HUSBAND OBJECTS
TO OPERATION
Wife Cured by Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vegetable
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if
Pen Moines, Iowa.—“ Four years ago
I was very sick and my life was nearly
spent. The doctors
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out an operation
and that without it
I would not live one
year. My husband
objected to any
operation and got
me some of Lydia EJ
Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound. I took
it and commenced
to get better and am now well, am
■tout and able to do my own housework.
I can recommend the Vegetable Com
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health restorer.. My husband says J
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Before submitting to a surgical opera
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table Compound; it has saved many
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Write to tlio Lydia E. Pinkliam
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advice—it will be confldentiaL
Imparting Information.
, Tin- British soldier will make n Joke
even against himself. An elderly lady
In u bus noticed the Initials "It. D. C."
on n soldier’s tunic. She puzzled her
brains, hut could not solve the mystery
as to their meaning. At last her curi
osity overpowered her and she asked
what they stood for. “Reformed
Drunkards’ corps, rnu’arn,” said the
soldier gravely. “Dear me,” said the
lady, "how very Interesting." And
probably not one of those who laughed
at the reply could have explained what
“R. D. C.” really means.—London
Chronicle.
Forgot Them.
“Mandy,” said the lady of the house
Indignantly, "did you steul my tan silk
stockings?”
‘‘Lor’, Miss Edith, "how you done
tnlk. Me steal? Poor old Mandy never
done steal nothing.”
“How does It come I found them In
your room behind the trunk?”
"Now, Miss Edith, ain’t you jes’ the
smartest, though, finding them stock
ings there when I done forgot where
It was I put them. No’m, I din’t stea'
'em; I Jes’ forget them."
And Appropriate.
After all, the woman expressed a
grout emotion when she exclaimed,
“Oh, those yawning stripes I”
A recess for carrying n nail set fea
tures a new hammer handle.
Why That Lame Back ?
Morning lameness, sharp twinges
when beudlng, or an all-day baek
uche; each Is cause enough to sus
pect kidney trouble. Get after the
cause. Help the kidneys. We
Americans go It too hard. We
overdo, overeat and neglect our
■sleep and exercise and so we are
fast becoming a nation of kidney
sufferers. 72% more deaths than
in 1890 Is the 1910 census story.
] Use Doan's Kidney Pills. Thou
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An Iowa Case
W. H. Simmons, For- fit
est City, Iowa, says: mnTilbm
“My back pained us *•*»."
though it were being
pulled apart. Often
sharp, knlfellke pains
darted through me, !
making me almost
helpless. Mornings I
could hardly get out
of bed and to stoop
took all my strength.
The first b o x of
Doan’s Kidney Pills
did me so much good
that I kept on. 1 took four boxes in
all and since then my back has never
bothered me."
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'
THE LONE
STAR RANGER
A ROMANCE OP THE BORDER
BY
ZANE GREY
Author of "The Light of Western Stars.” “Riders of ths Purple Sags,” sto.
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXV
CHAPTER XXI (Continued).
The two men spent much time to
gether. Duane made up a short fic
titious history about himself that sat
isfied the outlaw, only it drew forth
a laughing Jest upon Duane’s mudor ty.
For Fletcher did not hide his belief
that this now partner was a man of
achievements. Knell and Poggin, and
then Cheseldine himself, woulej be per
suaded of this fact, so Fletcher ‘mast
ed. He had Influence. He would use It.
He thought he pulled a stroko with
Knell. But nobody on earth, not even
the bosB, had any influence on Pog
gin. Poggin was concentrated ice part
of the time; all the rest he was burst
ing hell. But Poggin loved a horse. He
never loved anything else. He could be
won with that black horse Bullet. Ches
eldine was already won by Dvane’s
monumental nerve; otherwise be would
have killed Duane.
Little by little the next few days Du
ane learned the points he longed to
know; and how indelibly they etched
themselves In ills memory! diesel
ding's hiding place was on the far slope
of Mount Ord, in a deep, high walled
valley. He always went there Just be
fore a contemplated Job, where be met
nml planned with his lieutenants. Then
While they executed he basked 1 i the
sunshine before one or another of the
public places he owned. He was there
in the Ord den now, getting ready to
plan the biggest Job yet. It was a hank
robbery; but where, Fletcher had not
as yet been advised.
