The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, July 06, 1916, Image 2

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    iiiimiiiiiiini
LookForThis Name
On
Package*
of
Olives
and Pickles I
- w.'
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imnm
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<55-263 E. Third St. St. Paul, Minn.
DAISYFLYKILLER •
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MILLER A RUSSELL
% Cattlemen'* Exchange Sen Antonio. Texai
Ordered to Be Ignorant.
Miscellany tins received n lettei
from the front for Its readers. I'
gives one or two little stories of no
tuul Incidents which have occurred U
the writer’s regiment somewhere li
Frnnee: All ranks, ns soon ns the]
land In Frnnee, are urgently warnei
against answering questions aske<
them by people whom they don’t knot]
—even though the questioner Is np
parently a British officer, for enetuj
agents have been found In the unlforq
of all ranks. A certain cousclentloui
young sub wns in the front line tht
• other day when a mnjor of the dt
visional staff came along and begat
questioning the boy, with a view t<
testing his alertness and efficiency.
“What trench Is this?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
'"What regiment Is on your right?”
■“I don’t know, sir.”
■“How do your rations come up?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Well, you don’t seem to know much
young fellow, do you?”
"Excuse me, sir, but I don’t know
who you are.”—Manchester Guardian,
Not Enough.
“Yes,” said the business man to the
-college graduate who hud applied for
a job, “I think I can find a place for
you, but of course you will have to
start at the bottom of the ladder. Your
salary will be $10 a week to begin
with."
“Ten dollars!” exclaimed the young
man. “Why, my father has been pny
Ing me more than that for going tc
college.”
■_K _
Plenty of It.
“My dear sir, I am an agent for
■this wonderful heater. Will you not
let us keep you In hot water In your
■borne?”
“Thanks'—quite unnecessary. My
wife attends to that.”
I
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The original Postum Cereal
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instantly, by adding boiling
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For a good time at table
and better health all 'round,
Postum tells its own story.
“There’s a Reason”
Sold by Grocers everywhere.
THE LONE
STAR RANGER
A ROMANCE OF TIIE BORDER
BY
ZANE GREY
Author of “The Light of Western Stars,” “Riders of the Purple Sage,” eto.
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXV
CHAPTER ,.:m—(Continued).
She embraced him, and the sudden,
violent, unfamiliar contact sent such a
shock through him that he all but for
got the deep game he was playing. She,
however, in her agitation did not notice
his shrinking. From her embrace and
tho tender, incoherent words that flow
ed with it he gathered that Euchre had
acquainted her of his action with Black.
“He might have killed you!" she
whispered, more clearly; and if Duane
had ever heard love in a voice he heard
it then. It softened him. After all, she
was a woman, weak, fated through her
nature, unfortunate in her experience of
life, doomed to unhappiness and trag
edy. He met her advance so far that he
returned the embrace and kissed her.
Emotion such as she showed woulil
have made any woman sweet, and she
had a certain charm. It was easy, even ,
pleasant, to kiss her; but Duane resolv
ed that whateved her abandonment ,
might become, he would go no further
than the lie she made him act.
"Buck, you love mo?" she whispered.
"Yes—yes,” he burst out, eager to get
Is over, and even as he spoke he caught
the pale gleam of Jennie’s face through
the window. He felt a shame ho was
glad she could not see. Did she remem
ber that she had promised not to mis- ;
understand any action of his? What i
did sljo think of him, seeing him out
there in the dusk with this bold woman
In his arms? Somehow that dim sight
of Jennie's pale face, the big dark eyes, i
thrilled him, inspired him to his hard i
task of the present.
“Listen, dear,” he said to the woman, i
Find ho meant his words for the girl. .
"I'm going to take you away from this
outlaw den if I have to kill Bland, All
Dway, Rugg—anybody who stands in
my path. You were dragged here. You ,
are good—I know it. There's happiness (
for you somewhere—a home among ,
good people who will care for you. Just ,
wait till—” <
excess of emotion. Kate Bland closed (
her eyes and leaned hor head on his
breast. Duane felt her heart beat .
against his. conscience smote him a ]
keen blow. If she loved him so much! .
