Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1924-05-08


Candle in Front of the Massive Safe.
on the floor lay several bundles of
money and a number of loose bills.
Even in the dim light there was no
mistaking them. That powerful figure
with the swart face could be but one
man in the world-Black Bogus. The
pointed beard, the frock coat and neck
stock, the tall hat on the floor, dis
closed with equal positiveness the far
more dangerous identity Of the other
the formidable and mysterious man
who called himself Caleb Hopkins
third man Of the mountain girls warn
ing.
Although the man creeping around
the door-jamb made far less sound
than the rattle Of the money, yet Black
Bogus caught the alarm; whirled on
the instant, his hand at his hip.
Fate figures in split fractions at such
a time-and the odds were two to one,
with probably third somewhere out
side. The half haunting resemblance
that had so puzzled the woodsman
never seemed stronger than at that
dangerous instant, but it meant death
to falter. There was bright fash in
the candle-light; Black Bogus, hid
eous grimace upon his trucuIent face,
seemed to shrink together; the revOl-
yer that he had not had time to raise
fell from his fingers; he pitched for
ward upon his face; lay still.
Before he struck the floor, almost be-
fore the bullet that finished forever his
wild career had found its mark, Jack
whirled his weapon upon the other
man. His head had been deep in the
Safe-a fact that probably saved the
woodsman's life. Like a viper out of
his coil the head flew out of the safe,
and with 1.-THE ivory-handled six-gun.
But the split fraction Of the instant
had lost him the advantage. His
weapon had hardly left its holster be-
fore it was shot out of his hand
pieces of the ivory butt flew about the
room, and blood streamed from the
shattered fingers that held it.
But Hopkins was not coward. That,
at least, could not be set down against
him. Instead Of leaping for the still
open window, he sprang straight at
Jack Warhope. The woodsman could
have shot him down; instead, he
,ammed the revolver back into its
holster and met the oncoming rush.
1t was battle the like of which the
Flatwoods had never seen. No two
such men can clash and come through
unscathed. But it is doubtful if Hop
kins at his best could have matched
the tremendous strength and quickness
and skill of the big woodsman. With
his right hand shattered by the bullet,
soon became apparent that, for all
the wild fury of his onset, he was fight
ing losing battle. He realized it, and
the despair bereft him of his caution.
The woodsman realized it, too, kept his
head, frightened his guard and watched
for the opening that he knew was
bound to come.
It came sooner than he thought.
Hopkins, desperate and breathing
thick, swung at the woodsman's head.
but missed. The attempt had for the
instant exposed his stomach, and the
woodsman took advantage of it. The
blow weakened Hopkins; he tottered,
gasped, instinctively lowered his guard.
Like lightning the woodsman swung
his terrific right to the point of the
bearded jaw, and Hopkins went down
like a beef under the mallet,
But Loge Belden was still unaccount-
ed for, a circumstance the woodsman
had not forgotten, that had puzzled
him no little. Bruised and painting
himself, he dragged Hopkins back of
the safe out of range of the window
as it CHANGED, near the candle on the
floor and stood over him.
His heavy mass of black hair had
fallen across his brCw-amongst the