6 THE LAND OF PRETTY-SOON. I'm tired and sick of hurrying. Of rushing nore •mtl then*. Tn tliut far land I'd fain take wing Whore tlu re is naught but tweet delay. I d think it ouite a boon It I could on'v »,o some day _ To happy Pretty-Soon. No clock Is there- allowed to strike. No one the hours will call; You onl> do things when you like Or io them not at all. I lony for that enchanted land At morning, night and noon. I think It would be simply grand To live in Pretty-Soon. You cross the plains cf Let-It Slide, The vale of Walt-a-Blt, In Dater-On some time abide. To Take-Your-Tlme you lilt. I think it would be best t.» go There in a slow balloon, For it's up in the air. you know. The land of Pretty-Soon. —Chicago Daily News. Cr ==D H GAMBLING r WITH FATE By WILLIAM WALLACE COOK Author of"The Glean*™: A Story of the Cyanide Tauku," "Wilby** I»au," "His Krit>n<l the Enemy." "Rogers r 1 (Copyright, l.'js, WiliiMn WAllieflOook) CHAPTER IV.— CONTIN'I'KI). "You'll need the marshal or the un dertaker," returned Darrel. His voice ■was of velvet but it cut like steel. ■"When 1 open my gunplay, what 1 miss in the original deal 1 try to make \ip in the draw. I am Nate Darrel, of San Francisco. Some of you have probably heard of me ami may know ♦ hat my word is as good as my bond. 1 did not kill that man—" His declaration was drowned in a 'lerisive jeer. He knew he would not tof believed so he was not disappoint ed. "I did not kill that man,"he re peated with deliberate emphasis, "and if you force me to fight for my life for whatever happens you alone will be responsible. I want the marshal and am willing to be put under lock ant! key until the coroner has a chance to sift this affair. That's all you can ex pect of me." Every man in the rabble carried a revolver and every revolver had leaped from pocket or holster. "Shooting's too good for him!'' shouted some one at the rear of the crowd. The veiled suggestion was grasped dn the instant. It was well for Darrel, since it turned the mob's attention to a rope instead of a bullet and would consume more time in the execution. Me ssengers were dispatched here and there, but. before anything could be done a burly, broad-shouldered man parted the ranks of the rabble left and right and reached Darrel's side. "Give me that gun!" he demanded curtly. "I'm the marshal." Darrel yielded up the weapon with out a word. "Now," cried the marshal, "this fel low goes to the lock-up, without any ifs, nor ands, nor whyevers. There ain't a man of you that packs the nerve to stop me and you know it. Scatter from in front of us and clear the trail!" There was nothing in the marshal's bands to enforce the order. He was known to be a man of few words and prompt action, however, and the crowd sullenly parted. Then, with his arm in Darrel's the marshal started his prisoner for th« jail. The rabble, muttering wild threats and chafing with baflled rage, tagged at their heels. CHAPTER V. DARREL'S ESCAPE. Eponay creek skirted the confines of Sandy Bar. The lett bank was a flar. reach of sand which gave the camp its name; but the right bank, on which the settlement had been built, was high and bluff-like and "gophered" with tunnels. The bar was rich in placer gold. When the santl had been cradled over prospecting for quartz dykes began and many a "stringer" had been followed inward from the face of the right bank. The stringers had pinched out. The south bank, however, had not been abandoned as worthless until fairly honeycombed with drifts that led to nothing but country rock. Thus it followed that the camp had under it a sort of catacombs wherein lay buried a thousand hopes of disap pointed miners. To this fact, as will i)e seen, Nate DarreJ owed his life. The Sandy Bar jail was a log struct ure that had outlived its usefulness as a miner's cabin. It was situated not more than 50 feet from the brink of the -steep, brush-covered bank of the Kponay. In the single room of this makeshift .jail Darrel and the marshal presently found themselves, a tallow "dip" splut tering feebly on the tab!