© Alan Le May
WNU Bervice
CHAPTER XIV—Continued
“‘Oh, Horse, Horse,” Marian said,
“how did it ever happen?”
“The shoot-out with Flagg, you
mean?”
He told them now, step by step;
the story of an old gun-fighter, and
old ideals of justice and right. It
came out haltingly, as Horse Dunn
paced. But even told slowly, and
with an effort greater than they
could ever know, that story was
brief.
Until he met Bob Flagg on the
Red Sleep trail, Dunn had had no
advance word of his partner's ar-
rival. At that time he had already
been waiting for Flagg’s arrival for
weeks—the very existence of the 94
depended upon him; and Dunn was
shocked and astonished to meet a
frayed-out man on a worthless horse
and a saddle borrowed from a rus-
tler—and recognize this man as his
Arizona partner.
And then, riding toward the 94
with Flagg, Dunn had learned the
truth. There had been no sale of the
Flagg-Dunn ranch, and there were
no proceeds. There had been no
such ranch for more than two
years!
Bob Flagg had neither been com-
pletely crooked, nor completely fool-
ish; but a combination of some folly
and some crookedness had been
more than enough to break the
brand when the beef market failed.
To Dunn, in the moment of discov-
ery, it must have seemed that Mar-
ian's property—for the Arizona
ranch was to have saved Marian’s
94—had been gambled away by his
cheating partner.
‘““There was only one thing to do,”
Horse Dunn said now with an odd
simplicity. *‘‘Bob Flagg knew it as
well as me. You have to say this
for him—he put off facing the music
for two years; but in the end he
came and faced it like a man. I
said to him, ‘Bob, I can't let this
pass.” He said, ‘I know it, Horse.’
I said, ‘Bob, I aim to turn my back.
Fire your first shot into the air.
When 1 hear your gun, I'll turn
and draw.” His second shot sung
over me, for I had to stoop to go
for the only gun I had, which was
an old derringer in my boot; and in
the next second I let drive—and he
was through.”
Slowly, then, old Horse Dunn tried
to explain to them how it was he
had buried Bob Flagg in the Red
Sleep. It had seemed the most nat-
ural thing in the world that he
should make a suitable burial of
his partner in some far, open place.
He felt no sense of remorse. He
partner—no less his partner
the trail.
And then the thought of seeing
horror in the eyes oi his niece, who
would not understand—it suddenly
had seemed more than he could
face. Never before in all his long
career had Horse Dunn concealed
from the world anything that he
had done. Even this time, his wor-
ship of this girl prompted him only
to a single trick—the trick that had
fooled Old Man Coffee in the Short
Creek trailing. He was riding a
horse from which the shoes had
just been pulled, so that it had
deep, long hoofs, with nail splits.
He simply rode the horse into the
water, dismounted, and trimmed the
hoofs flat to the sole, with his knife.
It had fooled Coffee; it had not
fooled old Rock.
Nor had it fooled Cayuse Caye-
tano. But Horse rested no great
weight in the killing at Ace Springs.
Cayuse had been a worthless char-
acter; Horse already owed him a
heavy debt in missing calves, for
Cayetano had been a cow thief in
his own right. Horse looked at this
shoot-out as an execution long over-
due. Yet here as before he had giv-
en his adversary a better than even
break.
pected, Lon Magoon had been a dis-
tant witness. Magoon was another
whose punishment for petty rustling
Dunn had considered too long de-
layed. He too had had best break.
But before the great old fighter less-
er men seemed to go to pieces, los-
ing their fighting mettle so that
there could be only one end.
To overtake Magoon, Horse Dunn
had muffled the hoofs of his pony
with pads cut from a harness col-
lar, and thus had advanced in si-
lence over naked rock. It was only
incidental that the trail of the muf-
fled hoofs had been too obscure for
Billy Wheeler to see.
