William 4 THE STORY Garrett O'Hara, young lawyer, on his way to practice at Con- cho, wild western town, is shot at from ambush. He hears the desperado who fired the shot, Shep Sanderson, talking to Bare bara Steelman, who thought the shot was directed at her, rett's resemblance to Judge Warner convinces Barbara that Sanderson fired at Garrett think. ing he was Warner. She advises Garrett not to go to Concho, cen ter of a big cattle war, He in- sists. She tells him to see Steve Worrall, Gar- CHAPTER I—-Continued mint oan “Are you the floormaster, Mr. San- derson?’ Though he knew it was not safe, O'Hara could not keep a touch of jauntiness out of his retort. The bad man's shallow eyes, a washed-out blue In color, narrowed to points of savage cruelty, He had found a safe object upon which to ex- pend his venom, “Sa-ay, pilgrim, don't get funny with me. It ain't supposed to be safe, 1 aim to fix yore clock right now. After I've worked you over for a spell you hive off for parts unknown an’ don't never let me see you again.” “Or you'll shoot straighter than you did this afternoon,” suggested O'Hara. “Youn don’t have to get on the prod with me, fellow. I'm startin’ to clean up on you right now.” A prize fighter had once given Gar- rett O'llara six rules for rough-and- tumble fighting. He forgot the last five but remembered the first. It was to carry the attack rather than to walt for It. Now he reached for his foe's outcropping ears, gripped them tightly, and jerked the unkempt head toward him. With all the force ©f his well-muscled arms O'Hara thrust back the head of the helpless giant, then leaped on him, twining his legs back of Sanderson's stocky ones, His feet moved up and down, swiftly and savagely. The bully let out a yell “Take him off! killin® me.” The dancers had pressed back from the fighting area. They stared at the entwined men, amazed at Sanderson's «cry for help. For the stranger's hands stiil clung to the flapping ears. It was <ertain that he had not knifed the big man, Nor had he shot him. Why, then, was Sanderson bellowing like a frightened calf? O'Hara feit a hand clutch his shirt and coat collar just back of the neck He was snatched violently away from Sanderson and flung up against the wall of the room. A hard, low volce asked a question, not of him but of his antagonist. “What you blattin' about, Shep? This little fellow's only a mouthful for you. Get yore hand away from that gun.” A man had come Into the room. He wore a blue flannel shirt, a broad- brimmed soft gray hat, an open vest, and po coat. His trousers were stuffed into the tops of high-heeled cowboy's boots. To the casual glance he was mot a large man, certainly not com pared with the bulky Sanderson. But he was powerfully bullt from the mus- <ular slope of the neck down, and he carried himself as one having aun- thority. The light blue eyes were cool and flinty. Reluctantly, Sanderson's hand fell away from the butt of the .44 which hung at his side. He glanced at the newcomer. The urge struggled in him to defy the man, to wipe out with one swift lift of the arm and crook of the forefinger the tenderfoot who had dis- comfited him. But he was listening to his master's voice. He knew Dave Ingram too well to set himself against Lim, The big bully looked down at the thighs of his legs. From them the trousers had been ripped and blood was dripping into the boots. “His spurs roweled me,” Sanderson sputtered. “Quite some,” agreed the other drily. He turned to O'Hara, studying him for a moment. That he was a tenderfoot was palpable, yet he was wearing Mexican wheel spurs with long cruel rowels, a note In his costuming that seemed wholly incongruous, O'Hara interpreted the question In the glance. “I bought them of a cow- boy in Aurora who was hard up. He sald they would be useful.” “He was right,” agreed Ingram, smiling. “Good for man or beast.” “I'll get this pilgrim right one o these days,” Sanderson cut In vin. dictively, “Very likely, but not now,” his mas. ter said, To Ingram a Mexican noured out a wift protest of flowing vowels, Other hatives joined in, with much impul- sive gesticulation. The cattle man listened, nodded, made answer In rapid and crisp Spanish. He turned to his henchmen. “What Jd'you mean comin’ here an’ breakin’ up the baile?’ he demanded masterfully. “D'you want all the Mex. leans against us, right at this time when we've got war enough on our hands? What's the matter with Pete's ‘Pamdise or the Gold Nugget? Can't you raise enough cain in them without big of pain, Take him off! He's comin' here? out i Ingram's volce was like the crack of a whip. The men to whom he spoke were hard fighting men, two of them at least “warriors” from Texas Im- ported because they were known kill- ers, but they had not a word to say for themselves except muttered ex- cuses, sullen but restrained. They laughed to make the best of it and went swaggering out of the building. Sanderson whispered a word In his chief's ear before he left, Garrett O'Hara had a capacity for hero worship. Looking at this bronzed Westerner, whose word had sent these rufflans trooping from the room, he recognized a leader of great force, strong, iron willed, master of himself as well as others. “I'm In your debt, sir,” the tender- foot said. “Who are you? Where d'you come from?” Ingram asked brusquely. O'Hara told him. “Here on business?" “Expecting to settle somewhere In this country. Looking for a location. I'm a lawyer.” “A lawyer!” pressed surprise, “Yes, sir. Some one recommended Concho.” There was a moment of full silence before Ingram spoke. “Come and see me at the store tomorrow-—early,” he ordered, then turned on his heel and walked out. CHAPTER II Get outa here an’ stay Ingram's volce ex- “My Name Is O'Hara” Garrett O'Hara walked slowly back to the Concho house. His thoughts raced excitedly as he tried to reduce them to order. Luck had certainly been with him, or he could not have escaped with any credit from a hand- to-hand scuffle with Shep Sanderson. He had been very fortunate, too, that Dave Ingram had come at the nick of time, Who was this Ingram? Beyond question, he was important in the com- munity, Judging by what he had heard at the hotel, the man was the owner of the Diamond Tall, or at least the manager of It. Also, he seemed to be proprietor of a store In town. He had sald to meet him there next day, early, What hour was “early” here? He had not conde. scended to give him name or mention the location of the store. Evidently he expected people to know him, or if not to find out who he was. There was no doubt of his arrogance. It was unconscious rather than assumed. He had, to back it, good looks, a forceful personality, probably wealth, and no doubt power. One thing more O'Hara knew about him. Very recent. ily he had killed a man for reasons unknown. Decidedly, before keeping the ap- pointment with Ingram it would be well to find out more about him, O'Hara did not turn in at the Concho house but kept on down the street to the Longhorn corral. Of an attendant, a halif-grown boy, he inquired for Mr. Stephen Worrall, “1 dunno where he's at,” the wran- gler answered. “He was here awhile ago. Might try the Gold Nugget. He bucks the tiger there sometimes” O'Hara tried the Gold Nugget. A young fellow pointed out Worrall to O'Hara, Worrall was a tall lanky man with the look of the West stamped indelibly on him, He was perhaps in his late twenties. As he was turning away from the wheel after cashing In his chips O'Hara accosted him. “You don't know me, Mr. Worrall My name is O'Hara. I'm a stranger here. This afternoon a young lady made me promise to Introduce myself.” “A young lady?" the lank man re- peated, “Miss Steeiman”™ Worrall took him by the arm. “We'll get outa here” he sald, and guided him toward the door. “I was leavin’, anyhow. Picked up seventy-five bucks at the wheel. Enough for one night.” They walked down to the Longhorn corral. Worrall asked his companion when he had arrived, what kind of trip he had had, and how he liked the town ; but it was not until they were seated In the little office at the corral that he mentioned the name of the girl, “Are you a friend of Miss Steel man's?" he asked, oflering O'Hara a cigar while he himself bit the end from another, “I can't claim that,” the tenderfoot sald. “I met her today for the first time. It was a question for a few minutes which one of us had been shot at.” “What's that?" demanded Worrall, a match burning In his hand. “Just as I say.” O'Hara smiled. “1 had conclusive evidence to settle the matter.” He picked up his hat from the table and looked at the two holes In it, “You mean some fellow shot at you