Then when Duane had pumped the
now amenable outlaw of all details per
taining to ttie present ho gathered data
and facts and places covering .. period
of 10 years Fletcher had been with
Cheseldine. And herewith was unfold
ed a history so dark in Its bloody re
gime, so Incredible In its brazen dar
ing, so appalling In Its proof of the
outlaw's swoop and grasp of the coun
try from Pecos to Rio Grande, that
Duane was stunned. Compared to this
Cheseldine of tho Big Bend, to this
rancher, stock buyer, cuttle spec
ulator, property holdor, all the
outlaws Duane had ever known
sank Into Insignificance. The power
of the man stunned Duane; the strange
fidelity given him stunned Duane; the
Intricate Inside working of his great
system was equally stunning. But
when Duane recovered from that tho
old terriblo passion to kill consumed
him, and It raged fiercely and It could
not bo checked. If that red-handed
I’oggin, If that cold-eyed, dead-faced
Knell had only been at Ord! But they
were not, and Duane with help of time
got what he hoped was the upper hand
of himself.
CHAPTER XXII.
Again Inaction and suspense dragged
At Duane’s spirit. Like a leashed hound
with a keen scent In his face Duane
wanted to leap forth when he was
bound. He almost fretted. Something
called to him over the bold, wild brow
of Mount Ord. Hut while Fletcher
stayed in Ord waiting for Knell and
Hoggin, or for orders, Duane know his
game was again a waiting one.
Hut one day there were signs of the
long quiet of Ord being broken. A mes
senger strange to Dunne rode in on a
secret mission that had to do with
Fletcher. When he went away Fletcher
became addicted to thoughtful moods
and lonely walks. He seldom drank,
ami this in Itself was a striking con
trast to former behavior. The messen
ger came again. Whatever communica
tion he brought, it had a remarkable
effect upon the outlaw. Duane was
present in the tavern when the fellow
arrived, saw tho few words whispered,
but did not hear them. Fletcher turned
white with anger or fear, perhaps both,
and ho cursed like a madman. The
messenger, a lean, dark-faced, hard
riding fellow reminding Duane of the
cowboy Guthrie, left the tavern with
out even a drink and rode nway off to
the west. Tills west mystified and
fascinated Duane ns much as the
south beyond Mount Ord. Where were
Knell and Hoggin? Apparently they
were not at present with tho leader on
the mountain. After the messenger left
Fletcher grew silent and surly. He hud
presented u variety of moods to Duane’s
observation, and this latest one was
provocative of thought. Fletcher was
dangerou*. It became clear now that
the other outlaws of the camp feared
him, kept out of his way. Duane let
him alona, yet closely watched him.
Herhapu an hour after tho messenger
had left, not longer, Fletcher manifest
ly arrived at some decision, and he
called for his horse. Then he went to his
shack and returned. To Duane the out
law looked in shape both to ride and
to fight. He gave orders for the men
In camp to keep close until ho returned.
Then he mounted.
“Come here, Dodge," he called.
Duane went up and laid a hand on
the pommel of the saddle. Fletcher
walked his horse, with Duane beside
him, till they reached the log bridge,
when lie halted.
f ‘'Dodge. I'm in had with Knoll, he
said. “Ah’ it 'pears I'm the cause of
friction between Knell an’ Poggy. Knell
never had any use for mo, but Poggy’s
been square, if not friendly. The boss
has a big deal on. an’ here It's been held
up because of this scrap. He’s waitin’
over there in the mountain to give
orders to Knell or Poggy. an- neither
one's showln’ up. I've got to stand In
the breach, an’ I ain’t enjoyin’ the pros
pects.’’
"What’s the trouble about, Jim?"
asked Duane.
"Reckon U’s a little al.out you,
Dodge," said Fletcher, dryly. “Knell
hadn't any use fer you thet day. He
aint got no use for a man unless he can
rule him. SJome of the hoys here liev
blabbed hot ire 1 edged in with my say,
an’ there's holt to pay. Knell claims to
know somethin’ about you tlujt ’ll make
both the boss an’ Poggy sick when ho
springs it. 3»ut lie’s keepin' quiet. Hard
man to figgrr, thet Knell. Reckon you’d
hotter go back to Bradford fer a day or
so, then camp out near here till I come
back."
"Why V"
“Wal, because there ain't any use fer
you to git in bad, too. The gang will
ride over here any day. If they're
friendly I’ll light a fire on the hill here,
I say three nights from tonight. If you
I don’t see it thet night you hit the trail,
j I'll do what I ran. Jim Fletchbr sticks
| to his pals. So long. Dodge."
Then he rode away.
