Coulee City dispatch. [volume] (Coulee City, Wash.) 19??-19??, 1935-12-19
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current. Neither the man or the wom-
an made movement until Garth drove
his canoe ashore and lifted it atop
the stony bank.
AS he climbed to the front of the
old post store, above the base Of the
wharf, he saw the pilot at last swing
down to haul on the line. Inside the
big log cabin he crossed to one Of the
rear rooms and put light hand on the
forehead of the snoring man In the
nearest bunk.
"Turn out, Tobin. Visitors"
The grizzle-bearded station tender
reused up to blink and peer.
"Vis'tors? You're not stringin' me,
Mr.. Garth?"
mo. Rover plane"
Tobin slipped on his moccasins and
hobbled out into the storeroom. The
pilot had moored his plane head and
tail to the lower side Of the landing
stage. He was handing his woman
companion down from the cockpit.
Both had replaced their leather flying
helmets with hats and mosquito nets.
They went in under the overhanging
wing to the screened door Of the cabin.
1t opened to the outthrust of portly
man in city clothes. Assisted by the
pilot, he managed to get down upon
the wharf by means of steps lowered
from inside the cabin. After hurriedly
putting on a headnet and gloves, he
or yfo I'M hntr txrn
panions. He limped as if slightly
crippled. But the lameness might have
been due to cramp from long sitting.
Garth spoke to the supply tender:
"Im only a stray prospector, Tobin.
Understand"
AYE, sir" grunted Tobin. Without
word of greeting, he hobbled back a
few steps as the pilot and his passen-
gers stepped in over the rough thres-
hold.
The portly man opened a gold
mounted cigar case. The young wom-
an produced a long amber-stemmed
cigarette holder. This was promptly
filed by the pilot, who paused only to
slap mosquito on his clean-shaven
cheek before striking a match.
Out went Garths hand in swift
clutch that caught the flaming match
in his calloused palm. The pilot, who
was as tall as Garth and heavier built,
turned to stare down at him with
cold anger.
"You insolent roughneck! Clear out
of here"
Garth smiled. Toben did the an
swering: Huh, crazy loon-lighting
matches in here. Can't you read the
sign? No smoking Bounce him, lad"
The pilot thrust hand inside his
leather jacket. "Try it. I'll drill both
of you"
"How frightful," said Garth. "You
must imagine this is a Wild West
show. Please don't shoot until the
lady can get outside. Shots are even
more apt than matches to explode all
this gasoline"
The portly man snapped shut his
cigar case.
"That's so! You have no cause to
be ruffled, Vivian. The fellow seems
to have acted on a well-intentioned
impulse"
The pilots hand came out empty
from inside the jacket. "Why couldn't
the fool have spoken warning?"
Garth had sized up the man. He
expected neither an apology for the
abuse nor thanks for saving the visitors
from possible humiliation. With an
Indifferent smile, he shifted the gaze
of his gray eyes to examine the woman
member Of the party.
A first glance had led him to think
her older than the pilot. Under her
rouge and powder her face was thin
and drawn. Its lines might have be-
longed to woman in the mid-thirties.
Her blue eyes looked more than bored
and cynical. Their tiredness matched
the lined face. Her body was thin al
most to boniness.
Yet, upon examination, Garth saw
she could not be even in the mid
twenties. Traces Of girlish freshness
still fingered in her painted face, un-
der the blemishes Of dissipation and
establishment.