The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1935-04-26

IL Was vast, rOtiliS cOuulIy, anu
across 1t, from Hoot Owl toward Tin
cup, went teams. Five Of them formed
a sort of procession, drawing logging
sleighs. Across the hunks planks had
been placed and on the planks stood
and sat men; they were silent men.
who drew on cold pipes, whose faces
were set and grim whose eyes betrayed
excitement. The Hoot Owl crew, this,
following Tim LETTERS and Bird-Eye
Blaine to Lineup to solve a mystery.
In an orderly manner they left the
sleighs and stood in groups while
teamsters unhitched and led their
horses into livery barn.
Able Armitage came hurrying and
he, alone, was welcome in that phalanx
Of intent men. Others of the town
saw him gesticulate as he talked with
LETTERS and Blaine, saw him shake his
head and spread his hands as one will
who has no answer for a pressing
question.
Old Tim turned to the crews and
motioned them to him. The men gath
cred close and listened while he spoke
briefly. Then the compact huddle
broke, LETTERS emerged and started for
the main street, that body of shanty
boys falling In to move shoulder to
shoulder behind him.
1t was strange spectacle, for that
peaceful Sunday morning! Doors were
opened; men and women peered out.
Then they emerged and stood to watch.
Now and then one hailed an acquaint-
ance in the marching company but
none replied to such greeting. Has
tily caps and coats were donned and
along the sidewalks followed a grow
ing crowd of the curious.
The breath vapor of the men rose in
cloud. No other spoke. Far down the
street small boy yipped excitedly,
across the way two women were NUT
tering to one another, flinging quick,
excited questions, disclaiming knowl-
edge for fitting responses.
They swung into the main street, old
Tim wallowing in the long drift at the
corner, his men trampling it down be-
hind him. On down past Able's once,
past the pool room and then, without
a word of signal they halted. The
halt was before the bank, over which
Nicholas Brandon had his offices and
his living rooms.
The silence as they stood, every one
of the hundred faces appraised to those
windows with the lettering which pro-
claimed the tenant, was pOrtentOus.
And then Tim lifted his clear, strong
voice.
Brandon" he shouted. mick Bran
don't"
Brandon" Tim shouted again and
his men stirred behind him, swayed,
giving up low, short mutter.
"Come out, Nick % teamster shout
ed, voice thick with repressed excite
ment. "Ay, come OUT" another cried.
Movement then. where they had
expected movement. Up above a face
appeared in window. Nicholas Bran
don looked down upon them. They
could see his lips compress as he dis
cerned that crowd.
Come down, Brandon!'
This was Tim again, his voice edged
with sharpness, as he might speak to
rebellious man Of his crew.
Brandon moved and threw up the
sash.
what do you men want?" he de-
manded sharply, In the tone Of one
who has been long accustomed to make
demands.
"We want Ben Elliott" LETTERS an
swered.
"Elliott? He isn't here. What would
he be doing here? What could know
of him?"
A mumbling, stirring behind Tim.
"We want him. We want you to
help us find hint"
You're On right" 'Tell US
you skunk!" "Show him to US
or Wen wreck your whole blame
town!'
Tim held up silencing hand against
this outbreak. Then he address Bran
don.
"Elliott came to town last night. He
hasn't been seen since. His team
was found where he left it. There's
only one man in town who'd have an
object in getting him out of the way.
We've come to that man: to you,
Brandon. We want Elliott"
Brandon's lips writhed.
II tell you, know nothing" He
slammed down the sash and cut the
rest of his sentence from their hearing
so those men did not know that his
voice broke sharply as panic laid Its
hold on him.