He left Duane In a quandry. This
news was black. Things had been work
ing out so well. Here was a setback. At
1 th* Moment Duane did not know which
I 1*
way to turn, but certainly he had nc
Idea of going back to Bradford. Friction
between the two great lieutenants ot
Cheseldine! Open hostility between one
of them and another of the chief's
rlghthand men! Among outlaws that
sort of thing was deadly serious. Gen
erally such matters were settled with
guns. Duane gathered encouragement
even from disaster. Perhaps the disin
tegration of Cheseldine's great band
had already begun. But what did Knell
know? Duane did not circle around'the
Idea with doubts and hopes; if Knell
knew anything it was that this stranger
in Ord, this new partner of Fletcher's,
was no less than Buck Duane.
Well, it was about time thought Duane,
that he made use of his name if it were
to help him at all. That name had
been MacNally's hope. He had anch
ored all his scheme to Duane’s fame.
Duane was tempted to ride off after
Fletcher and stay with him. This, how
ever, would hardly he fair to an out
law who had been fair to him. Duane
concluded to await developments and
when tile gang rode in to Ord, prob
ably from their various hiding places,
he would be there ready to be de
nounced by Knell. Duane could not see
any other culmination of this series of
events than a meeting between Knell
and himself. If that terminated fatally
for Knell there wits all probability of
Duane’s being in no worse situation
than he was now. If Poggin took up
the quarrel! Here Duane accused him
self again—tried in vain to revolt from
a judgment that he was only reason
ing out excuses to meet these outlaws.
Meanwhile, Instead of waiting, why
not hunt up Cheseldine in his' mountain
retreat? The thought no sooner struck
Duane than he was hurrying for his
horse.
He left Ord ostensibly toward Brad
ford, but, once out of sight, ha turned
off the road, circled througli the brush,
and several miles south of town he
struck a narrow grass-grown trail that
Fletcher had told him led to Chesel
dine's camp. The horse tracks along this
trail were not les3 than a week old, and
very likely much more. It wound be
tween low, brush-covered foothills
through arroyos and gullies lined with
mesquite, cottonwood, and scrub-oak.
In an hour Duane struck tho slope ot
Mount Ord, and as ho climbed he gol
a view of the rolling, black spotted
country, partly desert, partly lertue,
with long, bright lines of dry stream
beds winding away to grow dim in the
distance. He got among broken rocks
and cliffs and here the open, downward
rolling land disappeared, and he was
hard put to it to find the trail. He lost
it repeatedly and made slow progress
Finally he climbed Into a region of al
rock benches, rough here, smooth there,
with only an occasional scratch of<!ron
horseshoe to guide him. Many times he
had to go ahead and then work to right
or left till he found his way again. II
was slow work; it took all day; and
night found him half-way up the moun
tain. He halted at a little side-canon
with grass and water, and hero he made
camp. The night was clear and cool at
that height, with a dark blue sky and a
streak of stars blinking across. With
Ibis day of action behind him he felt
better satisfied than ho bad been for
some time. Here, on this venture, he
was answering to a call that had sc
often directed his movements, perhaps
tiis life, and it was on that logic or in
telligence could take little stock of. And
on this night, lonely like the ones he
used to spend in the Nueces gorge, and
memorable of them because of a like
ness to that old hiding-place, he felt the
pressing return of old haunting things
—the past so long ago, wild flights,
dead faces—and the places of these
were taken by one quiveringly alive,
white, tragic, with its dark, intent,
speaking eyes—Ray Longstreth’s.
That lust memory he yielded to until
he slept.
In the morning, satisfied that he had
left still fewer tracks than he had fol
lowed up this trail, he led his horse up
to the head of the canon, there a narrow
crack in low cliffs, and with branches
of cedar fenced him in. Then he went
ba« k and took up the trail on foot.
Without the horse he made bettei
time and climbed through deep clefts,
wide canons, over ridges, up shvlvlng
slopes, along precipices—a long, hard
climb—till he reached what he con
cluded was a divide. Going down was
easier, though the farther ho followed
this dim and winding trail the wider the
broken battlements of rook. Above him
ho saw the black fringe of plnon and
pine, and above that the bold peak
bare, yellow, like a desert butte. Once
through a wide gateway between great
escarpments, he saw the lower countrj
beyond the range, and beyond this, vasl
and clear at it lay in his sight, was
the great river that made the Big Bend
He went down and down, wonderinp
how a horse could follow that broker
trail, believing there must be anothei
better one somewhere Into Clieseldlne's
hiding place.
view had been shut off, and presently
came out upon the rim of a high wall
Beneath, like a green gulf seen through
blue haze, lay an amphitheater wallet
in on the two sides he could see. It lay
perhaps 1,000 feet lielow him: and, plair
as all the other features of that wile
environment, there shone out a big roc
stone or adobe cabin, white water shin
ing aw’ay between great borders, anc
horses and cattle dotting the levels. I
was a peaceful, beautiful scene. Dunm
could not help grinding his teeth at tlu
thought of rustlers living there ir
quiet and ease.
