JIM CRAIC

and the
K ID N A P P ED
GOVERNOR
 JIM C R A I G
State T ro o p e r
and
The KIDNAPPED GOVERNOR

By
STEVE SA X T O N

Illu str a ted by H erbert A n d erson

WHITMAN PUBLISHING COMPANY

R A C IN E , W IS C O N S IN
 C opyright, 1938, b y
S T E P H E N S L E S IN G E R
N ew York, N . Y .
Printed in U . S. A.
 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Assignment ............................. 9
II Pot Shot .................................... 27
III Preparations..........................51
IV Reception Committee ..............75
V Disappearance .......... 97
VI Accusation ............................... 129
VII Skyward ................................. .159
VIII Gunfire ......................................187
IX Plan 10 ......................................205
X Slugged ......................................227
XI Tortured ..................................269
X II Northward ................................ 293
X III P lu n g e ...................................... 321
X IV Report ...................................... 355
XV Interference ...............................379
XVI C a u g h t...................................... 395
X V II Case Closed ............................. 411
They Bead the Anonymous Letter
Jim Craig, State Trooper
an d th e K idn ap ped G overnor

CHAPTER I

ASSIGNM ENT

Trooper Sergeant Jim Craig

stared at the crudely scrawled let­
ter in Captain Norton’s hands and
emitted a low whistle of surprise.
Craig’s husky shoulders stiffened
as if he could already feel the men­
ace hinted at in the letter. His
9
10 STATE TROOPER

slate-gray eyes narrowed a little in

grim speculation.
“So they’re going to kill the new
governor—before he can even take
the oath of office!” Craig mused.
“That’s what the anonymous
writer of this note claims,” Captain
Norton agreed. He stood up, fists
clenched in stern anger. “That’s
what the letter says is going to hap­
pen—but it won’t !
“For six years this state has been
in the grip of the crookedest poli-
He Clenched His Fists in Anger
12 STATE TROOPER

ticians the country ever knew.

They’ve bribed city and county
police to sit idly by while the poli­
ticians committed robbery, black­
mail—even murder!”
Trooper Sergeant Craig nodded
his head, and the hard, thin lines
of his lips softened a moment as
he said:
“That’s right, Skipper; and the
only thing they’ve had to fear has
been the State Police! But we
couldn’t last another year, with the
Only the State Police Were Feared
14 STATE TROOPER

present, rotten administration still

in power, because they were all set
to push a bill through the legisla­
ture disbanding the whole State
Trooper organization!”
Both men were silent for a while,
Jim Craig once more searching the
anonymous letter which had come
in the morning mail for some hint
of the writer’s identity.
The letter was brief. It read:
“Troopers: One of you did me a
f aver once. Im paying back. They
Jim Craig Studied the Letter for Some Clue
16 STATE TROOPER

are going to murder Henry Millar

before he can take office tomorow.
I guess you know who I mean when
I say They.”
There was no signature. Craig
shook his head; not a clue to go on.
“They,” both he and Captain Nor­
ton knew, could refer only to the
politicians who had fought so bit­
terly against Henry Millar and the
reform administration in the No­
vember elections.
Directed by “Boss” Leeds, the
There Was Not a Clue to Go On
i8 STATE TROOPER

ring of crooked office holders—

from the governor down—had
mulcted the State of millions.
With only the State Troopers,
whom they could not corrupt by
bribes or threats, between them
and absolute control of the state,
“Boss” Leeds’s hirelings had been
prepared to have the Troopers dis­
banded when Henry Millar, a digni­
fied, independently wealthy scion
of one of the old families, had
made a run for governor on a re-
“Boss” Leeds
20 STATE TROOPER

form ticket—and had been elected

by a long-disgusted electorate!
While Jim Craig thought about
those things, Captain Norton,
commandant of Troop B, in whose
province lay the state capital,
peered keenly across the desk at his
most reliable sergeant.
He saw the young but firm lines
of Craig’s face. He remembered
the half-dozen times that Craig
had elected to shoot it out with
criminals, regardless of personal
 STATE TROOPER 21

safety. And Captain Norton knew

he was picking the right man for
the hardest job the State Troopers
ever tackled!
“Craig,” Captain Norton began
softly, “the governor-elect arrives
here tomorrow from his home up­
state for the inauguration cere­
monies.”
Jim Craig nodded. He knew
that; he wondered what was com­
ing next. The Skipper always
spoke softly when he was handing
22 STATE TROOPER

out tough assignments.

“I don’t have to tell you,” the
Captain continued, “how important
it is, not only to the very existence
of the State Police, but to every
honest citizen in the state, that
Henry Millar take the governor’s
office tomorrow. He’s going to,
Craig. And you are going to see
to it that nothing, nobody, inter­
feres with that inauguration!”
The captain paused. Then he
went on in explanation:
“You’re Going to See That Nobody Interferes!”
24 STATE TROOPER

“ ‘Boss’ Leeds, if he’s going to

try and keep Millar out, will hire
the toughest gunmen money can
buy. He’ll bribe officials, he’ll try
to buy some trooper, perhaps more
than one, connected with the in­
auguration. , Leeds and his dirty
politicians will stop at nothing!
That’s what you’ll be up against.”
The Captain arose, signifying
the interview was ended. Jim
Craig shoved his broad-brimmed
hat on his head and stood up as the
The Captain Gave a Totigh Assignment
26 STATE TROOPER

Captain put his hand on the Ser­

geant’s shoulder.
“It’s a tough assignment, Craig,”
the Skipper said. “But honest
government and the trooper organ­
ization that we’re proud of, de­
pend on your sticking at Henry
Millar’s side from the moment he
gets off the train here tomorrow
morning until he goes to bed as
governor of this state—an honest
governor!”
 CHAPTER II

P O T SH O T

Craig put his hand on the door­

knob and galvanized into swift
action as his ears caught the scurry
of rapidly moving feet following
the turning of the knob. The lock
stuck as he yanked open the door,
and it was a second before he was
in the corridor, his glance turning
27
28 STATE TROOPER

swiftly from the empty hallway at

the left to the right.
He saw a pair of shoulders just
turning a corridor. In three
strides he was at the turn. No one
was in sight. There were three
doors leading to the administra­
tion offices, and whoever had been
listening at the Captain’s doorway
had already disappeared in one of
them.
“Somebody getting an earful,”
Craig explained tersely as he re-
He Heard Footsteps in the Hallway
30 STATE TROOPER

turned to Norton’s doorway.

The Captain shook his head in
the negative.
“Probably just one of the troop­
ers passing,” he said. “Leeds
would never be able to bribe any­
one in Troop B to act as his spy!”
Jim Craig turned away with a
salute and started for the admini­
stration offices. He could not tell
the Captain, but Jim Craig knew
that the Skipper’s parting state­
ment was wrong.
Jim Left on*His Assignment
32 STATE TROOPER

Well, anyway, he told himself, if

he did not know it, he had mighty
good suspicions. Until six weeks
ago, Troop B had never missed fire
in raids on suburban gambling
houses and trouble spots which
were known to be under the pro­
tection of “Boss” Leeds’ political
ring.
Then, overnight, the raids had
begun to fail. Troopers in raiding
squads were as thorough as before.
But when they arrived, the politi-
34 STATE TROOPER

cally protected, so-called “hot

spots” had been empty—no custom­
ers, no operators!
Someone was “tipping off” the
trouble-spots before the raids could
get started!
“And it’s just six weeks ago to­
day,” Craig mused as he headed
into the administration rooms,
“that Lieutenant Arthur Kent,
that long-nosed, slick-looking bozo
with the movie star mustache over
there, was transferred from C
Someone Was “Tipping Off”
36 STATE TROOPER

Troop to this outfit!”

His eyes settled on the tall, slen­
der form of Lieutenant Kent, who
was bending over the teletype ma­
chine, scanning the state-wide re­
ports of crimes, stolen cars, fugi­
tives and so on, that the keys
pounded out twenty-four hours a
day.
Kent seemed to feel the steady
gaze of Craig’s eyes, for he lifted
his head and turned as Craig came
toward him. The Sergeant halted,
He Was Bending Over the Teletype Machine
38 STATE TROOPER

a pace away from thQ officer, and

spoke:
“Been past the Captain’s office
today, Kent?” Jim Craig asked in
level tone.
The Lieutenant’s face was ex­
pressionless.
“No,” he answered. “Why?”
Something inside him told Craig
that Kent was lying. But he knew
it would do no good to say so.
Kent was an officer; to call him a
liar would provide grounds for a
40 STATE TROOPER

charge of insubordination, partic­

ularly if any of the other troopers,
doing clerical work in the room,
overheard him. And two of them
at near-by desks were looking up.
“I just wondered,” Craig an­
swered as casually as he could.
“Thought maybe you’d got your
assignment for the inauguration
ceremonies tomorrow. I got mine:
It’s to see that Henry Millar, no
matter what happens, takes office
as governor! And I’m going to
The Two Troopers Looked Up
42 STATE TROOPER

see to just that, Kent!”

The officer stared for a long
moment into Jim Craig’s challeng­
ing eyes. His black mustache mov­
ed imperceptibly as he spoke from
between barely opened lips.
“If I couldn’t smell your breath,
Craig,” Arthur Kent said coldly,
“I’d have you up on charges of be­
ing drunk on duty. But I can’t
smell liquor and I imagine you’re
just being a little foolish!”
Kent turned away, and with an
44 . STATE TROOPER

angry feeling that he had let his

feelings get the better of good
judgment, Jim Craig left head­
quarters and headed toward the
Troop B stables.
“Guess I’ll work out with Tom a
little,” he said to gray old Murphy,
the troop’s stableman.
Murphy grinned between tobac­
co-stained teeth and in a few min­
utes brought out a sleek, close-
knit horse, saddled and bridled.
Jim mounted and rode out
Jim Craig Entered the Stables
46 STATE TROOPER

through the little growth of sap­

lings and brush that covered five
or six acres behind the troop
grounds. He galloped the horse
hard, and then walked it slowly to
cool off on the way back into the
stables.
Not twenty yards from the
stable doors, as he headed in, Jim
Craig felt a sudden tightening of
his stomach muscles. Without
consciously thinking, he knew he
had the same feeling that he had
48 STATE TROOPER

experienced in gun-scrapes with

criminals: trouble!
Almost as the thought went
through his mind, Craig threw his
spurs into the ribs of the startled
horse.
The surging leap of the black
pony, the swift creak of straining
leather and the angry whispering
of something whining close to his
head blended into one continuous
sound for Jim Craig.
The dry bark of a gun sounded
A Bullet Whined Past His Head
5° STATE TROOPER

as Jim threw himself back into the

saddle and wheeled the horse
around on churning hind legs.
Somebody had tried to kill him !
And Jim Craig was driving the
black horse straight into the di­
rection from which the shot’s
sound had come!
 CHAPTER III

PREPARATIONS

“Fire, you yellow r a t !” Jim

Craig growled as the horse hurdled
a clump of brush and straightened
into a gallop along one of the worn
trails used as bridle paths by the
troopers.
To the right, the Trooper heard
a crackling of dry brush and
5i
52 STATE TROOPER

wheeled the horse in that direc­

tion.
For perhaps three minutes Jim
Craig spurred his mount back and
forth in the patch of brush. He
found no one. And it was not until
he went back over his tracks, that
he found any sign of the would-
have-been assassin.
Behind a clump of three small
saplings, he saw scuffed-up ground.
Gleaming brightly in the dirt was
a brass revolver cartridge.
He Headed Back to the Stables
54 STATE TROOPER

Jim dismounted and picked it up.

“And I’m not one bit surprised!”
he said half-aloud as an examina­
tion of the shell showed it to be
a .38, standard issue for State
Trooper service revolvers.
Tucking the shell into his pocket,
he headed back to the stables. He
decided to say nothing, since nei­
ther Murphy nor two other troop­
ers grooming horses in the stable
remarked about the sound of the
shot. The Troop B target range
Jim Picked up the Cartridge
56 STATE TROOPER

was only a short distance from

where the mysterious gunman had
tried to kill him, Jim recalled.
After supper, disdaining the
customary pinochle games in the
recreation room, Jim Craig stop­
ped at Captain Norton’s office.
The Skipper was talking on the
phone, and Jim had time, as he
waited in the anteroom, to diag­
nose his thoughts about the at­
tempt on his life that afternoon.
He spoke half-aloud, as he oc-
The Captain Was Busy Telephoning
5» STATE TROOPER

casionally did when a knotty prob­

lem presented itself. It made
things easier, saying the words out
loud; you could go back over them,
like questioning witnesses; tear
down your words and thoughts
and see where they were wrong.
“Let’s see,” he began, ‘Tve got
a lot of enemies. There’s the
Draper mob of gunmen. They
hate me. And . . . ”
He shook his head in sudden ex­
asperation.
Somebody Wanted Him out of the Way
Go STATE TROOPER

“What’s the use?” he growled.

