Seas A
THE DALLAS POST, DALLAS, PA.
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FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7,934.
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THE STORY
~ CHAPTER L—Jim Wall, young cow-
uncher from Wyoming. in the early
lays of the cattle industry, seeks a
new fleld in Utah. He meets Hank
Hays, who admits to being a robber,
~ and tells Wall he is working for an
~ Englishman named Herrick, who has
located a big ranch in the mountains.
‘Herrick has employed a small army of
rustlers and gun-fighters, and Hays
8nd others are plotting to steal their
amployer’s cattle and money. Hays
to throw in with the
~wrants Wall
pustlers.
_ CHAPTER IL—At the little settle-
ment of Green River, Hays gets into
an argument with a gambler called
Stud, over a poker game. Wall saves
Hank's life by bluffing the gambler out
of shooting. With Hays and two other
rustlers, Happy Jack and Lincoln, Jim
Wall starts out for Herrick’s ranch.
3n camp, the first ‘night out, Jim re-
~ Brets the step he has taken, but it is
too late to turn back.
CHAPTER II1.—The four men arrive
at the ranch. Herrick announces that
his sister, Helen, is coming to the
ranch. Hays unfolds his plan for get-
ting possession of the 12,000 head of
live stock on the Herrick ranch. He
3na his lieutenants ride away to drive
off the first bunch of cattle. Jim re-
mains behind to shoot it out, if neces-
sary, with Heeseman, Hays’ rival
#mong -the cattle rustlers. Jim sees a
dust cloud, which he is certain de-
notes the arrival of Heeseman and his
gang. He stands with rifle ready.
CHAPTER IV.—Heesemaf tells Wall
that Hays was onge his (Heeseman’s)
Partner nq gouble-crossed him. Her-
rick Gelegates Jim to go to Grand
#Ynction to meet Miss Herrick. Jim
ets Barnes, a young cowboy with
“him, to tell her that he (Jim) is a
desperado of the worst type. Barnes
does so, .but the girl treats the in-
formation lightly. i :
~ €HAPTER V.—On his arrival at the
anch, with Helen, Jim is confronted
$ays, who betrays unusual inter-
est in the coming of Miss Herrick. Jim
- Wells. Fargo package,
»
probably of
ricks and greatly impresses Helen with
hig revolver shooting.
I CHAPTER VI
i —
Next day Herrick did not accom-
eumstance - which, if anything, gave
freer rein to her spirit. Jim had con-
‘gern for her safety. He could Jot
Judge well of her horsemanship, be-
cause of the side-saddle she rode.
“Bluntly he disapproved of the atrocious
thing and said it was worse than the
#pancake” her brother rode. But she
~ rode after the hounds just the same,
~ and held her own until she was
thrown. ;
~~ If she had fallen upon rocks or
~ even hard ground she would have been
seriously injured, if not killed out-
~~ pight. But when the horse stumbled
she hurtled over his head and hit in
the sand. Jim was off almost the in-
stant she struck, and he yelled for the
gowboy.
~ “Water, Barnes,” he called, as the
~ gowboy dashed up.
“There ain't none close,”
‘Barnes.
~~ “I'm all—right,” spoke up Miss Her-
rick, weakly. “I came—a cropper—
didn’t 1?”
She sat, evidently not hurt, though
she clung to Jim's arm. With his
gearf he wiped the sand from her face,
aware that his hand was not steady.
Her hair had come partly loose to fall
in a golden mass on her shoulder.
She rearranged it and put on her hat,
deftly despite gloved fingers.
“Help me up, please,” she said.
: Jim placed a strong arm under hers
and lifted her to her feet. Then some-
thing cold and tight within let go, and
his reaction was to take refuge in an-
ger: “Miss Herrick, IT told you that
~ saddle was no good. It’s a wonder you
sere not killed.”
“Oh, don’t exaggerate. I've come
many croppers cross-country riding at
home.” :
“Barnes, back me up in this,” ap-
~ pealed Jim to the cowboy.
“Miss, he’s tellin’ you true,” said
Barnes, earnestly. ‘You was ridin’
fast. If this hyar had been stony
ground, like it is lots of places, you'd
pever knowed what hit you.”
replied
i
she admitted, ruefully.