That was all the story. One thing,
only one, had warped that whole
brief history into something mys-
terious and strange, distorting it, to
Dunn’s own bewilderment,
: that was the old fight-
's abject humility, his pathetic,
unreasoning panic before the dis-
approval of Marian, his niece. With-
out that, that first simple shoot-out
would have ended where it had oc-
curred, without any hue or cry or
storming up of a range. It had been
that one effacing of the trail, and
thereafter the silence of Horse
Dunn, that had changed it all
“Horse,” said Billy Wheeser,
“we've got a good case yet! We'll
fight this to the last ditch, until
they're sick of fighting. They'll nev-
er prove-—''
“There'll be no fight on that,”
Horse Dunn said. ‘All my life I've
faced things out. Behind this girl
—there ain't ever again going to be
a shadow of any dark thing hid.”
Marian said, ‘“‘Horse—Horse—""
At the sound of her voice the old
man seemed to crumple and break.
He sat down on the bare steel cot
within his cell, bent his head, and
slowly ran his big hands through
his hair.
The tears were running down Mar-
ian's cheeks, but suddenly her head
went up. “What he says he'll do—
he'll do. No one understands that
better than I. But there’s one other
way. There are still cattle, and
open country, and space!”
“You mean—'"'
“The Argentine! If he's spoken
of it once, he's spoken of it a dozen
times. If he won't keep quiet and
He Never Liked That Weapon
let us fight this thing here—at least
we can split this place wide open,
and start him on his way!"
Horse Dunn stood up slowly, like
a man rising to the light. “Why,
Marian—why, Marian—"'
“We'll take you out of here.
We've still got good men, and horses
and guns. Coffee knows the old lost
trails that none of these others
know. Hold yourself ready—to-
night, this very night! We're too
come into this town-—""
“Tush, child! I don’t care what
comes out of this now. [ couldn't
let you get into stuff like that, for
me!"
‘““This isn't for you,” she told him.
*“This is for me, you hear? We'll"
The door flared open and shut
again as Old Man Coffee slid in.
“The sheriff's started up the hill
What more you want to say-—say
quick!"
“Tonight,” Marian said. *“Now-
you can’t argue any more.” She
pulled down his head, and kissed
him, as Walt Amos hauled open
the door.
Looking back once more, Billy
Wheeler saw that there were tears
in the old man's eyes. Yet—he
secure in what was ahead. For a
moment, though, Billy was troubled.
As the door closed between them,
Wheeler thought that Dunn's eyes
were looking at the girl like the eyes
of a man seeing her for the last
time.
CHAPTER XV
Horse Dunn waited until he was
certain that it was dark before he
began to count the time. From with-
in the concrete walls he could gee
no part of the sky, and it was hard
to judge the time when you could
not see even a single star. It was
his intention to wait three hours
more. He supposed that his people
would choose to strike between mid-
night and dawn, but he dared not
take any risk. Their first recon-
naissance into the town must find
him long on his way-—whatever way
that was to be. Just as there must
no longer be any dark conceal
ments in the background of Mari-
an’s life, so it was also impossible
that he allow her the memory of
her father’s brother as a convicted
murderer. Even before the steel
door had closed, shutting away his
Jas Sight of the fix Jor whom be
bored so long ithfully,
he had made up his mind what
must do.
With war and violence so
felt no suspense. His only concern
was that he should not fail in
judgment of his time. Once as
waited a car came roaring iato
spiration and the sound of its ex-
haust, coming to him muffled where
he lay in the dark on his bare steel
cot, was indistinguishable from the
voice of Billy Wheeler's roadster.
He started up, fearful that he had
miscalculated, and delayed too long.
But nothing happened; and present-
ly he settled back again.
When he judged that most of his
allotted time was gone, he sat up on
the edge of the cot, and drew the
ancient derringer out of his right
boot. His hands automatically test-
ed its well oiled action, raising and
lowering the hammer without per-
cussion against the shell. He had
never liked that weapon; but he had
carried it because it was snub-nosed
and lightly built, and fitted in his
boot where anyone could see that
no gun could go. He pulled off his
left boot. Laid close around his an-
kle, and secured there with a wrap
of silk handkerchief, he was carry-
ing four buckshot - loaded shells.
Fired from the snub-nosed derrin-
ger the shot had poor penetration, as
Old Man Coffee had observed; but
at short range the shells delivered a
sufficiently savage blast, as they
had well proved. He now took them
into his hand; and, when he had
pulled his boot on again, he sat
weighing them thoughtfully in his
great fist, and thinking of things
Presently Horse Dunn grinned to
himself and stood up; and one by
one he tossed the shells through the
iron bars into the dark. He heard
them fall and lose themselves in the
black alley around his barred cell.