“There’s no use in looking any
further. I’m detailed to guard the
governor-elect tomorrow. The
Skipper and myself are the only
ones that know it, except maybe
Kent. With me out of the way,
some other trooper that maybe
wouldn’t be as handy with a gun,
might be assigned. So—the move
would be to get me out of the way.
And the Skipper certainly is clear,
so it must be . .
Jim Summed up the Situation
62 STATE TROOPER

“What in the world are you

growling to yourself about?”
The words broke in on Jim’s rev­
erie. Abruptly he stood up and
saluted Captain Norton, a half-
grin on his face.
“Sorry, Captain,” Craig grinned.
“I was sort of going over things
about—about tomorrow.”
For an instant he considered
laying all his suspicions before Nor­
ton. But he dismissed the thought,
knowing that he had nothing eon-
There Was a Half-Grin on His Face
64 STATE TROOPER

crete to go on, and knowing, too,

that Norton’s confidence in the
men of Troop B was unshakable.
“I wanted to go over my plans
for tomorrow, Captain,” Jim said
after they had gone into the inner
office.
The Captain nodded.
“The way I figure it,” Jim went
on, “there ought to be a good-sized
squad of troopers at the station;
some of the men mingling in the
crowd, although they’ll be in uni-
They Went Over the Plans
66 STATE TROOPER

form. The rest ought to be around

the new governor’s party as he
leaves the train.
“There’ll be a motorcycle escort
to accompany the cars with the of­
ficial party to the capitol. The
same squad will surround the in­
auguration platform, stick with
Millar whatever he does, until he
retires at night. I’ll stay at his
side, myself, all the way!”
Captain Norton nodded.
“I’ll have the orders posted,” he
“I’ll Stay at His Side All .the Way!”
68 STATE TROOPER

said. “You’ll need fifteen men,

anyway. I put in a call to Millar
a little while ago. When I get him
on the ’phone, I’ll explain the situa­
tion and suggest that he request a
constant escort of troopers.
“Technically, we have no right
to do any work in the city limits.
His request will straighten that
out and keep the local police, who
are hand in glove with Leeds’
crooks, from making any move
against us.”
“I’ll Haye the Orders Posted*”
70 STATE TROOPER

Jim Craig stood up.

“Guess that’s all,” he said. “If
trouble comes, as seems likely,
they’ll probably try to get Millar
somewhere between the station
and the capitol. I’ll look once be­
fore I fire, Captain, but not twice
—no matter who it is that starts
trouble!”
That night Craig spent an hour
taking apart his service revolver,
cleaning and oiling it and putting
it back together.
“Guess That’s All,” Jim Said
72 STATE TROOPER

On his way into the sleeping

dormitory, he passed Lieutenant
Kent, heading for the officers’
quarters. Craig stared flatly at
the officer, and thought he saw a
gleam of something—he was not
sure whether it was amusement,
hatred or cunning—in the other’s
eyes as they passed.
Jim Craig did not sleep soundly
that night. Until dawn curled
over the barracks, his lean, hard
body tossed about as he checked
He Got His Revolver Ready
74 STATE TROOPER

and re-checked plans for the escort.

One thing he knew: He would
go down fighting before gangland
guns could touch the governor-
elect and so spell finis to the
Troopers!
 CHAPTER IV

RECEPTION COM M ITTEE

Beefy, florid, purplish veins

criss-crossing his face, “Boss”
Leeds stood with the other state
senators and officials on the plat­
form of Track 17 and scanned the
densely-packed crowd, waiting
there at the station to welcome the
reform governor, Henry Millar.
75
76 STATE TROOPER

Deep-set in paunchy sockets,

Leeds’s eyes roamed over the
crowd, picked out the scattered
blobs of gray-green uniform where
State Troopers were stationed
among the milling thousands.
“Boss” Leeds scowled and mum­
bled a curt order to one of his
stooges. The man disappeared in
the crowd.
“Boss” Leeds had had himself
elected as state senator from the
metropolitan district so that he
“Boss” Leeds Waited on the Platform
78 STATE TROOPER

could be in close touch with the

great spider-web of political evil
which he controlled. Consequent­
ly, he was among those state of­
ficials making a pretense of wel­
coming the new governor. They
hated Millar, these men of the old
administration; but they had put
on smiling faces today.
To Trooper Sergeant Jim Craig,
busy checking over the assign­
ments of the various men stationed
in the crowd and at the platform,
They Put on Smiling Faces
8o STATE TROOPER

the too-obvious smiles and great­

heartedness of the Leeds crowd
seemed like the actions of a cat
about to do away with the family
canary.
“Rats!” he growled, as he saw
“Boss” Leeds leave the group and
follow the henchman he had sent
off on an errand a few minutes
earlier.
Jim watched Leeds until the
political leader disappeared inside
the station. Wondering what was
Like Playing “Cat and Canary”
82 STATE TROOPER

up, and seeing that he still had

several minutes before the train
was due, Jim pushed through the
crowd after Leeds.
Once a man in a checkered suit
blocked his path and Jim, ordinari­
ly courteous with spectators in
crowds, shoved the other rudely
from his path. He had recognized
one of Leeds’s closest aides, the
sly-faced “Geezer” Dawson.
But by the time Jim Craig
reached the station waiting room,
Jim Shoved the Man Rudely
84 STATE TROOPER

“Boss” Leeds evidently had fin­

ished whatever he had left to do,
for he was walking back toward
the crowd.
A few feet away, heading rapid­
ly in the other direction, Craig saw
a man in a trooper’s uniform. He
needed no second glance at the
shoulders and stride to identify
Lieutenant Kent.
For a moment Jim considered
stopping Leeds, but realized there
would be little to gain by it, and
86 STATE TROOPER

turned back to the crowd. Once

more at Track 17, Jim waited a few
moments. Then he saw Arthur
Kent striding toward him with a
half-concealed, mocking grin on
his lips.
Craig saluted as a matter of
form and Kent returned the salute,
saying, “All right, Craig, I take it
you have things all set up?”
As Jim Craig frowned, Kent
went right on without pausing for
an answer:
Lieutenant Kent Strode up to Jim
88 STATE TROOPER

“Very well, I’ll take over, Ser­

geant. You lead the escort of
motorcycle men from here to the
capitol. I’ll stick with the gov­
ernor-elect !”
An angry light leaped to Jim
Craig’s eyes and he stepped half a
pace forward until his chin was
only inches from the Lieutenant’s.
“Captain Norton detailed me to
handle this escort, Kent,” Jim said
in clipped accents. “And I’ll do it
without any interference!”
90 STATE TROOPER

Kent’s eyes narrowed and the

mustache flattened into a straight
line as he drew himself up and
snarled, “You’re still a sergeant,
Craig. And I’m lieutenant in
Troop B. You’ll take orders from
me, whether you like it or not.”
He paused and a condescending
smile slipped over his face.
“Besides,” Kent added, “you can
call up the Captain and see whether
or not he told me to come down
here and handle the reception.”
92 STATE TROOPER

Jim made a rapid survey of the

situation. Kent was his superior,
and it was insubordination to re­
fuse to take his orders. Of course,
there was always the chance that
all his suspicions of the Lieutenant
were misplaced, that everything
had been coincidence. After all,
Jim told himself, he did not have
anything definite on Kent; it was
just a hunch.
“Right you are, Lieutenant/’
Jim said in almost cordial tones.
94 STATE TROOPER

“Where do you want me in the

motorcycle escort?”
“Up front, in the lead,” Kent
answered. “We can’t take any
chances on—er—anything happen­
ing to the new governor.”
Craig saluted and turned away.
Kent held top cards, he told him­
self. Kent was his superior. He,
Craig, would lead the motorcycle
escort, but he would see to it that
the Governor never was out of his
sight.
Kent Ordered Jim in the Lead
96 STATE TROOPER

Besides, Jim said, half-trying to

convince himself that Kent was all
right, Kent would not dare to let
anything happen to the governor-
elect. Suspicion would settle im­
mediately on the lieutenant if any­
thing happened to Millar while he
was with him.
 CHAPTER V

DISAPPEARAN CE

From the far end of the railroad

yards, the mournful wail of a loco­
motive whistle sounded above the
noise of the crowd. It was the
special train, bringing the gover­
nor-elect.
The crowd surged forward, jam­
ming against the guard rails. A
97
98 STATE TROOPER

cheer burst forth as the train slow­

ed to a halt and the tall, dignified
head of the new reform adminis­
tration came to the top of the ob­
servation car steps.
From his place at the rear of
the crowd, where he stood ready
to lead the way to the street out­
side, Craig saw politicians step
forward, crowding around Millar.
The beefy jowls of “Boss” Leeds
hobbled up and down as he pumped
the hand of the governor-elect.
The Governor-Elect Appeared
100 STATE TROOPER

“Like saying goodbye to the con­

demned man,” Craig grunted to
himself.
He saw Kent presenting himself
to Millar, and the little group be­
gan to push toward the exit.
“Governor!”
The word was shouted by a small
man who shoved past a uniformed
policeman and ran to Millar’s side.
Involuntarily Jim’s hand tight­
ened on the butt of his revolver.
But the man was only a well-
“Governor!” the Small Man Shouted
102 STATE TROOPER

wisher and the group moved on.

Keeping as close as possible to the
party, Craig shoved along until
they were outside.
At a signal, the dozen Troopers
on idling motorcycles raced their
engines and began to edge the
crowd back from the driveway.
Smiling, waving his arm, but
still maintaining the air of dignity
which had helped him win the elec­
tion, Henry Millar climbed into the
tonneau of the big touring car—
The Procession Got Under Way
10 4 STATE TROOPER

and the procession got under way.

Turning as they reached the end
of the driveway and started out
onto the street, Jim saw Kent; in
the front seat of the governor-
elect’s car, wave for him to come
back.
Wheeling his cycle about, Craig
throttled up to the car as Kent
yelled:
“We’re not going to go straight
through the city. Too many
crowds.”
"Go in the Back Way, Craig!”
io 6 STATE TROOPER

He bent over and said something

to Millar which Craig could not
hear. Then he added:
“Go through Hilldale, under the
railroad tracks, and come into the
capitol the back way, Craig!”
Jim saluted and wheeled back to
start the procession of official cars
through the suburban route to the
state capitol on the far edge of the
city.
Some inner voice made him men­
tally examine Kent’s order with
Jim Suspected Foul Play
io 8 STATE TROOPER

suspicion; but it was logical:

There was less likelihood of trou­
ble out in the open than in the
crowded city streets, where a shot
might come from crowd or roof­
tops and the assassin escape in the
confusion.
“It looks all right, it sounds all
right,” Jim Craig said to Moeley,
the trooper just behind him, who
stared with puzzled eyes at the
Sergeant as he heard these words.
“But it doesn’t add up. Something
“Something Is Rotten Somewhere!”
no STATE TROOPER

is rotten somewhere!”
He had no time to explain to
Moeley, even if he had chosen to,
for scores of cars along the road
had stopped at the approach of
the wailing sirens, and crowds
were cheering as Millar’s car
passed.
Glancing back frequently at the
governor’s car, Jim began to feel
that perhaps all his suspicions, per­
haps the anonymous letter and
Leeds’s actions at the station had
So Far* Nothing Had Happened
112 STATE TROOPER

meant nothing. They were now

through Hilldale, crossing an open
stretch of meadows and factory-
lands cut up by railroad tracks,
and it was only five minutes more
to the state building.
“Looks like things’ll be all right,”
Jim breathed.
He felt relief, but there was a
vague disappointment in him.
Subsconciously he had been hoping
for something to happen that
would give him a chance to use
Ahead, Jim Saw a Long Culvert
xi4 STATE TROOPER

fists or lead on Lieutenant Arthur

Kent!
Ahead, Jim saw a long culvert,
on top of which ran three sets of
railroad tracks. He throttled for­
ward, and snapped on his head­
light to scan the gloomy interior
of the tunnel. It was clear and he
rode on out into the sunshine, the
noise of his exhaust oddly quiet
after the hammering echoes of the
culvert.
Behind, louder and deeper than
Jim Throttled Forward
1x6 STATE TROOPER

the chatter of the other motorcycle

exhausts, Jim heard a sudden re­
port.
Instantly every fibre in him leap­
ed to the alert and his gun slid out
of the holster and into his hand as
he wheeled the cycle around and
roared back into the culvert with
headlight on.
“Trouble !” Jim yelled over his
shoulder at the others.
His mind raced over the possibil­
ities. It might have been a blow-
It Might Have Been a Blowout
ii 8 STATE TROOPER

out. But, somehow, he felt that the

noise was a gunshot.
It was not a gun, however. The
wavering, brilliant beam of his
headlight picked out the governor’s
car, almost in the center of the
long culvert. The chauffeur was
just getting out to stare at a still­
hissing flat tire on the left front
wheel.
“Blowout!” Jim exclaimed. “Bet­
ter transfer the governor to an­
other car and go on.”
He Struck a Match to See
120 STATE TROOPER

The last he said to Lieutenant

Kent who was just coming to the
chauffeur’s side as Jim stopped
his motorcycle. Without waiting
for an answer, Jim stepped to the
tonneau of the car. In the gloom
his eyes could not pick out the
form of Henry Millar, and he
struck a match.
There was no one in the car!
‘‘Governor!” Jim’s voice barked
out harshly.
He expected an answer to come
There Was No One in the Car!
122 STATE TROOPER

from the other side; perhaps Mil­

lar had gotten out to inspect the
blowout.
But even as Jim Craig’s mouth
again formed the word, “Gover­
nor,” something inside him seemed
to say—
“He’s gone! They’ve got him!”
For a moment, blood pounded
in Craig’s temples. He felt a surge
of red anger throughout his body.
For a moment he was tempted to
leap at Lieutenant Kent and
“What’s the Trouble, Craig?”
124 STATE TROOPER

throttle an explanation from him.