“You want a cow-saddle with a
double cinch, and overalls,” concluded
Jim. \ : z
“Overalls!” she exclaimed, and she
blushed rosy red. “You mean like
~ these blue trousers Barnes has on?”
“Yes. Then you can ride. This is
the West, Miss Herrick. You like to
run a horse. It’s dangerous. I ghall
‘have to speak to your brother.”
z “Don’t. I've never ridden astride,
~ but I'll do it, since you are so very
. fearful about it.”
7 That experience left Jim shaky,
probably a good deal shakier than it
had left Miss Herrick, But it was not
fear for her. Jim reveled In the tor-
turing sensation engendered by con-
t¢act with this beautiful girl, He
shook like a leaf at the staggering
realization that when she lay on the
ground with her arms spread wide,
‘her hair gold against the sand, he
longed to snatch her to his breast. A
‘natural impulse, under the -circum-
stances, but for him—idiotic!
Miss Herrick took to the Western
gaddle like a duck to water. She
could ride. Moreover, that spirit of
which she had hinted certainly over-
tells #Hays that Miss Herrick brought °
money. Jim goes riding with the Her-
! pany his sister on the daily ride, a cir- |
“I believe I did strike pretty hard,” |
c
took her. More than once she ran off
alone, riding like the wind; and upon
one of these occasions it took the cow-
boys till dark to nd her. That with
Hank Hays and Heeseman there to see
her gallop away unescorted! Herrick
did not seem to mind.
Ag far as Jim Wall was concerned,
however, these rides with her cen-
tered him upon the love which had
come to consume him; and the several
she took alone were more torturing
because they aroused fear of Hank
Hays. It could not be ascertained
whether or not Hays followed her, but
when the day came that Jim discov-
ered Hays had been riding the trails
frequented by Miss Herrick, it seemed
time to act.
This placed Jim in a worse quan-
dary. To act, for a man of his train-
ing at such a time and place, was to
do only one thing. But how could he
kill his leader upon mere suspicion of
sinister intent to kidnap the girl? Tt
was a predicament for a man who had
always played fair, alike to honest
friend and crooked ally.
Jim paced under his dark sheltering
trees, in the dead of wight, when he |
should have been sleeping. Days had
passed without his once seeking to
avoid disaster; and he had not sought
because he knew it was of no use. To
wish to be with his blond girl seemed
irresistible. ‘More than once he had
caught himself in the spell of a daring
impulse—to tell Miss Herrick that he
loved her. The idea was sheer mad-
ness. Yet the thought persisted, and
when he tried to shake it the result
was it grew stronger in a haunting
maddening way. :
At breakfast pext morning Hays
raved about the fact that Smoky had
not been there for over two weeks,
“Things air comin’ to a head,” he
concluded, gloomily.
“Reckon they ought to have, made
two drives by now,” rejoined Happy
Jack. “I rid down the valley yestiddy
eight or ten miles. Cattle thinned out,
boss. Any cowboy with eyes In the
back of his head would be on to us by
now.” ;
“Shore. Haven't I kept them work-
in’ up here. But I’ve no control over
this hossback ridin’ after hounds.
Pretty soon Herrick will be chasin’
down Limestone way. Then the fire’ll
be out.”
“Hank, he wouldn’t know the differ-
ence,” interposed Jim. .
“Aw, 1 don’t care,” replied Hays,
harshly, and that finality intimated
much. “Wait till Smoky’s outfit shows
up 1”
Every morning when Jim rode down
to the corrals he fell back under the
spell of something sweeter than wine,
The sunny hours with the sage flat
ahead, the fragrant pines, the baying
hounds, and always out in front this
bright-haired girl, were vastly differ-
ent from the dark hours when the day
was done. Nothing could be truer
than that this utterly incongruous and
bitterly sweet: situation could not last.
In moments of humility, engendered by
the higher emotions this girl aroused,
Jim clasped to his breast the fact that
he was protecting her from worse men.
Barnes and another of the cowboys
had taken the horses for the Herricks
up to the house, To Jim's honest dismay
he espied Helen riding ahead, with the
cowboys behind leading her brother’s
mount. Herrick was not coming. The
hounds bounded and cavorted about
her, keen for the chase.
