»~ a Copyright 1928.93, Harold Titus, _—- - CHAPTER IX—Continued w—T Sr He signed his name and sat back, brows drawn and after a time nodded vindictively. * » * ® * * * Out at the Hoot Owl Ben Ellott went through a week of unbroken dis- may. It was a situation such ag he had never dreamed of facing. Dawn had heard and seen and . | . believed! She had fled the hall, con- vincing him of her bellef in Lydia's accusation. Days had passed and he had heard nothing from her. He was impelled to go to her but, under such circumstances, a young man does not do that. There are some affairs so embarrassing that words fall flat, His men knew the story, of course; all the country knew It. But none mentioned it to him, none willingly be- trayed to him their knowledge of his humiliation. He waited and suffered and tried to rally his self-possessiog. He was walking, wondering grimly what Dawn was thinking then, what she was doing; he was hearing once again the biting volce of Lydia; hear- ing, In memory, the hush fall over that dance hall He was wholly alone. Far behind him loggers worked in the timber; down yonder the mill sent up its plume of smoke and he could hear the distant puffing of the exhaust in the stillness. No wind blew; nothing stirred . . that he could see. He could not ob serve that slight, eautious movement to his left, that figure which watched him some and edged out hermlecks to a view was anobscured but wh through young point from which his ere he still had good cover, 1 still » shook off his mitter ¢ thumb the rifle ti one knee, placing it on the tall of the His not Just steady as he snuggled his cheek against the be, from ambush that Nor were his hands just steady. He sighted carefully, trying to still the tremor of his arms. breath slip out slowly, he squeezed. The crack of the rifle echoed and re- echoed across the chopping. Ben El liott lay still, as he had pitched on his face. One of his hands was out. stretched, the other pinned beneath him. His face, one cheek In the snow, was turned toward the man who had fired but it was far away. For many minutes the man in the timber remained kneeling. Elliott did not stir. Then, cautiously, the killer groped for the ejected shell, slipped it Into his pocket, raised to his feet and, backing cautiously, struck into the deep timber, The man up there stool released he carried, settled slowly to other snowshoe, breath was rifle butt. No man's would shooting way. CHAPTER X The rifle bullet had passed so close above Ben's head that he had felt its breath even before he was aware of its whine, A bullet , ,. here , for him! A hunter? But what would a hunter be shooting at here? That bullet was designed for him and had missed by inches. And he was pitching forward, simulating a fall, letting himself go limp. It was tue only protection he could conjure. He saw nothing, no movement, even: heard nothing. He was a-tingle, scalp creeping with an odd sensation ag he waited for another bullet from these heights to the eastward. But no other come. Ben lay there until deep dusk had fallen. Then be rose to his hands and knees, watching, listening. After a moment he stood still. Then, resolutely, he left the road, wallowed through the deep snow, crossed the rallroad track and tolled up the heights. He went on, through the snow to the first fringe of trees. Then he spoke, in a light hail: “Hi” and Immediately dropped behind = stump. After a moment he rose, went for. ward again and entered the shadows boldly. No one was there, for certain, but before he had gone more than a few spaces he came on that which he sought: a snowshoe track, vigible in the gloom because of the softness of the snow. Whoever had gone that way had sunk deeply. He followed this out of the thick timber to a little clearing. The trail was not visible in the darkneas so he struck a match and holding it cupped in one hand, bent low, The flare showed the track of a long, narrow shoe plainly and as he moved the tiny torch along toward its tip he stopped all movement. The match burned out. He moved on to the next track and lighted another. He ex amined several of the Imprints made by the shoe. Then he went as rapidly as possible back down the slope to the road\and started on to eamp, After supper Ben called Bird Eye Blaine to one glide. “I'd like to have you harbess the supply team and spend an evening In town,” he said. The little barn boss cocked an In- quisitive eye, “Just In town, Misther Ellfott? Or fer somethin’ special?” “Something special, , , . But no one ’ else Is to know. What I want to find out Is this: Who Is wearing a palr of Canadian snowshoes with the web- bing in the toe of one torn so it makes a hole about this shape.” Quickly he sketched a rough ontline on & leaf of his notebook. Bird-Eye scanned it and nodded. “Take it easy. Maybe you won't find out tonight. But make a start, any- how. If you should have any luck, stop in at the siding on your way back. I'll ride that far with you." It was after midnight when Ben El liott roused from his sleepless bed to hear Bird-Eye speaking to his team outside. He crawled out of his blan- kets and opened the office door to let the other in, but before he asked any questions lighted a lamp. “Well, how about t?"