Then Jim Craig’s senses gather­
ed themselves; he forced himself to
be cool.
Swiftly he stepped to the other
side of the car. There was no one
there.
“What’s the trouble, Craig?”
Jim heard Kent’s too-smooth voice
ask.
The Trooper Sergeant straight­
ened up from peering beneath the
car.
“The Governor-Elect Is Missing!”
126 STATE TROOPER

“The governor-elect,” he said

slowly, deliberately letting his gaze
shift about the gathering circle of
troopers, officials and politicians,
“is missing!”
The words were a bombshell.
For a moment the group was stun­
ned, then as the sound of swiftly
indrawn breath whispered around
the group, Arthur Kent spoke up:
“Why—why, how could he be
missing?”
A babble of voices repeated
 0

Arthur Kent Seemed Amazed

128 STATE TROOPER

the question. Flashlights knifed

brightly through the darkness of
the culvert, seeking out the cor­
ners, piercing the gloom.
But Henry Millar had disap­
peared as completely as if the earth
had opened and swallowed him !
 CHAPTER VI

A C C U SA T IO N

Sergeant Craig halted a moment

in scanning the immediately sur­
rounding area to consider the vari­
ous ways in which the new gover­
nor might have been spirited out
of the car.
He was up against a seemingly
impossible situation. If Kent had
129
130 STATE TROOPER

been at Millar’s side, Millar could

not have disappeared without the
Lieutenant knowing about it, un­
less it had happened after Kent
left the tonneau of the car to in­
spect the blowout.
Kent seemed amazed. If he was
acting, it was superb acting, Jim
told himself. But he knew that
now, immediately after the disap­
pearance, every moment counted.
He determined to take a chance on
questioning Kent, anyway.
“What’s the Trouble?”
13 2 STATE TROOPER

Giving the other troopers a

gruff order to go back over the
last mile of their route—Craig,
himself, had seen the governor-
elect less than a mile back when
he turned around once to signal
for more speed—he started toward
the tall form of Lieutenant Kent,
standing in front of the governor’s
car.
“What’s the trouble?”
The stern, inquiring voice of
Captain Norton put an end to
Captain Norton Was Angry
134 STATE TROOPER

Craig’s idea of questioning Kent.

The commander of B Troop strode
into the circle of light.
“What’s the delay ? Where’s the
Governor, Kent? I started out to
meet the procession and find
everything haywire! What is the
m atter?”
Captain Norton’s voice tolerated
no delay in an answer to his ques­
tions.
“He’s .. Millar . . . he’s missing!”
Kent blurted out. Then he seemed
The Captain Questioned the Troopers
136 STATE TROOPER

to recover his composure and went

on, smoothly and easily in a man­
ner that made Jim want to push
his knuckles through the officer’s
face:
“We started into the tunnel and
there was a blowout. Sergeant
Craig was so far ahead that it took
him several moments to get back
to the governor’s car. When he did
get back here, he looked in the car
and yelled that Henry Millar had
been kidnapped!”
Jim Told What He Knew
13B STATE TROOPER

Norton whirled about as Craig

stepped up.
“What about it, Sergeant?” the
Skipper demanded.
Jim noticed that he did not ad­
dress him as “Craig,” but with the
more formal, “Sergeant.”
“Millar is missing, Captain,” Jim
said, “I’ve got men searching all
around and back on our route. I
cannot understand it, though. He
was there a moment earlier. Lieu­
tenant Kent was riding with him
“Kent Was Riding With Him.”
140 STATE TROOPER

and I can’t see how Millar could

disappear without Kent knowing
about it!”
There it was, Jim thought. He
had blurted out the phrase which
was running through his mind.
He had wanted to say nothing
about it, to try and work the thing
out without bringing in the angle
of Kent’s being in the car. But it
was out now, and Captain Norton,
a frown creasing his forehead,
shoulders erect and voice snapping
There Was a Smirk on His Face as He Spoke
142 STATE TROOPER

out like the bite of a whip, turned

again to the lieutenant.
“That right, Lieutenant?” Nor­
ton demanded.
Kent allowed a condescending
smile to play over his features.
“Why, more or less, sir,” he an­
swered. “I was in the car with the
governor, yes; those were your or­
ders—that I should sort of assume
the more intimate, social details of
escorting the governor, and Craig
was to be in charge, handling the
144 STATE TROOPER

actual work of guarding him. I

told Craig that at the station. But
Henry Millar was in the rear seat
of that car when I got out to see
about the blowout! And Craig was
the one who discovered that Millar
was missing!”
It was on the tip of Jim Craig’s
tongue to call Kent a liar, to tell
the Captain of Kent’s assuming
complete command of the escort—
until the blowout in the culvert.
But Craig clamped his lips tightly
Jim Decided to Say Nothing More
x46 STATE TROOPER

together. No good could come of

calling Kent on that point now.
If, as Jim suspected, the lieutenant
were mixed up in it somehow, con­
spiring with the forces of “Boss”
Leeds, it would be better to play a
poker-face hand until Kent made
a misstep.
Captain Norton’s chill voice in­
terrupted Jim’s thoughts:
“You’ve fallen down on me, Ser­
geant. More than that, you’ve
fallen down on the whole service.
“You’ve Failed Me, Sergeant!”
148 STATE TROOPER

I handed you the responsibility of

caring for Henry Millar, of seeing
to it that no one could get to him.
Millar is missing, disappeared,
probably kidnapped; there is no
other explanation. Regardless of
what the circumstances were, it
was and still is your responsibili­
ty.”
The Captain paused and Jim
could feel the stare of the other
troopers, of the officials and poli­
ticians, and even Lieutenant Kent’s
“It' Was Your Responsibility.”
150 STATE TROOPER

cold sneer turned upon him.

‘Til give you twenty-four hours,
Sergeant,” Captain Norton con­
cluded, “to find Henry Millar. If
he’s still missing then, you’re
through with the service—just as
the service will be all through. Be­
cause it’s no secret that the admin­
istration which Millar’s reform
body was displacing can put
through a bill in this legislature
ordering the State Troopers dis­
banded!”
The Other Troopers Stared at Him
152 STATE TROOPER

The Captain turned a cold stare

on the red face of “Boss” Leeds,
who had come up from one of the
cars in the rear,
“When Fm out of uniform, if the
State Police are disbanded,” Cap­
tain Norton said coldly, staring
straight into Leeds’ shifting eyes,
“the first thing Fm going to do as
a civilian will be to punch your
dirty, rotten hide full of bumps,
Leeds!”
The countenance of the political
i54 STATE TROOPER

boss became even more mottled

with anger and a snarl came to his
lips, giving way abruptly to a sly
smile filled with evil.
“It won’t be long, Norton,”
Leeds said slowly, every syllable
snarled from the corner of his
loose mouth. “But it mightn’t be
healthy for you to try i t !”
But Captain Norton had allowed
his temper to speak more freely
than he might have wished in a
cooler moment. He turned his
His Face Was Purple With Anger
156 STATE TROOPER

back on Leeds and started to speak

to Jim Craig. Then he closed his
mouth and stalked out of the tun­
nel.
Jim returned Kent’s hatred-filled
stare for a brief moment. The
words of Captain Norton seemed
to ring in his head like a bell of
doom.
“Twenty-four hours! If Henry
Millar is still missing then. . .
No time now for personal dis­
likes, Jim told himself. Action,
Like a Bell of Doom
158 STATE TROOPER

that was what they needed if

Henry Millar were to be recovered
and the very existence of the State
Troopers, which was threatened
by Jim Craig’s acceptance of
Kent’s lying instructions, were to
be assured.
 CHAPTER VII

SK YW A R D

Tightening his Sam Browne belt

a notch, Jim Craig put every
thought out of his mind but one—
to find Henry Millar, governor-
elect !
“Men just can’t fly out of a car
and away in thin air,” Trooper
Sergeant Craig told himself as he
i59
i6 o STATE TROOPER

turned to the business of finding

Henry Millar’s trail. “Even if
Kent had left the rear seat before
the Governor disappeared—but I
don’t think he did—there must be
some trace!”
That was logical. Jim Craig,
who lived to fight crime and crim­
inals, turned his gray gaze on the
walls of the culvert. Press photog­
raphers, on the scene by now
along with the question-asking re­
porters and the curious, were
He Searched Every Inch of the Walls
162 STATE TROOPER________

shooting off flash bulbs all around.

Jim’s flashlight began to meth­
odically search every inch of the
culvert walls when an odd reflec­
tion of one of the photographer’s
bulbs made him look straight up to
the roof of the culvert.
A round circle of open sky met
his gaze.
“A manhole!” Jim exclaimed
softly.
His feet started moving toward
the end of the culvert as ideas rac-
“A Manhole!” Jim Exclaimed Softly
164 STATE TROOPER

ed through his mind.

If—it was a big “if”—his hunch
could be trusted, Jim Craig was on
the trail of the kidnapped gover­
nor ! His pace was not hurried un­
til he was out of the culvert. Then
he sprinted past the stone mouth
of the tunnel, turned and began
elambering up a long slope of dirty
black cinders.
On top he saw six blue ribbons
of track stretching out each way.
A quick glance right and left show-
Jim Craig: Had a Hunch
166 STATE TROOPER

ed nothing in sight on the tracks,

but Jim knew that there had been
enough delay down in the culvert
for anyone, up here on top of the
culvert, for instance, to make a
clean getaway.
Walking carefully so as not to
obliterate any possible footprints
or signs in the loosely packed cin­
ders of the track bed, Jim stepped
to the manhole between the tracks
which led down into the culvert,
apparently to provide an emer-
Jim Craig Looked for Clues
168 STATE TROOPER

gency water drain for the track

bed.
Peering down, he could see
flashlights, car headlights, and in­
termittently the glare of a flash
bulb “shot” by one of the photog­
raphers.
Outwardly cool, though his
thoughts were racing over the pos­
sibilities of his discovery, Jim look­
ed about in the cinders. They had
been scuffed up, possibly by tram ­
pling feet.
He Peered Down the Manhole
170 STATE TROOPER

