard made a quick dash for the open door of the neighboring barrel house, and Castner was so good a second that they burst in as one man.
 The dingy interior of Pegleg Johns, which was merely barrel-lined vesti- bule leading to the gambling rooms beyond, staged tragedy. A handsome young giant, out of whose face sudden agony had driven the breeding pas sion of intoxication, lay, loose-fung, on the sawdust-covered floor, with Amy Massingale kneeling in stricken, fearless misery beside him. Almost within arms reach Van Bruce Cort- wright, the slayer, was wrestling stub bornly with Fig Smith and the fat armed barkeeper, who were trying to disarm him, his heavy face mask of irresponsible rage and his lips bub- bling imprecations.
 Turn me loose," he gritted. "Ill fix him so he won't give the governors snap away! He'll pipe the story of the Coronida grant of to the papers? not if I kill him till he's too dead to bury, guess"
 Castner ignored the wrestling three and dropped quickly on his knees be- side Stephen Massingale, bracing the misery-stricken girl with the needed word of hope and directing her in low tones how to help him search for the wound
 But Brouillard hurled himself with an oath upon young Cartwright, and it was he, and neither the cattleman nor the fat-armed barkeeper, who wrenched the weapon out of Cortwrights grasp and with it menaced the babbling mur- derer into silence
 @ CHAPTER xv ge Quicksands