an' hit yore hat?” “Yes. To be definite, derson.” “Shep shot at you! Why?" “That's what I came to have y~ tell me.” “You don't know why?" Shep San. Copyright by William MacLeod Raine WNU Bervice “No.” “You an’ him had any row?" “Not then. We'd never seen each other. This evening we had a differ- ence of opinion.” “How d'you know it was Shep?” “He admits it, Claims he thought I was an antelope. That won't wash.” Worrall groped in his waistcoat pocket for another match. “Well, you got some idea why he shot at you, haven't you?” “Miss Steelman had an Idea. She told Sanderson he was trying to kill Judge Warner and had mistaken me for him." The lank man whistled. “Great jumpin’ horn’ toads! Could it be that? You do kinda favor the judge. About his size—an’ store clothes. What did Shep say when she told him?” “He denled it, but the way he denied it was a confession. He had no time to think up ® good lie, because she was so quick «bout it. The fellow was flabbergasted. Of course he stuck to his antelope story.” “What d'you mean about Miss Steel- man being shot at? “Perhaps I'd better tell whole story.” “All right. Hop to It." Worrall put his boots on the table and tilted back his chair. He did not interrupt with a single question until O'Hara had finished, but there was at least one large one in his mind. What was Barbara Steelman doing on the edge of the flats so close to the entrance of Box canyon? He thought he knew the answer, but did not want to belleve it. “So Miss Steelman wanted you to go back home where you come from? An’ she wouldn't tell you why?" “As I understand it, sent here to ask you why." “Maybeso.” The freighter rolled out fat smoke rings and watched them. “You been here only a few hours. Likely you never heard of Dave Ingram.” O'Hara's answer came smilingly: “Heard of him, met him, got an ap- pointment to meet him tomorrow at the store.” The front legs of Worrall's chair came sharply to the floor. Into the long man's face had come an instant wariness, A blank film had taken all expression out of his eyes, “Oh! You know Mr. Ingram.” “Not exactly. I never heard of him till today.” “] see. You an' he are strangers, but you jest happened to meet him an’ get an appointment for tomorrow.” The young lawyer knew he had prejudiced his case and he tried to set himself right. He told the story of” the evening's adventure. His account was a brief and modest one, but the sallent fact could not be obscured that he had roughed it with Bully Sanderson and had not come out second best. “He yeliped for the boys to take you off after you had climbed his frame,” Worrall repeated incredulously. “lI was tearing the flesh from his thighs with my spurs,” explained the lawyer. “He couldn't shake me off and he couldn't stand the gaft.” Worrall looked at this stranger, shrewd eyes appraising him. “Mr. O'Hara, I don't know you from Adam's off ox,” he sald. “But If Miss Steel- man sent you to me it goes as it lays. That young lady Is fine as split silk, an' that's all there is to that You look like a right limber young fellow, but you can't make Bully Sanderson look like a pore plugged nickel an’ get away with it. Seems to me like you've tackled more'n you can ride herd on™ “Likely enough,” O'Hara agreed. *1 was lucky this time. But there's no reason why he should hold a grudge against me. I was only defending myself.” “Hmp! He's p'lson mean. That's reason enough for him, You made him look like a two-spot. One of these days he'll get the deadwood on you an’ do you a meanness, You can bank on that, sure as h—I's hot. 1 know that bird. He may lay off you right now because Dave Ingram has given orders. That won't mean he's forgot, only that Dave is the big auger. Off- hand, T'll bet you're no kind of a hand with a six-shooter.” “You win the watch on that bet” O'Hara admitted. “My advice is for you to cut dirt back to the land of marshals, cala- booses, an’ plug hats” “I think I'm going to like It here, Mr. Worrall” “You're liable to rue yore decision If you stay. By the way, what's yore line, Mr. O'Hara? “I'm a lawyer.” “A lawyer. QGreat jumpin’ horn’ toads!” A thought stabbed the West. erner and brought his alert attention to another phase of the matter. “That's why Dave Ingram told you to come see him. Young fellow, if 1 knew where you were at!" “I'm a total stranger, as I told you