“That’s it,” Jim said slowly. “The

blowout, a rope lowered down in­
side from the tracks here. It’s
kidnapping, that’s certain. Wheth­
er they got Henry Millar alive, or
his dead body, is another matter.
“But there are two possibilities:
Either one of the kidnappers was
lowered on that rope and somehow
put the Governor out of commis­
sion after Kent left the car, or—
Arthur Kent himself slugged Mil­
lar, tied the rope under his shoul-
"There Are Two Possibilities.”
 I
172 ST A T E TROOPER_______

ders and left the car as Millar was

hauled up to the top of the culvert
and taken away while I was won­
dering what had happened!”
Craig was angry with himself.
If he had thought of this—the only
possible way for Millar to have
left the culvert, in the first place—
he might have sighted the kidnap­
pers. Now it was useless to try to
trace them in the freight yards on
both sides.
Another thought struck Craig’s
The Only Way He Could Have Disappeared
i74 STATE TROOPER

mind. How did the kidnappers

know the governor’s car was going
to have a blowout right there?
There was one way to answer the
question; he went back inside the
culvert and approached the man
who had been driving the automo­
bile.
“How about this blowout,
c h a u ffe u r? ” C raig demanded.
“What was it, nail or glass or
what?”
The chauffeur, apparently
He Decided to Question the Chauffeur
i 76 STATE TROOPER

frightened at the happenings of

the last fifteen minutes, stumbled
over his answer:
“Why—er—a nail. Here it is.
Just got it out.”
Craig turned his flashlight on
the roadway, knowing what he
would find before the beam picked
out a score or more gleaming bits
of metal. He bent over and in­
spected them. Some were nails,
sharpened at both ends; some were
jagged bits of metal; some were
A Nail Had Caused the Blowout
178 STATE TROOPER

staples wired in the form of an

“X” so as to almost insure a blow­
out if a tire struck them.
“ They w eren ’t ta k in g any
chances,” Jim said, carefully pick­
ing up the bits of metal in his hand­
kerchief as the astounded chauf­
feur looked on. “But what I can’t
figure------ ”
The Trooper Sergeant broke off
as out of the corner of his eye he
saw Lieutenant Kent speak to one
of the other troopers and a moment
i8o STATE TROOPER

later mount the man’s motorcycle

and start out of the culvert.
“Take charge, Blair,” Jim snap­
ped over his shoulder to the Troop­
er Corporal nearest him. “Go over
the place with a fine-tooth comb.
Manhole on top the culvert. Get
any fingerprints that may be on it.
I’ll be right back.”
Jim vaulted into the saddle of his
motorcycle and his foot jammed
down on the starter. Kent was al­
ready roaring up the highway
Kent Mounted His Motorcycle and Rode Off
182 STATE TROOPER

when Craig, careful to stay a good

two hundred yards in the rear, set
out after him.
There was nothing definite in
Jim Craig’s mind, other than to
follow the Lieutenant. He did not
know why, but some inner force
was pushing him along on Kent’s
trail.
Wind whistled in Jim’s face,
cooled him and seemed to help in
setting his thoughts in order.
“Now, how did the governor’s
Jim Set Out After Him
184 STATE TROOPER

car have a blowout when the seven

or eight motorcycles ahead of it
missed all that junk in the road?”
Jim wondered.
He dismissed the question in the
next breath. It would have been
difficult for one of the men peering
down through the manhole to spot
the governor’s car in time to throw
the metal in front of it and still
miss the motorcycles. It could have
happened that way, though.
“Yeah,” Jim grinned mirthless-
Some Inner Force Kept Him on Kent’s Trail
18 6 STATE TROOPER

ly. “And it could have happened

that somebody in the governor’s
car itself leaned out and tossed the
metal—maybe the chauffeur, may­
be Kent. It even could have been
the last trooper through on a cycle,
but that isn’t likely. Tommy Hen­
derson was last, and he’s honest to
the core!”
 CHAPTER VIII

GUNFIRE

They were winging through one

of the railroad towns, now, Kent
still two hundred yards ahead and
apparently unsuspecting that any­
one was following.
“Doesn’t make much difference
if he does catch on that I’m follow­
ing,” Jim decided. “If he does, and
187
i8 8 STATE TROOPER

if he’s heading for a meeting with

anyone, I’ll still be able . , ”
He broke off in his thoughts as, a
couple miles outside the town, Kent
wheeled abruptly from the main
highway and disappeared.
A moment later Jim was brak­
ing to a stop where he had last seen
the Lieutenant. There was a ru t­
ted dirt road to the right, passing
through a thick growth of alder
bushes and entering a large patch
of scraggly woods.
Kent Disappeared Down the Dirt Road
190 STATE TROOPER

Finally, above the throttled-

down motor of his own cycle, Jim
heard another motorcycle exhaust.
He guessed that Kent had turned
down the road.
Grimly making sure his revolver
was loose in the holster, Jim Craig
started down the winding dirt road
after his superior officer.
Twenty yards inside the woods,
Jim suddenly swung the front
wheel of the cycle sideways and
skidded to a sliding halt in a cloud
He Made Sure His Gun Was Loose
192 STATE TROOPER

of dust. Across the roadway, com-?

pletely blocking it, was a battered
old car. I
Before Jim had barely left the]
seat of his cycle, things began to
happen swiftly.
Half a dozen men—Jim saw at a
glance that they were hoodlums—
stepped from behind the blockad­
ing auto.
Jim’s first, swift glance showed
him they were all armed. The man
in front, a Tommy gun nestling in
The Man in Front Held a Tommy Gun
194 STATE TROOPER

the cradle of his arms, jabbed the

weapon in Craig’s direction and
growled:
“Stick ’em up, Trooper!”
The last word came with a grunt
as Jim Craig, his momentary sur­
prise gone, threw himself into a
roaring gunfight. With one smooth
motion his arm was down, at the
holster and up, the revolver in his
right hand spouting sudden death!
The leader’s finger tightened on
the trigger of the Tommy gun.
Things Began to Happen Swiftly
196 STATE TROOPER

RAT-TAT-TAT!
The gun burst into chatter as the
gunman’s body stiffened, every
muscle taut in death that had come
with Craig’s first shot. The sound
of the Tommy gun died away and
the man pitched forward into the
dirt plowed up by the submachine-
gun bullets.
But the others had not been idle.
Jim’s first shot had scored, but it.
had broken that tense moment of
waiting that always precedes a
The Gunman's Body Stiffened
198 STATE TROOPER

gun battle—when armed men stare

at each other, waiting for someone
to make the first break.
“Get him!”
The words were a hoarse growl
as another gunman brought his
weapon into line with Craig’s body,
But the Trooper Sergeant had not
stopped moving after his first suc­
cessful volley.
Throwing himself to one side,
Jim hit the ground, rolled over
once and came to a halt firing. The
“Get Him!”
200 STATE TROOPER

shot hit the thug who had yelled

the command to “Get him!”
An answering burst of fire from
four remaining guns kicked dirt up
in Jim’s face.
Even as his finger tightened on
the trigger again, the sights fram­
ing a spot on a gunman’s chest, Jim
realized with a swift sinking feel­
ing in his stomach, that he had not
enough bullets to account for all
his assailants, even allowing for no
misses.
Jim Fired From the Ground
202 STATE TROOPER

“Got you, rat!” Jim growled as

he saw the third gunman straight­
en, clutch at the splotch of crimson
on his chest, and pitch forward
with a convulsive shudder.
From the corner of his eye, Jim
saw one of the gunmen moving
around in a flanking movement.
He snapped a shot at the man,
missed, and then a murderous fire-
seemed to sear his brain.
The air was filled with sizzling
streamers of flame. Rockets zoom-
The Gunman Was Sneaking Closer
204 STATE TROOPER

ed into the heavens and exploded

in Craig’s eyes.
Vaguely he knew he had been
hit, that the world was turning
black. His finger tightened once
more on the trigger but he could
not know whether the gun fired.
Blood beginning to stream down
his face from a crimson furrow in
his skull, Trooper Sergeant Craig
plunged to the ground as the sur­
viving gunmen sped his falling
body with another burst of fire!
 CHAPTER IX

PLAN 10
S h riek in g newsboys spread
among the thousands of persons
gathered in front of the state eapi-
tol for the inauguration cere­
monies. Black streamered news­
papers sold like the proverbial hot-
cakes as the newsies yelled:
“Reform governor kidnapped!
205
206 STATE TROOPER

Millar snatched from State Troop­

ers!”
Inside the capitol, “Boss” Leeds’s
puppet governor, Donnell, gave out
pompous statements saying that
the governor-elect would be found
and that here was “another ex­
ample of the inefficiency of the
state police.”
The inauguration ceremonies
were postponed indefinitely as the
hunt for Millar spread. Members
of the Leeds ring chortled in glee.
They Chortled in Glee
208 STATE TROOPER

Now the Leeds man would be

governor, unless Millar could be
found, and for another two years
the state would be in the grip of
Leeds’s unscrupulous politicians—
perhaps longer; it would take a
good while for another reform
wave to gather momentum.
At the barracks of Troop B—as
in every other State Trooper bar­
racks in the state—the gloom could
be cut with a knife.
The teletype had long since chat-
210 STATE TROOPER

tered out its warning message.

Henry Millar’s Bertillon measure­
ments, the classification of his
fingerprints, his general appear­
ance and habits had been sent
out on the system of automatic
typewriters which linked not only
all police agencies in the state, but
those of seven bordering neighbor
states as well.
“Plan 10. Plan 10. Plan 10.”
The teletypewriter had hammer­
ed out those letters. The short-
The Teletype Chattered Its Message
212 STATE TROOPER

wave radio of the state police had

repeated it.
In the big cities of eight states,
and in the counties, the same
phrase had been repeated over
short-wave police radios. Patrol­
men had received the words at
their call boxes on important thor­
oughfares.
“Plan 10” was code for the sys­
tem of blocking all highways with
inspecting police forces when a kid­
napping had taken place in any of
214 STATE TROOPER

the states. Following the order to

put Plan 10 in operation had come
Millar’s description and a general
alarm.
Ordinarily, in kidnapping, Plan
10 would have stood a good chance
to produce results.
But Captain Norton, seated in
his office, waiting impatiently for
the telephone call that would tell
him his faith in Jim Craig was not
misplaced, had decided only a few
minutes after he left the culvert
216 STATE TROOPER

that Plan 10 would not work this

time.
The police of half the cities and
most the counties in the state
were under control of “Boss”
Leeds’s political ring. If anything
was done, if the missing governor
could be found, State Troopers or
the police of neighboring states—
if, as seemed unlikely, Millar was
taken out of the state—would be
the ones to catch the abductors.
The little gold hour hand of the
The Hours Passed Swiftly
2 l8 STATE TROOPER

clock on Norton’s desk rolled past

four—five—six.
Orderlies came and went. The
telephone bell jangled now and
then as troopers called in with the
same story:
“No trace!”
The grim lines of Norton’s face
grew grimmer; the corners of his
mouth became whiter.
Worst of all, there had been no
word yet from Jim Craig.
For perhaps the tenth time
The lin e s of His Face Grew Grimmer
220 STATE TROOPER

since Millar’s disappearance, the

Captain of Troop B went over the
events leading up to and after the
incident. He recalled the letter,
Craig’s assignment, Kent’s assign­
ment ; the conversations in the cul­
vert; Kent’s implied charges; Jim
Craig’s angry statements.
Too, Captain Norton went back
over the record of the Sergeant.
He knew Jim Craig was honest,
but, the Captain asked himself, had
Sergeant Craig’s usually sharp
222 STATE TROOPER

faculties been dulled today?

He knew the answer was nega­
tive. As far as Captain Norton
could see, Lieutenant Arthur Kent
was either a masterful liar or
blind: even six feet away he should
have noticed if Millar was forcibly
removed from the auto, despite the
darkness in the culvert.
Abruptly, with an impatient ges­
ture, the Skipper stood up, shov­
ing his chair out behind him. The
frown left his brow. Captain Nor-
He Decided to Try New Measures
224 STATE TROOPER

ton had made up his mind and now

he was acting.
“Get the corporal Craig left in
charge at the culvert,” he instruct­
ed the office sergeant over the
phone.
For a few moments he stood si­
lent in thought; then the corporal
was on the phone.
“Corporal, which way did Ser­
geant Craig go when he left you at
the culvert?”
“Route Twelve, south,” came the
226 STATE TROOPER

answer. “He was on his cycle.”

