Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1929-10-10
By
r. w. Alexander

out on the floor. Hold Of his arms
Jim. That's the ticket"
Lord, what viii you do?"
IT will light a little fire ON your
stomach" Slade said, and 1t will burn
until you talk or until you die, as
you choose" He tore into small frau-
ments the sheet Of paper he had taken
from the table, looked up at Marsh
where can I find some wood?"
And If l talkp" said the native, gray
Tipped;
Talk and you go free"
Lord, I will talk"
The native talked. Bland had told
him to do this thing, and had promised
him a great reward. 1t had been easy.
He lac hidden away aboard the
schooner, and when darkness came had
stolen on deck and used his knife,
He made no sound" the brown man
satd proudly. Then I steered the ship
on the reef: as I had been told to do,
Slade came to his feet. Keep him
until morning." he said, then let him
Co.. The relatives of the dead mar
WILL get MN o enough for justice"
What r you going to do?" The
question came from Marsh.
IN 6OuiS W 0IOp III on Bland
"Alone?"
Yes. You stay here and mind Fay"
Good God!" Marsh said bitterly,
Here I am practically beggared by
this man. and I can't lift q fingerl
Take me with you, Slade."
mo" Slade said firmly. II can man.
age this alone, jim" He turned to
Harding. You'll stay here until I
come back?"
Unless you want help, yes"
Il want no help" He took the re-
volver from his pocket, slipped it into
his belt. In the doorway he turned.
smiled back at them. "See you later
He was gone.
He made no secret of his coming
but went to the door and knocked.
Who's there?" The voice was
BANDS.
"Slade."
What the hell do you want?"
Il want to talk to you"
Couldn't you wait till morning."
I'D prefer to get it over right away"
G%rumbling, Bland opened the door.
This is a hell of an hour to make q
social call"
Social call be damned" said Slade.
"You know why I'm here" He showed
his gun in front of him. He declined
q seat. He preferred to stand. 1t was
better protection. In the calm de-
meanor of the man, Bland read his
purpose. He knew that in Slade there
was no fear.
Slowly, steadily, Slade recounted the
events; the disruption Bland had
caused among Marsh's employees, the
sale OF opium, the sending Of the
Cloud onto the reef, the loss of the
cargo, and there was no bluffing in
the summary-Bland must go. There
was but one alternative.
Either you leave the island he said,
or you stay-planted somewhere out
among the trees. Take your choice
Their eyes met and in SHADES Bland
read an in1exible deadliness of pur-
pose, a purpose that could not be mis-
taken.
You'll kill me?" he said slowly.
Il will"
The door opened to break the preg-
nant silence and Gibbons entered. He
had a revolver in his belt, his thumb
hooked close to the butt. Slade knew
he had been listening.
Whats all this talk about killing?"
ne said, his green eyes on Slade. I'D
like to take a hand in it,"
An instant thev stood, tensed, rigid,
masks of, then Gibbons drew.
Slade shot him twice, the two re-
ports blending together almost as one.
He fell slackly, the gun still in his
hand. Bland leaped forward, swept the
lamp to the floor.
The windows were curtained and the
room was very dark. Slade shrank back
against the wall, silent as a cat, wait
ing, waiting. No sound of movement