Miss Herrick looked far less proud
and unattainable in the boy’s riding
garb she had adopted. Moreover, it
‘had transformed her, yet her fem-
ininity appeared more provokingly
manifest than ever.
Barnes turned Herrick’s horse over
to a stable boy, and with his com-
panion fell in ‘behind Miss Herrick,
who rode out upon the valley. Jim re-
joined them, and they trotted their
horses together.
“Why didn’t Herrick come?” asked
Jim. :
“He was rowin’ with Heeseman,” re-
plied Barnes, soberly.
“You don’t say! What about?”
“Reckon I don’t know. They shet
up as I come along,” returned the
cowboy. “But I seen enough to calki-
late somethin’s wrong. They was on
the porch. Herrick looked sort of
peevish. He didn’t want his sister to
go huntin’ today, I heard thet. An’
she said right pert she was goin’.”
“How did Heeseman look?” went on
Jim, ponderingly. Something was up.
For two days Heeseman’s outfit had
heen through hauling timber.
“Dead serious, like he was tryin’ to
persuade the boss to somethin’.”
Jim lapsed into silence. What turn
would affairs take next? It was get-
ting warm around Star ranch,
Each day the hunters had to ride
farther afield to find game. Jack-
rabbit chasing had grown too tame for
Migs Herrick,
Three or four miles out the hounds
jumped a coyote from a clump of sage-
brush,
Miss Herrick, while Jim brought up
the rear. It was a long, gradual ascent
up to an open ridge.
Here the hounds jumped a herd of
‘deer. Despite the yelling of the cow-
boys they dashed up the ridge with a
chorus of wild yelps and barks. They
all passed out of hearing.
Jim caught up with Miss Herrick,
who waited in an open spot among the
‘pines. Flushed and disheveled, with
her sombrero on the pommel, panting
from the arduous ride, she made a dis-
tracting picture.
“Hunt’s off for us, Miss Herrick,”
said Jim.
“Too bad! But wasn’t—it fun—while
it lasted?” she replied gayly. ‘Let us
rest the horses. I'm out of breath my-
self.”
Jim dismounted to tighten his saddle
cinches. y
“Wall, take a look at my cinches,”
she said.
“May I ask you not to call me Wall?
I must remind you I'm no butler.”
“Pray pardon me,” she rejoined, in
surprise. “I presume I should address
you as Mr. Wall?”
“Yes, if you're too stuck up to call |
me Jim,” he said. 4
She lifted her chin and deigned no
reply. And that infuriated him.
“While I'm at it Tl tell you this,
too,” he went on doggedly. “You must
not ride around alone again. I've had
no chance to speak with you. But I
told your brother. He laughed in my
face. He is a fool.”
“Mr. Wall, I will not iisten to such
talk,” she spoke up, spiritedly.
“Oh, yes, you will." he flashed, strid-
ing over to her horse. “You're not in
an English drawing room now, con-
fronted by a disrespectful butler.
‘You're iz Utah, girl.
Wall.”
“That last is obvious, to my regret,”
she returned coldly. “Will you please
be so kind as to tighten my cinches®
It will be the last service I shall re-
quire of you.” i
“Thank the Lord!” ejaculated Jim,
in grim heartiness. “All the same I'll
tell you. - If you were an American
tenderfoot, it wouldn't be hard to make
you understand. If you were western,
you would not need to be told. But as
an English lady of quality, who thinks
her class, will protect her anywhere,
you need to be jarred. . . . It's wrong
for you to ride around alone on this
range like any wild tomboy.”
“Why ?”
“Some of these men might kidnap
you for ransom.”
“Nonsense,” she retorted, contemptu-
ously.
“What do you say, Miss Herrick,
when I tell you that Hank Hays has
been watching you from the ridges,
riding the lonely trails, biding his
chance to waylay you?”
She paled at that.
“] don’t believe it,” she said, pres-
ently.
“And you'll go on riding alone when
it suits your royal fancy?’ he queried !
witheringly.
“That is no longer any concern of
yours,” she replied, at last stung. “But
And I am Jim
“But | Certainly Shall Ride When
and How | Please.”
1 certainly shall ride when and how I
please.”