Thanking the man, Norton sig­
naled the operator, ordered his big
car brought from the garage.
“I may be a brass hat,” the Cap­
tain told himself with a wry smile
as he settled behind the wheel of
his car, “but I’m still a trooper. I’m
going to find Jim Craig—if I can.
And I’ve a hunch that when I find
him, he’ll be close onto trouble and
the answer to the case of the kid­
napped governor.”
 CHAPTER X

SLUGGED

Speeding past the culvert where

the kidnapping had taken place,
Norton turned onto Route Twelve
and headed south. He stopped at
four gas stations in the next twen­
ty minutes, asked questions of
each. The fourth gas station man
knew Craig by sight; he had seen
227
228 STATE TROOPER

Craig pass there in the afternoon,

“goin’ like blazes with another
trooper on a cycle a little ahead of
him, Captain!”
Norton thanked the man. He
was past the little railroad town.
Four miles beyond, he knew, that
as in part of the Plan 10 blockade
troopers had been stationed ever
since the kidnapping.
But when he reached them, they
had not seen Jim Craig.
“Then he’s somewhere between
He Stopped at All Gas Stations
230 STATE TROOPER

that gas station this side of the

railroad town, and here,” Norton
instantly realized.
Darkness had begun to fill the
valleys and soften the landscape
when Captain Norton, in a very
dusty car, came to the road onto
which Jim Craig had turned to
meet disaster before overwhelming
odds. In the hours between, the
Troop B commandant had covered
side road after side road, searching
for the Trooper Sergeant.
He Came to the Narrow Dirt Road
232 STATE TROOPER

Getting out of the car, weary

and drawn with the strain of what
seemed to be a futile search, Nor­
ton scanned the dusty road for
tracks, straightened up with a low
whistle of surprise as he saw, in the
glare of his car’s headlights, the
familiar tracks of the brand of
tires used on Troop B motorcycles.
Bending over, and turning on a
flashlight he had brought from the
car, the Captain followed the
tracks, sharply outlined in the
234 STATE TROOPER

loose sandy dust of the road, for

several yards when he came to an
abrupt halt.
The tire tracks suddenly dissolv­
ed in marks he recognized to be
those of a side-skid! The roving
flashlight beam shifted, came upon
footprints — lots of footprints.
There was a gleam of metal and
Norton bent over to make sure that
the metal was what he thought it
was—an empty revolver shell.
“Trouble!” Norton told himself
Signs of a Scuffle
236 STATE TROOPER

as he straightened up. “There’s

been—”
Captain Norton never finished
the sentence. He heard the rus­
tling of clothing, a short, hard in­
halation of breath. As he turned
with one hand already reaching for
his gun, Norton had a brief glimpse
of an arm smashing down at his
head.
A dull blow seemed to cave in
the front of his skull. Fumbling
for the gun, the Captain knew an-
238 STATE TROOPER

other blow was coming. He was

too dazed to dodge and with a sick­
ening thud it struck home and
Captain Norton folded up on a spot
of dusty road which short hours
earlier had been stained red with
blood—Trooper’s blood!
As Norton’s limp body struck
the ground, the burly individual
who had wielded the crushing
blackjack lashed out with his foot
at the Trooper officer’s ribs. But
Captain Norton was too far gone
He Sank to the Ground in a Heap
240 STATE TROOPER

in unconsciousness to feel the pain

of the cruel blow,
“Lay off him, Dopey!”
The order came from one of four
other men who shoved forward
from a clump of brush and gather­
ed around the still, green-gray clad
form of the Captain.
“What for?” grunted “Dopey,”
the man who had swung the black­
jack. “The boss’ll want to rub him
out anyway. He’s Law, an’ he’s
got his nose dirty!”
He Lashed Out Brutally With His Foct
242 STATE TROOPER

“Yeah, you sap!” the other man

said. “But maybe the boss’ll want
to talk to this mug before he rubs
him out, like he’s doin’ with that
trooper sergeant in the shack
now!”
“Dopey” and one of the other
men, with a low laugh at the last
words, bent and picked up Nor­
ton’s body. They started up the
road, and beyond a turn, gleaming
through the trees, came a faint yel­
low light from a weathered old
A Group of Men Gathered Around the Still Form
244 STATE TROOPER

shack set back from the road.

As they approached the shack,
one of the men raised his head and
sniffed the air before emitting a
soft, evil chuckle.
“Smell dat!” he said. “Dat’s
Trooper burnin’, yuh smell. The
boss must be goin’ hard on him!”
Without knocking, the first man
shoved open the rusty-hinged door
of the shack. A blood-chilling
scene unfolded inside the place.
Tied to a chair, his boots beside
The Shack Was Set Back From the Road
246 STATE TROOPER

him, and bare feet and ankles tied

to another chair, was Jim Craig.
Blood had caked a rusty red
about a deep furrow along the
right side of his scalp. But Craig
was conscious.
In front of him, on one knee, a
man was thrusting a white-hot
soldering iron toward the sole of
Craig’s foot!
It had been the odor of scorch­
ing flesh—live flesh of Jim Craig—
which had brought the crude joke
Jim Craig Was Being Tortured
248 STATE TROOPER

from the gunman outside.

The man with the hot iron start­
ed nervously as the gunmen enter­
ed the shack. He turned around
and his free hand held a revolver.
Above a black kerchief that cov­
ered the lower portion of his face,
the torturer’s burning eyes gleam­
ed in anger.
“I’ve told you mugs about knock­
ing !” he snarled. “The next time,
I won’t look when I turn around.
I’ll just cut loose with the heater!”
The Gunman Turned About Nervously
250 STATE TROOPER

“Now, take it easy,” one of the

gunmen protested. “Look what
we’ve brought you; he was snoop­
ing up the road just as we started
back from ditching the motorcycle
that bozo rode in here earlier.”
The two men who had been car­
rying Norton’s inert form let it fall
with a jar that made the muscles
in the Captain’s legs twitch sub­
consciously.
With a sneer in the direction of
Jim Craig, who had turned pain-
252 STATE TROOPER

wracked eyes on the captain, the

torturer stood up and walked over
to the Captain.
“So, we have Captain Norton for
a guest,” he said softly. “Good
work, boys. You’ll get an extra
century apiece for this.”
He reached up one hand to
straighten the mask on his face.
Then, almost casually, he bent over
the unconscious Trooper officer
and placed the still glowing iror,
on Captain Norton’s hand.
He Touched the Glowing Iron to His Hand
A?4 STATE TROOPER

Pain tore through the Captain’s

body, rubbed nerves raw, and
whipped his dazed mind back to
consciousness.
With a startled jerk he sat up­
right, shook his head to clear the
red mist before his aching eyes. He
recalled the ambush in a flash.
Then he stared up at the figure
above him and understood that he
had been trapped!
“You’re making a lot of trouble
for yourselves, punks,” Captain
Pain Whipped Him Back to Consciousness
256 STATE TROOPER

Norton said evenly, “And . . .

He halted as his gaze fell upon
Trooper Sergeant Jim Craig,
bound and gagged in the chair. The
Captain’s glance traveled down
Craig’s form, paused with an al­
most invisible shudder when it
rested on the horribly scarred and
blistered feet of the Sergeant.
“You rats! You filthy rats!”
Norton growled, staggering to his
feet with fists clenched.
He took a half-step toward the
‘‘You Rats! You Filthy Rats!”
258 STATE TROOPER

masked man when a gun was shov­

ed against his ribs by the man call­
ed “Dopey.”
“Sit down, Copper!” Dopey
sneered. “You’re not on a pretty
dress parade now. You’re on the
spot!”
Even the masked man smiled
coldly at the remark.
“Dopey puts it crudely,” he said
to the Captain. “But that, sub­
stantially, is your predicament!”
Norton wanted to ask the other
Captain Norton Was on the Spot
26o STATE TROOPER

his identity but realized it would

be foolish.
“We’ve been asking your friend,
here, Sergeant Craig, just how
much he knows and how much he
has told you of what he suspected
about the disappearance of Henry
Millar today,” the masked leader
said.
He gestured with the soldering
iron toward Craig’s bound and
gagged figure.
“We’ve had .to gag him, though,
262 STATE TROOPER

because every time we gave him a

chance to tell us, and end this little
game of hot foot which we have
been—er—enjoying, he has done
nothing but tell us about the hor­
rible smell of flesh burning in the
electric chair.”
The masked man chuckled with­
out humor and shoved the iron in­
to a small, wood-burning stove.
“Now,” he said, “perhaps you’ll
play games with us, too, Captain
N orton! Maybe you’ll tell us what
“Perhaps You’ll Play With Us, Too.”
264 STATE TROOPER

the Sergeant has learned, if any­

thing!”
Norton stiffened, realizing the
full import of the man’s words.
Craig, of course, had told him
nothing, because they had not seen
each other. To make the masked
man believe that probably would
be difficult, if not impossible.
“He’s told me nothing,” Norton
said evenly. “Because as you well
know, he hasn’t seen me—Lieuten­
ant Kent!”
Norton Stiffened With Fear
266 STATE TROOPER

There was a split second of ab­

solutely dead silence in the shack.
Norton watched the masked man’s
eyes flare, and then return to nor­
mal.
“You are more than a little mis­
taken, Captain Norton,” the tor­
turer said shortly. “I am not
Lieutenant Kent.”
A long, silent pause followed.
“Now, we have talked too much,”
the masked man said. “Tie him
up and get his shoes off!”
His Eyes Opened With Surprise
268 STATE TROOPER

He jerked his thumb in Norton’s

direction. Immediately the gun­
men leaped upon the officer. Cap­
tain Norton put up a battle because
it was against his grain to go down
without fighting, no matter what
the odds. But it was hopeless, and
in a few seconds he was roped to a
chair beside Jim Craig.
The kidnappers of Henry Millar
held top cards in a game of life;
and Norton knew that the joker
would be death.
 C H A PT E R XT

TO RTU RED

When Jim Craig had regained

consciousness, he found himself in
the little shack, roped to the chairs
with his legs straight out and a
masked man in the act of with­
drawing a foul-smelling hot iron
from the tender flesh of Jim’s in­
step.
269
270 STATE TROOPER

Choking off the gasp of pain that

welled to his lips, the Trooper Ser­
geant seemed to feel the flesh
shrivel from heat.
The torturing went on then,
seemingly for hours, with Jim
Craig occasionally lapsing into un­
consciousness but steadfastly re­
fusing to speak a word in answer
to the torturer’s questions.
The man’s voice sounded slight­
ly familiar, and Jim first guessed
that it was Kent. But the physical
Jim Lapsed into Unconsciousness
272 STATE TROOPER

build of the man was different; the

shoulders were higher and wider,
and he seemed heavier about the
middle.
When Captain Norton was
brought in, Jim Craig, despite the
white hot searing on his feet, had
a sudden feeling of elation. Even
if Norton was a prisoner, too, to­
gether they had more of a chance
of licking this mob than alone.
The next hour seemed an eter­
nity of wracking pain, with the
Captain Norton Was Brought In
274 STATE TROOPER

horrible stench of burning flesh

and fleeting moments of uncon­
sciousness out of which Jim was
jerked back to realization of
things around him by the repeated
jabbing of the hot iron against his
feet.
“We’ll try the Captain,” the
masked man said finally.
He was just pulling the iron from
the fire when they heard the sound
of an automobile engine outside.
“Douse the light!” the masked
“Douse the Light!”
276 STATE TROOPER

leader snarled and leaped to a

table for an ugly black submachine
gun.
One of the gunmen blew out the
oil lamp and they tensed at each
side of the door until a gruff voice
which both Craig and Norton in­
stantly recognized hailed them
from outside.
“Hey! Open up! It’s all right.”
One of the gunmen relighted the
lamp. Another opened the door
and stood to one side as three men
278 STATE TROOPER

entered. The first was a scrawny,

black-haired, beady-eyed little rat
who, Craig knew, served as stooge
for “Boss” Leeds.
The second Craig recognized as
Leeds’s chauffeur and personal
gunman.
Even before his eyes found the
third man, Jim knew who it was
from the voice and the presence of
the other two.
Fat jowls bouncing with every
step, a triumphant leer on his mot-
The Stooge for “Boss” Leeds Entered
280 STATE TROOPER

tied face, “Boss” Leeds strode into

the shack of torture and began to
laugh.
The laugh sent chills racing up
and down Jim Craig’s spine. Nor­
ton shuddered in spite of himself.
If “Boss” Leeds was known to be
ruthless in his affairs of govern­
ment—crooked, rotten govern­
ment—he was known to be twice as
ruthless in gaining vengeance for
personal grudges.
“So the boy scouts got all tan-
“Boss” Leeds Began to Laugh
282 STATE TROOPER

gled up with the big bad mens!”

Leeds sneered between chuckles.
He turned to the masked man,
and Craig noticed that Leeds ad­
dressed the torturer with a grim­
ace that might have meant dislike
or distrust.
“Well, what do they know?”
Leeds demanded.
The torturer answered quickly,
his tone almost whining. Jim
grunted in disgust. Whoever the
masked man was, he was afraid of
“Well, What Do They Know?”
284 STATE TROOPER

“Boss” Leeds, deathly afraid.

