Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1924-11-13
CHAPTER XI-Continued

The horrible thing was that her
name had already been banded about
from a ruffian'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
ne 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
speck before you tie into him. You're
TOO mad, l 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, rut-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 it 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 CT
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 all
bird saloon as white" men called 1t.
For there was an ill-faned 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
low-class italian, though he spoke the
yernacular- 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
of his crowd.
The street grew steadily gloomier
filled with shadows. In front of the
Jailbird the only light came from
within and made scant war on the
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 Shout
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
q 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
dluinnion 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.
'HoP on there came the big boom
ing voice Of Steve. "What you fellers
want, huh?'
Lee gave him no answer but strobe
on. Carson, at Lees heels like a
grim old dog, showed his teeth a lit
tie. Steve, striking the bar with a
heavy hand, shouted in menacing
tones:
"Hol on, say Nobody goin' to
break in on play that's running in
my card rooms. If you fellers want
anything, you ask me-"
"Go ahead, Bud" said Carson
loosely. ITS only the OF black calf
bawling same as 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
door was locked. With no waste of
time, he drew back a step, lifted his
foot and drove his heel smashing into
the lock. Then, throwing himself for
ward, driving his shoulder into the
door, he burst it off its hinges.
At last he had found Quinnion.
Here were half dozen men, not
playing cards, but interrupted in a
quiet talk. Standing on the far side
of the table was man who was, as
evil a thing to see as was his voice
to hear, his face twisted, drawn to
the left side, the left eye mere slit
of malevolence, the uneven teeth
showing in an eternal, mirthless grin,
n man whose hands, when his arms
were lax as now, hung almost to his
knees, man twisted morally, men
tally, and physically.
Bud Lee had eyes only for this man.
But suddenly Carson had seen anoth-
er man, seeking to screen himself be-
hind the great, nisshapen bulk of
Quinnion, and with new eagerness was
crying:
IT'S Shorty, Bud He's mine /"
But Shorty was no mans yet At
ais back WAS a window; it was closed
and the shade was drawn, but to
Shorty 1t spelled safety. Head first
he went through it, tearing the green