- uside the mob could be heard scui.. about in .ominous silence. "They're worked up to beat four of -a kind," muttered the marshal, listen ing to the sounds from without, "but you can bet your moccasins they'll think things ovpr pretty careful before try into take the bit in their teeth." He looked at the prisoner curiously. Darrel had seated himself in a chair and lighted a cigar with his usual non ichalance. "For a murderer, in the grip o' the law and with a pack of lawless coy otes only too anxious to get at you, you're taking this plenty cool." "I'm not a inuruere"." "That shot goes as it lays," returned the ihcredulous marshal, "but it won't help you." lie brought out Barrel's revolver, pulled down the barrel and examined the cartridges. "One empty cartridge and five full ones," he added, briefly; "45-caliber." "I fired that one shot a good many miles from Sandy Bar," said Darrel. "Stick to it," grinned the marshal; "it's your only hope and it's slim enough." "When will you hold tlie inquest?" "To-morrow morning. And here's something ycu can spread your blank els and sa to .sleep on, my friend. Escape ain't to be thought of. When 1 leave here I draw a cordon of trusty men around this jail, and the guard 'll be kept up until I come to ta.t-:c you to Anacondy with a coroner's verdict holdin' you for the murder of Jack Sturgis stuffed in my pocket." The marshal walked to the door, Darrel watching him silently. "Carry another gun beside this 'un?" asked the officer, his hand on the lat':h. "No." "Well, the rest of your belongin's yon can keep, for the present, it will be morning before 112 come for you ag'in." He went out and Darrel heard him rattling the padlock flat secured the door. For some time afterward there were sounds suggesting that sentries were being posted about the bui'dlng, and after that silence. I)arrel's thoughts were not of the brightest and he cleared his mind of them and surveyed the interior of his prison. Every opening that had once served as a window was covered with stout planking, the chinks between the logs were solidly filled and the place was as tight as a drum. Even had there been no guards on the outside escape from the jail would have baffled the most, resourceful pris oner. Darrel yawned, laid the stump of his cigar on the candlestick and crossed the creaking boards of the floor to a cot on the opposite side of the room. It had been his intention to lie down, but his fastidiousness rebelled at the blankets on the cot. The dirt and the vermin disgusted him and he returned to his chair. Drowsily he leaned back and through his half closed eyes he saw the shad- Jz _ : d 1113 TRAMPED THE CREAKING BOARDS FOR AN HOUR. ows of the room taking vague shapes. Stealthily they glided to and fro, now forward, now back and now surround ing him, their gaunt hands clasped and their dance a dance of death. Out of the spectral ranks came final ly the soothsayer who had crossed his path at the Half Way house—a hideous hag who tossed her skeleton-like arms, mocked him with jeering face and pointed towards him a bony and threat ening finger. "You may be honest, but you can never be honorable!" The words pierced him like pointed javelins and he writhed under the smart. Rousing, he brushed a hand across his eyes, laughed at the folly into which the perilous hour had be guiled him and dropped back to be a further prey of his disagreeable rev eries. The queen of hearts tripped through the ! ami-gloom, but between her smil ing countenance and his came the dead face of Sturgis; and when this faded it left the gruesome hand of Death raising five cards for his inspec tion—three knaves and two sevens, drippirg red. With a sudden movement he threw himself forward in the chair and raised his clenched fist. There was nothing before him, however, except the dull gleam of the candle. What was wrong with his nerves? This mood was foreign to him and he could not understand it. Springing up, he tramped the creak ing boards for an hour. When he again seated himself he bowed his head on the table in his folded arms. The restless stirring of the guards outside died away in his eftrs; he slept, and tlie candle burned to its socket, sput tered and went out. Some time later—just how long he had no means of knowing—a peculiar sound aroused him. He started up, liis eyes peering into the blank dark ness. He still heard the guards; but the ' noise that had awakened him came i from within, not from without. A labored breath, carefully 3'ifled; j the bweep of a hand over a rough sur face; a creaking lift of one of the floor boards; a fall of wood, inuilied with painstaking care. Then silence again, broken only by the tramp of (lie armed sentries. In the opaque gloom, Darrel strained i his ears to follow the sounun and couple each with a corresponding movement that must have caused it. lie readily gathered that entrant waa CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY 5, 1904 I being forced tnto his prison chamber ! from beneath. Who could it be? "Darrel!" came a hissing whisper. "Yes?" he returned, in undertone. "If you would save your life you have not a moment to spare. The marshal has been lured away and made a prisoner and there la nothing to I prevent Sturgis' friends from wreaking their venpeance on you. There are a 1 lot of them at Hawkbill's now, getting j ready. The guards posted by the mar i shal are in sympathy with them and— listen!" The voice broke off, trem | ulous with excitement. "Do you bear ; anything'; They may be coming thia 1 minute." "No," returred Darrel, after a mo i ment, "it's the watchers outside that \ you hear. In the first place, who are ; you?" "The man whose life and honor you saved at Hawkbill'a." "How have you buen able to como to me?" "Through one of the drifts from the creek bank. It was only necessary to dig out a few feet of earth in order to come up directly under this build ing—but it lias taken hours and every hour seemed an age. I was afraid 1 should not be in time. God knows I could not abandon you after what you have done for me." "Sturgis'. friends would take the law into their own hands, would they?" "They intend to lynch you." "For a crime I did not commit," sup i plemented Darrel. j "The doctor found the bullet that I killed Sturgis and it's a 45. The re j volver taken from you by the marshal J was also a 4ai and one shell wa3 empty." "Who is the doctor?" "An eastern man and one of the sanest and best men in the camp. He has implored the mob to let the law take its course, but no one would listen to him. But there's no time for talk. You can drop into the tunnel through this hole I have dug, reach the creek and get to a point below the camp un der shelter of the bank. My horse is there, saddled, bridled and ready. Come, you must hurry!" There was not a little feeling mani fested in Dan-el's voice as he an l swered: "You have done a good deal for me ; and I appreciate it. You do not think j I killed Sturgis?" i"I haven't stopped to think very much about it. It would be no more ; than a natural supposition after tiiat row in Ifawkbill's—that row 011 my 1 account." "Well, I'm innocent of murder, but circumstances have got a grip on me and I shall avail myself of the means of escape which you offer. I can't 1 take your horse, though. That would j throw suspicion on you." "How will you get out of the coun j try?" "With any kind of a start you can j trust me for that. Co back through the tunnel, take your horse away and get. to your lodging place. I am much obliged to you for the iaterest you have taken in me. Sosrie time I shall ! hope to repay you." "1 am already repaid. Rut I think ; you should take ilie horse." "No." I "You won't be long in coining?" "Not long." "Good-by, then, and good luck to | you. Your word that you did not kill Sturgis is enough for me." "Thank you. Good-by and don't forget that promise." "God knows I have cause to remem ber it," came back in a husky whisper. Darrel listened while the young man lowered himself into the tunnel and ! retreated beyond earshot in the direc tion of the creek. Then, taking a note book and pencil from his pocket, Dar rel wrote a few lines, his pencil point groping over the small page in the dark. "Mr. Darrel regrets that circum stances over which he has no control compel him to postpone indefinitely his meeting with Mr. Murgatroyd. He begs to assure Mr. Murgatroyd, how ever, that the meeting is simply de ferred and not abandoned." Tearing out the sheet on which he had penciled this message, Darrel left it on the table. CHAPTER VI. DARREL'S PLIGHT. Old Ab Gryce, under foreman at the War Eagle mine, pulled in his half broken bronco team at the rear of the Half Way house and rolled off the seat of his mountain wagon. "When ye take 'em off the pole, Jimmie," said he to the hostler, "don't fool none with the harness. Them bronks kin kick more an' faster than ! ary other critters in these parts." j Jimmie grunted and measured Gryce sharply with his eyes. "Now," continued the old man, "don't turn your lamps on me like that. Meb by I did look through the bottoms of a few glasses before shackin' out of Anacondy, but it wasn't enough to af- j feet my jedgement. Dynamite, thar on j the off side, is the original inventor j of the bed-post buck, an' he kin be ■ plum scand'lous when he takes a 110- j •ion. As fer Terror, the nigh hoss, many a time he's kinked himself a bow knot an' laid out three punchers in the untanglin'. So ef ye—" Gryce was interrupted by one of the cattlemen grouped in front of the ho tel, waiting for the Chinese cook to sound the dinner gong. The under foreman was well known and, in spite of his many infirmities, universally liked. By way of greeting, the cattle man pleasantly drew a revolver and cut the air with a bullet not half a dcv.en feet from the old map's ear. With a zipping hiss t>e missile fanned away into the vr/d directly over the rear of the mour.'