“I’ve put the iron to this one,
plenty,” the torturer said, gestur­
ing toward Jim’s blistered feet. “He
won’t say a word. The other one,
Norton there, says he hasn’t even
seen Craig and doesn’t know any­
thing. Maybe they’re lying. I
don’t know, Boss.”
Leeds grunted and settled him­
self in a chair, the focal point of
every gaze. He pulled a purple ker­
chief from his pocket and mopped
The Instrument of Torture
286 STATE TROOPER

his brow, though the room was not

hot.
“How’d Norton find this joint?”
he asked. He answered his own
question with—“If he could find it,
somebody else will. I don’t want
no Troopers’ bodies around here to
be found and give the Law some­
thing to work on.”
He hesitated, and Jim guessed
that the big man was making up
his mind to a difficult situation.
“Okay,” Leeds grunted finally.
“How’d Norton Find This Joint?”
288 STATE TROOPER

“We’ll take ’em north, where we

got their boy friend, that pious —
— Millar!”
“Think it’s safe, Boss?” asked
one of the gunmen.
“Of course it ain’t safe! But it’s
safer than leavin’ them here. Once
we get ’em up there, where Millar
is, of course, it’ll be safe as a jail
—even safer!”
He laughed again, an oily laugh
that brought chuckles from the
others.
The Gunmen Chuckled
290 STATE TROOPER

“No one’d ever look for Millar

where we got him now,” Leeds
went on. “An’ they wouldn’t look
for this punk there, either. When
we get ready, we can put the three
bodies together an’ get rid of ’em
at once.”
“Ain’t we liable to git stopped
with these two guys in the car,
Boss?” Leeds’s stooge said timidly.
The undercover leader turned on
him with an oath.
“You fool!” he snarled. “They’re
292 STATE TROOPER

the best insurance we got against

bein’ stopped! One of ’em”—he
pointed to Jim—“will sit up in the
front seat where everybody can see
his nice uniform an’ not stop us.
Of course, he’ll have a .38 stickin’
into his ribs, but that’s another
matter to take care of.”
“Bull,” the bodyguard, licked his
lips, reminding Jim of a hungry
animal.
“Pack ’em out to the car !” Leeds
ordered.
 CHAPTER XII

N O R TH W A R D

“One thing more, Boss,” put in

the stooge again. “Maybe these
guys have to check in at the bar­
racks every so often, like cops in
the city. H ow ’bout that?”
“Sometimes you do think,
Blackie,” Leeds said. “Well, how
about it?”
293
294 STATE TROOPER

For a moment, Jim Craig failed

to grasp the significance of Leeds’s
last question. Then it came over
him with a rush.
Leeds had addressed himself to
the masked man, as if he could tell
them offhand about Trooper cus­
toms. Craig knew he might be
wrong, but nevertheless, he had the
strongest hunch in his life, and that
was that the masked torturer was
Lieutenant Arthur K ent!
Otherwise, Jim mentally asked
“Well, How About It?”
296 STATE TROOPER

himself, why would Leeds turn to

the man in such a natural way for
the answer to a question about
troopers? If it was not Kent, it
was somebody mighty close to the
Trooper organization.
But the masked man said with
a short laugh:
“Why ask me, Boss? I wouldn’t
know. But I don’t think so.”
Jim saw a momentary shadow
pass over the political leader’s
countenance. Then, with a shrug
“Why Ask Me, Boss?”
2$ STATE TROOPER

and a curt, “Come on,” Leeds went

outside to the car.
Two gunmen picked up Norton’s
bound body and carried him out­
side. The masked man looked
down once, with a cruel laugh, at
Jim’s feet, and “Bull” and he lifted
Jim by the legs and arms.
A black closed car stood outside
the shack. The night air felt good
on his blistered and painfully swol­
len feet as Jim was carried to the
car, but he barely kept from crying
A Black Car Stood Outside the Shack
300 STATE TROOPER

aloud when he was dumped into the

front seat and his feet came in con­
tact with the floor.
“Bull” climbed into the chauf­
feur’s seat and the stooge known
as “Blackie” squeezed in between
“Bull” and Jim. Turning his head
slightly Jim saw that Leeds and
two gunmen were in the rear seat
with Norton. He wondered where
the others were until Leeds leaned
out the rear door and issued orders
which were acknowledged by a
“Bull” Climbed into the Front Seat
302 STATE TROOPER

gruff “Okay, Boss,” from outside.

Evidently the remaining gunmen
were being left at the shack.
Once on the highway, the big car
purred along with a steady hum of
the motor and tires whistling
slightly on the pavement. Jim had
a chance, despite the pain in his
feet, to consider their position and
guess at their probable destina­
tion, “up north,” as Leeds had said
it.
Craig’s mind raced over the pos-
The Car Turned on the Highway
304 STATE TROOPER

sibilities. The most likely place

would be the mountainous forest
preserves in the north central por­
tion of the state. Men could be
kept there for days, months, with­
out being seen by anyone.
Suddenly something clicked in
Jim’s mind. Like a jig-saw tum­
bling into place, the answer to their
destination came to him.
Leeds had said that Millar was
being kept where “nobody’d ever
think of looking for him.”
Suddenly Something Clicked in His Mind
306 STATE TROOPER

And framed in Jim’s mind was

a newspaper headline he had seen
two days before.
“GOVERNOR - ELECT
LEAVES MOUNTAIN
CAMP FOR INAUGU­
RATION CEREMONIES
AT CAPITOL.”
Henry Millar’s hunting and fish­
ing lodge in the mountains! That
was “up north” ; it was in lonely
country where no one would be
likely to come at this time of year;
Henry Millar’s Hunting Lodge
3°8 STATE TROOPER

and, Jim realized, it was the last

place in the world where the Law
might seek the kidnapped m an!
“Pretty near midnight, now,
Boss,” “Bull” said, shifting his
glance momentarily from the road
to the dashboard clock. “We ought
to make it by four a. m., anyhow.”
The words came in confirmation
of Jim’s guess. At the pace they
were traveling, with telephone
poles whizzing past like fence
posts, Jim estimated that it was
“Pretty Near Midnight, Boss.”
3i° STATE TROOPER

roughly a four or five-hour drive to

the lonely mountain lake where
Henry Millar sometimes retired
from the hustle and bustle of city
life.
The night air was clearing Jim’s
mind of the fogginess brought on
by torture. Even as the solution
of where they were going came to
him, his speeding thoughts recalled
a long bridge under construction
over the Great Anne river, some
twenty miles north of the side
The Gangster Car Whizzed Along
312 STATE TROOPER

road where he had been ambushed.

A Trooper sergeant gets to know
things about his district;, where
the roads are in bad condition,
what backwoodsman is suspected
of making bootleg whiskey, who is
getting married, what houses are
being built, what bridges—
And Jim Craig knew that the
Great Anne River bridge was be­
hind schedule of construction, that
crews were working night and day
in twenty-four hour shifts to get
The Great Anne River Bridge
314 STATE TROOPER

the job done on time. Perhaps—

it was a long shot, a desperate one,
but their only hope—perhaps some­
thing would happen at the Great
Anne Bridge when they were flag­
ged down to a slow, crawling speed
in crossing the temporary wooden
decking over the newly-erected
steel girders.
“If I could only tell Norton about
my hunch,” Jim thought.
But it was impossible. Captain
Norton sat bound in the back seat.
Men Were Working Night and Day
316 STATE TROOPER

Jim, himself, was tied hand and

foot. His gag had been removed
when “Blackie” moved into the
seat and took an ugly-looking little
automatic from his pocket and
placed it on his lap with a sugges­
tive sneer at Craig.
Jim knew that “Blackie” was a
“hophead,” that he borrowed cour­
age from dope—the most danger­
ous kind of a gunman, a cold­
blooded killer when he was full of
the stuff, and a raging, nerve-torn
What Would Be Their Fate?
3x8 STATE TROOPER

maniac when he had gone too long

without the drug. Now Blackie’s
eyes were shining and little pin­
points of light danced in their cen­
ters. Jim knew the man was full
of dope and would be a cool, calcu­
lating man to handle if anything
“broke” at the Great Anne bridge.
Something of a similar nature
must have been running through
“Boss” Leeds’s mind because he
leaned forward and tapped “Bull”
on the shoulder.
320 STATE TROOPER

“Great Anne Bridge isn’t finish­

ed,” Leeds said. “We’ll have to take
it slow over there. I’m cutting the
ropes of Craig in the front seat, in
case there’s a watchman at the
bridge who might come close to the
car and slow us down. You
Blackie, jam that heater of yours
into the trooper’s ribs an’ if he
starts to make trouble, turn it on!”
Leeds leaned back with a sigh
which sounded as if he were very
well satisfied with the day’s work.
 CHAPTER X in

PLUNGE
But new hope surged through
the tense body of Trooper Sergeant
Craig. Gun or no gun, once his
arms and legs were loose, he would
have some slight chance of making
a getaway!
Loose, he could storm the moun­
tain hunting lodge with a force of
321
322 STATE TROOPER

troopers and smoke down these

rats who had brought guns and
terror to take the place of state
laws. There were still a lot of things
he had to clear up in his mind
about this case: Where Kent had
gone when he turned the motor­
cycle down the side road, exactly
how the blowout had been accom­
plished, and finally, whether the
masked man who had so relished
torturing Jim Craig was really
Arthur Kent.
The Lodge Was in Lonely Country
324 STATE TROOPER

“Great Anne Bridge,” “Bull”

grunted over his shoulder.
Ahead, Jim saw brilliant lights
scattered around a great steel
framework. Floodlights played on
both sides of the road, revealing
the debris and equipment of a big
construction job. The car began to
slow down as “Bull” shifted his
foot from accelerator to brake
pedal.
In the combined glare of the
headlights and flood lamps, Jim
“Bull” Grunted Over His Shoulder
326 STATE TROOPER

saw a man with a red flag step

from the side of the road and
stand across their path.
At the same time, accompanied
by a grunt from Leeds in the rear
seat, a knife slashed through the
cords binding Jim’s arms, and
Blackie, a moment later, cut away
the ropes on Jim’s ankles.
Jim Craig was free, but whether
he could make tortured feet obey
his will, whether he could get into
action before the automatic which
The Man Waved His Red Flag
328 STATE TROOPER

Blackie had shoved against his side,

after stuffing the ropes on the
floor, exploded, was another mat­
ter.
The Trooper’s teeth clenched
and the muscles about his jaw
hardened. He might not make it.
They might blast him down. They
might kill Norton if Craig escaped.
But unless he was willing to take
what Leeds had to offer without
fighting back, Jim Craig had to do
something.
Jim Craig Had to Do Something
330 STATE TROOPER

The car slowed almost to a halt

as it came to within a few feet of
the watchman who looked at it,
then stepped aside. The car drew
even with the watchman.
Blackie must have felt Jim’s
muscles tighten, for he hissed,
“Don’t try it, Trooper!” with a cold
whisper that made Jim realize
death was near.
For a split second, Craig had
hopes that the watchman was go­
ing to come up to the car. Then,
The Watchman Let Them Pass
332 STATE TROOPER

apparently glimpsing Craig’s uni­

form and hat through the window,
the watchman waved.
“Sorry to hold you up, Trooper!”
the watchman called and waved
them on.
He was too far away. There was
no one else near. An attempt at
escape would only mean that Jim
Craig would die a futile death.
With an inward and silent
groan, he relaxed.
“Smart guy,” Blackie said in a
 STATE TROOPER 333

low tone. “But I wish you’d tried

it. I’d like to split you open,
Trooper, for the way you burned
down three of the boys back there
on the side road.”
With the menace of discovery
apparently removed, Blackie set­
tled back and replaced the gun
loosely on his lap. The car moved
slowly over planked decking.
“Stop a couple hundred yards be­
yond the other end of the bridge,”
Leeds ordered from the rear seat,
334 STATE TROOPER

“an’ we’ll tie that punk up again.”

