© Alan Le May
WNU Services
CHAPTER VIII—Continued
we] Gone
Behind Marian’s shadowed silhou-
ette the window glass itself shat-
tered, as if it had exploded inward;
out in the brush sounded the ringing
crack of a rifle. Then there was si-
lence and the window against which
Marian had stood was empty except
for the lamp-lit gleam of its shat-
tered glass.
Wheeler's breath jerked in his
throat; he dropped to the ground
and raced for the house.
In the dark beside the shattered
window Douglas was holding the
girl in his arms, and though she
clung to him, Wheeler saw that the
wagon boss was holding her up. He
heard Douglas say, ‘‘Are you hurt?
Are you—"'
Billy Wheeler cried out, “In God's
name, Marian—"'
Marian's voice said shakily,
all right.”
“You hit?”
“No.”
“Get a gun!” said Val Douglas
crazily. “We was standing here,
and somebody took a shot at—"
Wheeler turned and ran for the
bunk house. Half way he almost
crashed into Tulare Callahan.
“What's up?”’
“Get the boys out,”
him. “To hell with saddles,
Wheeler told
but
into the layout—we've got to try to
stampede over him in the brush.”
brush stood ragged, much
shoulder high to a mounted man;
its crooked brakes the
ground showed barren in the light of
the near stars.
With some difficulty Billy Wheeler
restrained Gil Baker and Steve Hur-
ley from spurring their ponies head-
long into the brush,
trying to jump a bunch of steers.
“Stick together,
keep stopping to listen,” Wheeler
said. “That's our only chance.”
They trailed into the bush slowly,
single file, Wheeler in the lead. He
had accidentally mounted a horse
that believed in ghosts, and it moved
sidelong, stretching its nose warily
in
uneasy whoofs. Repeatedly they
halted to sit listening.
brush, alternately walking
horses and listening.
Not until they came out at the
say something, so he said the first
thing come into his head. Every
sign we got points to the fact that
Lon Magoon was killed, in his own
saddle, and on his own horse, and
at Short Crick.”
“I'm thinking now,” said Billy
Wheeler, ‘‘that we can prove that
one way or the other—right here
and now."
“How?”
“We've
hav en’'t we?’
“It’s still under my bunk.”
“Let me see it.”
Horse Dunn stared at him irrita-
bly for a moment, then picked up a
lamp with a jerk, and led the way to
the clean bare room in which he
lived. By the yellow light of the
lamp the fine old saddles on their
racks against the wall glinted clean-
Dunn
sat down on a box and hooked his
elbows on the table behind him.
‘““Horse, how big a man is this
Lon Magoon? About my size?"
‘““Hell, no! Not by eight inches.
Little short wiry feller—put you in
mind of a grasshopper, or a flea.”
Wheeler hauled out Magoon's sad-
Billy measured the length of
still his
on
got saddle,
fingers upon the
-l
said.
stand five-eleven,"”” Wheeler
“Yet these stirrups are too
me to ride. Horse, the
six feet tall.”
Horse came across the room in
beside Billy. “Damn it, I know
“You mean it was Magoon's hull.
You can see the short-rig bends
worn into the stirrup leathers. But
since then the leathers have been
let down long, and laced there with
|
Horse Dunn measured the stirrup
leathers against his own arm. Then
he forked the saddle where it lay,
jamming his feet into the stirrups.
Tall as me,” he breathed, unbe-
lieving. He stared at the saddle in-
for several moments.
“Do you reckon,” he said at last,
that infernal old lion hunter would
let down those stirrups, just to get
that they had wandered almost a
mile from their starting point. When
you have seen one thicket of buck-
‘Look at the wear on the stirrup
The saddle has been rid-
since the stirrups were let
Horse Dunn got up slowly and
went back to his seat on the box.
them all.
a hundred thickets, in which a man
could have hidden under th
feet of their horses—yet in that mile
of
thickets more. The riders were grim
and tight-mouthed.
Horse Dunn met them at the cor-
rals. He had been prowling all over
the place, rifle on his arm.
spoke low-voiced, but no one of them
“I Don’t Believe He Knows a
Horse Track From a Hound's
Ear.”
would have crossed him then, any
more than they would have fooled
with a 14-hand silvertip. His words
came out as hard as pieces of rock.
