him, hauling the Old
Man along with them, still voicing his woes in a voice like a steamboat
whistle.
PRESENTLY I RIZ with a sigh and hauled on my duds. They was no
sound outside. Apparently I was alone in the building except for Spike,
my white bulldog. All at once I noticed him smelling of a closed locker.
He whined, scratched at it, and growled. With a sudden suspicion I
strode over and jerked open the door. Inside I seen a huddled figger. I
jerked it rudely forth and set it upright. It was Jed Whithers. He was
pale and shaking, and he had cobwebs in his hair. He kind a cringed,
evidently expecting me to bust into loud cusses. For once I was too
mad for that. I was probably as pale as he was, and his eyes dilated like
he seen murder in mine.
"Jed Whithers," I said, shoving him up against the wall with one hand
whilst I knotted the other'n into a mallet, "this is one time in my life
when I'm in the mood for killin'."
"For God's sake, Dorgan," he gurgled, "you can't murder me!"
"Can you think of any reason why I shouldn't put you in a wheel- chair
for the rest of your life?" I demanded. "You've rooint my friends and all
the fans which bet on me, lost my skipper his ship--"
"Don't hit me, Dorgan!" he begged, grabbing my wrist with shaking
fingers. "I had to do it; honest to God, Sailor, I had to do it! I know you
won--won by a mile. But it was the only thing I could do!"
"What you mean?" I demanded suspiciously.
"Lemme sit down!" he gasped.
I reluctantly let go of him, and he slumped down onto a near-by bench.
He sat there and shook, and mopped the sweat offa his face. He was
trembling all over.
"Are the customers all gone?" he asked.
"Ain't nobody here but me and my man-eatin' bulldog," I answered
grimly, standing over him. "Go on--spill what you got to say before I
start varnishin' the floor with you."
"I was forced to it, Sailor," he said. "There's a man who has a hold on
me."
"What you mean, a hold?" I asked suspiciously.
"I mean, he's got me in a spot," he said. "I have to do like he says. It
ain't myself I have to think of--Dorgan, I'm goin' to trust you. You got
the name of bein' a square shooter. I'm goin' to tell you the whole thing.
"Sailor, I got a sister named Constance, a beautiful girl, innocent as a
newborn lamb. She trusted a man, Sailor, a dirty, slimy snake in human
form. He tricked her into signin' a document--Dorgan, that paper was a
confession of a crime he'd committed himself!"
Whithers here broke down and sobbed with his face in his hands. I
shuffled my feet uncertainly, beginning to realize they was always
more'n one side to any question.
He raised up suddenly and said: "Since then, that man's been holdin'
that faked confession over me and her like a club. He's forced me to do
his filthy biddin' time and again. I'm a honest man by nature, Sailor, but
to protect my little sister"--he kinda choked for a instant--"I've stooped
to low deeds. Like this tonight. This man was bettin' heavy on Leary,
gettin' big odds--"
"Somebody sure was," I muttered. "Lots of Leary money in sight."
"Sure!" exclaimed Whithers eagerly. "That was it; he made me throw
the fight to Leary, the dirty rat, to protect his bets."
I begun to feel new wrath rise in my gigantic breast.
"You mean this low-down polecat has been blackmailin' you on
account of the hold he's got over your sister?" I demanded.
"Exactly," he said, dropping his face in his hands. "With that paper he
can send Constance to prison, if he takes the notion."
"I never heered of such infermy," I growled. "Whyn't you bust him on
the jaw and take that confession away from him?"
"I ain't no fightin' man," said Whithers. "He's too big for me. I wouldn't
have a chance."
"Well, I would," I said. "Listen, Whithers, buck up and quit cryin'. I'm
goin' to help you."
His head jerked up and he stared at me kinda wild-eyed.
"You mean you'll help me get that paper?"
"You bet!" I retorted. "I ain't the man to stand by and let no innercent
girl be persecuted. Besides, this mess tonight is his fault."
Whithers just set there for a second, and I thought I seen a slow smile
start to spread over his lips, but I mighta been mistook, because he
wasn't grinning when he held out his hand and said tremulously:
"Dorgan, you're all they say you are!"
A remark
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