The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1924-12-12

/ was uHDullOneu, HIS leIl mana was III
his pocket, his arm holding back his
cont little on that side. The right
hand was lax at his side, like Quin-
MONS.
He had seen the other mens though
/ his eyes had seemed to see only one
man. One of them he knew; the 9TH
ers he had seen. They were the sort
to be found in Quinnion's company.
They were the nucleus of what was
spoken of as Quinnion's crowd.
"Quinnion," said Lee quietly. 'you
are id dirty-mouthed liar"
The words came like little slaps in
the face. OF the four men still in the
room with Quinnion three of them
moved swiftly 70 one side, their eyes
on their leaders face, which showed
nothing of what might lie in his mind.
81 have taken the trouble" went on
Lee coolly, when Quinnion, leering
back at him. made no reply, ito ride
forty miles tonight for little talk
with you. You are crook and a
card-cheat. l told you that once be-
fore. You have been telling men that
am a coward and q four-fiusher. For
that | am going to run you out of
town tonight. Or kill YOU"
Then Quinnion laughed at him.
".Just for that?' he jeered. cor
! because I've been tellin' q true story
| about you an"
He didn't get her name out. Per-
| haps he hadn't expected to. His eyes
had been watchful Now, as he threw
himself to one Side, he whipped out
his gun, dropping to one knee, his
body partly concealed by the table.
At the same second Bud Lees right
hand, no longer lax, sped to the re-
volVer gripped under the coat at his
left armpit.
1t was a situation by no means new
to the four walls of the Jailbird nor
| to the men concerned. 1t was a two
man fight. with as yet no call for the
four friends of Quinnion to interfere
1t would take the spit and snarl of
| a revolver, the flash of flame, the
| acrid smell of burning-powder to
switch their sympathetic watching
into actual participation. No new
situation certainly for Chris Quinnion
who took quick stock of the table with
its heavy top and screened his body
with it. no new situation for Steve, the
big bartender who was at the shat
tered door almost as Bud Lee sent it
| rocking drunkenly.
Since a fight like this in small
room may end in three seconds and
yet remain a fight for men to talk of
at street corners for many a day there
after, 1t is surely struggle battling
adequate description. For while you
speak of 1t, it is done; while a clock
ticks, two guns may carry hot lead
and cut in two two threads of life.
Quinnion was down and shooting,
with but ten steps or less between
him and the man whom he sought to
kill; Bud Lee was standing, tall and
straight, back to wall, his first bull
let ripping into the boards of the
table, sending flying splinter to stick
in Quinnion's face, close to a squint-
Ing, CyCy dANi as tiAC t0O guns
spoke like one, third from the open
barroom shattered the lamp swinging
from the ceiling between Lee and
Quinnion. Steve, the bartender, had
taken a hand.
The card room was plunged in dark
ness so thick that Lees frowning eyes
could no longer make out Quinnion's
head above the table, so black that to
Quinnion's eyes the tall form of Lee
against the wall was lost in shadow.
AS Steve fired his shot into the
lamp, Bud Lee understood just what
would be Stoves next play; the bar
tender had given his friends brief res
pite from the deadly fire of the Blue
Lake man, and now. would turn his
second shot through the flimsy wall
itself on the man standing there. Lee