“Go on and turn in,” he told them.
“This is most likely all for tonight.”
Once they were inside, Horse de-
manded of Wheeler, “What the devil
got into Old Man Coffee?”
“Whatever it was got into him,
it's going to cost us plenty.”
“I don’t believe he knows a horse
track from a hound’s ear,” Dunn
declared angrily. “He puts me in
mind of some old moss-horn—he
paws and blows and hollers, but
what's he know about it when he
gets through? Nothing.”
“I'm not so sure,” Billy Wheeler
said.
“Name one thing he found out!”
“He figured out that the murdered
man was not Magoon.”
Horse snorted in disgust. “I don’t
telieve it. Coffee thought he had to
deep breath and got up,
He got out a roll of adhesive tape,
pulled off a boot and woolen sock,
his ankle bone, which appeared to
be skinned.
his mind on other things. ‘Seems
like they—"'
“Horse—Coffee was right! The
man that died in this saddle was not
Lon Magoon."
Suddenly Dunn stood up, a shag-
gy towering figure, staring redly at
Billy Wheeler. “Then, in God's
name, who's dead?”
Wheeler regarded him without ex-
pression. Within the hour, a shad-
owy hunch had come over him. He
knew that he had no proof for the
thing that was in his mind; yet
went to the fireplace, and picked up
an old branding iron that had been
in use as a fire poker. He squatted
on his heels, and with this sooty iron
began to make marks on Dunn's
clean-swept floor.
“Saying that the 94 is here,” he
said, marking a cross, “and Short
then here lies that
the Red
Sleep. Seems to me there used to
be a trail across the Red Sleep,
leading over to Pahranagat. -
“Yes, sure. But—
Horse Dunn waited; Billy Wheeler
studied the floor. “Where would a
man be coming from, passing over
Short Crick toward the 947 Maybe—
Pahranagat?”’
: “Could,” Horse admitted dubious-
y.
“That little railroad
there.”
“Sometimes,” Horse Dunn made
a sudden contribution, “Lon Ma-
goon has shipped a few stolen beef
carcasses out of Pahranagat.”
Wheeler nodded. “From Pahran-
agat the spur runs down the Little
Minto to Plumas, then—let me
see"
“Cheat Creek, Monitor, Sikes
Crossing,”” Dunn supplied; “and so
to the main stem.”
“And so to the main stem.”
Wheeler repeated. “And maybe an
old-timer, a saddle man, working to-
ward the 94 by train, would figure
it was better to come by Pahrana-
gat—and there pick up a horse?”
They were silent, and the back-
ground of the outer night seemed
uncommonly still—perhaps because
Old Man Coffee's hounds were gone.
“A saddle-minded man,” Wheeler
repeated, ‘coming from — say
Flagstaff.” He threw the branding
iron into the fireplace; it sent up a
puff of white ash, against the black
spur ends
opening. ‘Horse, where was Bob
Flagg last heard from?"
Dunn's voice came out thickly.
“Flagstaff,” he said.
CHAPTER IX
Horse Dunn sat relaxed, staring
morosely at the floor. In his eyes a
dark fire glowed. Wheeler wondered
what ugly and shadowy things the
old man was seeing. Perhaps,
Wheeler thought, he would not wish
to see in his life the like of what
Horse Dunn was seeing, as he sat
looking at the floor.
Finally Horse Dunn jerked to his
feet with an abrupt impatience.
“This is all pipe smoke,” he said.
“For a minute you threw me up in
the air with that bunk. But hell!
You figure Bob come here a way
no man would ever think of coming.
There's better than a hundred mil-
lion people in this country, and Bob
Flagg is one of 'em, so you figure
that maybe it was him got killed!"
“Well, we might anyway check
up at Pahranagat. There isn't so
much travel up the Little Minto but
what we could find out if Bob Flagg
came that way."
“I'll send Val Douglas over there
tomorrow. I sure don't aim to
leave any stone unturned. But if
a guess is an inch long, you sure
jumped a mile.”
“Maybe,” Wheeler admitted.
