Newark leader. ([Newark, Ohio]) 1917-1946, 1924-11-21
Judith of Blue Lake Ranch
B Copyright b. Caresc scHmerss Sons

! Il was mau. wUuiu sVUu LIIIs
If got Qulnnion tonight-and he got
me. Two of q kind" he told himself
Sneeringly.
AS he made his way down the III
lighted street, his hat drawn over his
eyes now, Bud Lee for a moment lost
sight Of the rows of rude shanties, the
browsing, saddle-ponies, the street
lamps, and saw only the vision Of
girl. A girl clean and pure, girl
who, as he had seen her last, was a
fairylike creature born Of music and
soft laughter and starlight, a maid in
describably sweet. In the harshness
Of the mood which gripped him, she
seemed to him superlatively adorable;
! the sOftness of her eyes at the mo-
ment before he had kissed her haunt
| ed him. AS he strode on seeking
| QuinniOn, who had spoken evil Of her,
he carried her with him in his heart
The horrible thing was that her
name had already been banded about
from a ruff1an's lips. Lee WINGED at
that even as he had WINGED at the re-
membrance of having been brutally
rough with her himself. But what was
past was past; Quinnion had talked
and must talk no more.
He'll start something the minute
he sees you," cautioned Carson, his
own revolver loose in the belt under
his coat his hard fingers like talons
gripped about the butt. Keep your
eye peeled, Bud. Better cool off a
speck before you tie into him. You're
too mad, tell you, for straight, quick
shooting"
Lee made no answer. Side by side
the two men went on. They had left
the sidewalk and walked down the
middle Of the rusty, ut-gouged street.
Every man they met, every figure
standing in the shadows, received
their quick, measuring looks.
Most likely" suggested the cattle
foreman, "by now he's got drunk an
gone to sleep 1t off,"
But Lee knew better than that.
Quinnion wasn't the sort that got
drunk. He'd drink until the alcohol
stirred up all Of the evil in his ugly
heart; then he'd stop, always sure of
his eye and his hand. 1t was far more
likely that with a crowd of his own
sort he was gambling in the card room
of the Last Chance saloon, the Jail
bird saloon as white men called it.
For there was an ill-famed hang-out
at the far end Of the struggling town,
just at the edge Of the Italian settle
ment, that Of late had come to be fire.
quented by such as Quinnion; men
who were none too well loved by
the greater part Of the community,
men who, like Quinnion, had
served time In Jail or penitentiary
Black Steve, who was both proprietor
and bartender, and who looked like a
low-class italian, though he spoke the
vernacular Of the country. was the
god Of the "dago" quarter, the friend
Of those who had gotten entangled with
the law. Only last year he had killed
his man In his own saloon, then gone
clear, through the combined perjury I
Of his crowd.
The street grew steadily glOomier,
filed with shadows. In front Of the
Jailbird the only light came from
within and made scant war on the I
lurking darkness without. Lees ears
were greeted with the crazy whine of
an old accordion, and with mems
voices lifted in laughter He showed
the swing door open with his shoul-
der, Carson pushed the other half
back, and the two stood on the
threshold, their eyes swiftly seeking
Quinnion.
AS though their presence had been
command for silence, sudden hush
fell over the Jailbird The accordion
man drew out last gasping note and
turned black round eyes upon them.
Black Steve, oily and perspiring be-
hind his bar, caressed heavy black
mustache and looked at them out of
cold, expressionless eyes.
The first glance had shown Lee that
Quinnion was not there. At least not
In the main room. But there were
the card rooms at the rear. He gave
no sign Of having felt the hostility Of
the many eyes turned upon him, but
went quickly down through the room,
turning neither to right nor left.
"Hor on there" came the big boom
ing voice Of Steve. what you fellers
want, huhY'
Lee gave him no answer but strode
on. Carson, at Lees heels like
grim old dog, showed his teeth lit
tie. Steve, striking the bar with a
heavy hand, shouted in menacing
tones:
"Hop on, / sayl Nobody goin' to
break in on play that's running In
my card rooms. If you fsllers want
anything, you ask me-"
go ahead, Bud" said Carson
loosely. tits only the OIL black calf
same az usual"
But Lee needed no urging He had
heard voices beyond the closed door
In front of him, among them a certain
high-pitched snarling, indescribably
evil voice which he knew. He put his
hand on the knob and found that the