The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1929-07-12

strange emotions. Tenuous fingers
encircled my throat. I rode in q
splendid tomb, but a tomb. Was 1t to
be mine?
made out a huddle of buildings In
the ebony gloom ahead. I stopped
at the head of the crooked street, shut
off the engine. and got out. The
brooding quietness of the place must
have bewitched me for / neglected to
switch off my lights. This error near
ly cost ne my life.
Crack! AS the bullet whined past
a matter of six or eight inches above
my head. I dropped against the side
Of the a The shock or this abrupt
rending Of the silence held me rigid
for a moment; then I reached into
the Ear and switched off the lights.
The flash of the rifle had come from
n OF the upper side windows OF
Lundy's Place. Was it Dillon who
had fired at me?
Pistol in hand, I slid around the
back Of the car and dived into the
shadow of the first building at that
end of the street. And then into the
shadow Of the next and the next until
I had come into the shapeless shadow
Of Lundy's Place.
Noiselessly entering the place. I
stood with my back to the wall, ex-
pecting another shot. It did not come.
A tomb couldn't have been quieter. I
quietly took off my shoes and padded
over to the stair. Still n sign of
human presence, but I was not de-
ceived. My senses knew. I started
softly up the stair. Halfway to the
top a sprung board creaked beneath
my stockinged feet. It was the board
that had betrayed me to Dillon on
Sunday night. Reaching the top, I
stood with my hand on the newell
post.
I saw a light! A thin line of yell
low light, it lay along the floor of
the gallery at the bottom Of the west
end of the north wall and I knew 1t
came from under the door Of Lundy's
room-the o I had fallen into.
Pistol leveled. I entered the room. The
door swung to behind me.
The room was just as I had ex-
pected. No M was there.
A dirty coal oil lamp hung crook
edly from the ceiling and shed q
feeble glow upon a flat-topped desk,
several chairs. a cot with q broken
leg, an old-fashioned safe, the door
of which was open, and a round table
with q deck of cards and stacks of
poker chips on 1t. The north window
broken. Dust and sand furred
everything which had escaped con-
slant human contact.
The wax figures faced each other
across the table. Time and heat and
dirt had blurred their resemblance
to the famous warriors they counter
feited, but at first glance they looked
fairly human and not untypical Of
the country. I could not resist q
sheepish grin at myself for being such
an ass Sunday night.
A large brewery calendar orria-
mented by the face and form of q
v%oluptuous lady hung on the south
wall. It's year was 1896 and the July
sheet, yellow and flyblown, was up
permost. Sundry scrtbbling and in
itials defaced the mount. The calen-
dar sheets were quite large and had
evidently shown q disposition to curl
for three thumb tackS held them
down at the lower corners and cen
ter. The calendar was q curio in
more ways than one and I determined
to have 1t before I left.
Drop your gun an reach!"
copyright, 1929, VIM. Morrow Co..
Trapped in that room Of mys.
tery-does It mean death for Pee.
bles? The answer will be found
in tOmOrrOw's chapter.