Horse Dunn took a turn of the
room and the fighting spirit that had
flared up in his eyes burned low
and smoky again. “This country's
gone to hell in a handbasket. I've
never asked for any more than jus-
tice, and I've dealt out nothing leus.
But where can you get it now? A
man's hands are tied. There was
more honesty in the old six-gun than
in a thousand courts of so-called
law. I'd give "em their cock-eyed
country. I'd wash my hands of the
whole works, and good riddance—if
it wasn't for the girl."
It always came back to Marian.
The old man didn't dare lose be-
cause of what it meant to the girl;
he had labored for her too long, in
years that for any other man would
have been the twilight years of his
life.
She came before Wheeler's eyes
| now, between himself and Horse
Dunn, almost as clearly as if she
had really been in the room.
Dunn was saying, “Know what I'd
like to do? I'd like to cut out for the
Argentine.
{ have a chance to turn around, by
| God. I'd-""
‘“‘Argentine, hell!” Billy exploded
at him. “If I'd been running this
| outfit, this situation would never
| have come up or started to come
up!”
“I suppose you'd have sold out,"
{ Dunn said, a hard edge on his voice.
“Maybe and maybe not. But I
| wouldn't have gone cow crazy,
range crazy, until I couldn't afford
to work my stock!"
Strangely, Horse did not anger.
Wheeler saw that the Old Man
thought his tirade was merely based
on youth and ignorance, which he
had seen in unlimited quantities be-
fore.
“Maybe,” Dunn said now, “you'd
have kept the 94 a little one-horse
spread—in the best of shape. But
that ain't the question now, We're
where we are, and there's no use
fighting over what went before.”
“I can save it yet," Wheeler told
him rashly. ‘I can throw a hun-
dred thousand into the 94."
“] didn't know you could swing
that much. You got it, Billy?"
“What I haven't got of it—I can
get.”
Horse Dunn studied him, sadly, a
long time. “That's an offer, is it?"
he said at last.
“On one condition. That you give
me a free hand, to hire, fire, buy
or sell, land or cattle, for three
years.”
“1 believe,’
do that.”
“It's a deal,
said Dunn, “I'd even
then?"
“No! You and me'll never make a
deal like that!”
“It's your out,” Wheeler told him,
“and it’s your only out. Let me
all the other ruction falls to pieces.”
And now Horse Dunn's
blazed again, and his voice crack-
led. “You'll never put a dime in
this brand!"
ed him.
up and go down, and the girl and
her mother without a cent?”
“let 'er bust—before it
hangs on your dough!”
“But damnation—why?"
you why!
I'm blind? But she don’t want you.
“Isn't This Pretty Early?
Couldn't You Sleep?”
I'd no sooner put her in your debt
than I'd sell her to you outright.
You're only making the offer be-
cause you're in love with Marian."
“You're crazy! I'm making the
out on it."
sisted.
“You old fool—"" Wheeler held his
voice down—"'do you think I'd ever
expect to get her that way? Do you
think I'd want her on the basis of"
“Anyway, that's all over and
done, two years back," Wheeler lied.
“Once she could have had me body
and soul. But that's all over. 1
wouldn't tie myself up, not now, to
her or anyone else."
“You lie,” said Horse calmly.
“Horse, if you'll let me take"
“Never a dime of your money in
her brand," Horse said with utter
finality.
Wheeler turned in that night feel
ing old and grim.
It was still dark as Billy Wheeler
let himself noiselessly into the cook
shack and lighted a lamp. He found
himself cold biscuits; and in a huge
pot on the back of the stove he found
bitter coffee above a banked fire.
He had about finished washing
down his cold biscuits when he was
annoyed to discover that another
early riser was about. Someone was
walking quietly toward the cook
shack. Hurriedly he blew ct his
light, gulped down half a cup of
dregs, and let himself out of the
kitchen, anxious to be on his way
without conversation.
Then, rounding the corner of the
cook shack he almost ran into Mar-
ian.
“Morning, Billy.” He saw that
she was wearing belted overalls and
boots.
“Isn’t this pretty early? Couldn't
you sleep?”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
The army uses navy guns to
guard Oahu, the island on which
lies the largest military concentra-
tion under the American flag, writes
a Honolulu United Press corre-
spondent.
