five days elapsed without a word of the
wanted men. From the moment they’d sent
that last barrage of bullets tearing into the
rear of the train and plunged into the woods
they seemed to have been swallowed up
completely.

As he gazed through his office window
into the quiet Main Street of Bellevue,
Joseph H. Robertson, Justice of the Peace
of the little Rocky Mountain town, like
everyone else, was wondering what had
happened to them when he observed a
couple of foreigners ambling down the
sidewalk. Stopping to read the reward
notice displayed in his window, they
laughed and entered the Bellevue cafe next
door. the

A CALL FOR THE POLICE

Next moment Robertson had leapt for
the telephone and was calling Constable
Frewen of the Alberta Police. “Quick!”
he shouted. “A couple of bohunks went
into the Chink’s next door. Looks like two
of those bandits you're after.”

Promptly Frewen contacted the telephone
exchange. “Get me Corporal Usher at the
Mounted Police barracks,” he called. Over
the wire Usher’s rich Irish brogue reached
him. “Two bohunks just went into the
Chink’s,” Frewen told him. “Robertson
thinks theyre the birds we’re after. Better
come on over.”

When Usher arrived, he found Wil-
liam Evans Bailey, a burly, blue-eyed Al-
berta Provincial from Macleod there buck-
ling on his sidearms. Slipping a .38 Wesson
and a .32 automatic into the pockets of his
civvies, Frewen accompanied the officers
down the main street towards the cafe.
Their progress was halted by Justice Rob-
ertson who crossed the road to meet them.
“Watch out,” he warned. “I don’t like
the looks of those two birds at all!”

“TIl slip in and give them the once-over,”
suggested Frewen as they neared the Belle-

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vue cafe. “They won't suspect me in these
civvies. Better cover the back door,” he
said to Bailey.

Through the fly-specked window Usher
watched Frewen stroll past the booths and
buy a packet of cigarettes from the China-
man. His face was white when he returned.
“They're in booth four,” he whispered
hoarsely. “Take the one on the left, I'll
look after the other.”

Grasping the butt of his .32 Frewen
edged cautiously past the empty booths.
Suddenly he whipped out his gun and
pointed it in the face of the astonished
Ackroff. “Hands up!” he commanded. As
Usher appeared, covering Bassoff with his
Colt, Ackroff’s hands dropped to the coat

on the seat beside him.

“Hands up!” shouted Frewen.

The Russian’s hands still groped with
the folds of the coat, from which appeared
the snout of a Mauser. A deafening detona-
tion, mingled with the frenzied screams of
Ackroff, filled the restaurant as Frewen’s
blazing automatic pitted his face with scar-
let. With a shriek the big Russian lurched
to his feet and pitched across the table.

At that moment Bassoff sprang. Like a
vise his huge fingers closed around Usher’s
gun wrist. Struggling, they crashed about
the booth, Usher’s blazing Colt splintering
floor and walls as the Russian attempted to
turn the gun against him. A bullet ripping
through Bassoff’s thigh brought a scream
of agony. Through the smoking melee of
struggling, shouting men, of crashing bodies
and tinkling glass appeared Frewen, dazed,
with revolver smoking. “For God's sake
shoot!” he yelled to Bailey.

Alarmed by the pandemonium of screams,
yells and the angry bark of guns Robertson
pulled out his revolver. Through the
smoke-filled doorway spilled Frewen, blaz-
ing over Usher’s shoulder at someone with-
in. As Bailey and Usher, firing furiously
into the smoke-filled cafe, came backing
out, Frewen streaked for the corner of the
cafe. With a cry Usher caught at the door
jamb and slumped across the threshold.
Still shooting it out with the Russians with-
in, Bailey swayed suddenly and sprawled
headlong across Usher’s bdoy.

Vomiting and sick, Ackroff staggered
across the fallen officers. With blood-red-
dened hands he supported himself against
the walls and reeled on down the street.

CO. LTD.

Page Thirty-six

Address:

CAMPBELL RIVER P.O., BRITISH COLUMBIA

Bellowing like an infuriated beast Bassoff
loomed in the doorway. Attempting to
crawl, Bailey met the Cossack’s gaze only
to collapse as the bandit’s gun exploded in
his face. Raising himself on his elbow
Usher sagged beneath a fusillade of bullets.
Then, seeing the sheriff, Bassoff sent a
stream of lead in his direction, whipping
off his hat. Still shooting, Robertson dived
for a telephone pole. Pitting it with bullets,
Bassoff ran to where Ackroff was writhing
in the dust. Turning his partner over he
sent two bullets crashing into Ackroff’s
brain and disappeared with a defiant cry,
leaping from rock to rock like a mountain
goat.

While a posse of grim-faced men scoured
the town for every available weapon, and
set off in pursuit, the bodies of the victims
were carried to the sheriff's office. Seven
bullets had found their mark in Usher’s
body, the back of his head having been
blown off by the last murderous fire of
Bassoff. Bailey had been hit eleven times,
while Ackroff’s face and body were s'mply
riddled.

While telegraph wires hummed, police
organized local posses to fill in the gaps in
the cordon. Indignant citizens armed with
a wierd assortment of weapons joined in
the search for Bassoff and Auloff, the third
member of the bandit trio.

Finding only a single dollar on Ackroff’s
body, and discovering that only two days
after the holdup Bassoff had attempted to
cash a time cheque at Coleman, police now
concluded that there had been a split-up
over the division of the spoils and that
Auloff, after doublecrossing his companions,
had probably made off with the booty.

Meanwhile word of the tragic battle
reaching Assistant Superintendent J. D.
Nicholson of the Alberta Police at Banff
caused his to jump the first .train for Leth-
bridge and, just as dawn was breaking he
descended from a freight at Bellevue to

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