But memory and understanding of her ]
character hardened him again, and he j
gave her such commiseration as was 1
due her sex, and no more. 1
"Boy, that's good of you,” she whls- i
pered, "but it's too late. I'm done for. I ,
can’t leave Bland. All I ask is that you i
love mo a little and stop your gun- ,
throwing."
The moon had risen over the eastern ,
bulge of dark mountain, and now the
valley was flooded with mellow light,
and shadows of cottonwoods wavered ,
against the silver.
Suddenly the clip-clop, cllp-clop of
hoofs caused Duane to rise his head and
listen. Horses were coming down the ,
road from the head of the valley. The :
hour was unusual for riders to come in.
Presently the narrow, moonlit lane was :
crossed at its far end by black moving j
objects. Two horses Duane discerned. ,
“It’s Bland!” whispered the woman, ,
grasping Duane with shaking hands. 1
'You must run! No, he’d see you. That -
d be worse. It’s Bland! I know his
horse’s trot.”
"But you said he wouldn't mind my ,
calling here.” protested Duane, ‘
'Euchre’s with me. It’ll be all right.”
"Maybe so,” she replied, with visible ,
effort at self-control. Manifestly she |
had a great fear of Bland. “If I could ,
cnly think!”
Then she dragged Duane to the door, j
pushed him in. ,
"Euchre, come out with me! Duane (
you etay with the girl! I’ll tell Bland ,
you’re in love with her. Jen, if you give ,
us away I'll wring your neck.”
The swift action and fierce whisper ,
(old Duane that Mrs. Bland was her- ■
self again. Duane stepped close to Jen- ;
ale, who stood near the window. Neith- :
er spoke, but her hands were out
stretched to meet his own. They were
small, trembling hands, cold as ice. He ■
held them close, trying to convey what
he felt—that he would protest her. She ,
leaned against him, and they looked
out of the window. Duane felt salm and
sure of himself. His most pronounced
feeling besides that for the frightened
gtrl was a curiosity as to how Mrs.
Bland would rise to the occasion. He '
saw the riders dismount down the lane
and wearily come forward. A boy led
away the horses. Euchre, the old fox,
was talking loud and with remarkable
case, considering what ho claimed was
his natural cowardice.
”—that was way back in the '60c
about the time of the war,” he was
Saying. “Bustlin' cattle wasn’t nuthin’
then to what it is now. An' times is
rougher these days. This gun-throwln'
has come to be a disease. Slen have an
Itch for the draw same as they used
to have fer poker. The only real gambler
outside of greasers we ever had here
was Bill, an’ I presume Bill is burnin’ I
.. i
The approaching outlaws, hearing I
voices, halted a rod or so from the
porch. Then Mrs. Bland uttered an ex
clamation, ostensibly meant to express
surprise, and hurried out to meet them.
She greeted her husband warmly and
gave welcome to the other man. Duane
could not see well enough in the shadow
to recognize Bland’s companion, but
ho believed ft was Alloway.
"Dog-ttred we are and starved." said
Bland, reavily. “Who’s here with you.
"That’s Euchre on the porch. Duane
is inside at the window with Jen,” re
plied Mrs. Bland.
“Duane!” lie exclaimed. Then he
whispered low—something Duane could
not catch.
“Why, I asked him to come,” said
the chiefs wife. She spoke easily and
naturally and made no change
in tone. "Jen has been ailing. She
gets thinner and whiter every day.
Duane came here one day with Euchre,
saw Jen, and went loony over her
pretty face, same as all you men. So
X let him come.”
Bland cursed low and deep under its
breath. The other man made a violent
action of some kind and apparently
was quieted by a restraining hand.
“Kate, you let Duane make love to
Jennie?" queried Bland, incredulously.
"Ves, I did," replied the wife stub
bornly. “Why not? Jen’s tn love with
him. It he takes her away and mar
ries her she can bo a decent woman."
Bland kept silent a moment, then his
lao"h nealed out loud and harsh.
“Chess, did you get that? Well, by
God! what do you think of my wife?"
"She’s lyin’ or she's crazy," replied
Alloway, and his voice carried an un
pleasant ring.