“Then you're as big a fool as your
brother,” declared Jim hotly. “Here 1
am, the only man in this Star outfit
with honesty enough to tell you the |
truth. And I get insulted and fired for
my pains.”
She sat her horse mute. Jim laid a
strong hand on her pommel and
shook it.
“Your saddle’s loose. Will you
oblige me by getting off?”
“I can ride it back,” she rejoined,
{cily. :
“But your blanket will slip out. The
saddle might turn with you.”
She removed her foot from the stir-
rup. - “Tighten the cinches ther—and
hurry.”
Jim complied expeditiously enough,
but in doing so he accidentally touched
her. Something like fire shot through
him at the contact. Under its stimulus
he looked up to say a few more words
to her, words to mitigate his offense
and protest hig sincerity. But they
were never uttered. She had bent over
to fasten a lace of her boot, and when
Jim raised his head it was to find
his face scarcely a foot from her red
lips. Without a thought, in a flash, he
kissed them, and then drew back,
stricken.
“How dare you!” she cried, in in-
credulous amazement and anger.
The cowboys took the lead, then came
dragged her out of the saddle.
“of a maddened giant.
.and—a member of a gang of robbers.
“It just happened. I—I don’t know—"
She swung her leather quirt and
struck him across the mouth. The
blood spurted. The leap of Jim's
fury was as swift. He half intercepted
a second blow, which stung his neck,
and snatching the quirt from her hand
he flung it away. Then his iron clutch
fastened in her. blouse. One lunge
He
wrapped his other arm around her and
bent her back so:quickly that when
she began a furious struggle it was too
late. :
His mouth hard pressed on hers.
stilled any but smothered cries. There
was a moment's wrestling. She was
no weakling, but she was in the arms
Repeatedly he
kissed her lips, long, hard, passionate
kisses.
Suddenly she collapsed heavily in his
arms. The shock of that—its mean-
ing—pierced Wall with something in-
finitely more imperious and staggering
than bitter wrath. He let go of her.
There was blood on her lips and
cheeks; otherwise her face was like
alabaster, s
“I think I must have been in love
with you—and wanted to protect you
—from men worse than myself,” he
went on, huskily. “I hope this will be
a lesson to you. . . . Your brother was
crazy to come here—crazier to let you
come. Go home!. Go before it’s too
late. Make him go. ‘He will be ruined
shortly.”
She wiped the blood from her cheeks,
and then shudderingly from her lips.
“You—did that—to frighten me?”
she presently whispered, in horror, yet
as if fascinated by something looming.
“Get on your horse and ride ahead
of me,” he ordered, curtly. “Now,
Miss Helen Herrick, one last word:
Don't tell your brother what I did to
you till after I'm gone. If you
do I’! kili him!”
She left a glove lying on the ground.
Jim made no effort to recover it. His
horse had grazed a few paces away,
and when he had reached him and
mounted Miss Herrick was in her sad-
dle. Jim let her get a few rods in
advance before he followed. . .
The excess of his emotion wore off,
leaving him composed, and sternly
glad the issue had developed as it had.
The situation had become intolerable
for him. It mocked him that he had
actually desired to appear well in the
eves of this girl. How ridiculous that
one of a robber gang should be vain!
But he was not conscious that being
a thief made any difference in a man’s
feeling about women. He knew that
he could not command respect or love;
but that in no wise inhibited his own
feelings. Strange, he had indeed fallen
in love with Helen Herrick,
She rode on slowly down the ridge |
without looking to right or left. Her
gaze appeared to be lowered.
The ranch-house came in sight. Miss
Herrick saw it and halted a moment,
to let Jim catch up with her.
“Can you be gentleman enough to
tell me the truth?” she asked.
“I have not lied to you,” replied Jim.
“That—that first time you kissed me
—was it honestly unpremeditated?”’
‘Miss Herrick, I don’t know what to
swear by. But, yes, I have. My
mother! I swear by memory of her
that T never dreamed of insulting you
—I looked up. There your face was
close. Your lips red! And I kissed
them.”
They went on for perhaps ten paces,
as far as the road, before she spoke
again. “I believe you,” she said, with-
out a tremor of the rich, low voice,
though it was evident her emotion was
deeply stirred. “Your action was in-
excusable, unforgivable. But I should
not have struck you with the whip. |
. That, and your passion to frighten
me, perhaps justified your brutality.
