Looms of Conflict

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXXII, Issue 13430, 18 April 1944, Page 7

Looms of Conflict

A THRILLING NEW NOVEL OF AN EPIC FEUD

By BURTON L. SPILLER

about u » H0 "/vour mind about going up

« r? " „ s aid Bradley. "'We've Hour minds." u're talking sense, ' con- *°* the lean man. "Come up <t gain some time. My > comes on at sundown." ft - sardonically, he watched IS* swung the canoe out into < :Sra The other canoe fol- ;:; Bradley looked up at the : „»ie of bush back of the

me," he muttered, "as Idv wanting to get a peek at ' L would have to be a common of lumberjack, gunman, and lD Man. Or else have a '1 from Daggett in his pocket, we go, boys. It's been a nice 't for paddling." Through The Bush js . t be io\v the first portage Bradwf the other canoe approaching! the girl paddling in ",' boff , but it was not until the ''oe was quite close that he recog'id Daggett. The man in front of whistled softly. "-Doyou see what I see?"

Nancy Holcorab flushed under the ■(.contemptuous stares of the men j'tie two canoes. She gave Brada friendly smile, but it was a self)H.jous efflort. Daggett, poker--4 as ever, nodded curtly.

Better not go too far up river," ,-vised Bradley . ironically. "Somen's gone and planted a couple of pimen up there. They ain't lettin' uyone past who looks honest." Dassett's powerful paddle strokes rere sending the light canoe speed- :: upstream, but Bradley Avas able t catch a glimpse of Nancy's face, loaded with swift surprise and an- .:.-. She was so agitated that she .ither steady grip on the paddle for ; moment and the blade twisted, ailing a shower of spray over the

That'll give you something to ii about young lady," remarked niley, grinning, as the distance ; :!ene<i between the two canoes.

Half an hour later, Bradley retted at the office. Harmon listening white,; set face.

Wre stymied," Bradley said. 'tee fellows at the portage didn't 'f like bushmen to me. They look--i tough—like real, honest-to-g'ood-gunmen, and no foolin'. Pro- % brought, in from outside, and %tl as soon shoot a man as look aim,"

studied the blotter on his

"'saw Daggett and Nancy going •'fiver. Did you meet them?" "K, Thick as thieves. Nice • 4 '*at," said Bradley with sar--41 "Tiey won't have any trouble We've got to adwe like it or not, thai is boss of the river." «tnion scarcely seemed to be lis,gadget Joe, will you, Jim? I talk with him." Joe might be able to make lulling crosscountry?" asked

• I Wonh trying." Harmon went

>» map on the wall of the J.. Look —here's Rainbow." 1-Ie m tQe Spot with a Pencil. Vu ere ' S the dam - Notice how v k \ swin Ss over to the west and ... /t shouldn't be an impassable l, ross country as the crow

*„ a ' bu t a crow nies over the

ii. Eayh e t 0 s °und out Joe on the He ku ows the woods. l b * as tough as it looks. %«S Uley liaveu ' t any sun " <l amaUU - They'll figure *S the PS at the r ' ol ' ta * e will rfwas doubtfuL However. mm Search of Joe - Th e **l: t SCant attention to the lh to th e window, looked % \ e viv er and the wooded

ffltj Ju * J oe?" \ J Snnned. '^w? be *e got luck." .;,' Bl 'adley said, waggles v W abou t leting me >, «Sky t, . Jlook a n somebody's > ihvl? the office -' 3% e •• yelped Bradley. •■'Hat p at ' you can't insult % ;Sth ink m * n this thin S» too, Aaere s no need for

both of us to take a chance." "Then let me go and you stay. I have lived longer than you, anyhow, and if I get rubbed out it won't make any difference. Much."

"Nothing doing. Besides," added Harmon, '"if anything should happen, you'll have to carry on and save what you can from the wreck." He picked up a paper that lay folded on the desk, and handed it over to Bradley. "I've written everything out. If I get away with this, but don't come out of it—that is, if I can blow that dam sky-high and get water down here—you'll be able to keep the mill running and get back your money." "Money!" glowered Bradley. "I'm not worrying about my money? Here I work and slave and worry, and just when there's a chance of a little fun, I'm left out of it. All right. Go ahead." He thrust out his hand in an altered voice, "Good luck, lad." And to the impassive Joe he said, "You look alter him, and mind you don't go and get lost." Joe blinked. "No get lost," he promised. "Get shot, mebbe. But To Kent, following some distance behind the Indian, it seemed that the journey would never end. The afternoon was oppressively warm. Great swarms of mosquitoes arose frqm the marshland and settled upon his unprotected face, until the accumulated torture of their stings drove him almost to frenzy. The rough shirt that he wore was sodden with perspiration where it hung upon his shoulders.

For the thousandth time he brushed the clinging insects from bis face, and with thumb and finger lifted the collar away from his chafed neck. As he did so, he felt the dynamite cartridges move within the fold above his hip. There were 20 of them lying close and warm against his body, and in each of their paperwrapped cylinders was enougb potential energy to blow him to atoms. He moved carefully between the trees, lifting his feet high and stepping cautiously, lest some upthrust root should send him sprawling. It Was rough country. In the deep bush the heat w,as suffocating. Out in the open the sun blazed down on them. It was new country ■ to Joe, but he travelled at a tireless lope, scrambling over deadfalls, plunging into gullies, wading creeks, trudging up hillsides, as if following an invisible trail. Once in a while he waited for Harmon to overtake him.

Finally, in deep woods on top of a hill, the Indian said gruffly: "Pretty near there now." He guestured in a direction at right angles to the way they had beeli travelling. The ground sloped away to the east. Joe led the way, with Harmon at his heels. Presently Joe's advance becanie slower. The woods were thinningout. Harmon could see patches of blue sky through the branches. Joe crouched, edged his way forward, then crawled on hands and knees into the shelter of a clump of underbrush. He looked back, beckoned Harmon to come ahead.

They had reached the fringe of the bush. Harmon, crouching beside the Indian, looked down over a cleared, hillside, down into the valley oi the Rainbow.

He could see the crude dam that had been thrown across the river. The sun gleamed silver on the water pouring through the sluice. The retarded water had formed a lake down in the hollow between the hills. At the side of the dam the bush no longer grew to the water's edge. Bill Black had known what he was doing. The hillsides had been cleared' for more than a hundred yards on each of the dam. Not enough cover for. a jack-rabbit. Harmon heard Joe's grunt of disappointment. "No good," said the Indian. He could see men moving about the workmen's shacks on the far slope. At each end of the dam he saw a sentry armed with a rifle. Anyone who emerged from the bush and attempted to approach the job would be covered from the moment he came into the clearing. Harmon studied the layout, tasting bitter disappointment. It would be suicidal. "We're out of luck. Joe," he admitted finally. "A tough hike for nothing." (To be continued.)