Mrs. Bland promptly and indignantly
.■.... |
8
told her husband’s lieutenant to keep
fiis mouth shut.
"Ho, ho, ho!" rolled out Bland’s
augh.
Then he led the way to the porch, his
spurs clinking, the weapons he was
carrying rattling, and he flopped down
>n a bench.
“How are you, boss?’’ asked Euchre.
"Hello, old man. I’m well, but all In."
Alloway slowly walked on to the
aorch and leaned against the rail. He
mswered Euchre’s greeting with a nod.
Mrs. Bland's full voice in eager ques
iloning had a tendency to ease the
situation. Bland replied briefly to her,
•eporting a remarkably successful trip.
Duane thought it time to show him
self. Ho had a feeling that Bland and
Alloway would let him go for theapao
nent. They were plainly nonplussed,
tnd Alloway seemed sullen, brooding.
"Jennie,” whispered Duane, “that was
:lever of Mrs. Bland. 'We’ll keep irp
he deception. Any day now be really!”
She pressed qlose to him, and a base
y audible "Hurry!" came breathing
nto his ear.
“Good night. Jennie,” he said aloud.
‘Hope you feel better tomorrow.”
Then ho stepped out into the m*on
ight and spoke. Bland returned the
meeting, and, though he was not ami
tble, ho did not show resentment.
“Met Jasper as I rode in,” said Bland,
presently. "He told me you made Bill
Back mad, and there’s liable to be a
lght. What did you go off the handle
ibout?”
Duane expllned the incident. “I’m
lorry I happened to be there.” he went
>n. “It wasn’t my business.”
"Scurvy trick that'd been.’’ muttered
Band. “You did right. All the same,
Juane, T want you to stop quarreling
vlth my men. If you were kne of us—
hat d be different. I can’t keep my
nen from fighting. But Tm not called
luuif, (uuuiiu my
amp and plug my rustlers."
“r guess I’ll have to lie hitting the
rail for somewhere,” said Duane.
"Why not Join my band? You’ve got
i bad start, already, Duane, and if I
mow this border you’ll never be a re
pectable citizen again. You’re a born
clllei*. I know every bad man on this
rentier. Moro than one of them have
old me that something exploded in
heir brain, and when sense came back
here lay another dead man. It’s not
10 with me. I’ve done a little shooting,
oo, but I never wanted to kill another
nan Just to rid myself of the last one.
dy dead men don’t sit on my chest at
tight. 1 hat s the gun fighter’s trouble.
-Ie s^ crazy. He has to kill a new man
-he s driven to it to forget the last
me:
"But I’m no gun fighter.” protected
..vt e' , Circumstances mAde me_..
No doubt. ’ interrupted Bland, with
i laugh. Circumstances made mo a
ustler. i ou don’t know yourself.
I OU re young; you've got a temper;
■our father was one of the most dan
rerous men Texas over had. I don't
ieo any other career for you. Instead
»r ffoing: it alone—a lone wolf, as the
rexans say-why not make friends
vith other outlaws? You’ll live longer.”
Euchre squirmed in his seat.
"Boss. I’ve been givin’ the bov eg
;actly thct. same line of talk. Thet’s
vhy I took him in to bunk with me.
f he makes pards among us there
von t be any more trouble. An’ he’d
>e a grand feller fer the gang. I’ve
mnn '*2d 21'] Hiekok throw a gun. an’
blly the Kid, an’ Hardin, an' Chess
lere—all the fastest men on the bor
ler. An with apologies to present
•ompariy, I’m here to say Duane has
hem all skinned. His draw is differ
ent. y ou can’t see how he does it ”
Euchre’s admiring praise served to
•reate nn effective little silence. Al
oway shifted uneasily on his feet his
ipurs Jangling faintly, and did Mot lift
... e, Bland seemed thoughtful.
"That’s about the only qualification
have to make me eligible for your
land. ’ said Duane, easily.
■Tt’s good enough,” replied Bland,
shortly. 'Will you consider the idea?"
“I'll think it over. Good night."
