The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1933-09-01

John walked to the corner, looked
towards the mill and could see a team
standing tied before the Belknap 4
Gorbel offices.
Ii was Mats team, he saw as he
came close. and laid hand on the
cheek of one horse while he scanned
the building. The windows were
blanks, rejecting only the lights from
stores across the way.
McWethy approached.
Mac. have you seen Nat?" John
asked.
"No =. that's his team, amt it?"
"Yes. He's in town; was looking for
me-"
They stood, looking at passers. spec
ulating as to the sheriff's where
abouts.
Inside that darkened office Nat
Bradshaw, breathing painfully. heard
voices drifting into his consciousness
as though a dream. He was cold. His
feet were numb His hands felt life
less. The only warmth about him was
the burning spot in his breast and
as he tried to move. fresh spreading
warmth ran down his side.
He tried to call out but choked, and
his throat filled with fluid. He stran-
gled and reached an uncertain hand
upward. The fingers found leg of
the overturned chair and gripped
there He pulled on the hand, he
showed upward with the other elbow.
He raised his torso slowly. breath
bubbling at the effort, until his eyes
were above the level of the window
sill.
They were standing there, John
Belknap and one he could not distin-
guish; standing talking, looking up
and down the street.
He struggled against his weakness
more determinedly. One hand was
propping his body up. He let go the
chair and grasped the desk top with the
other. Fingers tipped over a heavy
ink-weD and the liquid ran down his
sleeve He fumbled for it again. so
clumsily, so painfully.
The fingers had the ink-well. He
drew the forearm up and put all the
strength he had into the throw.
The heavy chunk of glass struck the
broad window pane; with an explosive
crash it shattered and with a rasp and
a tinkle big sections of 1t came slid.
ing down, some of the fragments
jingling about the sheriff as. gasping.
he sank slowly back to the rug his
blood had stained.
On the crash. John and McWethy
turned sharply.
@'Y gosh! Somebody busted that
Window" the mill foreman exclaimed.
Instinctively. both looked across the
street to locate the source of this
minor destruction. No one was there
who would have flung an object to
smash the glass. A small boy ran
across the road. wallowing through
the drift.
"Busted!" he shrilled. "Hey! Look.
it,"
He had stopped, picked something
from the snow, and held it up just as
John reached his side.
"Inkwellv he said, and with the
object in his hand. looked up at the
window, brows drawn.
group was gathering, questioning,
exclaiming.
"That came from inside. Mac" John
said quietly. at was thrown through
the window and there was no
light in there Come along"
McWethy at his heels, John ran up
the steps. The outer door was unlocked.
but as he tried the knob to Gorbers
private office the latch resisted him.
"Gorbel?" he cried sharply. "Gorbel.
you in there?"
He held his head close to the panel
as McWethy gestured for silence to
those who had followed.
"Gorbel!" sharply now. The silence
in that room was ominous. "Tm COM
ing in unless you speak ~
He strained against the door and
thought he heard something like a
light. light moan.
Get back 20 he said abruptly. "Give
me room!'
He showed them aside, poised and
flung his shoulder hard against the
door. The lock gave and let him
headlong into the darkened Office.
Somebody here" he cried sharp
ly as he saw the overturned chair, the
figure on the floor. where's the
light. Somebody hurt. (.
Here!"
The room flooded as McWethy
turned the switch.
"'Y gosh, it's Nat. s.. He's hurt 7"
The mill foreman spoke shrlly.
John knelt quickly beside the sheriff:
he felt wrist, put the other hand on
the cold. wet forehead
The head turned slightly beneath
his hand; the eyes opened stupidity,
DULY.
MAT! Nat, what happened?" John
cried. He leaned low as the lips
worked. Il
Johnny! Johnny. you came
back?' the faintest sort of whis-
per-
Eyes, I'm here, Nat! What hap
pened?"
The eyes were clearing now, as con-
seriousness emerged from its low ebb.
shot me" Bradshaw whispered
''Shot me lung shot. War
rants in my pocket, Johnny
The stomach didn't have :. alky
in it. He shot ;" A par
oxysm of strangling broke the words
and John wiped crimson stain from
the lips.
Painting now, the sheriff, and q
bright desperation was climbing
through the dizziness in his eyes.
One of his hands gripped Johns
arm tightly.
Listen. You're deputy
now. Warrants in NV