"TWO ON THE ROAD"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 28 September 1938, Page 10

"TWO ON THE ROAD"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT.

BY

JOHN MACLEOD

CHAPTER I.—(Continued). The man who had stunned Smith cursed. Running round his own car, he fired' three shots after it, but they took no effect. ‘•Quick!” he shouted to his companions. "After them. Leave these two mutts; we’ll send someone back to pick them up.” They scrambled hastily into their car and switched the lights on, and in a few seconds they were tearing after the fast disappearing tail light of the other. Shep' dragged himself to his feet, feeling the side of his head, which was still ringing from the blow. He looked around for his companion, who was just coming to, where he had fallen. Walking over, Shep helped him to the side of the road, where they both sat down to recover. CHAPTER 11. For some time Smith and Shep sat on the side of the road. Smith had received a heavy blow and he was still swaying slightly. The man handling the revolver had centainly put some weight behind it, influenced, no doubt, by resentment at the unexpected interruption of their plans. Feeling the spot gingerly, Smith’s hand came away wet. There was a nasty gash about an inch long, and it was bleeding freely. Shep had fared little better. His ear was swelling rapidly and there was an uncomfortable buzzing sensation in his head. “Well, we didn’t win,” said Smith with a weary smile. “Oh, my head — Something hard hit me!” “Me too,” replied Shep, ruefully, as he rubbed his ear. “Rather funny that man in the car didn’t come out to help us.” “Wasn’t a bit funny,” grunted Shep. “He was a crook!” “A what?” “Them blokes we set on was police!” was Shep’s astonishing statement. Smith stared at Shep incredulously. “Police?” he asked, weakly. “How do you know?” “When I was sittin’ on one of ’em he told me, but I didn’t believe ’em till I saw the number-plate of their car. And we’ve got to get out of here quick, ’cause they’re sendin’ someone back to pick us up. Looks like we're not cut out for good Samaritans.” Smith whistled. * “We’ve barged in at the wrong end then.” This astounding piece of information had cleared his head, and his brain was once again functioning clearly. “In that case we’d better be moving.” They rose to their feel and walked up the hill towards the trees. Arriving there, they hastily packed their scanty belongings in their blankets before going to the creek to bathe their heads. “Anyway,” remarked Shep dismally, “we’ve saved one life tonight.” “Whose?” demanded Smith. “That chicken we had in mind. Reckon we’d better forget it now.” At the creek, Shep examined his friend’s wound with the aid of a match. “Looks nasty,” he commented, “an’ we’ve got no bandages. Just have to keep a rag on with your hat.” He squeezed some water over it from a piece of cloth, and then spread the cloth with the end hanging down, where the hat would keep it in place. Next he bathed his own head, wincing as the cold water came in contact with his burning ear. This done, they shouldered their bundles and hurried away from the spot. The going was hard as they had to keep to the shelter of the undergrowth, and the trees overhead shut out most of the light from the moon. They had chosen the way the two cars had gone as the most likely to evade capture. This was Smith’s idea, and was perfectly logical; most people run away from trouble, not into it. When they had gone about a mile, they saw a car racing towards them. It flashed past, and they stopped and watched it pull up at the scene of their recent struggle. Several figures jumped out and entered the bush on eithei- side of the road. “It’s the first time for a good many years that anyone ’as been so interested in my whereabouts,” remarked Shep, with a grin. Smith was thoughtful for a moment.

“We don't know exactly what sort of a criminal we’ve assisted,” he said at last. “We’ve not only hindered the police in the execution of their duty; we’ve attacked them, and injured at least one. Our intentions were good, and it was a perfectly natural mistake to make; still, I don’t feel like trying to explain it to them. Do you? ’ “No fear.” Shep was emphatic on that point. “And if we don’t, they’ll probably think we’re accomplices of some sori, in which case, they’ll .make a more systematic search in daylight.” “Let ’em. We’ll be missin’.” Shep grinned. “All my life I’ve wanted w sit on a policeman, an’ I never got the chance till tonight. Now if I wasn t hungry, I could almost be happy.” After a while the police gave up the search and returned to their car. It turned and raced back the way it had come. The tramps watched it go; then continued on their way making for the road now, as it was unlikely that any further search would be made before daylight. “We'll have to hide for a bit and dodge any townships we ,may come across,” remarked Smith. Suddenly he stopped, and rubbed his chin. "There was a woman in that car that was held up,” he went on. “As I rushed around the back of the car she jumped out, and I saw her throw a suitcase into the bush. That crack on the head must have made me forget all about it until now.”

Shep stared at him with wide open eyes. “A suitcase? Gee, it must be plunder or somethin’.” •

They stood for a while undecided. Having come a good half mile, and their object being to get as far away from the spot as possible, it seemed a waste of good time. “Anyway,” argued Shep, “we’ve came through a rough time, an if tnere’s anything good in it, we deserve it. Let’s go.” They retraced their steps, and arriving at the spot once more, commenced a search for the suitcase. Smith had an idea where it had been thrown, and it wasn’t long before he stumbled across it.

