THE DESERT MOON
MYSTERY
BY KAY CLEAVER STRAHAN
I
That* may be true, and it may
siot. Canneriano bad a good
♦duration; ’In* talked poetry,
«nd played the violin. Marga
rita heard him playing, down
ia the outfit’s quarters one day
and had Sam invite him up to
the bouse to play. She accom
panied him on the grand piano
that Sum had bought for her.
Before long. Dan Canneriano
was spending a good part of
his time at the ranch-house,
Sam, being nobody’s fool, soon
♦aw how the land layj but he,
according to bis custom then
and «ow, kept his mouth shut
and his eyes open. Sure enough,
one evening they tried to elope
together. Sam went after'them
and brought them back. I
remember, yet, bow *the three
of them looked, coming into
the house that night.
Margarita, her head high, de
fiant, but pretty as a fire’s
flame. Canneriano, slinking in
at her heels, like a whipped
eur, expecting worse; and Sam,
followng ‘behind them, calm as
cold turkey. The three of them
had about half an hour's talk
together. ^I'licn Sam herded
Canneriano down to the, out
fit/# quarters and, I suppose,
told the men to keep him there,
for there he stayed until Sam
wa# ready for him agnin.
The next morning Sam
started to the count seut. lie
reached there that evening.
The following morning he got
his divorce, lie came back to
the Desert. Moon on tho third
morning, with his divorce and
with the preacher, lie sent for
Camtcaiano, and stood by*,
while the preacher married
Margarita Stanley to Daniel
Canncr.iano, decent and
regular, according to the laws
of Nevada.
There it should have ended.
It didn’t, because, Sam never
got over loving Margarita. I
don’t hold that to Ids credit. I
see no more virtue in keeping
on loving a person who lias
proved unworthy of being
loved, than 1 see in hating a
person who has turned out to
bo blameless, or in continuing
to do ajny other unreasonable
thing.
At uny rate, Sam did it So
when, nine years later, she
came back to the Desert, Moon,
with twin girls, Danielle and
Gabriellc, and said that Cannc
riuno had deserted'her and the
children Sam look them all
right in. I don’t know, yet
whether or not they took him
in.
Certainly he did not show
much surprise when, in about
ten days, Cannc/iano put in
an appearance. Sam allowed
him to get a good start with
his threats, and then he took
him across his kneos and gave
him a sound spanking, and
passed him over to Margarita
10 diy his tears, and washed
his own bands and went fish
ing.
That evening lie lmd one of
the men hitch up end take the
whole kit and caboodle oi
Cannezianos to Ha! I ail in time
to catch the east-bound train. 1
an ashamed to sajr that Sam
gave them mouey. 1 don’t know
how much. I .shouldn’t be sur
prised if it was more than they
had expected to get from their
blackmailing scheme. A tidy
sum, I’ll be bound for st urdy
after we beard that Canneziano
had opened the finest gambling
bouse south of the Mason and
Dixon line, in New Orleans.
£u m wanted to keep the
children. lie effered to adopt
them. Margarita would not
consider it. But, severd times
after that, pale yellow per
fumed letters came to the
Desert Moon, and Sam
answered those letters with a
check. Me, he answered, each
time, with, “It is for the little
Two Tees.
From Tu*i‘
By spreading a net around one
end of a fa Urn hollow tree, hunters
In Arkansas recently caught a 98-lb.
timber wolf with only two toes on
lits right hind paw.
Kji jo years this wolf; called Two
Toes because of mutilations suffered
escaping from trails, liad led his
hungry pack through the forests of
eastern Arkansas. The pack killed
hundreds of sheep, g )ata, oows. Near
the scattered bones enraged cattia
owners always found the \radcs of a
Au.ge, two-toed iraw.
Trappers, hunters, governmenr
girls, Mary. I can’t let little
(rjrK go needing.”
When Margarita died, in
Fraance, seven years after she
had paid us her blaelunailing
\ i-ii, Sam, the ninny, wrote to
Onnezinno and again offered
r.* adopt the girls and give
(iic in a good home on tiie
Desert Moon. Ho jo! a lew
insulting, insinuating lines for
a,i answer. Cunueziano had his
own plans for ills daughters,
who bad develop:-1 into rare
beauties. He would thank Sam
to beep his ban is of, mind his
over, business, and so forth.
It would have made a milder
man than. Sum Stanley lighting
mad. Sura went around all that
clay, swearing to me that he
was through; that he had made
ins last offer of help to ihc
Cannezano family, had sent
hi‘ last contribution. 1 know
for certain, though, that lie
sent five hundred dollars to
('cbridle, after that, in answer
to a letter she wrote to him
Hut, if Sam was soft wtb Ihc
women, he w;,s not soft with
Cnnneziano. He rad showed up
here, beaming and broke, about
three years ago. lie bad iefl,
suddenly, aft ;r having seen
Sam and no one else, less
beaming but quite as broke as
li ? had been when he had come
1 thought maybe, Sam was for
getting that side of the family,
aud that this might be a good
time to remind him.
“Is Canneziano planning
to come on later, too, and
rest!” I asked.
“Just at present lie is in San
Quentin, serving a three years’
term. Danielle didn’t say for
what deviltry, llis term’s up
this summer. That is another
reason the girls want to come
here. Somewhere safe from his
persecutions, I think the letter
said. Poor little girls,” Sam
went on “I reckon we haven’t
any idea of what they’ve been
through, all these years.”
“I reckon not,” I agreed.