After all, he had never expected to
see the Argentine.
The fourth shell he held a moment
or two, wondering if it ought not to
be—his own. If a man came to the
last pinch, and saw for certain what
was ahead, it was a pity to leave it
to the coyotes to finish him up. But
in the end he laughed, easy and in-
different, and tossed the fourth shell
after the others into the dark.
The one remaining shell was in
the gun. He stretched lazily,
yawned deeply 40 the bottom of his
great lungs; and fired his last shell
against the iron door.
Up the hill from the sheriff's
house came the sound of running
feet; the sound stopped outside, and
the big keys to the steel door clat-
tered at their locks. This was fol-
lowed by a brief pause and a low-
voiced conference; Dunn recognized
Link Bender's voice and a spasm of
regret shook him for the lost shells.
Horse Dunn stood up, thrusting
the hand which held the derringer
into the front of his shirt. With his
free hand he gripped a bar of his
cell high up, and let his knees sag
down and his head fall on his chest
as the door swung wide.
Walt Amos came into the open
door, gun in one hand, lantern in
the other. Dunn made his voice
strangle in his throat as he gasped
~'"“Amos—in God's name"
The young sheriff sprang forward,
holstering his weapon. ‘‘How in all
hell—"" He fumbled for a key from
his belt, chattered it at the door of
the inner cell. “Who got you? Man,
can you speak?’ Amos set the lan-
tern down, swung the inner door;
and the snub-nosed derringer that
could cut men in two was in his
stomach, and Dunn's great fist was
clamped on the gun butt for which
Amos snatched.
“Reach,” Dunn said;
sheriff's hands went up.
jerked the sheriff's gun,
and the
Horse
and
ows. He turned the sheriff, gripped
him by the back of the belt, and
nosed the empty derringer into his
back.
He kicked the lantern light into a
black shatter, and his voice turned
savage as he shoved the sheriff
ahead of him into the door open-
ing. “Now, you out there—how
about letting drive at this door?
Before I wake you up with a shot or
two under his arm!”
Walt Amos sung out in a ghastly
voice, “For God's sake take care
yourselves! He's got me cold!”
Outside, three figures mecved
ner of the jail.
was Link Bender, He heard Halli-
out a sharp order to the third man.
Halliday shouted, “Walt,
ic voice said from shadows into
ple him yourself, you fool!”
Horse Dunn sidled along the wall
of the jail, weaving the sheriff's
lurching and stumbling figure be-
tion of Sam Caldwell.
called out, “Link, look out!
coming round the jail!”
“You got guts, kid,” Horse Dunn
said. He got around the jail, backed
over the crest of the hill. He wished
that he knew where Link Bender
had gone. Of them all, Link Bend-
er was the fox. Just over the crest
was the long adobe wall of a store-
house long since ruined. He got
his back against the remains of this
wall, and here rested, for he had
been almost carrying the sheriff
with one hand.
For a moment or two then the
night was very still. His eyes were
searching shadows, trying to spot
his enemies. But what came to his
mind then was that the breeze from
the desert was fresh and sweet, and
very precious in his lungs; and the
moonlight that betrayed him was
very lovely. And he saw again the
light of just such a blue-silver moon
as thie, that had once played curious
tricks as it wavered in the pale
hair of the woman who had be-
come Marian's mother.
Suddenly Walt Amos twisted like
a mountain lion, and his back was
strong as the back of a young horse.
Horse smashed out overhand with
the gun butt in his fist, and Amos
went down as if felled by the blow
of a silvertip, and lay quiet.
Dunn half turned; and from the
end of the adobe wall flame spurt-
ed to the roar of a forty-five.
Horse Dunn flattened himself
against the adobe, and his knees
bent; the old derringer almost
slipped from his fingers, but he
caught it and held it tight. Slowly
he slid down until he was crouched
upon one knee. He was waiting,
gathering all his strength. He knew
then that if some freak of luck gave
him one more chance at his ene-
mies, he would not be able to carry
through the promise he had made
himself in Marian's name.