. I shall not tell. . . . Don’t leave
Star ranch.”
For an instant Jim felt as if he were
upon the verge of a precipice. But
her change from revulsion to in-
scrutable generosity called to all that
was good within him.
“Miss Herrick, I'm sorry, but I
must leave,” he replied, sadly. “I'm
only a wandering rider—a gunslinger
And I was mad enough to fall in love
with ‘you. :. .... Forget'if. .”.. . Go
home to England. But if you won't
do that—never ride out alone again.”
He spurred his horse and galloped
down the road, by the barns and across
the court, into the lane that led along
the brook. Suddenly he espied a com-
pact group of mounted riders coming
down the road beyond Hays’ cabin.
They bestrode bays and blacks, and
there was that about them which drew
Jim sharply up with a fiery thrill. |
Smoky’s outfit!
Hays stood out in front of the cabin,
bareheaded, his legs spread apart as
if to anchor himself solidly, his hands |
at his hips, his sandy hair standing
up ruffled like a mane.
“Huh! The boss isn’t mad. Oh,
no!” soliloquized Jim, ‘Small won-
der. Smoky’s outfit has busted loose,
or is going to—Well, now, I've a hunch
there’s luck in this for me.”
Jim made for the bridge and, cross-
ing, looked up to see the horses of
Smoky’s outfit standing, bridles down,
and the riders up on the porch. Jim
mounted the steps.
Hank Hays sat upon the bench, his :
shaggy head against the wall, his pale
eyes blazing at the row of men lean-
ing on the porch rail.
Smoky was lighting a cigarette, not
in the least perturbed, but his eyes had
a hard, steely gleam, Brad Lincoln
sat back on the rail, eyeing the chief
with a sardonic grin. Mac appeared
more than usually ghoulish; Bridges
and Sparrowhawk Latimer betrayed
extreme nervousness.
“Hello, men. What’s the mix? Am
I in or out?’ returned Jim, sharply.
“I reckon you're in,” replied Slocum.
“Hank Is the orly one thet’s out. .
‘Smoky, curiously.
Hyar,. Jim, ketch this.” He drew a
dark green bundle from a bulging
pocket and tossed it to Jim—a large,
heavy roll of greenbacks tied with a
buckskin thong.
“Yours on the divvy, Jim,” went on
Smoky. “Don’t count it now. There's
a heap of small bills Inside an’ if you
untie them hyar there'll be a mess.
But it’s a square divvy to the last
dollar,”
“Thet’s a hefty roll, Smoky, for a
man to get for nothing,” observed Jim,
dubiously. <
He then noticed that a roll of bills,
identical with the one he had just re-
celved, lay on the floor.
“You double-crossed me!” burst out
Hays, at length.
“Wal, thet’s accordin’ to how you
look at it,” retorted Slocum. “Things
came up at Grand Junction. We seen
some of Heeseman’s outfit. They're
onto us, or will be pronto. So we jest
took a vote, an’ every one of us stood
for one big drive instead of small
drives. An’ we made it. Your buyers
swore they was short of money an’
would pay twelve dollars a head. Talk
about robbers! Wal, T took thet an’
said I liked it. . . .”
“You disobeyed orders.”
“Put it up to Jim, hyar.
you say, Jim?”
Thus appealed to,
Hays point-blank.
“Smoky’s right.
What do
Jim addressed
If you meant to
. clean out Herrick, that was the way
to do it.”
“Aw—shore, you'd side with them!”
“I wouldn't do anything of the kind
if IT thought they were wrong,” retorted
Jim, angrily. Here was a chance to
inflame Hays that he jumped at. If
the robber could be drawn into a fight,
when his own men were against him,
the situation for the Herricks could be
made easier for the present.
“You'd better shet up.”
“T won't shet up, Hays. Someone
has to tell you. And I'm that fellow.
There’s no hand out against you in
this outfit. Never heard of a bunch
of riders who'd work like dogs while
the boss was twiddling his thumbs
and talking mysterious.”
“I ain’t ready to leave Star ranch
an’ now I'll have to!” .
“Why ain't you ready?’ queried
“Our work’s’ all
done. We've cleaned out tke ranch,
except for a few thousand head.