He left the group, followed' by Eu
■hre. When they reached the end of
ho lane, and before they had ex
•hanged a word. Bland called Euchre
lack. Duane proceeded slowly along
.lie moonlit road to the cabin and sat
lown under the cottonwoods to wait
’or Euchre. The night was intense and
inlet, a low hum of insects giving the
iffect of a congestion of life. The
leauty of the soaring moon, the ebony
’anons of shadow under the mountain
he melancholy serenity of the perfect
light, made Duane shudder in the re
ilization of how far aloof he now was
*rom enjoyment of these things. Never
igain so long as he lived could he be
natural. His mind was clouded. His
»ye and ear henceforth must register
impressions of nature, but the jov of
them had fled. I
oiui, ns ne sai tnere with a forebod
ing of more and darker work ahead of
him, there was yet a strange sweet
ness left to him, and It lay In thought
of Jennie. The pressure of her eo'd
little hands lingered in his. He did
not think of her as a woman, and he
did not analyze his feolings. He just
had vague, dreamy thoughts and im
aginations that were interspersed in
tile constant and stern revolving of
plans to save her.
A stiffling step roused him. Euchre's
dark figure came crossing the moonlit
grass under the cottonwoods. The
moment the outlaw reached him
Duane saw that lie wap laboring under
great excitement. It scarcely affected
Duane. He . seemed to be acquiring
patience, calmness, strength.
"Bland kept you pretty long," he said.
“Whalt till I git my breath," replied
Euchre. He sat silent a little while,
fanning himself with a sombrero, though
tlie night was cool, and then be went
into the cabin to return presently with
a lighted pipe.
“Pine night," he said; and his tone
further acquainted Duane with Euchre's
quaint humor. "Fine night for love af
fairs, by gum!"
"I'd noticed that,” rejoined Duane.
“Wal. I’m a son of a gun if I didn’t
stand an’ watch Bland choke his wife
till her tongue stuck out an' she got
black in the face.”
"No!” ejaculated Duane.
“Hope to die if I didn’t. Buck, listen
to this here yarn. When I got back
to the porch I seen Bland was waitin’
up. He’d been too fagged out to figger
much. Alloway an' Kate had gone in
the house, where they lit up the lamps.
I heard Kate’s high voice, but Alloway
never chirped. He’s not the talkin' kind,
an' he’s damn dangerous when he's that
way. Bland asked me some questions
right from the shoulder. I was ready
for them, an’ I swore the moon was
green cheese. He was satisfied. Bland
always trusted me, an’ liked me, too,
I reckon. I hated to lie black thet way.
But he’s a hard man with bad inten
tions toward Jennie, an’ I’d double
cross him any day.
“Then we went into the house. Jennie
had gone to her little room, an’ Bland
called her to come out. She said she
was undressin.’ An’ he ordered her
to put her clothes back on. Then. Buck,
his next move was some surprisin'. He
deliberately throwed a gun on Kate.
Yes sir, he pointed his big blue Colt
right at her, an' he says:
“ ‘I've a mind to blow out your
brains.’
“ 'Go ahead,’ says Kate, cool as could
be.
“ ‘You lied to me,’ he roars.
“Kate laughed in his face. Bland
slammed the gun down an’ made a grab
fer her. She fought him, but wasn’t a
match fer him, an’ he got her by the
throat. He choked her till I thought
she was strangled. Alloway made him
stop. She flopped down on the bed an’
gasped fer a while. When she come to
them hard-shelled cusses went after
her, trying to make her give herself
away. I think Bland was jealous. He
suspected she’d got thick with you an’
was foolin' him. I reckon thet’s a sore
feelin’ for a man to have—to guess
pretty nice, but not to be sure. Bland
gave It up after a while. An’ then he
cussed an’ raved at her. One sayin’ of
his is worth plnnin' in your sombrero:
‘It ain’t nuthin’ to kill a man. I don’t
need much fer thet. But I want to
know, you hussy!’
“Then he went in an’ dragged poor
Jen out. She'd had time to drees. He
was so mad he hurt her sore leg. You
know Jen got thet Injury fightin’ off
one of them devils in the dark. An’
when I seen Bland twist her—hurt her
—I had a queer hot feelin' deep down
in me, an’ fer tho only time in my life
I wished I was a gun-fighter.