Duane worked half way down to the
level, and, well hidden in a niche, hi
settled himself to watch both trail am
valley. He made note of the positior
of the sun and saw that if anything de
vcloped or if he decided to descend an;
farther there was small likelihood o
his getting back to his camp befori
dark. To try that after nightfall he im
agined would be vain effort.
Then he bent his keen eyes down
ward. The cabin appeared to he a crudi
structure. Though large in size. It had
of course, been built by outlaws.
There was no garden, no cultivate!
field, no corral. Kxeepting for the rud
pile of stones and logs plastered to
gether with mud. the valley was as wild
probably, as on the day of discovery
Duane seemed to have been watchlni
for a long time before he saw any sigi
of man. and this one apparently went t
the stream for water and returned t<
the cabin.
The sun went down behind the wall
and shadows were bom in the darlce
places of the valley. Duane began t
want to get closer to tnat cabin. What
had he taken tnis arduous climb for?
He held back, however, trying to evolve
further plans.
While he was pondering the shadows
quickly gathered and darkened. If he
was to go back to camp he must set out
at onc e. Still he lingered. And suddenly
Ills wide roving eye caught sight of two
horsemen riding up the valley. They
must have entered at a point below,
i round the huge abutment of rock, be
| yond Duane’s range of sight. Their
horses were tired and stopped at the
stream for a long drink.
Duane left his perch, took to the steep
trail, and descended as fast a lie could
1 without making noise,
j It did not take him long to reach the
valley floor. It was almost level, with
deep grass, and here and thtere clumps
: of bushes. Twilight was already thick
down there. Duane marked the loca
tion of the trail, and then began to slip
like a shadow through the grass and
from bush to bush. He saw a bright
light before he made out the dark out
line of the cabin. Then he heard voices,
a merry whistle, a coarse song, and the
clink of iron cooking utensils. He
smelled fragrant wood smoke. He saw
moving dark figures cross the light.
Evidently there was a wide door, or
else the fire was out in the open,
Duane swerved to the left, out of
direct line with the light, and thus was
able to see better. Then he advanced
noiselessly but swiftly toward the back
of the house. There were trees close
to the wall. He would make no noise,
and he could scarcely be seen—If only
there was no watch dog! Hut all his
outlaw days he had taken risks with
only his useless life at stake; now, with
that changed, he advanced stealthy
and bold as an Indian. He reached the
cover of the trees, knew he was hidden
In their shadows, for at a few paces’
distance he had been able to see only
their tops. From there he slipped up
to the house and felt along a wall with
his hands.
He came to a little window where
light shone through. He peeped in. He
saw a room shrouded in shadows, a
lamp turned low, a table, chairs. He
saw an open door, with bright flare
beyond, hut could not see the fire.
Voices came indistinctly. Without hes
itation Duane stole farther along—all
the way to the end of the cabin. Peep
ing round, he saw only the flare of
light on bare ground. Retracing his
cautions steps, he paused at the crack
again, saw that no man was in the
room, and then he went on round that
end of the cabin. Fortune favored him.
There were bushes, an old shed, a wood
nilp Jill t ho Pnt'or Kn n on/lrt/I ♦ Ho t
corner, lie did not even need to crawl.
Before he peered between the rough
corner of wall and the bush growing
close to it Duane paused a moment.
This excitement was different from
that he had always felt when pursued.
It had no bitterness, no pain, no dread.
There was as much danger here, per
haps more, yet it was not the same.
Then he looked.
He saw a bright fire, a red faced
man bending over it, whistling, while
he handled a steaming pot. Over him
was a roofed shed built against the
wall, with two open sides and two sup
porting posts. Duane’s second glance,
not so blinded by the sudden bright
light, made out other men, three in
the shadow, two in the flare, but with
backs to him.
"It’s a smoother trail by long odds,
but ain’t so short as this one right over
the mountain,” one outlaw was saying.
“What’s eatin’ you. Panhandle?”
ejaculated another. "Blossom an’ me
rode from Faraway Springs, where
Poggin is with some of the gang.”
