CHAPTER V

CONFLICT

There were two cars parked in the shadow of the S.P. bridge. Two large cars parked in shadows deepened by the dark clothing of the men who watched over them.

As a truck lumbered down the highway, one of these dark figures climbed out of his car and moved forward, signaling with his flashlight. "All right, Fred. It's me, Nick! Right up here."

The truck swung to the side of the road, stopped.

"Say, who's that with----"

On him, and on the second man who had climbed out of his car and joined him, an avalanche abruptly descended from the driver's seat--an avalanche which immediately separated into two distinct and belligerent halves, Rudy Bronson and Sport O'Malley.

[Illustration: A scene from the Radio Picture, "The Vagabond Lover," starring RUDY VALLEE.]

They had caught the truck three miles farther back, following Rudy's hasty explanation to Sport, and the driver who had started with it from The Magic Lantern now reposed in its bottom, neatly trussed. Sport had been in favor of administering a heavy cuffing; but Rudy had restrained him with: "Better save yourself. We might need that pep at the bridge."

He now saw the truth of his words realized. Jumping from the truck, he brought his first blow down with a force which, landing true, might have slain an ox. But it did not land true, and the head-waiter was a husky man. Nick reeled, but he came back a moment later, and came so fast that Rudy soon knew that Sport must attend to the other hijacker as best he could.

"Come on and fight," he snarled ragingly, and Nick obeyed.

It was a grand fight while it lasted, and it lasted a hard, long time. Nick was tough and willing, and not unskilled in the use of his fists. But Rudy, thoroughly aroused by his blows, fought with that grim ferocity of which only mild young men seem capable. He fought without much skill or science, but what he lacked of those attributes he more than compensated for in a determination that was not done even when Nick was stretched in a beaten heap on the highway.

When the head-waiter at last was down, Rudy turned, battered and torn, to see how Sport was faring. But it was apparent immediately that he need have no cause for worry in regard to Sport O'Malley. Sport's face hadn't been improved, and he was blowing like a porpoise as he rested--but it was upon Nick's companion that he rested. "Nice scrap, Rudy," Sport gasped, "I--didn't think--you had it----"

"A very nice scrap indeed!" echoed a voice.

Rudy lifted his throbbing head to face a little group coming forward from a touring car that had come to a stop behind the truck. A group headed by Bland himself. Good, now the old hypocrite could take his hooch and jump in the nearest lake. He was through. Rudy turned a little. And there was Molly. And Glen Patterson, the town's chief-of-police.

"A very nice scrap, indeed!"

Rudy stared at them for a hideous, suspended moment. So Bland had cracked! Had lost his head and cracked, just as he had feared! And here was Molly--Sport's girl--present to learn the truth as soon as Nick opened his mouth, which would be pretty quick now, for the head-waiter had attained his feet and was dizzily eyeing the crowd.

Rudy did not pause to think what he was doing. Across his mind flashed the knowledge that he had flunked out of school, that he was going home a failure. On the other hand, Molly and Sport had all the best of their college life still before them. Still shocked by the terrible beating he had taken, he gave no thought to the consequences of the gesture which he now made. Realizing only that Molly and Sport loved each other, and in his mind therefore must be protected at all cost, he stepped forward and spoke sharply:

"All right, Patterson," he said. "Let's cut the song and dance. There's booze in that truck--and it belongs to _me_! I guess Mr. Bland here heard that I was running it through to-night, and sent Nick and these other boys out to stop it. Well, they did. And here I am."

He stopped, reeling slightly. There was a silence. Bland's eyes did not move from Rudy's face. "What's in that truck, my boy?" he asked.

"I guess you know what's in there!" Rudy began angrily. Then he checked himself shortly. "Booze! What did you expect--soda-water?"

And then Bland laughed. Uproariously. "Yes, just that exactly. And if I don't find it I've spent a useless half-hour loading it!"

Patterson nudged his deputies toward Nick and the other hijacker. "You know who we came for. Do your stuff."

Rudy's head was whirling, but not so giddily that he could not hear Molly's voice excitedly explaining to Sport: "I saw you boys run after the truck and told Dad. He didn't know what to make of it until he remembered that Rudy had tried to speak to him. He suspected that Rudy had got wind of what Nick was going to do."

Sport caught feebly at the name. "Nick?"

"Yes, the head-waiter! Dad knew that he was selling liquor at The Magic Lantern. Of course he could have fired him outright--but you know how Dad is, always wanting to do a thing so thoroughly. He wanted to get Nick right. Naturally, he could have had him arrested for selling it at the place; but that would have caused a commotion he didn't want. So he fixed up the truck with this load of ginger-ale and had poor old Fred--what did you boys do with him?--hint to Nick that it was liquor."

"So that Nick----?"

"Would do just what he tried to do--hijack it."

"Oh," said Sport. Slowly he turned to look at Rudy. "And when it looked as though the cops had crashed in on our little plan to save Mr. Bland," he said slowly, "you stepped in and were going to shoulder the whole thing. Why did you do that, Rudy?"

Rudy turned away, his face blazing. Not for anything in the world would he have told these listening people that to his loveless life, love seemed the most precious thing in the world. He could not tell Sport that his quixotic gesture had been made to save a girl he scarcely knew--and, indirectly, Sport himself.

But Molly was a wise young woman. She looked from Sport's face to Rudy's. "I think I know why he did it, Sport. And if you think a moment, you'll realize why he did it, too. Can't you see that he thought by saving Dad he would be saving me--and us?"

Sport's hand shot out quickly, clasping Rudy's in a promise of everlasting regard. "Where have you been keeping yourself all this time, fella? Holy cow, you may be a bum saxophonist--but I'm thinking that you're just about the greatest guy in the world!"