“Wal, .Jen amazed me. She was
whitc-r'n a sheet, an’ her eyes were big
and stary, but she had nerve. Fust time
I oyer seen her show any.
“ ‘Jennie,’ he said, 'my wife said
Duane c4me here to see you. I believe
she's lyin’. I think she’s been carryin’
on with him, an’ I want to know. If
she’s been .in' you tell me the truth
I’ll let you go. I’ll send you out to
Huntsville, wherfe you can communicate
with your frfends. I’ll give you money.’
"Thet must hev been a hell of a
minnit fer Kate BlatfS. If ever I seen
death in a man’s eye I seen It in
Bland’s. He loves her. Thet’s the
strange part of It.
“ ’Has Duane been cornin’ here to see
my wife?’ Bland asked, fierce-like.
“ 'No, said Jennie.
"'He’s been after you?’
" 'He has fallen In love with you?
Kate said thet.’
" 'I—I'm not—I don’t know—he hasn’t
told me.’
"‘But you’re In love with him?’
“ ‘Yes,’ she said: an’ Buck, If you only
could have seen her! She throwed up
her head, an’ her eyes were full of fire.
Bland seemed dazed at sight of her.
A.n’ Alloway, why, thet little skunk of
m outlaw cried right out He was hit
plumb center. He's in love with Jen.
An’ the look of her then was enough
to make any feller quit. He jest slunk
out of the room. I told you, mebbe,
thet he’d been tryin’ to git Bland to
marry Jen to him. So even a tough
like Alloway can love a woman!
"Bland stamped up an’ down the
room. He sure was dyin’ hard.
“ ‘Jennie,’ he said, once more turnin’
to her, ‘You swear in fear of your
life thet you’re tellin' truth. Kate’s
not in love with Duane? She’s let him
come to see you? There’s been nuthin’
between them?’
"‘No. I swear,’ answered Jennie; an'
Bland sat down like a man licked.
’’ ‘Go to bed, you white-faced—’ Bland
choked on some word or other—a bad
one, I reckon—an’ he positively shook
In his chair.
“Jennie went then, an’ Kate began to
have hysterics. An’ your Uncle Euchre
lucked his nut out of the door an' come
home.”
Duane did not have a word to say at
the end of Euchre’s long harangue. He
experienced relief. As a matter of fact,
he had fexpdeted a good deal worse. He
thrilled at the thought of Jennie per
juring herself to save that'abandoned
woman. What mysteries these feminine
creatures were!
“Wal, there's where our little deal
stands now.” resumed Euchre, medita
tively. “You know, Buck, as well as me
thet if you’d been some feller who
hadn't shown he was a wonder with a
gun you’d now' be full af lead. If you’d
happen, to kill BlandWan’ Alloway, I
reckon you’d be as safe on this here
border as you would in Santone. Such
Is gun fame in this land of the draw.”
CHAPTER IX.
Both men were awake early, silent
with the premonition of trouble ahead,
thoughtful of the fact that the time
for the long planned action was at
hand. It was remarkable that a man
so loquacious as Euchre could hold his
tongue so long; and this was signifi
cant of the deadly nature of the in
tended deed. During breakfast he said
a few words customary in the service
of food. At the conclusion of the meal
ho seemed to come to an end of de
liberation.
“Buck, the sooner the better now,”
he declared, with a glint in his eye.
"The more time we use up now the
less surprised Bland’ll be.”
"I’m ready when you are," replied
Duane quietly, and he rose from the
table.
1 _JAi-_ it_... . n
chre, gruffly. "Tie on them two packs
I made, one fer each saddle. You
can’t tell—mebbe either hoss will be
carryin’ double. It's good they're both
big, strong hosses. Guess thet wasn't
a wise move of your Uncle Euchre's—
bringin' in your hosses an’ havin’ them
ready?”
‘ Euchre, I hope you’re not going to
get in bad here. I’m afraid you are.
Dot me do the rest now," said Duane.
The old outlaw eyed him sarcastic
ally.
"Thet’d be tiirrihle now. wouldn’t It?
Tf you want t<> know, why, I’m in bad
already. I didn't tell you thet Alloway
called me last night. He's gettin’ wise
pretty quick."
