Perth Amboy evening news., 1922-02-01
BEGIN HERE TO-DAY

BOB HART, are in pursuit of
AID MILLER, a gambler. and his
confederate, George Doble. Dave
believes that Miller and Doble
have stolen his pet pony, Chiquito.
Arriving at Malapi, they meet
JOYCE CRAWFORD, daughter of
Emerson Crawford, the owner of
the ID Bar Lazy Il ranch and
Dawes employer. Joyce fears
that her father has met with foul
play from his enemy.
BRADLEY. STEELMAN, a rival
ranchman. Dave and Bob trace
Miller and Doble to a house
where they suspect Crawford is
ond story window.
GO ON WITH THE STORY
He was at the head of a stairway
which ran down to the first floor and
lost itself in the darkness of the
hall. He was sure that he heard
low voices behind a closed door.
Never before had Dave noticed
that stairs creaked and groaned so
loudly beneath the pressure of a
soft fJotstep. He did not hide the
truth from himself. If Steelman or
his men found him here looking for
Crawford he would never leave the
house alive. His foot left the last
tread and found the uncarpeted
floor. AS he moved forward his
stomach muscles frightened. At any
moment some one might come out
of the room and walk into him.
He put his eye to the keyhole. Ad
Miller was sitting a-straddle a chair,
his elbows on the back. Another
man, one not visible to the cow
puncher, was announcing a decision
and giving an order.
"Hook up the horses, Shorty.
He's got his neck bowed and he
won't sign. All right. I'll get the
durn fool up in the hills and show
him whether he will or won't"
The range-rider grumbled an in
distinct answer. Dave did not make
out the words, and his interest in
the conversation abruptly ceased.
For from upstairs there came the
sudden sounds of ~trampling feet, of
bodies thrashing to and fro in con-
nict. A revolver shot parked its
sinister menace
Dave rose to go. At the same
time the door in front of him was
ierked open. He pushed his forty
five into Miller's fat ribs.
Stick up yore hands-stick 'em
up!"h
The boy was backing along the
passage as he spoke. He reached a
newell post in that second while
Miller was being flung aside by an
eruption Of men from the room.
Like a frightened rabbit Dave leap
cd for the stairs. taking them three
at a time. Halfway up he collided
with a man flying down. They came
together with the heavy impact of
sast-moving bodies.
I. Sanders rose like a rubber ball.
The other man lay still. Dawes
head had struck him In the solar
plexus and knocked the breath out
pf him. The young cowpuncher
found himself the active center of
u cyclone. His own revolver was
gone. He grappled with a man,
ceizing him by the wrist to prevent
the use of a long-barreled Colt. The
trigger fell, a bullet flying through
the ceiling.
Dave chung close to the man he
had seized. using him as a shield
against the others. The pack sway
ed down the hall into the wedge of
light thrown by the lamp in the
room.
A jagged pain shot through his
head. He stumbled and went down.
Heavy boots kicked at him. 1t
seemed to him that bolts of light
ning were Zigzagging through him.
The pain ceased and he fioated
away into a sea of space.
CHAPTER VII
Bob Hart waited till his friend
had disappeared into the house be-
fore he moved.
He, too, examined his gun before
he followed Dave through the DOR
mer window and passed into the
frowsy bedchamber. None of the
details of it escaped his cool, keen
gaze, least of all the sawed-off shot
gun in the corner.
THAT scatter gun might come
handy. Reckon I'll move it SOS I'll
know just where it's at when I need
it." he said to himself, and carried
The gun to the bed, where he cover
ed it with a quilt.
He vas about to open the door
when someone spoke. He recognized
Ehe voice. 1t belonged to the man
who wrote his pay checks. and it
came from an adjoining room.
Always knew you was crooked
as a dogs hind laig, Doble. Some
lay I'll certainly hang ore hide up
10 dry for yore ~treachery."
NO use to get on the peck, En-.
Maybe you'll need a friend before
you're shet of Brad"
.aLH - ~ ~ oOAiS ~ wi |
you what a yellow coyote you are"
explained the cattleman. \
Bob tried the door,. The knob
turned in his hand and the door
slowly opened inward.
The rattle of the latch brought
George Doble's sly. shifty eye round.
The crook jumped to his feet, tug
cling at his gun. Before he could
fire the range-rider had closed with
him.
The puncher caught his right
arm. The detected bullet pinged
Through a looking glass on a dress
err near the foot of the bed.
One hundred and sixty pounds of
steel-muscled cowpuncher landed on
his midriff and the six-shooter went
gathering away to a far corner of
he room.
Bob dived for the revolver, Doble