Jim knew that he had only a few
more moments of freedom. But
there apparently was nothing he
could do. He was certain that he
could jam open the door of the car
and reach the roadway before
Blackie could snatch up the gun
and fire. But it would do no good.
The car would simply halt. Blackie
would lean out and fire.
Then they would speed off, and
no one would know where they
Escape W as Practically Impossible
336 STATE TROOPER

were going, with nothing to identi­

fy the car and with Captain Nor­
ton, under menace of a gun as Jim
was, to put up a “front” for the es­
caping kidnappers.
A bright flash of sparks to the
right caught Jim’s eye as the car
reached mid-point in the bridge.
Farther along there were other
flashes of sparks. Above the noise
of the motor, and the rumble of the
wooden decking on the bridge, Jim
caught another noise—the rat-tat-
Jim’s Mind Was Working Fast
338 STATE TROOPER

tat of a riveter’s pneumatic ham­

mer.
That was what the flashes of
sparks were—red-hot rivets being
hammered into steel beams. Jim
peered down at the side of the car
and his heart gave a sudden leap.
The one-lane wooden roadway
was barely wider than the car
along here. Below, on the steel
girders, men were riveting beams
into place.
Into Jim Craig’s mind came the
340 STATE TROOPER

recollection, from having passed

the bridge a dozen times, of a big
meshed steel netting slung below
where men were working on the
girders.
The net was there to catch care­
less workmen who slipped on the
beams two hundred feet above the
rocky gorge of the Great Anne
riverbed.
Jim Craig hoped, with a wry
little smile, that the net would
catch a careless Trooper Sergeant.
The Workman Held a Pneumatic Hammer
342 STATE TROOPER

Two-thirds of the way across the

bridge now. Jim had a moment’s
sinking feeling as he was unable to
recall just how far along the bridge
the netting extended. But it was
all or nothing.
He waited until Blackie had
turned to speak to “Bull,” the driv­
er. Then Jim Craig, with the hope
in his heart that the steel-workers’
safety netting was there, thrust
sharply downward on the handle
of the door beside him.
A Steel N et Hung Below
344 STATE TROOPER

There were two sudden gasps:

One when Jim’s raw feet shoved
against the floorboards, the other
as Blackie wheeled around and
grabbed for his gun.
“Stop him!”
It was “Boss” Leeds’s voice, ris­
ing to a shriek.
Jim Craig heard it as, pain surg­
ing up from his tender soles and
through his whole body, he shoved
his shoulders and chest out of the
unfastened door, poised a moment
Jim Grabbed the Handle on the Door
346 STATE TROOPER

—and then leaped straight out­

ward and down in a flat dive to­
ward empty blackness!
Blackie’s gun flamed once, the
silencer choking the explosion to
a hoarse cough.
A sharp pain furrowed along
the Trooper Sergeant’s ribs. He
had been hit.
“It’s got to be there!” Jim Craig
gasped aloud as his plunketing
body swished through the dark­
ness.
Jim Leaped into Space!
348 STATE TROOPER

From the car on the bridge, an­

other streak of flame split the
night. Jim heard the throbbing
whine of lead past his head.
The netting was there.
Jim flung his arms up just in
time to take the driving shock as
his 165 pounds plowed into the net­
ting. Pain twisted every fiber in
Craig’s body as his feet bounced
on the netting. It sagged and
swayed, reminding him of circus
performers dropping into the nets
 Blackie’s Gun Flamed Once

I
350 STATE TROOPER

from aerial trapezes.

As the swaying began to de­
crease, Jim looked over his shoul­
der. Perhaps seventy-five feet
farther down the bridge, a car was
picking up speed, going faster than
it should have been on that tem­
porary decking.
Jim thought he saw a face press­
ed against the rear window of the
car. He wondered whether it was
Leeds, one of the gunmen, or Cap­
tain Norton.
The N et Broke His Fall
352 STATE TROOPER

Someone was coming toward

him along the edge of the bridge
decking, someone with a flashlight
that played up and down on the
steel netting.
Pain was twisting Jim’s mind
out of focus. He wondered if the
kidnap car had stopped, after all,
and whether the evil-eyed little
Blaekie was returning with his ug­
ly black “heater” to finish him off.
“R ats!” Jim growled defiantly.
Then the pain, the shock, and the
Someone W as Coming With a Flashlight!
354 STATE TROOPER

tension of the last hours licked him.

His muscles gave way and Trooper
Sergeant Craig collapsed on the
meshed safety netting which had
saved his life; but he could not
know whether Leeds’s gunman
was coming back to take life away
again!
 CHAPTER XIV

REPORT

“He’s a trooper, Joe.”

“Well, he’s sure mussed up
plenty!”
The words came to Jim Craig
vaguely, as if from very far away.
He tried to sit up and a pair of
husky arms started to pull him to
his feet.
355
35 ^ STATE TROOPER

“Ican’t!” Jim gasped. “Can’t

stand ! My feet!”
The man with the flashlight
turned the beam on the soles of the
Trooper’s feet and emitted a low
whistle.
“What happened?” one of the
two asked. “We’re hammerin’
steel on this job an’ saw you pile
out of that car. Somebody fired
at you, didn’t they?”
Jim felt the burning bullet
wound along his ribs and said,
His Feet Had Been Badly Burned
358 STATE TROOPER

“Sort of. Look, can you get me to

a telephone?”
“Sure,” answered one of the
steel men. “We’ll carry you to the
construction company headquar­
ters shack. Doctor there, too.
He’ll do something for those feet.
They’re bad.”
Bending over, the men made a
cradle of their interlocking hands
and fingers and lifted Jim up. The
netting swayed and dipped as they
crossed it, shoved him up three or
The Men Lifted Jim Carefully
360 STATE TROOPER

four feet to the planking and

scrambled up after him.
Then, while half a dozen or so
cars halted and backed up at a
command from one of the men,
they carried Craig down the nar­
row roadway over the bridge to the
southern end of the crossing and
into an unpainted board shack.
The warm smell of tobacco
smoke and a hot room felt good to
the Trooper as he blinked his eyes
in the glare of the electric light.
A Shack Stood at the End of the Crossing
362 STATE TROOPER

“Trooper,” he said.
He looked at a man in corduroy
breeches who arose as they enter­
ed.
“Trouble. ’Phone.”
The pain in his side and in his
feet tore at Jim’s breath, left him
gasping. He saved on words.
“Right over here. You’re bad
off. I’ll get the company saw­
bones,” the man who had stood up
said.
With a grateful smile between
The Man Offered to Get a Doctor
364 STATE TROOPER

white lips for the two workers who

had found him, Jim picked up the
telephone and jangled the hook un­
til he got the operator.
“State Trooper call!” Jim bark­
ed into the mouthpiece. “Get B
Troop Barracks, sister! In a hur­
ry !”
The girl’s quick answer was lost
in the snapping of current as con­
nections were plugged in. There
was a moment’s pause, and the
voice of Sergeant Lowe said:
Jim Put in a Call for Help
366 ____ STATE TROOPER

“State Troopers. B Barracks.”

“Lowe! It’s Craig. I’m at
Great Anne Bridge.”
Jim heard the veteran sergeant
utter an exclamation and ask:
“Where’ve you been, Craig? Any
signs of Millar? The Skipper is
missing, too! Hasn’t been seen in
hours!”
Jim’s answer was with a short
laugh:
“Yes he has, Sarge. I saw him
not five minutes ago. He was tied
The Sergeant Gasped in Amazement
368 STATE TROOPER

up in the back seat of ‘Boss’ Leeds’s

big car, with a couple of gun­
men guarding him, and heading
north.”
Sergeant Lowe started to break
in but Jim went on:
“They had me, too. Got away. I
won’t say anything more over the
’phone than this. Get two or three
of the fastest cars in the barracks
out here to the south end of the
new Great Anne Bridge—pack ’em
with hard-shooting troopers,
 STATE TROOPER 369

Sarge. Because this is going to be

a wild night. Leeds is heading
for a hide-out where Millar is being
kept. He was kidnapped by
Leeds’s men!”
Lowe broke in with—“How
about a Plan 10 alarm?”
“No!” Jim Craig shouted the
word into the ’phone almost as
loudly as he could. “No, Sarge. If
anyone tried to stop this mob on
the highway, the first thing they’d
do would be to rub out Norton.
370 STATE TROOPER

And maybe they’d get word to the

hide-out and Millar would be rub­
bed out, too. Or the mob at the
hide-out might hear the Plan 10
alarm. Get a bunch here to the
bridge as fast as you can!”
Jim replaced the receiver and
swung around to face a man car­
rying a small bag.
“Company doctor, Trooper,” the
man said. “Your side. What else?”
For answer, Jim thrust out his
feet.
372 STATE TROOPER

Even the doctor’s face whitened,

and the expression of the other
men in the construction shack—
men who lived daily with danger—
blanched. With an upward jerk of
his eyebrows that spoke volumes
of respect for Jim Craig’s nerve,
the doctor went to work with
dressings and gauze and cotton.
He had just tied the last strip of
adhesive into place when there was
a squeal of braking rubber, the
sound of a car door slamming, and
 STATE TROOPER 373

Sergeant Lowe piled into the room,

gun in hand.
“Didn’t think you’d be in trouble
here, but I was making sure,” the
Sergeant explained as he saw Jim
looking at the gun. “What’s up?”
“Get me out to your car,” Jim
said. “I can’t walk. Bottoms of
my feet have been burned for a~
couple hours with a hot soldering
iron.”
Lowe’s face hardened. He liked
Jim Craig. The younger Trooper
374 STATE TROOPER

had gone on to the rank of top

sergeant over Lowe’s head, but the
veteran knew Craig deserved his
rating. The men who wore the
green-gray respected Jim Craig.
As Lowe and the doctor helped
Jim to the car, he noted three more
machines, all regulation high­
speed touring cars used for patrol
work, filled with men.
Waving good-bye to the men at
the shack, Jim gave orders to head
north and bear down on the gas.
Jim Gave Orders to Head North
3T6 STATE TROOPER

As they roared across the bridge,

accompanied by the same rumbling
of planks which not long before
had sounded like the rumble of
eternity for Jim Craig, he explain­
ed in terse, short sentences what
had happened since he left the cul­
vert.
“Where’s Kent eome in on this?”
Sergeant Lowe asked.
Jim shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But, in­
cidentally, we better halt here in
In Pursuit of the Kidnappers
378 STATE TROOPER

Stationville and let the rest of the

boys in the other cars know what
it’s all about. I want to make a
’phone call, too.”
The car halted at a gasoline sta­
tion and the other trooper cars
drew up behind it. Sergeant Lowe
went back to tell the other men in
green-gray what had happened,
and that they were pursuing Leeds
and the kidnappers, while Jim was
helped inside the service station by
the attendant.
 CHAPTER XV

INTERFERENCE

From a pay station telephone on

the wall, Craig made four calls,
each to a Trooper sub-station
along the route which ran north­
ward to the mountains. The con­
versations were almost identical.
“Trooper Sergeant Craig, B
Barracks, speaking. Listen, Troop-
379
380 STATE TROOPER

er, a big black car, with five or six

men in it is heading north along
this highway. Maybe it’s already
past your station. Anyway, call
the local constables of all the towns
on this highway that are near you
and tell them to change the time
interval on their traffic lights, if
there are any in the town.
“Make the interval of waiting
for traffic on the north and south
highway longer than usual. Sure,
twice as long. The car I’ve told you
Jim Craig Made Four Calls
382 STATE TROOPER

about is being chased by Troop B

men, but it must NOT be stopped
by police or Captain Norton of B
Barracks may be killed by gun­
men! Got it? We’ll return the
favor down our way sometime.”
Hobbling back to the car on
Lowe’s shoulder, Jim found that
with the gauze and cotton padding
on his feet he could walk; it was
painful, but he could walk, and
that was something that would
help when they closed in with
Jim Hobbled Back to the Car
3§4 STATE TROOPER

Leeds’s gunmen at the finish.

“Did all I could to slow ’em up,”
Jim explained as the cavalcade
roared out of Stationville and re­
sumed the northward pursuit.
Hoping that Leeds would not
dare to try and run through any
red lights along the way, Jim or­
dered the driver of his car to open
the siren through all towns and to
break through red traffic signals
as carefully as possible.
They sped on through the night
The Chase Was Resumed
386 STATE TROOPER

wailing like banshees as they zip­

ped through towns and villages,
taking cutoffs around the larger
communities to avoid traffic. Ser­
geant Lowe’s wrist watch showed
three o’clock as Jim finished a de­
tailed telling of all that had hap­
pened, of Leeds’s admission to kid­
napping Henry Millar.
The watch showed four o’clock
as they passed the Inald Canal and
swung into the foothills of the
mountains. At Bricktown, a farm-
A State Trooper Halted Them
388 STATE TROOPER

ing community less than ten

miles from their destination, the
headlights picked out the form of
a State Trooper standing in the
road, waving his arms.
Their car squealed to a stop and
Jim leaned out as the Trooper ran
up to them.
“Craig? Your black car went
through here not five minutes ago.
Less than that. Trooper down the
line ’phoned me and said you were
about three miles behind them
 STATE TROOPER 389

when you passed him. You’re less

than that now.”
“Good work,” Jim exclaimed.
“You know the way to Henry Mil­
lar’s hunting lodge?”
“Sure, I know the way.”
“Hop in,” Jim ordered. “We’re
chasing ‘Boss’ Leeds, the politician,
and his gang of hoodlums. They
have Captain Norton in their car.
Millar’s prisoner in the lodge.”
The Trooper, a member of C
Barracks, piled in, and the caval-
390 STATE TROOPER

cade resumed its race with death.