&ln wagon, so close to a pile of cases roped to the wagon box that Gryce gave vent to a terrified yell. "Ho'.vdj Uncle Ab?" called the cat- (lemaw. "ft.*, slr.g of a bUlet has a mighty quaer effect on ye, seems like." "You, Ben," shouted Gryce, "you stop that. If the p'int of that gun had been an inch lower the hull passel of us would have been wiped off the ! map." The old man drew a flee>*e ! across his forehead. "Giory, man! | I'm freightin' 500 o' high explosive, along with caps an' fuse, t.er the War Eagle." The laughing crowd was instantly sobered. "If Ihe bronks are all you say, Uncle Ab," said Jimmie, "they're altogether too frisky i_'or a load like that." "I'm le.ss afeared o' the team than I am of some playful fool like Ben, thar. Mind what I say about the crit ters, Jimmie," and Gryce reached the front of th» tavern just as jlie gong sounded. "Howdy, boys?" lie asked, taking in his friends with a compre hensive look. "How's things at Sandy Bar, Cliff?" "Couldn't be worse," answered Cliff, gloomily. "Jack Sturgis got his ticket across the divide last night." "Buy it himself?" "Not much! A gambler from Frisco handed it out.; a 45, aud poor old Jack never knew what struck him." Gryce swore softly. "Took care o' the gambler, didn't ye?" lie asked, sig nificantly "Intended to, much as could be," an swered Cliff, "but while we weie tak ing care of the marshal so he couldn't interfere and making our plans the gambler got away." "Did he have help?" "It's the general verdict that he did it himself; pulled up a board in the floor and dug down to a drift that led out on the creek bank." "That's plagued rough," muttered Gryce. "You'll get *im, though, won't ye?" "It* we can. Several parties are out combing the hills and I'm expecting some fellows this way before long. Murgatroyd has offered SI,OOO to the man who brings Darrel in." "Darrel! I've heard o' him, but lie's somethin' of a stranger on this part o' the range. Come into the bar, Cliff, an' we'll crook elbows to your success in baggin' Darrel. Can't eat, anyhow, till I put an edge on my appetite. Any the rest o' you care ter j'ine us?" The invitation was eagerly accepted. During the meal that followed Cliff aired the whole matter connected with the killing of Sturgis in detail. His recital was punctuated with angry comments on the part of the lis teners. Sturgis was known to be a gambler and a hard citizen, but the manner of his taking off, together with the escape of Darrel, appealed strong ly to the latent sympathies of the rough and ready frontiersmen. [To He Continued.] AFTER LONG ILLNESS. Familiar Take on an I*n recotfiii/.itl>!e (iuiNe to the Hei'uveriiiK Eye, "The plates on the table looked strange to me, though I have used tiiem 40 years. The pictures on the walls seemed to hang in new places. The very carpets had a novel color ing, as if they had been at some magic cleansing and dyeing establishment." Dear Aunt. Mary was telling her fa vorite niece her "queer" feelings after long illness. She was unconscious that she was repeating the story that has been told by convalescents from the time of Ha/.litt till the present day, says Youth's Companion. Familiar things take on a disguise to the recovering eye. Even the face of a friend bears a new depth o»' mean fug. "Did she use to look at me with such intensity of ga/.e? Did she clasp my hand so warmly? Was her voice so gentle and her word so full of hope and courage before I was sick?" To the human creature just return ing to life after lingering for days at the gates of death, the whole world assumes a new aspect. Even inani mate objects seem to say: "You came near leaving us forever. No wonder you forget our shapes and colors" And the warm, conscious, loving friend bends over us and with eye and voice says: "See, 1 love you more truly than before I knew how I should miss you!" So after long sickness, as after a hard, cold winter, the world