—as he re- placed the chimney. Bird-eye looked at him narrowly. “I found th’ shoes,” he sald with an emphatic nod. *'Nd I found out who's they be!" “Good ™ The barn boss blinked. “l dunno ‘bout that. It ain't so good, U'd say. They're the property,” he sald with profound emphasis, “av wan Red Bart Delaney, a celebrated killer from somewheres in Canady!” From the second small bedroom sep arated from the office by a board par tition, a bed croaked sharply, Elllott did not hear it. “So that's It!" he sald softly. “Yis! That's ut! Th’ prisence av a rattlesnake loike Red Bart in th’ eom- munity don't forecast nawthing but th’ } kind av $1 B hottest v ain't {£9 av | , Ain't it “Yes, I have, He was war on below ® trouble! Ye've heard mixed up In Zhing-Wauk ruce the lid not reply to th 2% did it question, 1 fle i seb TY you find out? “Well, into he brought Tincup on its own two stinkin' feet! e's fa- vorin’ Joe Plette's hotel. Te' gnow- shoes was ln th’ office 'nd it come up so's 1 didn’t have to seem curious to foind out whose they was. He's here lookin' fer cedar, he says. But it gives a body a lot av bother wonderin’ what his rale reason moight be. Lyin’ 's as natural as breathin’ to th' lolkes™ “I can tell you,” Ben sald. “He's gun- ning for me, Bird-Eye.” “Saints! . . . I thought ut, I did! Ah, me b'y-—" “Yes, he started today. 1 was shot at with a rifle two miles up the road Just at sundown. The man who shot at me wore a snowshoe with the web broken. He wouldn't be lending his snowshoes.” Bird-Eye stood motionless and silent for a moment before he spoke, “Thin th' sooner we give him both barrels av somethin’, th' safer ye'll be, his stinkin’ pris ence Wednesday noight can't help but think Bird-Eye's advice is good. Swear out a warrant for him the first thing. This is a time for cau- tion. It'll do you no good to take risks.” “I'll not walk into any traps, but {f Brandon thinks he can make me hunt my hole—" “Oh, Brandon!” The cry was bitter and Martin threw his arms wide In a gesture of helplessness, "You've got to watch him as you've never watched a man In your life. Why, son, you don't know, you don’t dream, of the ends he'll go tol” “But 1 thought you didn’t know him,” Ben sald, puzzled. “I thought you sald you were a stranger to this country.” “Yes. But stories travel. And Isn't your experience today enough to con- vince anyone of the man's ruthless ness “Oh, sure,” Ben agreed, but still won dering at Martin's mood. It was not just easy to belleve that a steady-go- ing, mature man should be 80 moved by mere tales ' “You're right. He'll stop at noth- ing, not even murder, And | agree with you that he's got to be watched, jut if I ran Into my burrow or didn't try to get at the bottom of this thing, he'd gain part of what he's after, you No, that can’t be done” He rose and began to pace the floor. “And it's not only Hoot Owl, now, that's at stake. He's mixed up In more important matters than just prop erty. He caught me foul where it hurt . hurt!” Martin, following him with his eyes, winced. "He's used a woman ROO, the to come between me and the finest girl the ns Ben or walked earth!” confronted him, will avert his fa« ht. “Lastly he bring into the 4 it 1 won't run i” “No, But i . Oh, how | wish you'd counsel wits some one else, Able or anyone You're young, you're in danger. And this matter you Just mentioned: Can't you think of Dawn a little? If you love her can't you see that she has a right to believe that you will protect yourself?” The man's volce had fallen to a broken whisper. He held out both hands in appeal and tears sprang into his eyes. This man, this mature, quiet gentleman, this stranger to the coun try, begging him with tears In eyes and voice to consider Dawn McManus struck Ben dumbfounded. “Oh, it's only that you've shown yourself to be so decent” Martin sald after a moment, emotions under better control. “1 hate to see you putting yourself In danger.” “1 won't stick my head Into any noose,” Ben replied. “Lord, it's late open kK or crook, bn I know yon won't with town and Elliott, Elliott is arrested and Misther Elliott! He's a harrd chunk, him. It's Nick Yrandon's work, who's tried everything else ‘nd who'll not ra- fuse to try murder to get ye down, Benny by!” “Likely you're right,” Ben sald and rubbed his chin with a knuckle, “But we'd have to prove that, first. There's nothing to worry about, now we know the man's here to get me. Likely he thought he got me. Still there, was he? Um. . . . Well, that's something to think over, Bird-Eye. You better hit for camp, now, and get some sleep. 1 may call you in the forenoon.” Bird-Eye sniffed and twisted his head gravely and after adding imprecations on Nicholas Brandon and warning Ben to stay close to the office, departed. He could be heard unblanketing his team and climbing Into the sleigh; and when the frosty runners screamed in departure sounds came from that sec. ond bedroom behind the partition, the door opened and John Martin stood Jooking out. His dark eyes held on Ben Elliott, anxious and troubled. “I couldn't help hearing” he sald simply. “Do you mind?" “Of course not, John. Looks like lively times !"—with a grin. “It's none of my affair, Elliott, but I'm an older man than you. I've seen trouble . . . aplenty.” His voice dropped significantly, as though old wounds were being “I've heard of Delaney. Every man the timber We'll need clear heads to meet this situation. Better get Into the old blan. kets.” But he did not sleep at once. He lay awake a long time, thinking of Red Bart Delaney and Brandon and won. dering how he could prove their rela. tionship. . . . And speculating on Mar. tin's outbursts, the man's keen hatred of Brandon, whom he probably had never seen, his Intense Interest in ‘Dawn McManus . . . Something strange and unnatural was there, Elliott told himself. Still, he added, you could stake your last hope on a man like John Martin, . . . * . » » Early the rext forenoon the mer chants and traders and loafers in the business places on Tincup's main thor oughfare saw something to nip thelr attention. Ben Elliott came driving Into town at a spanking trot, his team of alert drivers coated with frost. This was nothing unusual. But when he brought them to a crunching halt before the bank bullding, over which Nicholas Brandon worked and lived, jumped out, threw blankets over their backs and tied them to a post, a few necks were craned, Throughout the evening before Bran. don had gorged himself on a sense of relief, At eight he had passed Bart Delaney on the street. None had been about to notice that although Brandon appeared only to overtake and pass the - man that, in reality, they spoke briefly and cautiously, “Well 7’ “In his tracks. , , . Two mile above th’ mil." “Was he alone?” “Sure, . They'll find him stiff, When do we settle?” “As soon as the bank opens tomor- row.” Inside, the man seethed with a sav- age exultation. He crossed the street, drunk with the feeling of relief, mount ed to his office and drank to his own success. , . , And drank"ugain. For hours he sat at his desk, whisky bottle at his elbow and when he went down the hallway to his bedroom at the rear he carried the bottle with him. His first move for the day, once In his office, was to draw the cork of a fresh flask and drink deeply. A grow- “Good Morning” Said In 1 Hoarse He Gasp. him. That hile to warmth ran was better, tf was not comforta wake up, thinking of a man lying life. less on the snow . . , at your or- ders, Soon, now, word would be coming into town from Hoot Owl, tragle, final word. He must be in shape to meet the news dispassionately. No one would know his part in the killing; none would guess. Still, it would not be easy to have people saying that Ben Elliott was dead. , . Elliott is dead; Elliott is dead. , . . The words spun about In his mind, a savage chant, and Brandon wanted to be glad but could not. Elllott was gone, though. The Hoot Owl was at his mercy, and Dawn « « Dawn! And then he turned to the opening door, His jaw sagged, a light retching sound came from his throat as breath drained out. en Elllott was standing there and smiling good-na- turediy at Lim. ‘But dead men do not stand np, . . . Not men left dead on the snow, . , . Men whose life you have had taken do not smile. . . . . Men stiff on the snow cannot smile, , . This combination of truths coupled in Bran. don's swirling mind and struck him cold. This could be no man, then; this was an apparition, this was And then whatever it was spoke, “Good morning, Brandon!" Elliott spoke naturally and easily, and closed the door behind him, Dead men do not speak; ghosts do not open and close doors-~they pass through them, And N¥cholas Brandon, gathering his faculties, lurched to his feet, panting and clenching the edge of the desk, $ } seed ing through gasp. “Good, . . . " Ben Elliott laughed bitterly, TO BE CONTINUED, Crocodiles of State good money every day to keep croco- diles alive. It has often been sald that Jalpur is the most “different” city of colored mauve or pink. The Crocodile from what far distant religious mythological rite these beasts obtained thelr privilege, it Is a fact that they a day and are tended by a keeper, Whenever this wizardlike old man ap- pears at the wateredge with thelr mud, immediately swim towards him. Guatemala’s Jungles In Gautemain's jungles are grot esquely marked monoliths, ruins of magnificent cities and colossal temple. topped pyramids which bear witness to the existence of an Indian civilization centuries before the Christian era, In little mountain villages and In the city market places are throngs of Indians to remind one of the fact that Guatemala is still 60 per cent pure Indias, TRE CORRECT GUIDES TO QUILT MAKING —— By GRANDMOTHER CLARK The cutting diagrams for Colonial | quilt No, 97B and Indian Wedding | Iiing No. 90B are offered to quilt | makers who are particular to have the patches cur out right. These cutouts Include the seam allowance It Is necessary to cut the patches ou’ right If you want neat results. The Indian Wedding Ring has five differ. ent pleces to be cut out and the Col onial Garden only one. The triangle shown Is sometimes used when the Colonial quilt is set together, leaving | The | identical | ling, only | produce | A running vine between units, Indian Wedding Ring is with the Double Wedding more patches are used to the effect, Send 10 cents to our quilt depart- | ment and we will | both of these | cutout sets postpaid, HOME CRAFT COM DEPARTMENT D. 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