“Euchre, you’re going with me?"
queried Duane, suddenly divining the
truth.
"Wal, I reckon. Either to hell or safe
over the mountain! 1 wisht I was a
gun fighter. I hate to leave here with
out takin’ a peg at Jackrabbit Benson.
Now, Buck, you do some hard figgerin’
while I go nosin' around. It's pretty
early, whlch’s all the better."
Euchre put on his sombrero, and us
he went out Duane saw that he wore a
gun and cartridge bolt. It was the first
time Duane had ever seen the outlaw
armed.
Duane packed his few belongings
into his saddlebags, and then carried
the saddles out to the corral. An abun
dance of alfalfa in the corral showed
that the horses had fared well. They
had gotten almost fat during his stay
In the valley. He watered them, put
on the saddles loosely .cinched, and
then the bridles. His next move was
to fill the two canvas water bottles.
That done, he returned to the cabin to
wait.
At the moment he felt no excitement
i
or agitation of any kind. There was
no more thinking and planning to do.
the hour had arrived, and he was
ready. He understood perfectly the
desperate chances he must take. His
thoughts became confined to Euchre
and the surprisingly loyalty and good
ness in the hardened old outlaw. Time
passed slowly. Duane kept glancing at
his watch. He hoped to start the thing
and get away before the outlaws were
out of their beds. Finally he heard the
shuffle of Euchre’s boots on the hard
path. The sound was quicker than
usual.
When Euchre came around the cor
ner of the caFiin Duane was not so
astounded as no Was concerned to see
the outlaw white and shaking. Sweat
dripped from him. He had a wild look.
“Luck’s ours—so—fur, Buck!" he
panted.
“You don’t look it,” replied Duane.
“I’m turrible sick. Jest killed a man.
Fust one I ever killed!"
“Who*” asked Duane, startled.
“Jackrabbit Benson. An’ sick as I
am, I’m gloryln’ in it. I went nosin’
round up the road. Saw Alloway goin*
into Deger’s. He’s thick with the
Degers. Reckon he's askin' questions.
Anyway, I was sure glad to see him
away from Bland’s. An’ he didn’t see
me. When I dropped into Benson's
there wasn’t nobody there but Jackrab
bit an’ some greasers he was startin’
to work. Benson never had no use fer
me. An’ he up an’ said he wouldn’t
give a two-bit piece fer my life. I
asked him why.
“ ‘You’re double crossin’ the boss an’
Chess,’ he said.
“Jack, what’d you give fer your
own life?* I asked him.
“Fie straightened up surprised an’
mean, lookin’. An’ I let him have it„
plumb center! He wilted, an' the
greasers run, I reckon I’ll never sleep
again. But I had to do it.”
Duane asked if the shot had at
tracted any attention outside.
“I didn't see anybody but the greas
ers, an’ I sure looked shurp. Coinin’
back I cut across through the cotton
woods past Blandls cabin. I meant to
keep out of sight, hut somehow I had
an idee I might find out if Bland was
awake yet. Sure enough, I run plumb
into Beppo, the boy who tends Bland's
hosses. Beppo likes me. An’ when I
inquired of his boss lie said Bland had
been up all night flghtin’ with the
senora. An', Buck, here’s how I figger.
Bland couldn’t let up last night. 11a
was sore, an’ he went after Kate again,
tryin' to wear her down. Jest as likely
he might have went after Jennie, with
wuss intentions. Anyway, he an’ Kate
must have had it hot an’ heavy. We’re
pretty lucky.”
“It seems so. Well, I'm going,” said
Duane, tersely.
“Lucky! I should smile! Bland’s
been up all night after a most draggin’
ride home. He'll be fagged oyt this
mornin’, sleepy, sore, an’ he won’t he
expectin' hell before breakfast. Now
you walk over to his house. Meet him
how you like. Thet’s your game. But
I’m suggestin', if he comes out an’ you
want to parley, you can jest say you’d
thought over his proposition an' was
ready to join his band, or you ain't.
You’ll have to kill him, an’ it’d savq
time to go fer your gun on sight. Might
be wise, too, fer it’s likely he’ll do thet
mii m*» ”
“How about the horses?”