Winding in and out of the forest­
ed mountains, they swerved at in­
structions of the man from C
Troop onto a gravel road. Five
minutes later, Jim Craig pointed
toward the white band of illumina­
tion cast by their headlights.
“Dust!” Jim yelled. “We must
be right on their heels.”
“And here’s where the lodge
road is,” answered the man from C
Barracks, Anderson. “Three hun-
In and Out of Forested Mountain?
39* STATE TROOPER

dred yards up this side road.”

The driver, at a command from
Jim, thrust out his arm in a signal
to the other cars, and came to a
careful halt. The headlights blink­
ed out, as did those of the other
cars and they were in darkness.
“They must have just turned in
this lane,” Jim told the troopers as
they gathered around him. “We’ll
close in on all sides. They prob­
ably won’t have any guards set,
but it’s better to go cautiously and
The Driver Signaled the Other Cars
394 STATE TROOPER

take no chances. At two blasts on

the whistle, charge the lodge, and
come shooting!”
The Troopers, trained from the
day they entered the State Trooper
school for this kind of work, melt­
ed away silently into the darkened
woods. Jim, with Anderson and
Lowe helping him along, headed
straight up the woods lane. Each
held service revolver at the hip
ready to fire.
 C H A P T E R XVI

CAUGH T

But Jim’s guess had been cor­

rect. There were no guards.
Evidently positive that either
Craig’s leap from the car or
Blackie’s snap shot had killed him,
[Leeds felt safe in the governor-
elect’s own hunting lodge.
The three troopers rounded a
395
396 STATE TROOPER

bend in the lane and the cabin was

in front of them. A narrow streak
of light was suddenly shot off in
front of the cabin, and Craig ten­
sed for a moment until he realized
that it was a door, closing on the
light from inside.
Craig dropped his voice to a
hoarse whisper.
“They must have just got here,
too,” he said. “They won’t be or­
ganized. But if we rushed them
from any distance, before we knew
 STATE TROOPER 397

where Norton and Millar are held,

Leeds’s mob might have a chance
to kill them off. Somebody’s got to
get in close—get a look through
the window—and it might as well
be me!”
Slipping his arm from Lowe’s
shoulder, Jim Craig started ahead.
But he had gone barely a stride*
when the veteran sergeant was at
his side. And on the other side
was Anderson.
Jim Craig felt a surge of pride
39« STATE TROOPER

in these men—men of the Troopers

which Leeds wanted to disband.
Anderson was not even from their
outfit, but he was going side by
side toward whatever might hap­
pen.
Avoiding brush and leaves scat­
tered in the clearing, the three
Troopers pressed forward until
they were standing in the deep
shadows close to one side of the
house. Removing his hat, Jim,
disregarding the pain in his feet
Jim Peered Through the Window
400 STATE TROOPER

and side, stretched on tip-toe to

peer through the windows of the
lodge.
When he stretched up, Craig had
intended to reconnoiter, place
Lowe and Anderson where they
would do the most good with their
first shots, and then blow the sig­
nal for the attack, counting on the
gunfire of his own weapon and
those of the other two to put out of
commission any gunmen who
might move toward the prisoners.
What Jim Craig Saw
 402 STATE TROOPER

AIf the prisoners had not been in

sight at any window, Jim had plan­
ned to bring in more men and rush
into the house from several sides.
But what his glance met when
Jim Craig peered into the window
of Henry Millar’s lodge changed all
that.
Henry Millar and Captain Nor­
ton were both in the main living
room, all right. They were strap*
ped to chairs, side by side, in front
of a big stone fireplace.
 STATE TROOPER 403

At the other end of the room,

close to the window through which
Jim was peering, a man was slowly
raising a snub-nosed submachine
gun to the level of the captives’
chests!
A black mask hung loosely from
the standing gunman’s neck. And
the face above the mask was that
of Lieutenant Arthur Kent!
“Kent!”
The exclamation escaped from
Jim’s mouth before he realized it.
404 STATE TROOPER

With that word, the mountain

quiet was shattered into a million
fragments of barking guns,
screaming lead, the vicious roar of
the Tommy gun in Kent’s hand.
As Jim yelled, every eye inside
the lodge turned toward the win­
dow. Kent half-turned, saw Craig’s
face outlined in the window, and
swiftly jerked the gun muzzle back
to cover the prisoners.
He never had a chance to aim the
Tommy gun.
Kent Half-Turned
406 STATE TROOPER

Smashing the window pane with

the same movement that lined up
his sights with Kent’s head, Jim
Craig fired! And the gaze that
sighted the gun was filled with ha­
tred and cold determination to kill.
The .38 in Craig’s hand roared.
The Tommy gun stuttered half a
dozen times in rat-tat-tat-tat suc­
cession as Kent sagged forward.
Lead whined from the stone fire­
place, but Norton and Millar were
untouched.
Jim Craig Fired!
408 STATE TROOPER

A hard grin was on Jim Craig’s

face as the gun in his hand roared
and roared again. Inside, as Kent
dropped, writhing, to the floor, the
rest of Leeds’s hired killers went to
work.
Lead smashed the window panes
out above Jim’s head. But still he
stood there, coolly measuring his
aim. Two gunmen dropped before
his hammer clicked on an empty
chamber. He fell back to reload.
But other guns had taken up the
The Rest of the Killers Went to Work
4i o STATE TROOPER

burden. From the other corner of

the window, Anderson was pour­
ing a hail of shot that kept anyone
inside from taking time to turn a
gun on the helpless prisoners.
“Troopers! Burn ’em down!
There’s only a couple!” Boss Leeds
was roaring in his bull-like voice.
 CHAPTER X V n

CASE CLOSED

But “Boss” Leeds was wrong.

There were more than a couple.
Not waiting for the whistle
blasts, gray-green uniforms pour­
ed into the clearing from every
side.
“Honor and courage.” That
was the motto of the Troopers, in-
411
412 STATE TROOPER

scribed on their official seal. Cour­

age was plentiful that night in the
little mountain clearing.
Guns firing from the hip, the
Troopers charged in. Back door,
front door, low windows. Inside,
they poured to face and literally
blast aside with their own lead the
deadly fire of the gunmen.
Craig had reloaded and was in­
side, shoulder to shoulder with the
grinning Sergeant Lowe.
“Bull,” Leeds’s chauffeur and
 STATE TROOPER 4i3

personal bodyguard, squirmed out

of the fray and with a bellow turn-
, ed on Norton and Millar.
He fired. But he was too late.
Across the intervening space a
uniformed figure dived to cover
the bound prisoners with his own
body. It was the veteran Sergeant
Lowe, who, revolver empty, was
carrying on in the best traditions
of the men in gray-green!
The bullet intended for Norton
smashed into the Sergeant while
414 STATE TROOPER

his body was in the air. He twist­

ed and dropped, a dark splotch on
his chest.
“Bull” did not get a second
chance to fire.
His weapon empty, too, Jim
Craig, who had been across the
room, did the next best thing. He
hurled the gun with deadly accu­
racy at the killer. It caught “Bull”
in the temple and he staggered
back.
In a split instant Craig was on
The Gun Hit Him in the Temple
416 STATE TROOPER

him, disdaining the gun which

“Bull” had no chance to use, flail­
ing away with fury-maddened fists
at the gangster’s face—then shift­
ing the attack to the body. A
left straightened the Leeds’s gun­
man up and a swishing right that
traveled barely a foot put him out
of commission.
Jim Craig turned around. Tht
battle was all over. On the other
side of the room, four gunmen
sprawled lifeless on the floor. A
Jim Resorted to His Fists
418 STATE TROOPER

fifth was dying, swaying on his

feet like a falling tree, to pitch in
death across a submachine gun.
Arthur Kent, pale as he began to
match steps with the Grim Reaper,
half-raised up on one elbow, the
mask dangling ludicrously from
his neck. His eyes rolled.
Captain Norton bent down
swiftly as Kent’s dying lips began
to move:
“Still a trooper . . . want to . . .
check out clean!” Kent gasped. “I
 STATE TROOPER 419

leaned o u t. . . threw nails. . . blow­

out in culvert.”
His breath came in gasps and he
paused before continuing as the
room became silent.
“Rope down manhole . . . I slug­
ged M illar. . . but I sw ear. . . didn’t
know they planning to kill h im . . . ”
The lips tried to move again,
quivered, and Arthur Kent, rene­
gade Trooper, died.
“Sarge! Sarge! They get you
bad?”
420 STATE TROOPER

It was Jim Craig, dropping to

one knee beside the fallen Sergeant
Lowe. He saw the circle of red,
the pink froth on Lowe’s lips, and
knew that the “Sarge” was
finished.
Lowe’s eyes opened, his head
raised up.
“It’s okay, kid,” he said softly.
“It’s okay. Carry . . . carry on!”
Sergeant Lowe’s hand came up
in a salute that was the last ges­
ture of a man who had lived up to
422 STATE TROOPER

his code—“Honor and Courage.”

With a satisfied smile on his lips,
Sergeant Lowe checked out.
“Craig, I’ll want to hear how it
all happened on the way back.”
It was Captain Norton, freed of
his bonds, speaking.
“All I know now is that this has
been the finest example of coordi­
nated and brave police work I’ve
seen in the service. I don’t know
how you ever managed to come
out of that leap from Leeds’s car
 STATE TROOPER 423

alive, but you did—and I’m sure

glad of it.”
Henry Millar spoke up, his voice
level and calm.
“The State Trooper organization
is going to carry on in this admin­
istration,” he said. “The state will
try to repay, in some slight mea­
sure, the heroism that has kept the
Troopers faithful through years of
corrupt government, try to repay
a little the brave blood that was
spilled here tonight.”
424 STATE TROOPER

He turned his glance to Craig.

“And you,” the governor-elect
said with a little smile, “are going
to lose your rank as sergeant, Jim
Craig. With Captain Norton’s
consent, it’s going to be Lieutenant
Craig from now on!”
Jim Craig smiled happily.
He wondered if somewhere Out
Beyond, old Sarge Lowe might not
be smiling, too.
The case of the kidnapped gover­
nor had been solved.
Lieutenant Craig Smiled Happily
Stories of Favorite Heroes and Heroines in the

BIG LITTLE BGOtCS

JACK ARMSTRONG, All-American Boy, and the
Ivory Treasure
TAILSPIN TOMMY and the Hooded Flyer
The Beasts of TARZAN
KAZAN, Story of a Great Dog (James Oliver
Curwood)
JUNGLE JIM and the Vampire Woman
SECRET AGENT X-9
KING OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED and the
Northern Treasure
SMILIN’ JACK and the Stratosphere Ascent
MAC OF THE MARINES
FLASH GORDON in the Water World of
Mongo
PAT NELSON, Ace of Test Pilots
JARAGU of the Jungle (Rex Beach)
KAY DARCY and the Mystery Hideout
PEGGY BROWN and the Runaway Trailer
MARY LEE and the Indian Bead Mystery
WESTERN and ACTION STORIES in the
BIG LITTLE BOOKS
TIM McCOY on the Tomahawk Trail
TEX THORNE Comes out of the West
BRONC PEELER, the Lone Cowboy
THE LONE RANGER and the Secret Killer
THE TEXAS KID
TWO-GUN MONTANA
BUCK JONES and the Two-Gun Kid
TOM MIX and the Hoard of Montezuma
THE ARIZONA KID
GUNS in the Roaring West
Riders of LONE TRAILS
Black Silver and His PIRATE CREW
GENE AUTRY in "Public Cowboy No. l n
HAL HARDY in the Lost Land of Giants
(World 1,000,000 Years Ago)
COWBOY LINGO: Boys* Book of Western Facts
 FAMOUS COMICS Stories in the
BIG LITTLE BOOKS
MICKEY MOUSE Runs His Own Newspaper
DONALD DUCK and His (Mis)Adventures
LITTLE ANNIE ROONEY and the Orphan
House
FRECKLES and the Lost Diamond Mine
TINY TIM and the Mechanical Men
BLONDIE and Baby Dumpling
LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE in the Movies
POPEYE in Quest of His Poopdeck Pappy
JUST KIDS
PERRY WINKLE and the Rinky-Dinks
CHESTER GUMP in the Pole-to-Pole Flight
APPLE MARY and Dennie Foil the Swindlers
OSWALD RABBIT Plays G-Man
WIMPY the Hamburger Eater
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