Por atd.
~ Bellefonte, Pa., January 13, 1921.
The Girl, a Horse
and a Dog.
(Continued from Page 2, Col. 6.)
might see. When 1 did look, 1 saw the
dog digging frantically at the heap of
ecaved-in earth, and, of course to my
disordered imagination, the hole in.
which he was burrowing transformed
itself at once inte a newly made grave.
“Good God!” 1 gasped; and then’
“Look, Daddy—right under your
torch!” {
He looked and staggered back, and
would have dropped the blazing pine
pranch if I hadn’t caught it from his
hand. For what he saw, and what 1
had seen, was the unmistakable print,
in
the soft earth just inside of the
planking, of one of Jeanie’s brown-
teather riding-boots.
In another half-second we were both
in the tunnel and Daddy was heaving
the dog aside from the hole he was
pawing out in {he earth fall. Snatch-!
ing up a broken-handded shovel that
the former tunnel drivers had thrown
away, the old man flung himself mad-
ly upon the dirt pile. and since there
The Old Man Flung Himself Madly
Upon the Dirt Pile.
was room for only one to work at a
thine, 1 stood at his elbow and held the |
torch. 1 don’t know what he expected
to find hidden under the slide, but IT,
do know what I was afraid he was
going to find.
After all. it was only a flash in the
pan, so far as any dreadful discovery }
was concerned. Inside of five minutes, |
Daddy, working like a man demented, '
had dug the entire cave-in away, and
there was nothing to show for the |
frantic shoveling—less than nothing.
Again, I don’t know how Daddy felt, |
put I'm sure I was able to breathe |
Petter. the improvement dating from |
the moment when it became apparent
that the earth heap had grown too |
small under the shovel stabs to pos-'
sibly conceal a human body.
The collie had followed us and
Daddy Hiram scowled down at him.
“If that deg could only be like old |
Gran’paw Balaam’s donkey for a min- |
ute ‘or so,” he mused. “He saw her
go in there and saw her come out;
likewise and the same, he must ’'ve
«een what she did after she come out.’
Looks as if he wanted to talk and tell |
us. don’t he?” :
Barney was certainly giving a good
imitation of that, or some other anx- |
ety. He was frisking about and bark-
ing, leaping up now and then to snap
at an imaginary fly in the air. Daddy |
caught him by his lower jaw and held j
him immovable. “Go find her, Bar- |
ney!” he commanded ; “good dog—ga
find her!”
The instant he was released the col-:
He acted as if he understood perfectly
what was wanted of him. Springing |
aside. he began to circle again, nose |
to the ground, and within half a min-
ute he was off, this time heading infec
«dim trail that led away diagonally
down the mountain, not in the direc
tien of Atropia, but rather on the oth-
er leg of a triangle, one side of which
might be the desert edge, one the trail
we had followed from the Atropis
1
1
1
|
road, and the third the route we were
pow taking to the eastward.
It must have been within an hour
or so of midnight when we left the
mountain forests behind and got into
the region of barren foothills. Here
the collie seemed much surer of his
ground, and we had our work cut out
for us in the effort to keep up with
him. In the starlight I made out the
iine of telegraph poles as we ran, and
pretty soon our dog leader swung off
to the right and we found ourselves
trotting on a line parallel to the rail-
road track and only a little way from
it.
Pretty soon the dog disappeared ;
and then we heard him barking at a
little distance to the left of the paral-
lel tracks. When we went to see what
he had found, the mystery suddenly
took another tack and veered off into
a new channel. In a small grassy hol-
low between two of the hills we came
upon the dog and the calico pony. The
bridle reins had slipped over the bron-
co's head, and Barney had them be-
tween his teeth and was packing and
tugging and apparently trying to pull
the pony along.
“Well, I'll be ding-jiggered!” said
Daddy: but I couldn’t unload quite |
that easily. For me the riderless pony
nieant an accident of some sort. !
“Heavens!” 1 gasped; “do you sup- |
pose she’s been thrown, and—maybe
crippled?”
“Who—Jeanie? Why, bless your
heart, Stannie, son, she can ride ’em
wild! And that calico wouldn't buct
a baby off. No, boy; don’t you £0 to
frettin’ about nothin’ like that. When |
she got out 0’ that saddle, it was ‘cause |
she was good and ready and wanted
to.” i
“When she got off to take the train, !
she tried to make Barney lead the pony
home,” I suggested. “Would she be
likely to do that?”
Daddy Hiram slapped his leg.
“you've hit it exactly, son! Don’t
know why I didn’t think o’ that at first.
It's an old trick that she taught the
collie when he was a li'l’ pup. And
Barney, he tried, and when he couldn't
make the pinto leave off grazin’, he
come for us. Sure 1—that was the
| way of it. What say if we go back to
the edge o' the timber and camp down?