We've got the long green. You ought
to be tickled to death.”
“I'm not through here,” replied the
robber,
“Smoky, why don’t you ask Hays
what this mysterious deal is?” queried
Jim, sarcastically.
From a cornered lion Hays degen-
erated into a cornered rat. Jim sank
a little in his boots while his upper
muscles corded.
“Hank, what's got into you?” queried
Smoky. ;
“Smoky, the boss is up a tree,” said
Jim, caustically. “He means to rob
Herrick all right. But that’s only a
blind. It’s the girl!” -
“Thet gold-headed gurl we seen you
drivin’ hyar?”’
“Yes. Herrick’s sister.”
“Haw! Haw! So thet’s what's eat-
in’ you, Hank?”
Hays had reached his limit and prob-
ably, but for Smoky’s mirth, would
have started hostilities. He hesitated,
but there was a deadly flare in the
eyes he had fixed on Wall.
Smoky got between them. “See
hyar, Hank. So that’s the deal? An’
you'd do fer pore Jim hyar jest be-
cause he’s onto you? . . Wal, if you're
so keen as thet to draw on somebody,
why, make it me. TI started this. I
dragged Jim into it. An’ I ain’t goin’
to let you take it out on him.”
Then Hank Hays came back to him-
self.
“Jim’s right.
he declared, hoarsely. “I'm bullhead-
ed. An’ I've lost my bull head
over Herrick’s sister.”
“There. Spoke up like a man,” de-
clared Smoky, heartily relieved. “Why
didn’t you come thet clean long ago?
Neither Jim nor me nor any of us
blame you fer admirin’ thet gurl. And
if you'd gone crazy, an’ dragged her
away into the brakes with us, we'd
quit you cold.”
Hays bent to pick up the roll of
bills.
“Fall to, men. I've got to do some
tall thinkin’,” he said, and left them.
Before they were half finished with
their supper Hays entered.
“We're shakin’ the dust of Star
ranch - tonight,” he said, deliberately.
“Pack up an’ leave at once. I'll come
later. If 1 don’t meet you at Smoky’s
camp I'll meet you shore at midday in
thet cedar grove above the head of
| Red canyon.”
No one asked any more questions or
made any comments. Whatever they
thought about Hays’ peculiar way of
| leading his band they kept to them-
selves. Jim Wall was not greatly re-
lieved, still he concluded that Hays
must abandon any plot he might have
concocted toward Herrick’s sister. At
any rate whatever was in Hays’ mind |
Jim could not further risk alienating
him or his men. Jim would have to
ride out with them. If he stayed be-
hind to spy upon Hays or frustrate
any attempt he might make to call
upon the Herricks, he would have to
kill Hays.
Dusk was mantling the valley when
Jim went out. Under the bench the
shadows were dark. From the shelter
of the pines he looked for Hays, ex-
pecting to find him standing guard.
But the robber was not on the porch.
He was stalking to and fro along the
brook, and he was no more watching
for Heeseman than was Jim. His bent
form, his stride, his turning at the end
of his beat, his hands folded behind
his back—all attested to the mood of
a gloomy, abstracted, passion-driven
man,
Smoky, you're right,”
Whereupon Jim repaired’ to his
of his other belongings. What to do
with the two packages of bills, this:
his pockets, was a puzzle. By dividing
the two into four packets he solved it.
Then he carried his effects down to:
the cabin. All was cheery bustle:
there. The men were glad to get
away from Star ranch. They talked
of the robbers’ roost Hays had always:
drink and gamble, of the long months:
in hiding.
“Wal, you all ready?” queried Hays,
appearing in the doorway. \
“Yep, an’ bustin’ to go.”
“On second thought I'd like one of"
you to stay with me. How about you,
Latimer?”
“All right,” declared Sparrowhawk..
In a few more minutes all the men:
leaving were mounted. The pack ani-
mals, with packs gray against the:
darkness, straggled up the trail.
“Wait at your camp till sunup,” said
Hays, conclusively. “An’ if I'm not
there I'll meet you about noon shore-
at head of Red canyon.”