“Now, let’s get away from 'here before we open it. The police won’t likely come back tonight, but we’ll make sure. Come to think of it, they won’t waste much time searching this spot at all; they’ll imagine us to be miles away by now. Suppose we make straight into the bush?” Shep was agreeable to anything. He

was hungry, and he discovered now that the excitement was passed that he had been fighting rather strenuously on an empty stomach. Being unused to exertion even when well fed. it had left him weak, and he was ready to drop into the first suitable spot they could find.

They climbed the hill and walked along the bank of the creek, their throbbing heads and tired bodies protesting at every step. After what seemed like hours, they found a likely hid-ing-place. A shelf of rock hung right dry sandy bank, and creeping into this, out over the creek, sloping back to a dry sandy bank, and creeping into this, they dragged their suitcase in after them. “Now,” muttered Smith, “we’ll see what the good Lord has sent us.” He pulled the suitcase towards him and tried to open it, but it was locked Throwing it from him in disgust, he rolled himself in his blanket and lay down. “If it contained all the gold in Australia, it can stop there till morning,” he said, wearily. “Me too!” replied Shep, and in two minutes he was fast asleep, not even having taken the trouble to roll himself in his blanket, and blissfully unconscious of a thousand mosquitoes,, which hummed, buzzed and bit to their heart’s content. Presently he added a deep bass buzz of his own to the high treble of the insects, and Smith, whose injured head prevented him from falling asleep as quickly as Shep, decided that the harmony was awful. Smith tossed about for some time, but bodily weariness at last overcame the pain in his head, and he, too, fell off. The mosquitoes settled down to serious work, and the night life of the Australian bush went about its business. The sun had climbed high in the heavens on the following morning before either of the two stirred. Shep was the first awake, and he sat up, stretching himself. His eye fell on the suitcase, and memory of the previous night’s fight and consequent excitement, came back to him with a rush. He felt his swollen’ ear tenderly, and grimaced; then leaning over, he shook his sleeping companion. Smith opened his eyes sleepily, and then, like Shep, his hand went to his bruised head. Sitting up slowly, he looked from Shep to the suitcase, and grinned. “In future,” muttered Shep, “I’m leaving other people’s business to other people. I don’t reckon all this patriotic good-fellow stuff pays.” Smith smiled drily. “We certainly made a mess of things last night,” he admitted.

“I suppose the first thing we ought to do is to bathe them heads of ours. They was soft enough before this happened, otherwise we’d ’ave kept out of that scrap.” At the recollection of it, he grinned. “Gee!—-I sat on a policeman.”

They looked both ways along the creek before venturing to the water. Policemen are curiously persistent individuals, and might just happen to be still on the job. The coast was perfectly clear, however, so they left their shelter confidently. Smith undressed and went in for a bathe, to the wonder and amusement of Shep who was quite content to bathe his sore ear and splash a little water very carefully over his face. This done, they turned their attention to the suitcase. “I hope there’s something to eat in it,” muttered Shep, hopefully. Smith shook his head. “I don’t think they’d be so keen on getting rid of it if it was only eats.” He pulled the case towards him as he spoke, and taking a knife from his pocket, he inserted it underneath one of the catches. Just as he was about to lever on it, he hesitated, looking up at Shep. “You know,” he mused, “we’ve really got no right to touch this. It should be handed over to the police, intact.” Shep stared at him in astonishment, thinking, no doubt, that Smith had taken leave of his senses. ‘Why” he managed to say at last. “Well, if we open this we’re committing a crimed and up till now, the only thing we’ve done has been to make a mistake. Anyone might have done the same as we did.” “The crime part of it don’t worry me none,” returned Shep, “an’ anyway, it seems a case of bellin’ the cat. I know I wouldn’t like to be the one to take it to the police.” Smith hesitated for a moment longer; then, as though making up his mind, he gave he knife a twist and snapped back one of the locks. He treated the other in similar fashion; then lifted the lid. Keen disappointment showed on both their faces as they looked inside. They had expected nothing less than the proceeds of some burglary, instead of which there was nothing more valuable than an evening dress. They picked it out rather disgustedly, their faces a study in expression. There was a complete outfit, including even shirt, socks and shoes. Presently Shep found his voice. “Fancy throwin’ that away,” he growled. “What harm could that do them if they was caught?” Smith .wrinkled his forehead in perplexity. “Can’t understand it,” he confessed, “unless this is what they stole, but surely a car load of police wouldn’t come tearing along a country road to arrest anyone for stealing this.” He held the jacket out in front of him and examined it critically. It was a well tailored suit, having evidently been made for someone whose good taste was backed by a good bank balance. Smith nodded his head aprovingly as he tried it on. It fitted as though it had been made for him. He next made a systematic search of the pockets. The jacket yielded nothing, but in one of the vest pockets he found a small square of pasteboard. Shep, meanwhile, was trying the trousers up against his leg. They were much too large for him, the waist coming somewhere up around his chest. He held them at arm’s length, studying them thoughtfully. “The annual ball of the Bachelors’ Club, Weyburn Town Hall, Thursday, 14th, at 8.30 p.m.,” said Smith, reading from the card. He turned to Shep, who was still studying the trousers. “Where’s Weyburn?” he asked. “’Bout fifty or sixty miles on,” re plied Shep, without looking up. “Anyway, we can raise somethin’ on this lot at ‘Uncle’s.’ ” “What date is this?" went on Smith. “Don’t know. It should fetch a couple of quid, at least.” “Well, what day is it?” (To be Continued.)