BAD AND VALLEY

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXIX, Issue 13270, 21 February 1941, Page 3

BAD AND VALLEY

**TfteTcarrlclc swung round J ,'nd saw that he was smilonnim— a » u , ed at him. puzzled, lvint, b» inr - 7in hell vuh got to grin " WIUU ," .need' "Hell! I'll ~• up demanae«- : " ! I* that off your mug. yuh soon cieau ■ em < not cower away HUt , „ Lie to hit him again. In*hC" h h r v looked up at him stead. 11u- ... iprel eves. "'I was jest flgurin' out what a , r. ve been to get beaten up for nI IVV" he observed, smiling twisthis cut HI-. "You're right ""V You hold all the aces, an f?itJn> in my hand. You'll find some paper on , he manU"oe there. ««nm.it. an 111 write whatever yuh like. P-rrick nodded triumphantly. <, u ch an admission of defeat from nanny ™ s n 0 m °'' e thaU had GX ~ Lctedr-and yet there was an inapprehensible feeling of uneasiness Angled with his triumph. He went t 0 the mantelpiece and brought the writing-materials across to the table. "Ain't yuh gonna untie me? I can't write thisaway." Carrick leered cunningly. -Sure I'll untie yuh—enough to write. ..,'•" Freeing Danny's right arm, he lashed the left one separately to the boy's back. Then he undid the rawhide tying Danny to the back of the chair. "Go ahead." Stiffly, Danny got to his feet. It had been a disappointment that only one of his arms had been freed. But all the same, it was his punching arm. If he could only get in that one tearing blow. . . He walked to the table and picked up the pen. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Carrick coming to his side. "What d'yuh want me to write?" Carrick leaned over the table. Danny dropped the pen. He clenched and unclenched his right fist as though to loosen its joints. "My hand's so stiff, I can't write. That rawhide was tied plenty tight," he remarked. Carrick, leaning across the table, was waiting till he was ready. Danny's eyes were on the other's jaw. He knew the exact spot to hit — between the point of the chin and the angle of the jaw. He clenched his fist tight, and felt the muscles of his forearms contracting with the power of the grip. He inclined his right shoulder backwards. . . Then he let it go. •

It was a right hook that started on a level with his hips, curved in the air and connected with a wicked "crack!" on Carrick's jaw-bone. Every inch of the boy's weight was behind it. He followed it through with such force that he overbalanced and toppled -across the table after delivering it.

But he had made no mistake in his aim. His knuckles had chopped Carrick in exactly the right spot on the side of the jaw. King went down with a crash that shook the flimsy building to its foundations. He lay on his back, unmoving. Danny twisted his body round and §ot unright again. He jerked out at Ruth:

"Grab his guns pronto, an' give 'em here. Then untie me. . . ." With a lightning glance of astonishment at this new Danny, she obeyed. Carrick's guns had been aid on tQ e table, and she was in the

BY W. B. B4NNERMAN 1

act of releasing Danny's left arm, when the man on the floor began to groan and twitch his limbs. "Hurry!" Danny snapped, snatching up one of the guns in his free hand and levelling it at Carrick. As the last strands parted, loosing his other arm, Carrick sat up, shaking his head stupidly, like a dog coming out of the water. Danny handed both guns to Ruth. "Hang on them shootin' irons," he commanded. "An' don't be scared to pull the trigger if this big slug starts anything. . . ." "What are you going to do " she pleaded. "You'll see pretty soon," he flung back, with grim quietness. Walking round the table, he stood over Carrick. "Get up!" he gritted. Carrick looked at him with eyes from'which the Weariness of unconsciousness was gradually clearing. Seeing him standing there, the yellow eyes lit up with a glow of maniacal ferocity. He sprang to his feet. "Take it easy," said Danny contemptuously. "There's two guns trained on yuh." In a paroxysm of rage, Carrick bellowed: "An' what in hell d'yuh reckon you're gonna do now!" Danny smiled. "All my life you've knocked me around, King Carrick," he said between his teeth. "Now it's my turn. I'm gonna paste the guts outa yuh!" CHAPTER XXIII MEXICAN METHODS The instant that Carrick had left the room, and while his footsteps could still be heard clumping down the steps from the porch, Santos began to talk: "Thees ees a bad poseetion you are een, Culver?"

The little gunman seated himself on the edge of the table and toyed with, his Colt.

"Think so? Now that ain't how I see it. I'd 've said it was you that was in the jam, Santos —not me." "You are a fool, Culver," the Mexican retorted, speaking casually, bait at great speed. "Thees Carrick ees letting me go —maybe you know that?"

"He said somethin' about it." "Bueno. Ah'' you are aware that I know of several people —een Mejico City an' other places—who would like very much to know just where Bat Culver has disappeared. How would you like eet eef I told the law-men —een El Paso, Texas, for eenstance —where they can lay their hands on you?"

Culver's face set grimly. His hand tightened itself on the butt of his six-gun.

"Yuh'd split, would yuh? An' Carrick told me he was payin' yuh plenty to keep your gob shut. Say listen, Santos, I oughta put a couple bullets into you!" "You would be more of a fool than even I thought you were, eef you deed that! Do you theenk lam so unimportant that my friends would not split thees part of the State wide open to find my keeler —eef I was shot. . . ?" Have some sense, Culver.' The gunman was watching his prisoner warily. "I can see you're aimin' to put something up to me. What is it?"

"Thees. You know what ees hap Veiling. Carrick gets a bonanza out

of Danny Seaton. I get a big cut J to keep my mouth shut an' move j out quietly. . . . But you. Culver. . j . . . ? You have done much for j Carrick, verdad? An' what do you j aret out of eet? Nothin'!" "So what? I can't kick. I ain't got enough dough to get me outa I the country, an' as long a? it stands like that. I jest gotta stick around j this Cod-forsaken valley an' keep I buried from the law." "But." said Santos in a whisper. "eef you had the money to get you away—to Nicaragua. maybe—or Brazil. ..-?." j Culver's eyes took on a greedy. wary look. "I reckon that'd be different," he j said slowly. Santos smiled. : "How would you like three thou- I sand dollars?"' he asked softly. | "I could travel plenty miles on that," Culver answered non-commit-tedly. "Sure you could. An' the money's j yours, eef you say so." i Culver narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch? What d'yuh want back for that dough?" "Just thees. That you weel untie me now. I do not trust that Carrick. I theenk maybe he weel change his mind an' keel me. He has given me six thousand dollars een negotiable bonds, an' I know where he has put eet. I could have all the six thousand eef I waited till he came back an' took a chance on heem keeping hees word. But I prefer to play safe. I want to get out of thees damn' valley pretty bad. If you weel untie me, I weel split the 1 money weeth you, an' we can both make our getaway—weeth three thousand each." Culver was still on his guard. (To be continued■*