bieaka into a new and blossoming spring. AN AUDIENCE OF ONE. ( leruryntan Prenohcd to IIIN Driver Whoxe Time Wnm Goiiift' on. The chapel of a northern flailing vil , lage used to depend for its services on I the occasional help of the clergy of j the nearest town. One very wet Sun | day, relates London Tit-Bits, the clergyman who volunteered to do thti duty drove over in a fly. Tolling the chapel bell himself, he announced his arrival to the natives, but for a long time no one appeared. At last one solitary person came in and took a seat at the very back of the chapel. The clergyman then found his surplice and conducted the service. That ended, he remarked to his audi ence of one that perhaps a sermon was superfluous. "Oh, please goon, sir," was the flat tering reply, and the clergyman mount ed the pulpit. In the course of his address he ex pressed the fear that he was wearying his hearer and was gratified to be told that he could not fce too long. The sermon, consequently was lengthened out to some 40 minutes. When it was ended the preacher ex pressed a desire to shake hands with a gentleman who had listened to him with such evident appreciation. Imag ine his consternation at discovering on a nearer view (for he was some what short-sighted) that he had beea preaching to the driver of his fly, who was all the while charging overtime 1 SAFE PLACE TO DRAW IT. College Professor's Sword Was Drawn Without Danger to Any one's Cuticle. Prof. E. G. Dexter, of the University of Illinois, whose interesting investigation* have proved football to l>e u harmless game, is popular on account of his genial ity, says the New York Tribune. After a certain football victory l'rof. Dexter entertained one night a group ot students at his residence. A magnificent sword hung over the fire place of the library, and during a space of silence Prof. Dexter took down this sword und brandished it impressively. "Never will 1 forget," he exclaimed, "the day 1 drew this blade for the first time." "Where did you draw it, sir?" a fresh man asked, respectfully. "At a ratlle." said l'rof. Dexter. Economy in Threshing. The fact that there is more grain put into the straw stack than there should be, is something that merits the earnest attention of the up-to-date farmer. Is it not possible to save the wastage of grain ami time which attends the use of old stvlo machinery j This is something that should command the careful consideration of every farmer. In line with the thought we call attention to the ad. of Nichols & Shepard Company. Battle Creek, Michigan, found in another column. It would seem that the time has come When this great channel of wastage on the farm should bo eliminated. And, as if the army of kissing relative* were not enough, Russian officialdom had to put up its lips at the railway station for General Kouropatkin to salute. The idea gives us a new light on the meaning of General Sherman's imperishable remark •bout the hellishness of war. —X. Y. Press. Washing Machine Only $2.70. Save your wife's health and daughter's neautv by using our great Star* Washing Machine —Worth its weight in gold. Price only $2.70; with wringer $3.90. John A. Salzer Seed Co., La Crosse, Wis. Mr. Plane (who is fond of dogs)—" Miss Waito, don't you think you ought to have an intelligent animal about the house tlia; would protect you and—" Miss Waite— "Oh, Mr. Plane! This is so sudden."—Phil adelphia Press. T am sure Pi-o's Cure for Consumption saved my life three years ago.—Mr--. Thus. Bobbins, Norwich, N. Y., Feu. 17, 1900. A scientist claims that he has discovered that fish can talk. Good gracious, what lies they might contradict!— Cleveland Plain Dealer. Putnam Fadeless Dyes do not stain the hands or spot the kettle, except green and purple. It is not helps, but obstacles; not facili ties but ditiicultics, that make men- Matthews. 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The RED RIVER SPECIAL is the crowning improvement in threshing machinery. It is built for modern, up-to-dato work; to thresh well; to thresh fast; to save time and grain and money for the thre.shernfhn and farmer. It does it. There are reasons why. Send for our new book on threshing, it gives them and it is free. Employ th.. RED RIVER SPECIAL, it is the only machine that has the M;m Behind (he <>un, and saves enough grain and time to pay your thresh bill. MEXICAN Mustang Liniment is a positive cure for Piles.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers