San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1923-10-04
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his salary. Tell him you want to show
your appreciation of his faithful SER
vices"
He rose, and walked up and down
the room, motioning Ranger to silence.
'I've got an idea, Lorry," he said at
last; but l don't want to talk about
about it, even to you. You just follow
instructions-you've got to anyhow,
Mrs. Ranger won't stand for anything
else-and place those bonds as they've
told you. Then leave the rest to me-"
But you will need Zip of some
sort?" Ranger puckered his brows.
You're not going to tackle this crowd
alone, single-handed"
"Well, not exactly" drawled Charlie.
"You used to 90 to the races consider
ably. ! remember. Then, if you don't
mind, I'd like to borrow a stop-watch
and pair of field-glasses."
CHAPTER X
Where the Lone Hill road, one of
Westchester county's main travelled
thoroughfares, dips under the railroad
tracks, it passes through an archway
of masonry between 80 and rs feet
long; and as this archway is high
enough to accommodate load of hay.
and the surrounding country is one of
level fields, the approach on either side
is through steep, walled cut.
But Charlie thought he saw way
to get around these unpromising condi-
tons. He did not 60 home that night
after leaving Rangers office. but in
stead registered at cheap East Side
hotel where he spent the evening in an
exhaustive study of an automobile
road-map of Westchester county.
About = o'clock he came down stairs
and passed out. casually remarking to
the night clerk that he was wakeful
and thought he would take a walk be-
fore he turned in.
At garage eight or ten blocks away
where he had left his motorcycle, he
got it, and chugged briskly over the
bridge as il heading for
his lodgings. On the other side,
though. he deviated from the direct
route. and twisted aimlessly through a
succession of ill-lighted, tenement
streets until he was sure he had
thrown off any one who might be try
ing to trail him. when he turned north,
and crossed back to Manhattan by way
Of the greensboro bridge at Fifty-ninth
street.
Dawn found him at little patch
of woods along the railroad track
about half a mile distant from the
archway at the Lone Hill road cross
ing, where the ashes of n burned-out
camp fire and q scattered litter OF
rags, newspapers. old tin cans and
WORKOUT shoes betokened a hobo "jun-
GLE"
Beside it ran a back road, little
more than a wagon track. crossing
the railroad here on the level, and
forking into the Lone Hill. road a
quarter of a mile beyond. From his
study of the map, he knew that this
by-way again intersected the main
road about a mile and half above,
and he remembered that it was
marked as rough and bHmpy but
passable for machines in case of
emergency.
The wise campaigner, though,
leaves nothing TO chance. In order
to make sure that it was open and
without Instructions, Charlie rode
out to the intersection with the Lone
Hill road and circled back by way of
this to his starting point.
In the archway at the railroad
crossing he dismounted to take a
look at the place designated as de-
pository for the Liberty bonds. and
from the instructions in the letter
found no difficulty in locating it. Just
about midway of the tunnel and at
the height of mans shoulder. there
was a discolored streak on the ma
sorry caused By dampness and the
mortar had crumbled from around
one of the stones. leaving it loose.
Testing it with his fingers, Charlie
found the block easy to lift out. Be-
hind it was crevice. shallow but
still large enough to hold package
of securities.
Charlie climbed back on his motor
cycle, and returned TO the "juncle."
He appeared. as he had expected. to
have it wholly to himself. This was