This paradox of coast defense is
due to diplomats and the formula-
tion of the Washington Treaty. The
treaty banned the addition of six-
teen-inch guns to battleships, so the
surplus rifles were turned over to
the army.
Two of these guns, mounted on
carriages constructed by the army's
Ordnance department, were proof
fired recently at Fort Barrette, 20
miles west of Honolulu, guarding
the western approach to the island.
Their performance showed stelle
ingly their defense capabilities in
time of emergency. Each is capable
of hurtling a 2,100-pound projectile
over a maximum range of 45,000
yards—nearly 26 miles. They can
be swung around and elevated to n
maximum of 55 degrees.
Hence they could drop a shell at
nearly any spot on a line described
by the perimeter of the island,
guarding it from attack from vwir-
tually every side.
The guns weigh 140 tons each and
are as large as any in the world.
Army experts believe they are of
infinitely more value for defense
guns and indicate they may recom-
mend construction of similar bat-
teries at other points,
A similar battery at Fort Weaver
now guards the entrance to Pearl
Harbor, the navy's mighty Pacific
base.
These guns are capable of firing
200 rounds without being disman-
Jo ded ded oe de oe oe fe fe oe le ek Rokk
STAR
DUST
Movie « Radio
%%% By VIRGINIA VALE hk%
OMETIMES a bad break in
320 20 20 20 20 20 2 2 20 20 2 6
220 20 20 0 00 20 2 2 00 30 2
one, which is just another way
of saying that motion-picture
their minds. Metro-Goldwyn-
Mayer is going to star Willie
Howard, the veteran comic of
the stage, in a big musical ex-
funny in a skit in
Melody of 1938."
You never saw the skit, no mat-
because it was
When they first saw it,
take
the picture,
and having to
out to shorten
his career.
discarded film, have
funny
officials
— =
tures only a few weeks old, four of
tures released have
made outstanding
hits, These are
“Prisoner of Zenda"
with Ronald Colman
roll,
Girl” with Deanna
Durbin, *“Thin
with Sonja Henie,
and Grand Nation-
al's “Something to
Sing About” with
James Cagney. This
last is a grand bit of
nonsense in which the pugnacious
Jimmy sings, dances, and fights his
way through a delightful story, aid-
ed and abetted by Mona Barrie.
win
Victor McLaglen roared into New
Deanna
Durbin
wetism so overpowering that when
levy as the greatest actor in the
ment,
se
Paramount goes right on announc-
ing one picture after another for
Frances Farmer, but Miss Farmer
says that she is coming
York to do a stage play called
Manly Art”
er's husband.
“The
en
Out at the Universal studios where
Henry McRae turns out thrilling se-
rials faster than you can say “To be
continued next week,” they don't
have much time to humor tempera-
while an actor had a tantrum. The
would
lights were adjusted, and brought in
a stuffed lion as double. Jealous
of this interloper, the lion broke
set and tore the stuffed animal to
bits.
ni
Theater owners all over the coun-
try are begging Republic and Grand
National officials to speed up pro-
make personal appearance fours.
The ever-growing popularity
the bookkeeping departinents.
a
Ever since Claudette Colbert
broke out in “She Met Him in Par-
is,” as an accom-
plished figure - skat-
er, all the other
girls have wanted to
show off their profi-
ciency at winter
sports. Ruby Keeler,
recuperating from
her recent illness, is
pr oh
starring picture at
R. K. O. The story
“LoveBe-
low Freezing” and
Claudette
Colbert
ODDS AND ENDS—Marlene Deitrich’s
that used to extend way owt
new picture “Angel” i will probably
start a new fashion . . . Jean Parker
made herself a hat, oo from one
Gary Cooper wore in “The Plainsman™
ery ra, eta dries
make copies of it . Ronald lair
intended
is doubt
where with his strike for more money
Simone Simon is going to sing a
difficult coloratura aria in her next pic
ture. The studio jus: found out thet she
used to make in France . .
Bing Crosby wants his friend, Babe
Hardy, to play a dramatic role in his new
picture, now that the team of Laurel and
Wardy have splis split.
eviern Newspaper Union,
OF INTEREST TO
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