CHAPTER XI—Continued
oe] Be
He smiled ruefully. His modesty
would not let him believe that he had
in him the qualities to win the woman
he wanted to such joy. What had he
to offer her so compelling that she
would find in the house of thelr life
together doors opening to dear de-
lights and windows looking upon
dawns rosy with the promise of new
happiness?
The young man carried away with
him a good deal to think about. He
had found out that he was still sunk
fathoms deep In love. It would be
this woman or none with him. But
what about her? Was there a chance
that after many days her heart would
answer the deep silent call of his?
Had she meant to encourage him? He
did not think so. He was almost sure
she had not.
* » *
Public indignation {is usually not
sustained. It evaporates with the pas-
sage of time, When the rumor spread,
about a year after the disappearance
of Bob Quantrell, that he had returned
to his old haunts the residents of
Jefferson county did not bestir them-
selves to comb the mountains and the
chaparral for him. This was strictly
the business of Sheriff O'Hara and
such indiscreet youths as he could in-
duce to serve with him as deputies,
Bob had been seen one night at
Concho. Deever was with him. They
made a fleeting visit to Agua Caliente
to buy supplies. It was known they
had been on Horse creek.
O'Hara recognized that this was to
be a campaign, It was essential that
he have deputies upon whom he could
depend at a pinch. Quietly he set
about making preparations,
He dropped in at the
corral.
Steve Worrall greeted him.
new, old-timer?”
“The latest news Is that Steve Wor-
ral has been appointed deputy sheriff
of Jefferson county,” O'Hara said,
smiling at him. “He may not know
it yet, but he's practically all ready to
be sworn in.”
“How come? I know quite several
jobs I llke better than that-—safer an’
more comfortable an’ better pay with
less hard work.”
“Less hard work.
eyes traveled down the long, lean
body. “Getting soft. Too much time
wasted at playing cards.”
“Also,” continued Steve, paying no
attention to this gratuitous criticism,
“I haven't lost Bob Quantrell any to
speak of, if that's the notion that's
stickin’ in yore coconut. He's a slick
feliow to leave lay when he's huntin’'
for nature's sweet solitude. Bob Quan-
trell ain't Interferin® with me any,
Why should I get all het up about
him? ‘Live an’ let live' Is my motto.”
“My idea Is to make haste slowly,”
O'Hara sald, passing over the other's
objections as negligible. “We'll not
go ramping all over the country look-
ing for him. Until we get a straight
steer we'll sit tight and wait. No use
chasing down every rumor we hear.
When I follow a trall I want it to be
a hot one™
“Are you aimin’ to capture Quan-
trell’s gang? Or to run ‘em down an’
wipe ‘em out?
“To capture them If I can. We
want men with us who will do to take
along. What do you think of Buck-
skin Joe?”
“Don’t know him very well, but he's
got a good rep. Fought Apaches. I've
heard army officers speak well of
him.”
“I've thought of Amen Owen, too.”
“Good man. He used to be right
friendiy with Bob, though.”
“So did you and I, for that matter.
It Owen throws In with us he'll go
through.”
“I reckon.”
They discussed others as possibiil-
tles for any posse that might be re.
quired, though both of them realized
that the personnel of any posse would
be a measure to be determined by the
men available at the time,
Quantrell did not keep them waiting
long. A buckboard driver brought In
word three days later that a bunch of
horses had been stolen from a rancher
named Ferril, who lived close to the
Mal Pais in the western part of the
county. Hastily O'Hara gathered a
posse and rode to Ferril's place, With
him he had Worrall, Owen, and two
brothers named Brown.
It was a long ride and the weather
was bitter. The snow was five or six
inches deep, and the wind swept It
from the ground in swirling gusts
that drove it into their faces with the
sting of sleet. All day they rode, and
it was after dark when they reached
the ranch which was their destination.
Icicles hung from the eyebrows of the
men, matted the beards of the two
Browns, and depended from the manes
of the horses. A dozen times the
riders had been forced to dismount in
order to get circulation into their legs
by walking alongside the animals,
“We'd be nice easy marks if Bob
an’ his crowd happen to have come
back to spend the night,” grumbled
Amen as they drew up outside the
house,
The sheriff slipped from the saddle
and knocked on the door.
The rancher called “Who's there?”
then after a moment opened without
waiting for an answer,
He invited the half-frozen men into
the house, and they thawed out In
front of the fireplace while Ferril and
his son stabled the horses and fed
them.
Mrs. Ferril was a bouncing, round-
breasted young woman with snapping
Longhorn
“What's
te
Hmp!"™ O'Hara's
black eyes. She was twenty years
younger than her husband and was
the stepmother of the lad. At once
she set about making supper for the
self-invited guests, While she worked
she flashed smiles at them and talked.
The sheriff asked questions enough
to. direct her conversation. It ap-
peared that Phil, her stepson, had rid-
den out of an arroyo in time to see
the rustlers round up the horses. They
had caught sight of him and one of
the men had fired at him before he
realized that this was a raid. Phil
was almost sure that the man who had
fired at him was Deever, He had not
been near enough to recognize any of
the others.
“Which way did they go after leav-
ing the ranch?” Owen asked.
“Toward the Mal Pails,” she sald.
“Hank followed them for several
miles, Ke couldn't miss their trail
in the snow. They have a hangout
there In a cave. The story is that
they have a bunch of cattle rounded
up in a valley two-three miles from
there.”
The men of the posse slept on the
floor In their own blankets, which
they first dried out before the fire.
In a few minutes they were all dead
to the world. It had been an exhaust-
ing day and the sturdiest of them was
tired. None of them awakened until
Phil renewed the fire which had been
banked for the night.
“Roll out an’ roll up, boys,” O'Hara
shouted, and he fitted action to word
by doing so himself,
They stamped out to the washpan,
made themselves clean, and combed
their hair. ly the time they had fed
the horses, breakfast was almost ready.
It had been agreed that Hank Fer-
ril was to ride with them, He did not
want to go, but he could not very well
object, The stolen horses were his,
and he knew the Mal Pais country
better than any of the others.
“They're a tough layout, an’ I hate
to get them sore at me,” he said while
he was saddiing.
“Why, of course, If you're raisin’
stock for Quantrell’'s benefit,
Hank,” sald Owen with obvious sar-
casm,
“Not a chance In the world of get-
tih® my stock back, Amen, Like
huntin' a needle in a haystack: If Bob
wants us to find him we will; If not,
we won't see hide or halr of him, An’
you can bet that If we do it'll be be-
cause he's got the dead wood on us.”
Ferril's prediction was a true one,
Forty-eight hours later the posse, a
group of weary and saddieworn men,
dismounted at his ranch and bow.
legged stiffly to the house from the
corral. For a day and a night it had
been snowing steadily.
“No luck?” asked Mrs. Ferril of the
sheriff.
“No luck,” replied O'Hara. “Bob
wasn't at home when we reached the
eave, but left 2 note for us.
Thoughtful of him."
He handed a torn fragment of a
newspaper to her. On it was scrawled:
“Make yourself comfortable, Sheriff.
Flour under the ledge. Quarter of
beef hanging from the cottonwood by
the spring. Cards on the shelf. Sorry
can't stay and say howdy, but I've got
a hen on at the Circle 8 O ranch.
Meet up with you and chew over old
times later. Adios”
The penciled note was signed “Bob
Quantrell.”
Mra. Ferril showed
teeth In gay laughter. “He's sure
enough a case, that boy. Never saw
the beat of him for impudence.”
“He's certainly got the laugh on us
this time,” the sheriff admitted. “Bob
must have had a scout out, for he
hadn't been gone half an hour when
we reached the cave. The fire hadn't
dled down at all.”
“What will you do now?
“Get back to the Circle 8 O fast as
a horse will carry me. Then I'll prob-
ably be too late”
“You may be lucky If you get there
too late,” she warned.
He agreed that there was something
to that.
It was late when O'Hara dropped
wearily from the saddle at the Dia-
mond Tall and halled the house. He
wanted to see Jack Phillips, who had
since Ingram’'s death been foreman of
the young widow's ranch,
Barbara answered his call,
it?" she asked,
“Garrett. Is Jack here?
“No, he isn’t. He went over to see
Dad and said he wouldn't be back till
late. What is it, Garrett?"
He hesitated. No use worrying her.
“Nothing much, Barbara. I'm on
my way to the Circle 8 O and 1
stopped to have a word with him. But
if he isn't here—"
“Wait just a minute and I'll be
out,” she said, and drew back from
the window.
Presently a lamp was lit. After a
minute he saw the light pass from her
room to the hall. She opened the
front door.
“Come in,” she sald, holding the
lamp high to light the way.
Still he hesitated.
“Come on in, Garrett,” she insisted.
“1 want to see you."
He followed her Into the house. She
led the way into the sitting room and
put the lamp on a table. One swift
glance showed her that he was travels
worn,
“I'm not very presentable,” he apol.
ogized. “I didn’t mean to waken
you."
“I wasn't asleep. Hadn't gone to
bed yet. What Is it, Garrett? Some
thing important?”
O'Hara did not want to speak about
Quantrell to her. The man had mur
Job
he
strong white
“Who Is
@
By
WillaimMacLeod Raine
Copyright by William Macleod Ralne
WNU Service
dered her husband, Even the men-
tion of his name might stab her.
“I just wanted to tell him to keep
an eye out for rustlers. I've reason to
think some are heading this way.”
“You mean the Quantrell gang?” she
asked quickly.
“Yes. Probably they'll not show up
on your range. More likely the Circle
8 O country.”
“How do you know? Tell me about
it.” Again her gaze swept up from his
muddy boots and leathers to his un-
shaven face and sunken eyes. She
interrupted herself to fling at him a
question, “How far have you ridden
today?"
“From $e Mal Pals.”
“When did you eat last?”
“This morning. I was in a hurry
to get through, Don't bother about
a...
O'Hara, on a Fresh Horse, Plowed
Through the Drifts on the Divide.
me. I'm all right—get food at the
ranch when I get there”
“You'll eat here,” she told him
firmly. “Lie down on that sofa while
I make supper for you."
“No. You're not strong
You mustn't—"
“I'm perfectly strong.
three months old today. How long
do you want me to be an Invalid?
She tossed some newspapers from the
lounge and ordered him to lie down.
Reluctantly, still protesting,
as he was told. Jarbara threw a
Navajo rug over him and left the
room, taking the lamp with her
Through the door he could see her
moving about the kitchen with the
light grace that characterized her.
His lids drooped. He fought against
fatigue. She was a woman to
dream about, deep-bosomed and sup-
plelimbed, incomparably alive
trusty as steel. Was it any
wonder that every fiber of his being
had for a year longed for her as
Abelard had yearned for Helolse?
God must have meant love to fulfil
her life. If so.
When she returned, shading the
flame of the lamp with her hand. he
was sound asleep. Barbara looked
down at him, a smile In her eyes. A
glow warm and tender pervaded her,
sa diffused happiness. Never had she
knowa anyone at all llke him. Sensi.
tive as a girl, quick with the shyness
and the generosity of youth, he was
none the less as seif-relignt and com.
petent as Dave Ingram himself had
been. Gentleness was an essential
quality of him, but no more so than
the gay courage that emergencies
seemed to set bubbling In his veins.
He was a bookman-—liked to read
classics that till lately had been only
names to her—but he had flung him.
David Is
he did
®
ool
self into the frontier life with boyish
zest and had met, often buoyantly, al-
ways unflinchingly, the stark tests that
had been imposed on him.
She let the light shine on him. His
eyelids flickered open and he smiled
at her,
“Your supper is ready,” she told
him.
“May I wash my hands?"
She had not forgotten even that,
He found warm water in a basin and
a cleah towel at hand.
While he ate she sat across the
table from him, elbow on table and
chin on fist, listening to the story of
his hunt in the Mal Pals country for
the outlaws. He made light of it, but
she could muster only a very faint
smile even when he read aloud Quan-
trell’'s note. The man was more dead-
ly than a rattlesnake, for he struck
without warning. She had lived over
fifty times that dreadful hour when
she had come upon her husband's dead
body lying In the road.
From her throat there leaped invol-
untarily the thought in her mind:
“Oh, I wish you weren't sheriff, Gar:
rett |”
A wave of emotion flooded him. Hae
dared not let himself hope that her
spontaneous cry meant more than
friendship. He passed quickly over it
lest she explain it away.
“I'd rather Quantrell felt that way
than you," he sald, trying for an
effect of carelessness.
“There's something-—Iinhuman about
him.”
He could see that fear had risen to
her throat and choked her. Therefore
he spoke evenly, almost negligently.
“Not at all, He's just a boy gone
bad, as they say. And don't forget,
Jarbara, that he's at the wrong end of
this hunt, not I. He's the one that
has to double and twist to escape, the
one who has to suspect every man he
meets of wanting to betray him. We
on the side of the law have a tre.
mendous advantage, a moral force that
makes a lot of difference”
“What
he ever—ever——7
“Don't worry about me, Barbara
He's not trying to get me but to get
away from me”
few Inches across
her. “I understand
the table toward
how you must
friends. But it really isn't necessary
I'm taking
may dodge me for a while
round him up in the end-—and I'll not
be hurt doing It.”
no unnecessary risks,
“If you ever get a chance you ought
to—to put an end to him as yon would
a wolf,” she cried with a
SAVAZETY,
The brown
were grim.
said. “I haven't
a duel with Quantrell
an outiaw wanted because of the
crimes he has committed. If I can I'll
get him at advantage, and If necessary
I'll do just what you've sald. Our lives
aren't of the same value to society.
I've been chosen to put an end to his
lavless career. That's what 1 mean
to do, one way or another, if I can.
I don't intend to be a chivalrous fool
about this, If that's what you are
afrald of”
She gathered from this what reas.
surance she could. “But you will be
careful, won't you? she pleaded.
“You'll not take any chances you don't
have to?"
“Not a chance,’
the boys say, I'll
myself.”
sarrett O'Hara had talked to Bar-
bara with quiet confidence of the
prospects. There was, he felt, no need
to alarm her unduly. But the argu-
ments he had used did not wholly con-
vince himself. It is true, In one
sense, that the advantage in such a
campaign as this lay with the officers.
In another way the odds entirely fa-
vored the hunted rather than the
hunters, because the former could at
one time or another choose the setting
for battle. During the two days that
O'Hara's posse had combed the Mal
Pais for the outlaws there had not
been an hour when the searchers had
eyes looking Into
“Listen, Jarbara”
He's a killer,
.
“As
off on
he promised
not throw
HERR ER
An early means adopted for the
measurement of short periods of time
was by noting the quantity of water
discharged through a small orifice in
the containing vessel, says an article
in the Montreal Family Herald. If
the vessel would empty itself between
sunrise and sunset, a certain number
of markings equally distant on the
side of the vessel would enable one
to tell what portion of the day had
passed by the height of water. This
crude measure of time was called a
water-clock.
When the Roman general, Julius
Caesar, was carrying out his conquest
of Gaul, he crossed to Britain for the
first time In the latter part of the
Scotaman’s Rise
The manager of an Aberdeen firm
called his bookkeeper into his private
room.
“Sandy,” he sald, “the accountant
is leaving and I'm gaun tae gle you
his job."
The young bookkeeper's face lit up
with expectation,
“Thank you, sir,” he replied,
what will the salary be now?”
The manager shook his head.
“The same as you're gettin’, but
yell ha'e a hat-peg to yourself now,”
he returned.—~London Answers
“And
summer of 508 B. C. In his account
of the expedition he tells of many
things he had observed among the
Britons, and one was the water-clock,
Through accurate measurements by
this clock he found that the midsum-
mer nights In Britain were shorter
than in the south of Gaul or Italy. He
ascertained the fact but he did not
know the cause—the spherical form of
the earth and its revolving on an axis
not at right angles to the plane of Its
orbit,
“City of Spires”
There are so many fine spires and
towers on the churches and palaces in
Copenhagen that it has been described
as the “City of Spires.” Although It
is an ancient city, Copenhagen Is now
modern in appearance. The earlier
houses bulit of wood were destroyed
by fire in the Eighteenth century and
have been replaced with brick and
stone buildings. Copenhagen Is noted
for Its beautiful parks and gardens,
among which the most famous are the
Tivoll gardens, laid out in 1843. At
night they are lighted with thousands
of fairy lights and the theaters, res-
taurants, concert and dance halls In
it offer countless attractiogs. Indeed,
one could easily call It “Denmark's
Fairyland”
not been In terrain where it was pose
sible for Quantrell to ambush them.