A figure moved along the shadow
He's
tiously. That would be Link Bend-
er. The old fighter could no longer
judge distances very well.
ed as long as he dared, in his ebbing
strength.
empty derringer in Bender's face,
groped in thickening darkness for
his enemy's gun arm.
A gun was talking, and a second
with battle uproar.
ward two steps, found the support of
the adobe wall; then folded at the
knees and went down slowly, his
fingers gripping at the adobe bricks.
the Inspiration road.
and Steve Hurley were draped in
over the doors.
seat, he knew that she was as broad
awake as he.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
One purple martin is worth a doz-
en quail as a destroyer of insect
pests, for the martin feeds entirely
on flying insects, captured on the
wing. True as this may be, one
quail is worth a hundred martins
as a harvester of noxious weeds,
writes Albert Stoll, Jr., in the De-
troit News.
From an economical standpoint,
it is difficult to say which bird is of
the most benefit to mankind or
whether those that feed on wing
are of greater value than those that
gather their food from the ground
or surrounding vegetation.
The air feeders are a most inter-
their search for food would put to
shame any sideflop, nose dive or
an insect that crosses their path
and the millions that are devoured
each day are beyond reckoning.
For perfect balance and station-
ary position in flight, our hats are
off to the ruby-throated humming
bird. He is a fellow who
that darling dress I saw the
day—I'd give my left
We who are addicted
Sess
make a wish like this, don't we?
Thanks to Modern Sew-Your-Own
you can make all your wishes
come true on the “pretty per-|
centage’ basis. You may have
“that darling dress’ at half the
price (you won't have to give up |
your left arm either). Why not
decide today to sew, sew, Sew-
Your-Own?
Looking to Spring.
The frock at the left has never
been in anybody's window, but |
you can bet your bottom dollar it's |
going to be seen this spring |
wherever style is of first impor- |
tance. It interprets the mode in
a young and graceful manner.
And because it's a Sew-Your-Own
original it's the last word in sim-
plicity. Make it either with long |
or short sleeves in lame, sheer
Pajamas for Madame.
Pajamas that make you want to
help you sleep like a log—is that |
the kind you have in mind, Mi- |
lady? You can depend upon to-
day's model either in taffeta or
velvet for leisure; cotton flannel, |
silk crepe or seersucker for sleepy
time. Make this becoming style |
in duplicate while you're about it |
and be the perfectly groomed pa-
jama girl all-around-the-clock.
To Start the Day. |
A good way to start your day, |
Favorite Recipe |
of the Week ~ |
Corn Tamale Pie.
NE-DISH meals for the main |
portion of the supper are a!
tion. This popular tamale pie can |
be fixed in the morning when you |
to use.
1 No. 1 can whole
kernel corn
2 Bounce cans
males
1 Bounce can to- |
mato sauce |
ta- 1 dozen ripe olives |
12 cup grated cheese |
Salt and pepper !
Blend the whole kernel corn |
with the tamales, tomato sauce, |
and olives; season with salt and
pepper and pour info a casserole.
bake in a moderate oven (350 de- |
grees) for about 40 minutes, or |
long enough to heat the pie thor- |
oughly.
Hot
biscuits, spiced peach
taste good with this supper. ;
Fruit would make the best des. |
gert. Just plain chilled canned
pears, apricots, or plums would be |
a fine finish, or if you prefer, a
soft custard may be served over i
the fruit.
to wear a dress that makes you
pretty as a picture. The model
at the right will do just that. Fur-
thermore, you will be thrilled to
how easy it goes together,
then choose the color
you can
the difference you save by sew-
Won't you join us today—one
will convince you that
lly has some-
’
The Patterns.
Pattern 1416 is designed for
sizes 12 to 20 (30 to 38 bust). Size
14 requires 4% yards of 38-inch
material; with short sleeves 3%
yards. The bow requires % yard
Pattern 1428 is designed for
(30 to 38 bust). Size
14 requires 4% yards of 38-inch
ront closing.
Pattern 1372 is designed for
sizes 34 to 46. Size 36 requires 4%;
yards of 35-inch material; with
long sleeves 4% yards.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., 247 W. For-
ty-Third Street, New York, N. Y.
of patterns, 15 cents (in
© Bell Syndicate, WNU Service.
® ®
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