"I'll fetch them an' come along about
two minutes behind you. 'Pears to me
you ought to have the job done an’
Jennie outside by the time I git
there. Once on them hosses, we
can ride out of camp before Allo
way or anybody else gits into
action. Jennie ain’t much heavier’n a
rabbit. Thet big black will carry you
both.”
"All right. But once more let me per
suade you to stay—not to mix any more
in this,” said Duane, earnestly.
“Nope. I’m goin’. You heard what
Benson told me. Alloway wouldn’t give
me the benefit of any doubts. Buck, a
last word—look out fer thet Bland wo
man!” j
Duane merely nodded, and then, say
ing that the horses were ready, ha
strode away through the grove. Ac
counting for the short cut across grove :
and field, it was about five minutes'
walk up ip Bland’s houso. To Duane it
seemed long in time and distance, and
he had difficulty in restraining his pace.
As he walked there came a gradual and
subtle change in hi9 feelings. Again he
was going out to meet a man ip conflict.
He could have avoided this meeting. But
despite the fact of his couhting the
encounter he had not as yet felt that
hot, inexplicable rush of blood. The
motive of this deadly action was not)
personal, and somehow that made a
difference.
No outlaw’s were In sight. He saw
several Mexican r.erders with cattle. ]
Blue columns of smoke curled up over {
some of the cabins. The fragrant smell t
of it reminded Duane of his home ancj I
cutting w’ood for the stove. He noted q
cloud of creamy mist rising ahuve the
river, dissolving in the sunlight.
Then he entered Bland’s lane.
While yet some distance from the I
cabin he heard loud, angry voices ol
man and woman. Bland and Kate still
quarreling! He took a quick survey oi
the surroundings. There was now nol
even a Mexican in sight. Then he hur
ried a little. Halfway down the lane he
turned his head tt> peer through the
cottonwoods. This time he saw Eueher
coming with the horses. There was no ;
indication that the old outlaw might
lose his nerve at the end. Duane had
feared this.
Duane now changed his walk to a
leisurely saunter. He reached the porch
and then distinguished what was said
inside the cabin.
"If you do, Bland, by heaven I'll
fix you and her!” That was panted out j
in Kale Bland’s full voice.
"Let me loose! I’m going in there, I
tell you!” replied Bland, hoarsely.
"What for’.'"
“1 want to make a little love to her.
Ha! ha! It ’ll be fun to have the laugh
on her new lover." I
“You lie!" cried Kate Bland.
"I’m not saying what I’ll do to her
afterwards!” His voice grew hoarser
with passion. "Let me go now!"
"No! n#! I won’t let you go. You'll
choke the—the truth out of her—you'll
kill her." ,
"The truth!" hissed Bland.
"Yes. I lied. Jen lied. But she lied to
save me. Y’ou needn't—murder her— for
that."
Bland cursed horribly. Then followed,
a wrestling sound of bodies in violent
straining contact—the scrape of feet—
the jangle of spurs—a crash of sliding
table or chair, and then the cry of a
woman in pain.
Duane stepped into the open floor,
inside the room. Kate Bland la-r l»lf
acroso a table where she had iVv’n
flung, and she was trying to get t » her
feet. Bland's back was turned. Ho had
opened the door into Jennie’s rooir' and
had one foot across the threshold.
Duane caught the girl’s low, shuddering
cry. Then he called out lotul and clear.
With cat-like swiftness Bland wheel
ed, then froze on the threshold. His
sight,- quick as his action, caught
Duane’s menacing, unmistakable posi
tion.
Bland's big frame filled the door. Ho
was in a bad place to reach for his gun.
But he would not have time for a step.
Duane read in his eyes the desperate
calculation of chances. For a fleeing in
stant Bland shifted his glance to his
wife. Then his whole body seemed to ,
vibrate witli the swing of his arm.
(Continued next week.)
WHY WOMEN
WRITE LETTERS
To Lydia E. Pinkham Medi.
cine Co.
Women who are well often ask "An
the letters which the Lydia E. Pinkham
Medicine Co. are continually publishing,
genuine?” "Are they truthful?”
" Why do women write such letters? ”
In answer we say that never have wa
published a fictitious letter or name.
Never, knowingly, have we published
an untruthful letter, or one without tha
full and written consent of the woman
who wrote it.
The reason that thousands of women
from all parts of the country write such
grateful letters to the Lydia E. Pink
ham Medicine Co. is that Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Compound has brought
health and happiness into their lives,
once burdened with pain and suffering.
It ha3 relieved women from some of
the worst forms of female ills, from dis
placements. inflammation, ulceration,
irregularities, nervousness, weakness,
stomach troubles and from the blues.
It is impossible for any woman who
is well and who
has never suffered
to realize how these
poor, suffering wo
men feel when re
stored to health;
their keen desire to
help other women
who are suffering as
they did.
Caustic Rebuke.
There is loud chuckling in British
naval circles over the latest story:
“Somewhere in the North sen” a cer
tain flotilla was ordered to proceed to J
sea for gunnery practice. During the
practice u heavy fog came on, and the
ship whose turn it was to fire did not
sight the target until with t!00 yards’
range. She immediately opened fire,
and blew the target clean out of the
water. The senior officer of the flo
tilla, who is noted for his caustic
tongue, thereupon made the following
signal to the vessel in rpiestion: “S. O.
to captain of-: Why did you not’
proceed closer mid bite it?”
FRECKLES
Row Is the Time to Get XUd of These
Ugly spots.
There’s no longer the slightest need of
feeling ashamed of your freckles, as tha
prescription othine—double strength—is
guaranteed to remove these homely spots.
Simply get an ounce of othine—double
strength—from your druggist, and apply a
little of it night and morning and you
should soon see that even the worst freckles
have begun to disappear, while the lighter
ones have vanished entirely. It is seldom
that more than one ounce is needed to com
pletely clear the skin and gain a beautiful
clear complexion.
Be sure to ask for the double strength
othine, as this is sold under guarantee of
money back if it fails to remove freckles.—
Adv.
Co-Operators.
Nearly 770,000 persons, largely suc
cessful farmers, are now aiding the
United States department of agricul
ture by furnishing information, demon
strating the local usefulness of new
methods, testing out theories, experi
menting and reporting on conditions in
their district—by helping, in short, in
almost every conceivable way to in
crease the knowledge of the depart
ment and to place that knowledge at
the service of the people.
CARE FOR YOUR HAIR
Frequent Shampoos With Cuticura
Soap Will Help You. Trial Free.
Precede shampoo by touches of Cu
ticura Ointment if needed to spots
of dandruff, itching and irritation of
the scalp. Nothing better for the com
plexion. hair, hands or skin than
these auper-creapay emollients. Also
as preparations for the toilet.
Freo sample each by mall with Book.
Address postcard, Cuticura, Dept. L,
Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv.
Boasting of an old love affair is a
poor way to boost a new one.
Failure is another thing always
spoiled by success.
Achy Joints Give Warning
A creaky joint often predicts rain. It
may also mean that the kidneys are not
filtering the poisonous uric acid from the
blood. Bad backs, rheumatic pains, sore,
aching joints, headaches, dizziness and
urinary disorders are ail effects of weak
kidneys and if nothing is done, there’s
danger of more serious trouble. Use
Doan’s Kidney Pills, the best recommended
kidney remedy.
An Iowa Case
C. H. McKernan, “Every Pic
retired farmer, Illi- lure Tells a
nots Ave., Lenox. Story'*
Iowa, says: “My
back pained me so
badly at times I
could hardly get,
around. After[
stooping it was all
I could do toi
straighten and
sharp pains caught|
me in the back so;
that I could hardly
move. I was also
subject to rheumatic twinges. Since
taking Doan’s Kidney Pills I have im
proved wonderfully and my kidneys
have given ine but very little trouble.”
Cet Doan’s at Any Store, 50c a Box
DOAN’S “pTJLV
FOSTER-M1LBURN CO.. BUFFALO. N. V.
s .operations. Positive romedv— lP,F>r,f^
big Book ot Truth and Facts To-Pay. * 1 4, 4
Callstaae Rened y Co. .Dept.C - 60.219 S.Dcirborn St. .Ouca«»