before. Until today I never met an soul in this neck of the woods. I've had no correspondence with anyone. My purpose in coming was to find a good town to hang out a shingle. Now my cards are on the table, 1 came to talk this over with you because 1 promised Miss Steelman I would. But since you doubt me you the she me some Ke rose and picked up his hat, “Don't push on yore reins, O'Hara,” the freighter told him. down, I'll tell you whatever you want to know.” Promptly, O'Hara tossed his hat on the table and sat down. “I want to know the inside polities of this town: who Is fighting who and why, the rea- son Shep Sanderson wanted to kill Judge Warner, and the ground for Miss Steelman's advice that I had bet- ter not stay here to practice my pro- feasion, That will do to begin with” The crow's feet around Worrall's eyes crinkled to mirth, “You're sure enough a lawyer. Boy, If 1 those questions thorough you need to ask any more.” “I've got all night before me,” lawyer sald. Worrall made himself comfortable by resting his weight on the lower end if his spine and lie talked, “If you want it in one word, short an’ sweet, that word Is ‘cows,’” Wor- rall sald, “Cows are the cause of all the trouble in this man's town. clear back to the war. Down in Texas them days cattle ran wild, unbranded. All the men folks In the Confederate army. Well, when they come home, Heked an’ ragged, cows sure dotted the landscape. In a way of speakin’ ! - Mr nei answer won't the his shoulders. Goes “Mmp! He's Pllson Mean. That's Reason Enough for Him." they belonged to the fellow who threw the widest loop. Many a herd got its start in the next few months by real industrious brandin' of mavericks. Lots of cows, but no market for ‘em. Last few years a market has been de- veloping. Texas got crowded. The boys an’ thelr herds began to emigrate. Some pushed Into the San Marcos valley. The one with the biggest herd was old Wes Steelman. Right now, today, he don’t begin to know how many cows are carryin' the Hash- knife brand.” “I've heard of the Hashknife brand. Didn't they use to call Steelman the king of the San Marcos? “Do yet,” Worrall nodded. “The Lord sure blessed his herds an’ they multiplied, if that's the way you want to look at it. Some folks didn't see it jest thataway. Other folks came into the San Marcos, mostly In the upper end of It an’ In the hills above the valley. They were small cattle men, what they call nesters. The small cattle men drew together under the leadership of Dave Ingram. Dave owned the Diamond Tail, a right numerous brand. If you listen to his enemies Dave usta be one of that kind of cow man that 1t would hurt his health to eat a critter with his own brand on it. You don't need to take that at par value. They say the same about every one who has got ahead Dave can see_a dollar far as anyone. He started a store at Concho an’ a freight outfit. He got In with the government officials an’ secured fat beef contracts to supply the reserva. tions, Small-fry nesters came to him an’ he staked them. Dave got to be about the king pin up here in the mountains. What he sald went, “Well, Wes Steelman wasn't any- ways pleased at the way things were shapin’. He had to go farther for markets. His range began to get crowded. Every which way he turned some nester had squatted, an’ on top of that was Dave Ingram hornin’ in on his markets. Time for him to get busy, he thought. So he started a store in Concho with Patrick Me Carthy as his pardner. Then he bought out a fellow on Dead Horse creek an’ stocked a ranch of his own in the hills seventy miles above the main one In the valley. Doth Dave an’ Wes are what you might call ar bitrary an' bullbheaded. There's no compromise In either one of 'em, an’ thinks he ought to be chief, Consequence is, trouble, It grew to a Lead after a fellow called Shat Brown was killed, Bhat was one of the III hill ranchers up Jim Wilson creek an’ he was lined up with Ingram. You've got to understand that while Ingram an’ Steelman are major-domos, as you might say, of thelr factions, they can't ride herd on every ornery waddy that trails along with them.” “I think I see,” O'Hara sald drily. “They reap the benefit of murder with- out being responsible for it. A con- venlent arrangement.” “That's no word to use, not In this country,” Worrall told him severely. “If