Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1918-01-19
The
Yukon Trail
(Continuedl
By william Macleod Raine

Shivers ran down the spine ot
Milton and up the back of his heac
to the roots of his hair. Somebody
was in the bank-at two O'Clock II
the morning-with tools for burg
larry. He was a scholarly old fellow
brought up in New England and cast
out to the uttermost frontier by the
malign tragedy of poverty. Adven'
ture offered no appeal to him.
But though his knees trembled
beneath him and the sickness of fear
was gripping his heart, Robert Mil
ton had in him the dynamic spark
that makes a man. He tiptoed to
his desk and with shaking fingers
Eripped the revolver that lay in a
drawer.
The cashier braced himself for
the plunge, then slowly trod across
the room to the inner locked door,
The palsied fingers of his left hand
could scarce turn the key.
It seemed to him that the night
was alive with the noise he made
in turning the lock and opening the
door. The hinges grated and the
floor squeaked beneath the fall of
his foot as he stood at the thres-
hold.
Two men were in front of the wire
grating which protected the big safe
that filled the alcove to the right.
One held a file and the other a
candle. Their blank, masked faces
were turned toward Milton, and each
of them covered him with a
weapon.
"w-what are YOU doing here ?"
quavered the cashier.
Drop that gun" came the low,
sharp command from one of them.
Some old ancestral instinct in the
bank cashier rose out of his panic
to destroy him. He wanted to lie
down quietly in a faint. But his
mind asserted its mastery over the
weakling body. In spite of his ter
ror, of his flaccid will, he had to
keep the faith. He was guardian
of the bank funds. At all costs he
must protect them.
His forearm came up wit ha jerk.
Two shots rang out almost together.
The cashier sagged back against the
wall and slowly slid to the floor.
The guests of Mrs. Selfridge
danced well into the small hours.
The California champagne stimu-
lated gayety that was balm to her
soul. She wanted her dinner-dance
to be smart, to have atmosphere
she had found in the New York
cabarets. If everybody talked at
once, she felt they were having a
good time. If nobody listened to
anybody else, 1t proved that the
affair was a screaming success.
Mrs. Wally was satisfied as she
bade her guests good-by and saw
them pass, into the heavy snow
that was again falling. They all as
sured her that there had not been
One old-timer a trifie lit up by
reason of two much hospitality,
phrased his enjoyment a little awK-
wardly.
It's been great, Mrs. Selfridge.
Nothing like it since the days of the
open dance hall"
Mrs. Mallory hastily suppressed an
internal smile ard stepped into the
breach. How do you do it?" she
asked her hostess enviously.
'My dear, if you say it was a sue
cess"
What else could one say?"
Genevieve Mallory always pre-
ferred to tell the truth when it would
do. Just as well. Now it did better,
since it contributed to her own ironic
sense of amusement. Macdonald had
once told her that Mrs. SelfrIdge
made him think of the saying Mon
key sees, monkey does" The effer-
vescent little woman had never had
an original idea in her life.
Most of those who had been at
the dance slept late. They were OBJ
livious of the fact that the storm
had quickened sgain into a howiing
gale. Nor did they know the two
bits CT news that were passing up
and down the main street and Icing
telephoned from house to house.
Ono of the items was that the stage
for Katma had failed to reach the
rcadh"use at Smiths Crossing. The
second bit OF rews was local. For
the first time since Robert Milton
had been cashier the bank had failed
to open on the dot.
Macdonald was no sluggard. II
WaS his habir not to let the pleasure
OF the night Before interfere with
the business of the morning after.
But in the darkness he oversight and
let the town waken before him. He
was reused by the sound of knock
ing on his door.
Who is il ?" he asked.
It's me-Jores-Gopher Jones.
say, Mac, the bank amt open and
we can't rouse Milton. Thought I'd