“Excuse me, Phil. Shore I didn’t see
you come in, an’ Boldt never said
nothin’.”
"It took you a long time to get here,
but I guess that’s Just as well," spoke
up a smooth, suave voice wdth a ring
in it.
Longstreth’s voice — Cheseldine’s
voice!
Here they were—Cheseldine, Phil
Knell, Blossom Kane, Panhandle
Smith, Boldt—how well Duane remem
bered the narapa!—all here, the big
men of Cheseldine’s gang, except the
biggest—Poggin. Duane had holed
them, and his sensations of the mo
ment deadened sight and sound of what
was before him. He sank down, con
trolled himself, silenced a mounting
exultation, then from a less strained
position he peered forth again.
The outlaws were waiting for sup
per. Their conversation might have
been that of cowboys in camp, ranch
ers at a roundup. Duane listened with
eager ears, waiting for the business
talk that he felt would come. All the
time he watched with the eyes of a
wolf upon its quarry. Blossom Kane
was the lean limbed messenger who
had so angered Fletcher. Boldt was a
giant in stature, dark, bearded, silent.
Panhandle Smith was the red faced
cook, merry, profane, a short, bow
legged man resembling many rustlers
Duane had known, particularly Luke
Stevens. And Knell, who sat‘there,
tall, slim, like a boy in build, like a
boy in years, with his pale, smooth,
expressionless face and his cold, gray
eyes. And Longstreth, who leaned
against the wall, handsome, with his
dark face and beard like an aristocrat,
resembled many a rich Louisiana plant
er Duane had met. The sixth nj**n sat
so much in the shadow that he could
not be plainly discerned, and, though
addressed, his name was not men
tioned.
Panhandle Smith carried pots and
pans into the cabin and cheerfully
called out: “If you gents air hungry
fer grub, don’t look fer me to feed you
with a spoon.”
The outlaws piled inside, made a
great bustle and clatter as they sat to
♦ ftl m oo 1 T I lr e liiimrnr ^ + L » r
talked little.
Duane waited there awhile, then
guardedly got up and crept round to
the other side of the cabin. After he
became used to the dark again he ven
tured to steal along the wall to the
window and peeped in. The outlaws
were in the first room and could not
be seen.
Duane waited. The moments dragged
endlessly. His heart pounded. I,ong
streth entered, turned up the light, and,
taking a box of cigars from the table,
he carried it out.
“Here, you fellows, go outside and
smoke," he said. “Knell, come on in
now. Let’s get it over.”
He returned, sat down, and lighted
a cigar for himself. He put his booted
feet on the table.
Duane saw that the room was com
fortably. even luxuriously furnished.
There must have been a good trail, he
i thought, else how could all that stuff
have been packed in there. Most as
suredly it could not have come over
the trail he had traveled. Presently he
heard the men go outside and their
' voices became indistinct. Then Knell
i came in and seated himself without
any of his chiefs ease. He seemed pre
occupied and, as always, cold.
“What's wrong. Knell? Why didn't
! you get here sooner?” queried Long
, streth.
| “Poggln, damn him! We're on the
I j outs again.”
1 j "What for?”
■ | "Aw. he needn’t have got sore. He's
, breakin' a new hoss over there at Far
away, an’ you know him where a hoss's
t concerned. That kept him, I reckon,
i more than anythin'.”
> "What else? Get It out of your sys
> tern so we can go on to the new Job."
"Well, it begins back a ways. I don't
, know how long ago—weeks—a stran
• ger rode into Ord an' got down easy
> like aa if he owned the place. He seemed
k
familiar to me. But I wasn’t sure. We;
looked him over, an' I left, try in’ to
place him in my mind."
"What’d he look like?”
“Rangy, powerful man, white hair
over his temples, still, hard face, eyes
like knives. The way he packed his
guns, the way he walked an' stood an'
swung his right hand showed me what
he was. You can't fool me on the gun
sharp. An' he had a grand horse, a big
black."
"I've met your man,” said Longstreth.
"No!” exclaimed Knell. It was won
derful to hear surprise expressed by
this man that did not in the least show
it in his strange physiognomy. Knell
laughed a short, grim, hollow laugh.
"Boss, this here big gent drifts into
Ord again an’ makes up to Jim Fletch
j er. Jim, you know, is easy led. He
likes men. An', when a posse come
along trailin' a blind lead, huntin' the
wrong way for the man who held up
No. 6, why Jim—-he up an’ takes this
stranger to be the fly road agent an'
cottons to him. Got money out of
him sure. An’ that’s what stumps me
more. What’s this man's game? I hap
pen to know, boss, that he couldn’t have
held up No. 6.”