That he had not done so was either
because the young desperado had
other fish to fry or because of the
criminal’s instinct to keep on the
dodge as long as he could and avold
an open conflict with the forces of law.
It was all very well to talk about
being cautious, but It was an intrinsle
part of the game he played that he
had to take chances even when he did
not know he was taking them.
As O'Hara, on a fresh horse, plowed
through the drifts on the divide be-
tween the Diamond Tall and the Cir-
cle 8 O, he knew that there never had
been a time when he wanted less to
fall a victim to Quantrell's marksman-
ship than now. For his heart was
lifted within him, He had seen her
concern for him, and he had not dared
to trade upon it lest she qualify her
words till they meant nothing. In-
stead of putting her on the defensive
he had edged away from the subject
in order that she would not take away
the hope that had leaped up in him.
It was sheer cowardice. He knew
that, the while he excused himself on
the plea that of all things he must
not be precipitate,
Riding through the night, he rebuilt
the scene, her words and manner, the
inflections of her volce. Had she
meant more than friendliness? He
would not let himself think so. Yet
there blazed In him a new and glorious
hope,
CHAPTER XII
When O'Hara
O he found
made his
reached the Circle S
that Bob Quantrell had
threat good. In the dark.
ness he and one other companion had
slipped up to the stable and taken two
blooded horses that belonged to Smith-
Beresford. In place of them they left
two leg-weary geldings branded with
the sprawling H F used by Hank
Quantrell left also
He
one of his char.
had nalled it to
“Only a short visit this time, Mr.
lusiness In Con-
stay. Much obliged for
They say an even swap
Tell Wes not to feel
I'l drop In on him soon,
later,
the horses
is no robbery
slighted
you
See
“BOE QUANTRELL."
Tired though he was, O'Hara stayed
another mount run up and saddled for
him He did not doubt that Quan
What deviltry
mind to do there, if any,
could not In any
he had In
the sherify
guess. case it was
outiaw to
town.
He was disturbed at the loss
the horses. His partner had imported
them from Kentucky with a view to
raising fine stock or at least improving
the native breed. Lyulph would not
be pleased, when he returned from
England with his bride, to learn that
Quantrell had appropriated them.
though he would take the Joss with
characteristic good sportsmanship.
The ride to Concho was a long, cold
one and O'Hara was drooping with
fatigue. His hands clung to the horn
of the saddle. His head nodded. More
than once the joiting of the horse's
motion awakened him with a start
It was nearly four o'clock when he
slipped into town by way of the pas
ture back of Concho house. Here hs
dismounted and hobbled the horse,
hiding the saddle in a clump of scrub-
oak bushes. The pasture was a large
one and the odds were that the ani-
mal would not be noticed. As it
chanced, the brand on it was a P D
Bar. Smith-Beresford had bought it
from a Buck creek nester and the
Circle 8 O riders had not yet re.
branded it. Even if anyone observed
the horse he would not associate it
with the sheriff. This was important,
because O'Hara did not want adver-
tised the fact that he was In town,
That was why he had not gone direct
to the Longhorn corral.
O'Hara left the pasture, crossed the
road, climbed an adobe fence, and
passed down a slope to the creek. He
followed this for two hundred yards,
then moved up through the brush to a
little log cabin set well back from the
street,
He tapped on the only window and
called in a low volce, “Grogan—yonu
there?”
At first there was no answer, but
after he had spoken the name again
he heard a stir inside, followed by a
husky demand, “Who's wantin’ me?"
“You alone?"
A momentary pause followed, then
a curt reply. “Yep. Now you tell
me what I asked.”
“Garrett O'Hare. Let me In"
The man in the house could be
heard moving about the room, He did
not light a lamp, but presently he
came to the door and opened it. The
sheriff stepped Inside and Grogan at
once closed and bolted the door,
“Kinda early, or late, one or the
other, to be drappin’ in on a fellow,
ain't it, O'Hara?" the owner of the
cabin suggested, yawning.
“Do you know whether Bob Quan
trell is in town?’ the sheriff asked.
Grogan dropped his arms, still
stretched In the yawn, He was a man
of medium height, bow.legged and
muscular, His halr was a yellowish
red, and his face and wrinkled neck
were sprinkled with freckles. At the
mention of Quantrell’s name his lax
figure starched to rigidity.
(TO BR CONTINUED »
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