TRAVELERS’ HOTEL

THOMAS RICKSON, Proprietor

matter as a huge game arranged for his
benefit; Dynamite and Lightning raised
Ashman’s hopes by nuzzling the moss and
dragging their owners pell-mell through
the bush to the accompaniment of exultant
barks. Dragging Lee and Kerney on their
leashes they slowed down, wavered, and
emitted sharp barks of uncertainty and
doubt. “Cold trail,’ Lee shook his head
at last. “The rain must have washed away
the scent.”

“How about taking one of these dogs
to Bellevue and letting him take a sniff at
the coat and cap Robertson says belonged
to Bassoff?” Ashman suggested.

Following the suggestion they reached
Bellevue only to find that the coat and cap
belonging to Bassoff, picked up in the cafe,
had disappeared. “Queer,” muttered Rob-
ertson, his face drawn from long hours of
swearing in Specials and tramping with
them over the hillsides. “Looks like they’ve
been lifted,” he admitted, turning the
office upside down. “I wonder . . .”

“Is some bohunk helping Bassoc out,
eh?” There was an edge to Ashman’s voice.
“Don’t tell me anyone would walk right
into your office and lift that stuff from
under your nose!”

Angrily Robertson searched the place
again, yanked a corduroy cap from a drawer
and flung it on the table.

“Are you sure that’s Bassoff’s cap?”
asked Ashman.

Robertson’s reply revealed that he as-
sumed the cap was Bassoff’s since it had
been found in booth four. “Two hours
after the fight,” remarked Ashman without
enthusiasm. “A dozen people had been in
and out by that time.”

Given a sniff at the booth and cap, and
led in a sweep around the outskirts of the
town, the hound ranged backwards and
forwards, obviously unable to pick up the
scent. Lee shrugged his shoulders. “Cold
trail,” he repeated. “Sorry, boys—but I
guess we'll have to call it off.”

Once more darkness wrapped_her sable
cloak about the saw-toothed peaks, filling
the valley with gossamer mists of violet
punctuated by the star-like twinkle from
the cabins that dotted the silver ribbon of
the river far below. As each tired, mud-
begrimed squad of searchers toiled wearily
into the straggling hill towns they were
pounced upon by high-booted men and
anxiouseyed women. “Have they got
him?” “Have they found the body of
Bassoff?” The questions leapt from every-
one’s tongue. On one point opinion seemed
unanimous. That Auloff had tried to
doublecross the others and that the corpse
with the mutilated face found in the culvert
was all that was left of him.

It was the fifth night of the search. De-

SUMMER EDITION

spite the efforts of three hundred possemen
and the tireless efforts of three forces of
police, Bassoff still remained at large. It
was hinted, too, that the suicide report had
been deliberately circulated by foreign sym-
pathisers to mislead searchers while Bassoff
was aided to a safe hiding place where his
wounds could be properly treated. The
faces of Assistant Superintendent Nichol-
son and the other officers directing the
search were weary-eyed and wan with
worry and lack of sleep.

To the knot of policemen discussing the
possible whereabouts of Bassoff on the
station platform of Lundbreck came the
distant scream of the westbound drag.
Looking to their sidearms Constables Tower

Tom Bassoff (without hat) with his friend Alex
Sergoff.

and Sawer of Calgary, Hallworth of Medi-
cine Hat and Glover of Edmonton slipped
into the shadows, prepared to search the
boxcars. From the cut ahead the white beam
of the headlight slashed the night. Labour-
ing around the curve the big mountain en-
gine thundered through the gloom.

Sawer caught at Tower’s arm. Engineer
Hammond seemed to be excelling himself
in sending a mournful wail echoing from
the whistle. The usual signal was followed
by the wierdest symphony of sounds that
had ever echoed back from those gaunt
granite walls that towered into the sky;
a sound that seemed to convey mingled
warning and alarm.

With hissing pistons and clanking wheels
the locomotive roared into the platform.
Green order sheets in hand, the overalled
engineer leaned from the footplate. In the
yellow glow of the agent’s swinging lantern
his oil-smeared face seemed pale. “I’ve
seen him,” he whispered hoarsely.

Licensed Premises

WESTVIEW, B.C.

“Seen who?” demanded Glover.

“The bandit!” came Hammond’s prompt
reply. “Couldn’t hit the high spots quick
enough when the headlight picked him out
at Pincher.”

Dropping to the platform Hammond
made for the telephone and called Super-
intendent MacKinnon. “Boss says to un-
couple the engine an’ give you fellows a
lift to Pincher,” he said as he hung up the
receiver.

Leaping into the cab, Hammond put the
train into a siding and roared back with
the headlight pointed towards Pincher. In
a moment police piled aboard the tender
and the engine was swaying through the
night.

With clanking wheels and hissing pistons
the locomotive lurched swiftly around hair-
pin turns that dropped sheer to the black-
ened void below, urged to swifter pace as
the coal-blackened fireman heaved shovel
after shovel of fuel into the scarlet maw of
the furnace. At last the green lights of
Pincher’s yard limits shot past.

“Look—there he is!”

You'll Enjoy an Evening Spent
at the

PATRICIA or ROXY
THEATRES

Powell River and Westview, B. C.

Proprietor: J. Curran P. O. Box 882
WILDWOOD MOTORS
Phone 4391

Dealers for
DODGE and DE SOTO CARS
DODGE and INTERNATIONAL TRUCKS

Powell River, B. C.

HOTEL RODMAY
and CAFE

OF SERVICE TO YOU
e

Popular Rates, with or
without Bath

e
POWELL RIVER, B.C.

Page Thirty-nine