“How do you know?” demanded
Longstreth.
"Because I did the job myself."
A dark and stormy passion clouded
the chiefs face. I
"Damn you, Knell! You're incorrig
ible. You’re unreliable. Another break
like that queers you with me. Did you
tell Poggin?”
"Yes. That’s one reason we fell out.
He raved. I thought he was goin' to
kill me.”
"Why did you tackle such a risky Job
without help or plan?”
“It offered, thnt'3 all. An' it was easy.
But it was a mistake. I go the country
an’ the railroad hollerin' for nothin'.
I just couldn't help it. You know what
idleness means to one of us. You know
also that this very life breeds fatality.
It's wrong—that’s why. I was born of
good parents, an’ I know what’s right.
We're wrong1, an’ we can’t boat tjie end,
that’s all. An’, for my part, 1 don't
care a damn when that comes.”
"Fine, wise talk from you. Knell,"
said Longstreth, scornfully. "Go on
with your story.”
j\s i sain, Jim cottons to tne pre- |
tender, an' they get chummy. They're |
together all the time. You can gamble j
Jim told all he knew an’ then some. A
little liquor loosens his tongue. Several
of the boys rode over from Ord, an' one
of them went to Poggin an- says Jim
Fletcher has a new man for the gang.
Poggip. you know, is always ready Tor
any new man. He says if one doesn’t
turn out good, he can be shut off easy.
He rather liked the way this new pard
of Jim's was boosted. Jim an’ Poggin
always hit it up together. Wo, until I
got on the deal, Jim’s pard was already
in the gang, without Poggin or you
ever seeln’ him. Then I got to figurin’
hard. Just where had I ever seen that
chap? As it turned out, I never had
seen him, which accounts for my bein’
doubtful. I’d never forget any man I’d
seen. I dug up a lot of old papers from
my kit an’ went over them. Letters,
pictures, clippin’s, an’ all that. I guess
I had a pretty good notion what 1 was
lookin’ for an’ who I wanted to make
sure of. At last I found it. An’ I knew
my man. But I didn’t spring it on
Poggin. Oh, no! I want to have some
fun with him w'hen the time comes.
He’ll be wilder than a trapped wolf. I
sent Blossom over to Ord to get word
from Jim, an’, when he verified all this
talk, I sent Blossom again with a mes
sage calculated to make Jim hump.
Poggin got sore, said he’d wait for Jim,
an’ I could come over to see you about;
the new job. He'd meet me in Ord.”
Knell had spoken hurriedly and low,
now and then with passion. His pal^
eyes glinted like fire in ice, and now;
his voice fell to a whisper.
"Who do you think Fletcher’s new|
man is?”
"Who?” demanded Longstreth.
"Buck Duane!”
Down came Longstreth’s boots with aj
crash, then his body grew rigid.
“That Nueces outlaw? That two-shot;
ace of spades gun thrower who killed
Bland, Allowoy—?”
"An’ Hardin." Knell whispered this
last name with more feeling than the
apparent .circumstance demanded.
‘Wes; and Hardin, the best ono of the
Rim Rock fellows—Buck Duane!”
Longstreth was so ghastly white now
that his black mustache seemed out
lined against chalk. He eyed liis grim
lieutenant. They understood each oth
er without more words. It was enough
that Buck Duane was there in the Big
Bend. Longstreth rose presently und
reached for a flask, from which lie
drank, then offered it to Knell. He
waved It aside.
“Knell,” began the chief, slowly, as
ho wiped his lips, T gathered you have
some grudge against this Buck Duane.”
Yes."
“Well, don’t be a-fool now and
do what Poggin or almost any of you
men would—don’t meet this Buck Du
ane. I’ve reason to believe he’s a Tex
as Ranger now.”
"The hell you say!” exclaimed Knell.
“Yes. Go to Ord and give Jim Fletch
er a hunch. He’ll get Poggin, and they
will fix even Buck Duane.”
“All right. I’ll do my best. But if I
run into Duane—’’
“Don't run into him!” Longstreth’s
voice fairly rang with the force of its
passion and command. He wiped his
face, drank again from the flask, sat
down, resumed his smoking, and, draw
ing a paper from his vest pocket, he
hee'n.n to studv it.
