The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1922-07-21

OWL argument. IL uc udu COtuc lIOIu q
city he would have dismissed the mat
ter as none of his business. But he
came from the clean Southwest where
every straight girl is under the pro-
lection o. every decent man. If she
was in danger because of her innO-
cence it was up to him TO look after
her. There was no more competent
man In Granam county than Clay
Lindsay, but he recognized that this
was a delicate affair In which he must
move warily.
On his way to the diner at noon the
range-rider passed her again. She was
alone for the moment and as she
leaned back her soft round throat
showed beating pulse. Her cheeks
were burning and her starry eyes were
looking into the future with happy
smile.
"You pore little maverick" the man
commented silently.
The two had the table opposite him.
AS the wheels raced over a culvert to
the comparative quiet of the ballasted
track beyond, the words of the man
reached Clay.
g. and We'll have all day to
see the city, Kid"
Kitty shook her head. There was
hesitation in her manner, and the man
was quick to make the most of it.
"And it won't cost you cent. girlie,"
he added.
But the long lashes of the girl lifted
and her baby-blue eyes met his with
shy reproach. 81 don't think / ought"
she breathed, color sweeping her face
in vivid flame.
'You should worry" he scoffed.
Lindsay knew the girl was weaken
ing. She was no match for this big,
dominant, two-fisted man.
The jaw of the cow puncher set.
This child was not fair game for a
man like Durand. When Clay rose to
leave the diner he knew that he meant
to sit in and take hand.
The train was creeping through the
thickly settled quarter where the poor
er people are herded when Clay
touched Durand on the shoulder.
Like to see you a moment In the
vestibule," he said in his gentle voice.
The eyes of the two men met and
the gambler knew at once that this
man and he were destined to be en-
emies.
No man had ever said that Jerry
Durand was not game. He rose prompt
ly and followed the westerner from the
car, swinging along with the light, cat
like tread acquired by many pugilists.
The floor of the vestibule had been
raised and the outer door of the car
opened. Durand found time to Won
der why.
The cowpuncher turned on him with
an abrupt question. "Can you swim 2"
The eyes Of the ward boss narrowed.
truculently.
"Nothin' to me, but good deal to
you. Pm amin to drop you in the
river when we cross"
as that so?" snarled Durand.
you're quite joker, amt you? Well.
suit me. But let's get this clear SO
Wen know where we're at. What's
ailin' you, rube?'
II don't like the color of yore hair
or the cut Of yore Clothes" drawled
Lindsay. you've got a sure-enough'
bad eye, and Pm tired of trayelin', in
yore company. Let's ger off, me or
you one"
In the siitted eyes of the Bowery
graduate there was no heat at all.
They were bleak as a heavy winter
morn. "Suits me fine. You'll not travel
with me much farther. Here's where
you beat the place."
The professional dashed out sudden
ly with his left. But Clay was not at
the receiving end of the blow. Always
quick as lightning, he had ducked and
clinched. His steel-muscled arms tight
ened about the waist Of the other. A
short-arm jolt to the cheek he disres
garded.
Before Durand had set himself to
meet the plunge he found himself fly
ing through space. The gambler caught
at the rail, missed 1t, landed on the
cinders beside the roadbed, was flung
Instantly from his feet, and rolled over
and over down an incline to a muddy
gully.
Clay, hanging to the brass railing,
leaned out and looked back. Durand
had staggered to his feet. plastered
with mud from head to knees, and was
shaking furiously fist at him. The
face Of the man was venomous with
rage.
The cowpuncher waved a debonair
hand and mounted the steps again.
The porter was standing In the vesti-
bule looking at him with amazement.
"You throwed man offn this train,
mistah," he charged.
$50 1 did," admitted Clay, and to
save his life he could not keep from
smiling.
The porter sputtered. This beat any
thing in his previous experience. But
butt amt allowed to open up the
cab. Was you-all havin' trouble?v
mo trouble a-tall. He bet me a
cigar couldn't put him off,"
Clay palmed dollar and handed It
to the porter as he passed into the
car. The eyes of that outraged official
rolled after him. The book Of rules
did not say anything about wrestling
matches In the vestibule. Besides, IL
that Durand had called him
down sharply not an hour before. He
decided to brush of his passengers and
forget what he had seen.
II what are ron going 10 dot
III n