The Leather Duke

“Get your foot out of my stomach,” Johnny complained.

It was the wrong thing to say. A heel ground into his stomach and another foot kicked him in the side. “You’ll talk big right to the end,” a voice sneered; the voice of Carmella Vitali.

Johnny was silent a moment as the full gravity of his predicament penetrated his aching brain. Then he asked quietly: “Where’s Sam Cragg?”

“In the hospital, for all we care,” said Carmella nastily. “We didn’t figure it necessary to bring him along.”

Johnny groaned inwardly. The last he had seen of Sam he was on his knees after having taken two vicious blows with the blackjack. Johnny himself had taken only one blow and passed out. Yes, Sam probably was in the hospital. And Johnny...

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Guess,” said a strange voice.

“Out in the country,” Johnny hazarded.

“Smart boy,” said Carmella. “You ain’t even lookin’ and you figured that out.”

“We haven’t passed any street lights,” retorted Johnny. “And we’re on a paved road, bumpy, but we haven’t made any stops and haven’t crossed any streetcar tracks. That’s the country.”

“And you’re right, Fletcher, dead right, although you’ll probably be more dead than right in a few minutes. In fact, I think this is as good a spot as any... Luigi!”

“Yeah, Carmella,” replied the voice of the man in the front seat.

“Pull up.”

Brakes squealed and the car came to a bumping stop. Feet stepped on Johnny, kicked him and the right car door was opened. Carmella got out of the car.

“All right, Fletcher.”

Johnny turned and on all fours crawled out of the car. Carmella helped him the last part by grabbing his coat collar and yanking him. Johnny spilled to the gravelly road shoulder. A foot kicked him and he got heavily to his feet. By that time the other two men had gotten out of the car and all three faced Johnny. Johnny’s head ached terribly, his body was a mass of bruises and aches, but the peril of his position brought Johnny erect and alert.

“Now, wait a minute, Carmella,” he said quickly. “Let’s talk this over. I’ve got some money...”

“You had some money,” said Carmella. “You haven’t got a nickel...”

“I can get some more.”

“Not in Chicago you can’t. Because when we get through with you, you won’t be going back to Chicago. You been stickin’ your nose into things that ain’t none of your business. You been botherin’ me and when someone bothers me...”

Carmella didn’t finish the sentence. He swung with his fist at Johnny’s face. Johnny rolled with the punch and received only a glancing blow, but he promptly fell to his knees and from there to his face.

“Get up,” snarled Carmella. “I hardly hit you.” He put the toe of a foot into Johnny’s side and turned him over on his back. One of the two sleek, swarthy men stooped, caught Johnny’s coat front in a fist and yanked him up to his knees. Johnny let his body remain limp.

A fist smashed into his face. Johnny suppressed a groan, but jerked himself free of the fist and fell on his back. He rolled over, covering his head as best he could with his arms.

They lifted him again, but Johnny remained limp, even under the savage blows that were rained on him. They finally let him fall, kicked him several times, then believing him unconscious they climbed into the car. The motor was started, the car went ahead a short distance, then was turned and began coming back. Headlights picked out Johnny on the left shoulder of the road. It took his entire will power to remain motionless as the car swerved toward him. But at the last moment the driver jerked the wheel to the right and the car roared past.

Johnny waited until the motor was a faint drumming. Then he gathered himself slowly together and struggled to his knees. He remained in that position a long time before he finally got to his feet. He looked around then and saw that he was on a road lined with trees that came close to the pavement. The moon was almost full and lighted up the road nicely, but Johnny saw no sign of habitation. Wait... ahead and to the right was a glow in the sky. That could be a town.

Johnny started walking. He went a hundred yards and suddenly became aware that a car was approaching from the rear. Quickly he stepped off the pavement to the road shoulder, scrambled through a shallow ditch and took refuge in the trees beyond.

The headlights swooped down, became a car that roared past. When the taillights had disappeared Johnny emerged from the woods.

He walked for a half mile and came to a crossroad, a paved road somewhat wider than the one on which he had been traveling. Lights flickered in the distance. Johnny turned into the road.

He went at least a mile before he came to a street light; another was a hundred yards beyond. Ten minutes walking brought him to a road sign: Hillcrest City Limits.