I reckon there ain’t nothin’ to be
gained by hittin’ the trail afore we've
had a 1i’l’ rest-up spell, is there?”
I had no objection to offer, you may
be sure; and after we had found a
camping spot, and had picketed the
pony with the light rope that Jeanie
always carried tied to the cantle of her
saddle, we made a good fire tv serve
in lieu of the blankets that we didn’t
have and stretched ourselves out to
sleep the sleep of the fagged and leg-
i weary.
The next thing I knew—and it seem-
ed to be just about a minute after I
had closed my eyes—Daddy was shak-
ing me awake.
“ime to be moggin’ along, if we
aim to get home for breakfast, sonny,”
he announced. At the break of day we
were coming into the Cinnabar-Atro-
pia road at precisely the point at
which we left it the evening before.
The sun was just beginning to gild
the upper heights of Old Ciunebar
when we trailed over the broad plateau
bench below the mine and headed for
the slope that led up to the dump head.
As we topped this last hill there was
an amazing surprise awaiting us—=a
surprise and a shock. On the level
spot which served as a dooryard for
{he Twombly cabin stood a horse, sad-
dled and bridled, its drooped ears and
hanging head showing that it had been
ridden far and hard. And on the cabin
door-step, sitting at ease and calmly
chewing a half-burned cigar, was—
i Bullerton!
CHAPTER XIIil.
A Battle and a Siege.
It was Daddy Hiram who made the
first break.
“Charley Bullerton, where's my
daughter?” he rapped out, hurling the
question at the loafer on our doorstep
in a sort of deadly rage that you
wouldn't have thought possible in So
mild-mannered a man.
“You needn't worry about her,” was
the cool response. “Didn't you get the
note she left for you, saying that you
needn't?” Then, as if he had just seen
and recognized me: “Hello, Brough-
ton; we've missed a day, but I'll give
you the benefit of it and not dock you.
Are you selling the old water-logged
Cinnabar for twenty thousand dollars
this fine morning? It'll probably save
you more or less trouble if you are.”
He didn’t get the kind of answer he
wanted; or any relating to the mine.
Unbuckling Jeanie’s gun and handing
it to Daddy Hiram, I walked across to
where he was sitting, keeping a wary
eye on the hand which would have to
be the one to gO after the weapon he
had once showed me hanging under his
left arm-pit.
«Mr. Twombly has just asked you
where his daughter is, and vou haven't
told him,” 1 gritted. “You've got about
ten seconds in which to tell him all
you know, and after you've done it,
I'm going to trim you »
He had scrambled to his feet when
he saw me coming, and, just as I ex
pected, that watched right hand flicked
suddenly under his coat. At that 1
rushed him and we mixed it promptly.
1 got hold of the gun hand before it
got to the pistol butt, and at the clinch
we were all over the place, each grap
pling for the underhold, and neither of
us paying much attention to the rules
Marquis of Queensberry or other. Bul
lerton was a heavyweight; he hac
probably fifteen pounds the advantage
of me in that direction; but after 1
had got the thumb of my free han¢
Jpon a certain spot in his neck, it was
all over but the funeral.
Jehu! how he swore when 1 crum
pled him, and took his gun away frou
him, and slammed him down on a bed
of broken stone and stuck a knee into
his breathing machinery. But he
couldn’t do anything; the thumb-jab
had fixed him. His head was skewed
over to ope side and he couldn’t
straighten fc. I groped around until
1 found that other paralyzing nerve
ganglia—the one at the joint of the
third vertebra.
“Listen to what he says, Daddy!” 1
said to the old man who stood looking |
on with the face of a wooden image.
Then to Bullerton, who was now mere-
ly a wad of flesh gone flaccid under
the torturing touch: “Tell what you
know, and all you know; and tell it |
quick and straight 1” and I gave him |
Jehu! How He Swore!
|
if there's a fight coming to us, your |
afraid to ride all the way with me— |
afraid—the old man—would come gun-
ning!
Oh. for God's sake, Broughton,
take your thumb out of my back— |
| Daddy Hiram proceeded to show me
you're killing me by inches!”
“You need a little killing worse then
anybody 1 know,” 1 told him. “Go on;
you were 1o overtake her at Atropi:
what then?”
«1 didn’t see her again!” be howled.