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled," he
said, evidently referring to the Duane
matter. “Now for the new Job. This
is October 18. On or before the 25th,
there will be a shipment of gold reach
the Ranchers' bank of Val Verde. After
you return to Ord, give Poggin these
orders. Keep the gantr quiet. You,
Poggin, Kane, Fletcher, Panhandle
Smith, and Boldt to be in on the secret
and the job. Nobody else. You’ll leave
Ord on the 23rd, ride across coun
try by the trail till you get
within sight of Mercer. It’s 100
miles from Bradford to Val Verde
—about the same from Ord. Time your
travel to get you near Val Verde on the,
morning of the 26th. You won't have tri
more than trot your horses. At J
o’clock in the afternoon, sharp, tide intcj
town and up to the Ranger’s t^nk. Val
Verde’s a pretty big town. Never been
any holdups there. Town feels safe.
Make it a clean, fast, daylight job
That’s all. Have you got the details?”
Knell did not even ask for the date*
again.
“Suppose Poggin or me migli*. be de
tained?" he asked.
Bongstreth bent a dark glance upon
his lieutenant.
“You never can tell what 'll come
off." continued Knell. "I'll do mv best.”
“The minute you see Poggin tell him.
A Job on hand steadies him. And I say
again—look to it that nothing happens.
Either you or Poggin carry the job
through. But 1 want both of you in it.
Break for the hills, and when you get
up in the rocks where you can hide
your tracks head for Mount Ord. When
nil's quiet again I'll join you hare.
That's all. Call in the boys."
(Continued Next Week.)
How Ho Looked.
From the Boston Transcript.
“Who is this Gargantua Just coming
in?”
“That's Fatlelgh, who is always brag,
gtng about being a self made man."
"Gee whiz! He looks more like ha was
built by a construction company."
; THE LITTLE VOYAGE ?
From the Indianapolis News.
Of course I had heard preachers and
•rators speak of life as a voyage, but
ivlng all my days in an inland town,
nhere the only water w'ith which I am
•n speaking terms is a sluggish little
:reek, zigzagging its way to the river,
\his particular figure of speech never ap
jealed to me. I did like the sound of the
vord voyage, however, and I had always
onged for the sight of b‘g waters, so even
i tiny one-day voyage was a big event,
'.t was down at the docks, when the boat
•ame in, that I had a sudden memory of
:hat old picture. “From Shore to Shore,"
ivhich many of us knew and loved in our
:hildhood, and I determined to see if
;here was any likeness between life and
n little voyage. Perhaps even its brev
ity would make .it all the more like lile’s
little day. . ,
Well, like life, the beginning of the voy
ige was under strange conditions, among
strange people and strange scenes. The
day itself was like life, with its mixture
jf sunshine and clouds. The patli up the
shining waters was like life, sometimes
smooth, sometimes ruffled, but like that
if my own individual life so far, witli no
great storms nor overwhelming waves.
The people were like life—laughing, chat
tering groups, and sad faced silent ones.
There was much for all, gay music, and
music that brought tears to the eyes. The
morning was long and delightful—but we
•nine at last to the turning point, when
we knew that our voyage was half over.
How we dread it in life—the time when
we know we are on the home stretch—
hut why? The last half of the Journey
may be even sweeter and more beautiful
than the first. We have grown accus
tomed to the boat. We have become
reconciled to the people who must share
It with us. There are still lovely scene*
ahead, and after the close of the calm
afternoon—the sunset!
We know at sunset why we needed both
clouds and sunshine through the day. Oil
it was so wonderful—that sunset! Away
out there on the water the king of tha
day knew that he had the center of the
. l-» man nt tn lot 11u L’rmttf wild t
he could really do In the line of setting
At first, he sank lower and lower, in a
dignified manner befitting a king, then
suddenly growing mischievous, he dropped
behind a bank of soft blue clouds so like
the water you couldn't tell where clouds
left off and water began. He got busy
with his paint brush and palette as soon
ns he was out of sight. First, he used
a brilliant gold, edging the great him
• loud so deftly and swiftly that we never
knew when it all happened. Then he pul
in a soft rose colored background for th<
blue and gold, and gold trimmings on aV \
the fleecy little clouds that went flitting 1
across his canvas. Then, growing prodi- 1
gal with his coloring matter, as if fear
ful that, like our tickets, it might be good
for one day only, he threw out greai
bands of pale pink and pale blue aerosl
the sky, and a deeper hand of rose be
tween the blue cloud and the water line,
Suddenly he flashed out between thest
two bands of wonderful coloring, then, a<
If fearful of applause, he dropped quietly
out of sight. He needn’t have been afraid,
for the people who loved him and hi«
wonderful painting did not want to spoil
it all with noisy applause. So many in
that throng had missed all the glory oi
\t! And that was like life, too.
