The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1930-10-10
CHAPTER I-Continued


p
"Are you the floormaster, Mr.. San
derson?" Though he knew it was not
safe, O'Hara could not keep touch
of jauntiness out Of his retort.
The bad mans shallow eyes, a
washed-out blue in color, narrowed to
points Of savage cruelty. He had
found a safe object upon which to ex-
pend his venom.
'Sa=ay, pilgrim. don't get funny with
me. 1t amt supposed to be safe.
aim to fix yore clock right now. After
I've worked you over for spell you
hive off for parts unknown an don't
never let me see you again."
Cor you'll shoot straighter than you
did this afternoon" suggested O'Hara.
"You don't have to get on the prod
with me, fellow. I'm startin' to clean
up on you right now"
A prize fighter had once given Car
rett O'Hara six rules for rough-and-
tumble fighting. He forgot the last
five but remembered the first It was
to carry the attack rather than to
wait for it. Now he reached for his
foes big outcropping ears, gripped
them tightly, and jerked the unkempt
head toward him. With all the force
of his well-muscled arms O'Hara thrust
back the head Of the helpless giant,
then leaped on him, twining his legs
back of Sanderson's stocky ones. His
feet moved up and down, swiftly and
Savagely.
The bully let out yell of pain.
''Take him off! Take him off He's
KILN me-"
The dancers had pressed back from
the fighting area. They stared at the
entwined men, amazed at Sanderson's
cry for help. For the strangers hands
still chung to the tapping ears. 1t was
certain that he had not knitted the big
man. Nor had he shot him. Why,
then, was Sanderson believing like a
frightened calf?
O'Hara felt hand clutch his shirt
and coat collar just back Of the neck
He was snatched violently away from
Sanderson and flung up against the
wall of the room. A hard, low voice
asked a question, not of him but of
his antagonist.
"What you blattin' about, Shep?
This little fellows only mouthful for
you. Get yore hand away from
that gum"
A man had come into the room. He
wore blue flannel shirt, a broad
brimmed soft gray hat, an open vest,
and no coat. His trousers were stuffed
into the tops of high-heeled cowboys
boots. To the casual glance he was
not large man, certainly not COM
pared with the bulky Sanderson. But
he was powerfully built from the mus
cular slope of the neck down, and he
carried himself as one having au-
thority. The light blue eyes were cool
and flinty.
Reluctantly, Sanderson's hand fell
away from the butt Of the "A which
hung at his side. He glanced at the
newcomer. The urge struggled in him
to defy the man, to wipe out with one
swift lift Of the arm and crook Of the
forefinger the tenderfoot who had dis
comfited him. But he was listening to
his masters voice. He knew Dave
Ingram too well to set himself against
him.
The big bully looked down at the
thighs Of his legs. From them the
trousers had been ripped and blood
was dripping into the boots.
His spurs roweled me-" Sanderson
sputtered.
"Quite some." agreed the other drily.
He turned to O'Hara, studying him for
a moment. That he was a tenderfoot
was palpable. yet he was wearing
Mexican wheel spurs with long cruel
rowels,. note in his costuming that
seemed wholly incongruous.
O'Hara interpreted the question in
the glance. II bought them of a cow
boy in Aurora who was hard up. He
said they would be useful"
"He was right" agreed Ingram
smiling. "Good for man or beast"
''I'n get this pilgrim right one o
these days" Sanderson cut in vim
dictively.
Every likely, but not now" his mas
ter said.
To Ingram a Mexican poured out a
swift protest of flowing vowels. Other
natives Joined in, with much impul.
sive gesticulation. The cattle man
listened, nodded, made answer in rapid
and crisp Spanish. He turned to his
henchmen.
what dyou mean comm here an
breakin' up the baile?" he demanded
masterfully. "D'you want all the Mex,
deans against us, right at this time
when We've got war enough on oul
hands? What's the matter with Pete's
Paradise or the Gold Nugget? Can't
you raise enough cain in them without