you alm to live long in the land you'll have to get educated. When folks have trouble out here they may have a difliculty resultin’ in a shoot- ing. I've been present at some kill- ings, but that word of yours ain't either discreet or polite. There are some skunks it applies to, but we most generally hang them to the end of a propped-up wagon pole or a cotton- wood.” “I'll have to learn the technleal dif- ferences In homicides,” the lawyer sald. Worrall detected a faint flavor of irony In this remark. He dropped his feet from the table and rested an arm leaning forward toward his each guest, “See here, young fellow, I'll offer you advice free gratis, seeing as Miss Steelman sent you to me an' seeing as I kinda cotton to you anyhow. yore mouth padiocked. Folks fight here at the drop of the hat. Maybe you got sand in yore craw. [I ain't sayin' no. Worse for you If you have, for you wouldn't last a split second when some low-down bird smokes up. Where was 1 at? After Shat Brown got killed Ingram an’ his store pard ner Tom Harvey began to bring in Texans warriors. So did Steelman an’ McCarthy. I'm not tellin’ any secret when [ say that right soon now some one is gonna drop a match In a keg of powder an’ our Hl" private war will beg n to pop.” “You menn-—— “I mean that If Shep hadn't made a mistake In hi day an’ L111 killed Keep had shot straighte Judge Warner, the ready have been in the fire” “How does Judge Warner into t?™ “Another long story In that, but the upshot of it is that tomorrow he's ex pected to make Wes Steelman admin istrator of the estate of Jerry Hughes, Jerry was a friend of Ingram’s an’ his place is a sort of strategic point be tween the Diamond Tall an’ the upper Hashknife ranch. Poth Wes an’ Dave want mighty bad to control it" Wor rall added, to make the situation clearer: “Dave stepped In an’ took charge of the place when Jerry died He'd hate to give it up” «“So ns a simple way out he decided to kill Judge Warner, an lonocent party.” “Judge Warner is known to be friendly to the Steelman side, an® we don't know that Dave knew a thing about what Shep was aimin’ to do Myself, I don’t hardly think he did If you want to stay In Concho an’ be Dave Ingram’'s man or Wes Steel man's why hop to it an’ hang up yore shingle. I wouldn't wish to insure yore life, but that's neither here nor there, as the fellow sald when his two wives met an’ he lit out for the chaparral.” O'Hara rose. “If I hang out my shingle I'll be by own man” The long man grinned. “You'll have a heap of time on yore hands to learn yore Blackstone thorough,” he an. swered, “And you, Mr. Worrall? Do you expect to sit on the fence and keep out of this fight ™ “lI wish I knew,” Worrall answered impulsively. “I'd lke to, but here's where I'm at. Ingram an' Harvey have got their own freight outfit. 1 haul for Steelman’s store an’ for pri- vate parties. J.ooks to me like I'm gonna be drug In whether I want to or not, but you'll sure hear me yellin® for a while that I'm an Innocent bhy- stander.” Imps of mischief kicked up their heels in O'Hara's brown eyes. Hig remark apparently had no connection with anything that had gone before “Yes, Miss Steelman is a very attrac tive lady. As you say, If you're going to be dragged In anyhow" Worrall blushed beneath the tan “Who said anything about Miss Steel man 7" The young lawyer fled, but he flung a grin back at the “innocent by: stander.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) come There are modernists even umong the witch-doctors of Africa, to judge by the story told by a missionary on furlough about the native who was treated with powdered gramophone record mixed with water from a loco- motive—the engine water to make him move and the record dust to make him talk, In its own way the treat ment is not illogieal—and it embodies an obvious compliment to the white man's capacity for “big ju ju.” It is water that makes the engine move and the record which makes the gramophone talk—the only flaw in the argument is that the patient was neither a phonograph nor a locos motive, However, he recovered the use of his limbs and tongue-—so sim. ple faith must have once more proved its superiority to that nasty, know-all spirit, by falling to perceive the fal- lacy on which the treatment based. 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