It did seem for a little time after th«
sunset that there was nothing more to it.
that the rest of the little voyage would
he little worth while, but this was a mis
take, Just like dreading the turning point,
for after the dusk crept on there were tht
wonderful light houses to guide us on our
way, and a feeling of weariness creeping
over us that made the thought of homo
and rest very alluring. Standing on deck '
in the sweet dusk, head on a level with
the strong heart that has throbbed true
for many a day, with tho ones I love best
Df all my little world on either side of me
Ah! it was lovely to slip quietly up to the
docks and known that the little voyage
was safely over. If only life—the last half
of it, and the landing—could be like thatl
Romance Comes Riding a Horse.
From “The Point of View” In Scrlbner’3.
Romance likes to come on horseback,
the jingling spurs and bridle irons chanj
a happy paean in his ears; and from tht
saddle, as from a throne, he looks out
aver the workaday world. Romance al
ways has been linked with riding; in tin
playroom mounted on a gallant rocking
chair youth rides into a land of golden
deeds; later he swings in long gallops on
the faithful hobby horse into spicy and
fugitive adventure. To the page on 4
prancing palfrey and to the cavalry man
In khaki the lure of romance Is the samey
the rhythm of galloping hoofs thuds- al
ways in the Imagination, the lady’s favot
on the lance and the quivering scarlet
guidon flutter alike a mysterious and
eternal Challenge to the spirit of youth.
"To horse and away” and all tho world's
before one. Though at first the child de
mands that his stage be set—let the prop
erties be grotesque and absurd as they
will—he later enters a land of pure Imag
ination and lives unhampered by the ne
cessities of stage Invention; “the hobby
horse Is forgot”—and he gallops vicarious
ly and battles by proxy. But after a
time there comes a regeneration of the
dramatic, and his roving eye lights in
newly realized wonder on the docile,
quietly blinking family horse.
So was Bobby, our staid old carriage
horse, commandeered by me In my youth
to serve the spirit of romance. At the
time I saw In him a gallant companion
he was fast becoming an Introspective
equine. Almost all horses are introspec
tive; they have not the Inscrutability- of
the cat, or, having It, because of their
larger form and because of their service
to man, cannot express It. Cats live in
a world of past ages on some other plane
and we call them inscrutable because they
so seldom hasten to leave that other
plane when wo thrust ourselves upon
them. Horses live in a sort of pathos of
loneliness. A colt has an outward look
ing eye, but as he grows older his Inter
ests swing in constantly decreasing circles
until finally he Is almost purely subjec
tive. And as this comes upon" him his
eyes turn Inward and gradually he holds
through the medium of expressive ears.
Mexico’s Land System.
From the Dayton News
Whatever the outcome of the present un
pertalnties of Mexico, the country can not
oope to prosper until the present‘land SVs
•em is corrected. It has been demon
'trated In every- nation on earth that large
wlUffS by in?‘ ylduals is not a good
.hlng. Those countries hove prospered
greatest where the land was held bv the
greatest number of people. Landlordism
:s doomed in the world, whatever the re
jult of the present strife ihnt is to be
•ound today In so many nations.
Horrible Tragedy.
M7?®/utrl’orT-,Mfbat has become of that
asl<l° after breakfast?
3ryhe ba(1 Wlfe—I sent them to the laun
The Author-Good heavens! I had the
plot of a great novel written on them!*
At Parting.
Now must we go our separate ways
Beloved. *
.' may not follow you 'mid shot and shell—
IV hatever to this hate-racked world war
means,
ro women it must ever mean. •'Farewell!"
Unmurmuring must we send you forth to
death,
rhe love-locked gates of life fling open
wide,
L31d >ou troop out—you dear ones whom
Mo ve kept
3o close and warm!—and see you go drv
eyed.
FYom out seared, silent hearts must
thrust you forth
^ YY* caress» word, lest courage
>umblo beneath the dear, familiar touch <
Vnd love, with traitor-tenderness, prevail!
^nr’°?of Battles! Is there yet some land.
* surcea?e?land' where I’artlbss have
Ahere^un wrung heart leans to another
Vaid breathes In tranquil rapture "Hera
Is peace!"? ”
—Abbte Carter Goodloa In Scribner'*,