“1 don’t know where she went ”
1 didn’t believe much of what he
was saving, and I think Daddy Hiram
didn't, though we had proved it true
up to the
rated on the Atropia road. 1 would
have gone on, making him talk some
! source. In the mine stores left behind |
| two boxes of sixty-per-cent dynamite, |
i out that there were good possibilities |
| wrapped up in the greasy brown-paper
point where they had sepa-
more, but the look that was creeping |
into the old man’s eyes made me let
up. As I read the look it meant that
Daddy couldn’t stand it to sce
the
third-degree stunt carried to its finish, |
so I got up and pulled Bullerton to .
his feet. He was pretty badly wrecked, angels couldn't do no more than that.”
as I meant him to be; still couldn't
straighten his neck, and stood as if
one leg were about half paralyzed, as
perhaps it was.
wrhis outfit is my property, and
you've out-stayed your welcome!” I
snapped at him. “Climb your horse
and get off the map wm
He limped over to his horse and
gathered the reins and tried to put a
foot into the stirrup. When 1 saw
that he couldn’t do even that much, I :
grabbed him and heaved him into the
saddle; did this, and gave the horse a |
slap to set him going. 1 guess 1 shall
always be able to recall the picture of
that brown-bearded pirate
across the Cinnabar dump head in the
early morning sunshine, screwing his
body in the saddle—because he
couldn’t turn the stiff-necked head by | ”
things; but it seemed like I had to.
itself—to yell back at me with siz-
zling curses, «111 get you—I'll get you
vet! D—n your eyes—do you think
you can make a hobbling cripple of
me and get away with it? I'll—” and
then breaking it off short and kicking
the ribs of his nag frantically for more
speed when I made as if I were oing |
D 3 gong | been married yesterday, Daddy?”
to run after him.
Throughout this bit of belligerent
by-play, which hadn’t used up more
than a few minutes, all told, Daddy
Hiram had stood aside, as 1 have said,
taking the part of the interested spec-
tator. Now he remarked: “You can
bet all your old clothes, son, that we
hain’t seen the last O’ Charley Buller-
ton, not by a long chalk. You ricollect
1 told you once he’d got a man, down
in one o’ the camps on the Saguache?
Well, it was for a heap less than what
you done to him a few minutes ago.
But let's go eat.”
1 passed through the cabin to the
out-kitchen and while I was kindling
a fire in the stove I saw Daddy with
an armful of hay and a peck measure
of oats, tolling the little horse down
the path back to the cabin to disap-
pear with it in the direction of the
gulch where the abandoned “Little
Jeanie” claim lay. I had the coffee
made and the bacon fried by the time
he got back, and after we had eaten
he blossomed out in an entirely new
role—that of commander in chief.
«his is movin’ day, Stannie,” he
announced briefly. “If you'll dig up
all the chuck and canned stuff you
can find and tote it over to the shaft-
house, I'll fetch the blankets and the
cookin’ tins.”
1 obeyed blindly, and entirely with-
out prejudice to a lively curiosity as
to what this new move might mean.
While I was emptying the kitchen and
pantry the old man unearthed another
rifle from the closet under the loft lad-
der, and with it a box of ammunition ;
and 1 observed that this second gun,
ike the one he had carried on our
pilgrimage of the night, looked as if
it had been freshly oiled and rubbed
up every day since it had left the fac-
tory.
«youll have a lot of talking to do
presently,” I warned him. “You seem
| to forget that you haven't yet told me
what's biting you.”
“Maybe there ain’t nothin’ bitin’ me;
maybe I'm just gettin’ sort o’ old and
skeery. But it’s this-away, Stannie,
son: Ever since your gran’paw gave
me this here watchin’ job, and since I
heard tell how them Cripple Creek
short-card artists socked it to him on
| this Cinnabar deal, I been lookin’ for
one more little prod on the agony |!
nerve.
With a preliminary shriek he let it
out by littles, gasping between the
words and phrases like a man in the
last stages of lockjaw.
“We were going to Angels—to get
married,” he panted. “Ah—oh—I was
to meet her at Atropia—she—she was
trouble. I hain’t been easy about them
Cripple Creek holdups nary 2a day
| since your gran’paw told me to stay
here and hold ‘he fort for him.”
“You thought perhaps the original
owners might try to grab the property
by force?”
Daddy looked up at me from under
his bushy eyebrows.
riding |
| o" mine, yet, Stannie, son,” he said
. stand up to them, as confidently as if |
“'Pears to me like you've got a
i mighty short memory, seme way, Stan-
nie. Have you done forgot that bunch
o’ huskies we saw campin’ out in Ante-
lope gulch as we come along by ther:
at daybreak this mornin’? I didn't like
; the looks o' that camp much at the
time: and I liked it a whole lot less
after we got here and found Charley
Bullerton sunnin’ himself on the door- |
step. Made me sort o perk up my
ears.” i
“But, see here, Daddy,” I thrust in,
it, why—"
“Why, he has as good a right to the |
Cinnabar as the next one that comes,
along, is what you're goin’ to say. 1:
ain’t disputin’ you for a minute.
it, hain’t he? And we've got two migh- |
ty good li'l’ pieces of artillery that says
he’s goin’ to have one joyful old time
a-takin’ lt; that is. if you're of the |
same mind that I am.”
By Jove! 1 wanted to put my arms :
around the old Spartan and hug him! |
As I've said, there were ten or a dozen |
men in that bunch we'd seen in the
gulch, and he was calmly proposing to
it were all in the day’s work.
“1 get you now, Daddy,” 1 said, “and
mind is mine. We'll give them the best |
we've got.” |
1 thought the two old-fashioned guns
and Jeanie’s pistol promised a poor
chance for an effective defense; but
that we had at least one other re-!
by the former operating company were i
with fuse and caps, and Daddy pointed |
cartridges if the enemy should come |
close enough to let us use them. |
«I pelieve you had this all doped out, |
in advance, Daddy,” I said, when he |
had a neat little row of the cartridges
laid out on the floor. “But surely you |!
didn’t expect to hold out alone if those
sharks sent a crowd of ‘jumpers’ in to !
run you off?”
«Me and Jeanie,” he said simply. |
«we'd ‘a’ done our level best; and the
Here, unless the old man was sadly
mistaken in his daughter, was another
and wholly unsuspecter side of the blue-
eyed maiden displayed for me. I tried
to imagine Lisette helping her father,
or me, or any lone man, to defend a be-
leaguered mine against an armed at-
tack. It was so funny that I shouted.
“Do you mean to say that Jeanie would
shut herself up in here and load the
guns for you against a mob of mine
jumpers?” |
He looked up with a prideful sparkle
in his mild blue eyes.
«You don’t half know that little girl
earnestly. And then: “She's the only
boy I ever had, you see; and she hain’t
had any mother since she can remem-
ber. Maybe I hadn’t ort to taught her
to ride hawsses and shoot, and them
«you haven't made her one iota less
womanly—or lovable,” 1 hastened to
say. Then I blurted out the thing that
had been weighing on me ever since
we had found Bullerton loafing on the
door-step: “Do you suppose they could
—is there any way they could have
«Uh-huh; I reckon there was. They
might ’a’ gone on down to Angels.
There's a justice 0 the peace down
there.”
It still lacked a full hour of noon
when we got our preparations made
and were ready to stand a siege. Then
we waited, and waited some more; and
after a while I began to grin. What
if we had stampeded ourselves need-
lessly? After all, the men we had seen
in the deep gulch might really have
been tramps, and not a Bullerton army.
Would the mining engineer, unprinci-
pled as he doubtless was, go to the
length of trying to dispossess us by
force? The more 1 thought of it, the
more unlikely it seemed.
“] guess maybe we were scared of
a shadow, after all, Daddy,” 1 said.
«Bullerton has had time enough to
bring up his army, if he has one.”
«1 ain’t countin’ much on his backin’
down,” was the drawling rejoinder.
“ye see, I know Charley Bullerton of
old; keen knowin’ him ever since he
first busted into the minin’ game.
That was over in the Sagauche. He's
an all-round cuss, but he’s a stayer. Be-
sides, you roughed him up sort o’ hurt-
ful this mornin’, and he’s got that to
make him spitey. We'll be hearin’
from him as soon as he gets things
yanked ‘round into shape to suit him.”
Still, as time passed and nothing
happened, it looked less and less like-
ly that we were going to have to fight
for our holding ground. I don’t know
to this good day what made Bullerton
so slow in bringing up his army, but
it was high noon, and Daddy and I
were eating a cold luncheon, with the
ghaft-house door-sill for a seat, when
we saw the army coming. It was a
straggling gang of perhaps a dozen
men ; we couldn’t count them accurate-
ly because the road on the bench
wound in and out among the trees.
They came up within easy rifle shot
and pitched their camp, if you could
call it that, in a little glade. At that
distance we could see that they were
armed, but, of course, we couldn’t tell
what kind of guns they had. After
they had taken possession of the small
open space, two of them set to work
to build a cooking fire.
(Continued next week),
— Henry Ford says that his arti-
cles against the Jews were for the
purpose of gaining their attention and
ultimate friendship. Sort of like
kicking a man down 2 set of stairs so
that you can let him know he’s invited
to a party you are holding.
—————————— —————
But |
afore he can have it, he’s got to take | g
January Price Reductions
AT
FAUBLE’S
| “if he’s got my deed. or has destroyed [UI
All Suits and Overcoats—men’s
young men’s and boys’—none re-
served— to be sold during the
month of January at a
Reduction of 337%
Every Suit and Overcoat in our
Store is included in this Saie..
Deduct
{-3 the marked price and you will
go home with the Biggest Clothing
Bargains you ever had.
Come, take your pick.
Remember, it’s at Faubles and
it’s Honest
E INVITE YOU to Share the Pleas-
ures and Benefits of
Our 1922
Christmas Savings Club
Which Started Monday, December 12th, 1921
It is not too late to join. You can become a
Member any time. Please come in and let as
explain to you.
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.
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