The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1916-07-07


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.
1T 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 a long arm toward the half-fin-
ished structure filling the gap between
the western shoulders Of Chigringo
and Jacks mountain. There stands
the proof of Gods wisdom in hiding
the future from mankind, Mr.. Brouil-
lard. Because a little section of hui.
manity here behind that great wall
knows the end of its hopes, and the
manner and time of that end. 1t 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 Metropolitan 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 a pair of drunken Cornish
men reeled out of Haley's place and
usurped the sidewalk. where was 1t
you saw them, Castner?"
They were in front Of 'Pegleg
Johns in the next block. Miss Mas
singale was waiting for Smith, who
was just coming out Of Peglegs den
shaking his head. l 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 Cashier 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 garishly unnecessary, the
orgy was in full swing, the raucous
changing Of piano and the shuttle
and stamp of many feet drowning the
monotonous cries of the sidewalk
Darker" who was inviting all and
sundry to enter and join the dancers.
Cashier would have stopped to ques-
ton the "barker"-was, in fact, trying
to make himself heard-wheD the
sharp crash of pistol shot dominated
the clamor of the piano and the stamp
ing feet. Brouillard made quick dash
for the open door of the neighboring
barrel house, and Cashier 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 a tragedy. A handsome
young giant, out Of whose face sudden
agony had driven the brooding pas
sion of intoxication, lay, loose-flung,
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 Tig 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. "I1l fix
him so he won't give the governors
snap away! He'll pipe the story Of
the Coronida grant off to the papers
not If 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
misrepresentation 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 Cortwright's grasp
and with 1t menaced the babbling MUIR
derer into silence