The Tomahawk., 1919-11-13
The Cinnamon
Creek Trick
(Copyright.)
By N. Il. cRowELL


that ever faced old Bill Williams, and
did not finch. On the occasion when
he floated into the stuffy little Rock
Gulch station. and draped his spir-
ituelle form across one end Of Bilrs
desk, that gentleman removed his WIS.,
ual hardware and snorted in his wrath.
"And who in Trophet may you be?"
howled old Bill, his whiskers twitching
like an angry cats.
Biggs smiled a cherubic smile and
picked up one Of Bills letters with a
casual air Of interest.
"You don't know me, grandpa?" he
remarked quizzically, as II In doubt.
"Pht! Pht! You-darn you-who
say, are you Biggs7' exploded the
wrathy Bill.
''Biggs and me are the same gent,
SIR" responded the smiling visitor.
Williams surveyed the elongated fig
ure with contempt rampant on his fea-
lures.
swell, you are looloo, amt you?
You don't look able to sling hash-let
alone lightning. Know what you're
up against, don't your"
mo, and what's more. I don't give
a dang"
"Well, my ducky-my little insult
to civilized society-you are billed to
handle that Cinnamon Creek trick, and
If you're not scalped by them blood
drinkin' dagoes inside Of a week you
can draw your pay. You hear?"
II ain't at all hard Of hearing, pa !"
said Biggs.
Williams grew red, then purple and
looked about to explode. At last he
dashed fercely from the room and
slammed the door with a bang.
For a month Biggs had kept strict
tab on the golngs and comings Of six
sand trains and six hundred Italians.
His Office, a dlsmantled box car, was
by no means prepossessing, but small
defects were lost on Biggs.
Back of him stretched the huge pit,
down into whose shifting depths loco
motives jerked long strings Of flats.
which, passing beneath the magic OF
a row of furious steam shovels,
emerged freighted with sand. Two
hundred yards to the west was the
Cinnamon trestle and beyond that the
track melted away upward toward
Peak City. a dozen miles as the crow
flies, up the shoulder of the divide.
Biggs regarded the swarthy sons Of
the South with distrust, but he was
too wise to tell them Of the fact.
One cheerful incident had broken
his monotony mercifully. That was
when lengthy and fervent repri-
mand, direct from real rOll-top desk,
and covering the Williams incident, ar
rived. Biggs sighed, folded the sheet
neatly, and stored it away In a secret
pocket aft. Then he picked up tho
"Sleuth Library" opened to the chapter
headed 1.-THE Plot Thickens" and got
down to business.
1t was now the third day that he
had abstracted the reprimand and
carefully perused its contents. Biggs
was enjoying 1t to the full. He sat in
the car, heels cooked up, holding the
missive at arms length before his eyes.
Then he started up, listening. He
heard sound like the vigorous putting
of a locomotive, but yet unlike 1t.
Dropping down from the car, Biggs
set off toward the trestle and presently
came In sight Of an engine, three cars,
and q steam driver calmly settling
down to work on big pile rs though
dropped from fairyland.
Biggs recalled wiring down concern.
ing the condition of that east end, but
had never expected more than a visit
from red-shirted Irishman with
sledge and wedges. Here was pile
driver In full blast.
Biggs strolled back to his car. sat
down and resumed reading the thriller.
He had made stirring progress and was
within a lap or two Of the bloody.
handed villain when a piercing yell
arose from the direction Of the trestlc.
Biggs dropped the book and leaped
to the car door.
As he rushed around the curve that
hid the trcstle from view he saw
strange sight.
Running, crawling, scrambling
across the trestle were the Italians,
each armed with pick or shovel and
making desperate efforts to close the
distance that intervened between them
and q group Of seven men tn. blue
jumpers who fed for dear life up the
sinuous grade toward Peak City.
Wholly unable to grasp the meaning
of it all Biggs' instinct turned him
about and he sped for his instrument.
He flung himself inside the car and
reached for the key. But someone
was calling him. He stabbed at the
lever and answered.
'Runaway-sixteen loaded Hats
clear awayw -
That came from Peak City. Biggs
Jumped up and glanced at his watch
by habit. The next he knew he was
racing up the track toward the desert
ed driver train.
"Foolsl Cowards! Knavesw he