The Dolores star., 1921-12-30
CHAPTER Xxx
p s l. Comes Home

camp-stool and u magazine out OF
the lounge and trotted upstairs to
plant myself before the boss door. de-
termined that nobody should disturb
him until he was good and ready to
get up.
He turned out little before twelve.
looking sort of haggard and drawn, OF
course, and having some pretty bad
burns on the side of his neck and on
the backs of both hands. But he was
all there, as usual, and he laid good,
brotherly hand on my shoulder when
he saw what l was doing.
"They don't make many of them like
you, Jimmie" he said. And then ::
Have you any news?"
had. little, and gave 1t to him.
Fred May had come tip-toeing up into
my sentry corridor about ten o'clock
to tell me that Mr.. Perkins had ar
ranged with the strikers to have spe-
cial go east with the major and Mrs.
Sheila and Collingwood's body to
catch the Overland at Sedgwick; and l
told the boss this, and that the train
Aihu vttu SVIt Lpi houl VI
Also. l gave him sealed package
that a strange boy had brought up
just a little while after May went
away. We took the elevator to the
grill-room for something to eat, and
at table Mr.. Norcross opened the pack
age. 1t contained bunch of afiida-
Wits, eleven of them in all, and there
was no letter or anything to tell where
they had come from.
He handed the papers over to me,
after he had seen what they were
sort Of frowned across the table at me
and said: "Do you know what 1t
means-this surrender of those brlbe
aflidavits, Jimmie?"
i said l guessed l dfd; that Hatch
being dead. and Collingwood, too, there
wasn't nerve enough left in the Red
Tower outfit to keep up the fight; that
the surrender of the affidavts WAS
kind of a plea for let-up on our
part.
We'll begin to show them, In just
about fifteen minutes, Jimmie" was
the short comment. Reach over and
get that telephone and tell Mr.. Ripley
and Mr.. Billoughby that want them
to meet me at my office at half-past
twelve. Any news from the striker"
Nothing" l told him, while "Cen-
trail" was getting me Mr. Ripley's num-
ber. Fired May said it was going on
just the same; everything quiet and
nothing doing. except that the wreck
ing train had gone out to pick up the
scraps at Timber Mountain ~ Klr-
gan is bossing it, and the strikers
manned 1t for him."
Nothing more was said until after
had sent the two phone messages, and
then the boss broke out In a new spot.
HAS anything been heard from Mr..
Van Britt?" he asked.
"Not that l know Of"
Again he gave me that queer little
scowl across the table.
Jimmie, have you found out vet
why Mr.. Van Britt insisted on quit
ting the service?"
l guess I grinned a little, though
1 tried not to.
Mr.. Van Britt is one of the best
friends you've got" said. HE thought
you needed this strike, and he wanted
to go out among the payroll men and
sort of help it along. He couldn't do
thing like that while he was an Of
ficer Of the company and drawing his
pay like the rest of u.s."
Il might have known-he as good as
told me-" was the reply, made kind
of half-absently; and then, short and
quick: Flows the stock market? Have
you seen paper?"
had seen both papers, at break.
fast-time, but of course they had moth
ing startling in them except last
minute account of the wreck ut Tim
ber mountain "Y," grabbed off lust
before they went to press. They
couldn't have anything later from New
York than the day before. But Fred
May had tipped me off when he came
up to tell me about the Major Ken
drick special. The newspaper offices
were putting out bulletins by that
time.
told Mr.. Norcross about the bu,.
letins and was brash enough to add !.
Were headed for the receivership nil
right, l guess; our stock has tumbled
to twenty-nine, and there's a regular
dog-fight going on over it at the rail-
road post in the Exchange. Wall
Streets afire and burning up, so they
say"
The chief hadn't eaten enough to
keep cat alive, but at that he pushed
his chair back and reached for his
hat.
Come on Jimmie" he snapped,
We've got to get busy. And there
isn't going to be any receivershIp."
We reached the railroad headouar-
ters-which were as dead and quiet as
q graveyard-a little before Mr.. Rim.
ley and Billoughby got down. But
Mr.. Editor Cantrell was there, waiting
to shoot an anxious question at the
boss.