Without more words or ado Smoky
led off behind the pack horses, and the-
five riders followed. Once across the-
brook all horses took a brisk trot. Jim:
Wall looked back. Then he saw a
bright light on the bench. That was:
from Herrick’s house. An unfamiliar:
sensation, like a weight of cold lead
in his breast, baffled Jim. He knew
he was glad never to see Helen Her-
rick again. {
About midnight Smoky turned the
pack animals up the slope into the
woods, and after a mile of rough going
emerged into an open canyon head.
“Hyar we air,” said Smoky. “Throw
things an’ git to sleep. T'll stand first
guard.” ?
Jim unrolled his bed beside a rock,
and pulling off his bouts ard un-
buckling his gun belt he crawled un-
der the blanket.
Crack of ax and Happy Jack’s voice
pierced his slumber, both recognized
before he opened his eyes. Jim sat up,
| stretched, and reaching for his boots:
he gazed around. The men were stir-
others among the horses,
“Wal, long past sunup,” said Slocum,
a8 Jim approached the fire. “Who
was it bet Brad thet Hank wouldn't
show up?”
“Nobody,” replied Lincoln.
“Jim, suppose you take your rifle an”
+ sneak down an’ knock over a deer,”
suggested Smoky.
Three hundred yards down the slope
Jim emerged into the open.
were no riders on the winding, white
trail. é
Stealthily working back into the
timber he soon espied two deer about
sixty paces distant, long ears erect.
He killed the buck standing.
Upon his return to camp Smoky
greeted him with a grin.
“How far to Red canyon?’ asked Jim.
“I don’t know. About fifteen miles.
Don’t you remember thet heavy grove
of cedars leadin’ down into a red
hole?”
“Reckon I do. If Hays joins us
there it'll mean he comes by another
"trail, doesn’t 1t?”
/
Course he’d come around the moun-
tain, or mebbe over another pass. He
shore knows trails thet we don’t.”
“Aw, Hank’ll show up on time.”
“Wonder if he stayed back to plug
Heeseman? He hates thet rustler.”
In less than an hour the riders were
on the move down the mountain. Pack-
ing on the deer Jim had slain occa-
sioned a little delay for all, because
Smoky kept them close together. At
the edge of the timber belt he halted
them again while he peeped out to re-
connoiter. Then he called: “Come
hyar, a couple of you long-sighted
fellers.”
They all rode out to join him, where
he sat his horse, pointing to a faint
blue on the purple valley floor. “Is:
thet dust?”
Most of the riders inclined to the
opinion that it was just haze.
“Ten miles or more back and hard to
make out,” spoke up Jim, “If this was
my range I'd say it wasn’t haze or
smoke.”
“Wish I had Hank’s glasses. My
eyes are no good any more fer long
shots. Wal, let's mosey.”
When they reached another turn
from which it was possible to look
back for five miles or more Smoky
halted while the others caught up.
“Jeff, you hang right hyar,” he sald,
“an’ keep your eyes peeled on the
back trail. I ain’t so shore thet gray
patch back on the valley was haze. It
sort of moved to me. An’ there wasn’t
a lick of wind. Wal, from round this
corner you can easy see the cedar
grove where we’ll hang up fer the
boss. An’ if you ketch sight of any
more’n a couple riders on the back
stretch you come ridin’ h—1 bent fer
election, Don’t stay long after noon.”
Perhaps another five miles down the
slope lay their objective to which they
headed. The hour was still some time
before noon. Smoky scanned the slope
to the south and east. It would not
have been possible to see riders at any
distance, as the rocks, brush, ‘ridges
and washes intervened profusely.
“What’ll we do, Smoky? Throw the
packs, or not?’ queried one of the
riders,
“Dog-gone’ if I know,” replied Slo-
cum, peevishly. “It’s a rummy deal,
Hot as h—1 now an’ gettin’ hotter. I
fergot to ask Hank. Reckon you'd
better herd the hosses an’ we'll wait.
I'll keep a lookout fer the boss.”
Jim tied his horse in the shade of a
cedar, and climbed a jumble of rocks
so he could command a better view,
| Almost a once he sighted riders com-
ing down a wash about a mile away,
(Continued on Page 7) /
covert, rolled his bed and made a pack
last of which was large and clumsy for
promised them, of idle days to eat and
| ring, two around the camp fire and
There
“If! So you figger he might not? °
\
oo
.
¥