The Vanishing Gold Truck by Harry Stephen Keeler

Author:Harry Stephen Keeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, detective, sleuth, murder, classic
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2017-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VI

DISCUSSION ANENT 4 MEN IN A GREY TRUCK!

The Sheriff’s head was already above the crest of rocks. And he was gesticulating violently, even as he was blinking a bit, too, because of the manner in which some of the rays of the low sun were being reflected almost straight at him from the bright gilt-tipped convexities in the intricate relief-work on the wagon’s front, showing at both sides of, and above, the black cab. He was shouting as he gesticulated.

“Craney—it’s me!—I’m—”

“Why—you’re Sheriff Duckhouse—who I was just talk-in’ with,” the other called out helplessly, over the short bridge of space. “I rec’nize your voice—and then—then there’s that shirt o’ yours! But what—what in hell’s bells, Sheriff, is goin’ on he—”

“Draw over thisaway, Craney, will yo’?—I got to stick right whar I am—nose yo’re machine—ef’n you kin do it—ag’in these rocks hyar—but to my lef’—so’s I kin ask yo’ a few things, an’ you’ll be cl’ar o’ that tunnel mouth. Hurry now, man. Hurry!”

The other, obviously not lost to the tense tone in the Sheriff’s voice, manipulated his pedals and wheel skillfully. Turned abruptly at almost right angles, as he drove out of the tunnel, and nosed up to the very further edge of the rock-pile base, his vehicle now at right angles to the road width, its front practically bridging the space between the Sheriff’s left elbow and the brick pillar; the driver looking down on the Sheriff now from a convenient point only 6 feet off. This position brought the machine not only completely out of the way of the tunnel mouth—but out of the entire area in front thereof. The Sheriff, with a hasty glance rightward, saw that he had his vital area completely covered again. For good measure, he manipulated his machine-gun handle block again, found that he could swing the weapon easily leftward, and entirely past the waiting red-and-gilt wagon and, as before, cover the entire roadway almost as far as the eye could see. He brought it back to its original position. But now the driver of that vehicle facing him was speaking across the 6 feet or so of vertical and horizontal space separating them.

“What—in—hell’s bells,” the latter essayed to say, half jocularly, and then—suddenly: “Sa-a-y—are you—by any chance—gunnin’ for a party o’ 5 men travelin’ in a grey tru—”

But at this juncture a low rumbling throaty growl inside the vehicle rose to an ominous pitch.

“Quiet, girl—quiet!” the man in the cab said, turning completely about to peer through some crack or something. And, throwing a look back to the Sheriff’, added explanatorily: “Stoppin’ dead—after you’ve been clippin’ along right lively—gets these cat-critters all alarmed!”

The growl had obviously been allayed by his words. He faced the Sheriff again. Expectantly. And the latter at last explained his own strange position.

“I am waitin’ for 4 men, Craney,” the Sheriff said. “Which you now make to be 5 men. But ’t must be the same party; they must a had a fifth—an’way, yo’re ev’dently the one man

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.