“Put they aren’t little girls
any more. Seems queer to me,
with all the beauty their father
was bragging about, that
neither of them has married.
Twenty-four is getting along.”
“I’ll bet,” Sam answered,
it is because they have never
had any decent opportunities
You know how pretty they
were, as little girls, ami how
good—”
“Danielle was good enough.”
I said. “Gabriclle was a holy
terror”
Sam let that pass. “Consider
ing,” lie continued. “♦*•“ life
that they’ve had to lead, and
all, I think it speaks pretty
well for them that they have
come through straight and
clean.”
Instead of asking him how
he knew that, I said, “You’d
he willing, then, to have John
marry one of them 7”
John, Som’s adopted son,
was the apple of Sam’s eye. He
would have the ranch, and Sara
fortune, other dependents pro
vided for, when Sam died.
Whether or not the girl he
married would be contented to
live on the ranch, and help
John carry it on and keep up
its traditons, making it one of
the proudest spots in Nevada,
was a mighty important thing
to Sam.
He waited so long before
answering my question that I
was sure I had hit the nail on
the head.
“John,” he finally said, “is
old enough to take care of him
self.”
With that he turned and
went out of mv kitchen, not.
giving me a chance to say that,
though I had lived through
fifty-six years. I had never yet
seen a man at the age he had
iust mentioned. I did not care.
I felt too vimless for even a
spat with Sam. T knew that if
rangers tried constantly and unsuc
cessfully to kill Two Toes. Recently
he and his pack killed 14 goats in
one day. Describing this as murder,
Sheriff E. L. Cooper and Deputy
Prosecuting Attorney James Robert
son of Cross county, Ark., called for
the best hounds in the state and a
posse of huntsmen. Thrp found the
pack at dawn, separated Two Toes
from his followers, cornered him at
noon. Tired, fiery-eyed , froth
mouthed and snarling, he made his
last stand in the hollow of the fallen
I'm* w<> was taken to Memnhis
tlicse Cannvzianc girls came to
the Desert .Moon, they would
bring trouble with them. I was
right. A merciful Providence be
thanked for that, for a time at
least, the knowledge of how
terribly right. 1 was, was spared
i me.
CHAPTER II
JOHN AND MARTHA
I am not an admirer of men.
Looking at most any man, 1
find myself thinking what a
pity it was he had t grow up,
since as a little, helpless child
he would have made a complete
success.
Sam Stanley is different.
There is some of the child left
! in Sam, just as there is, I think,
in any good man or woman—
a little seasoning of simplicity, j
really, is all it amounts to— i
hut there is a quality about I
Sam that makes a person feel
that he set out, early in life,
to follow the recipe for being
a man, and that be has made a
thorough job of it. Physically,
alone, Sam would make about
three of most men, with plenty
left over for gravy. But it is
not that. It. is the something
that makes him stroll up, un
armed, to a cowpuncher who is
bragging wild with moonshine
and clinking with firearms, and
say, in that drawling, gentle
voice of his, “What’s the
trouble here, son?” And the
something that makes that cow
puncher get polite first, and
evaporate immediately after.
And Sam whiteheaded, now, at
that.
Why he. as a young man,
with a pretty fair education
and a tidy sum of money left
him by his father, who had
been a well thought of lawyer
in Massachusetts, should come
out here to Nevada, take up his
homestead land, and settle
content for the rest of his life,
has always been more or less
of a mystery to me. I will warn
you, though, that it is a
mystery that doesn’t get solved
in this story, unless you care to
take Sam’s explanation of it.
He says that, when his father
died, it left him without a
relative, whom he knew of, in
the world- lie was twenty years
old, and he owned a set of
roving toes and an imagination.
So he ment to California, seek
ing romance and gold. Finding
neither, he took a small boat
named Indiana, and went up
to Oregon, where he joined a
friend of his, named Tom Cone,
who had a place on the Colum
bia River near Rooster Rock.
One day Sam was out in the
woods—he said there was
nothing to be out in except
woods or rain in Oregon in
those days—and he heard a
noise behind a thicket. He
thought Tom, who lived for
practical jokes, was getting
ready to pull one. So Sara crept
up to the thicket, stooping low
and making no noise, and
shouted “Boo!” at the biggest
bear he had ever seen in his
life. Sam says he has forgotten
what the bear said. He decided,
then and there, that the Oregon
forests were no place for a man
with no more sense than he
had; he left them, and came
down here to Nevada.
“No forests, no fences, no
folks, and a free view for ten
thousand miles,” is the way
Sam puts it, “so, I stayed. It
was the first place I’d ever
found where I didn’t feel
hampered for room.”
He staked out his hundred
and sixty acres with Boulder
Creek tumbling and roaring
through them. He built his
cabin, out of railroad ties, in
a grove of quaking aspen trees.
He hired help, and built fences,
and dug ditches, and planted
crops, and bought stock. He
bought more land. He hired
more help, dug more ditches,
planted bigger crops, bought
more stock. He has been doing
that, regularly, ever since. And.
of course, ho located the lead
and silver mine, on his
property, that made him mil
lions, if it made him n cent, be
fore it played out. But, in spite
of the money that “Old Lady
Luck," as he called his mine,
made for him, Sam never gave :
his heart to it. It was the
Desert Moon Ranch that lie
i Tenn., to spend the rest of his life
I in a cage at the Zoo.
In Stanford, Mont., last month, a
famed white wolf without a name,
who has killed hundreds of sheep
and cows In the Little Belt range,
was pursued by five hounds and A.
V. Cheney of Wolf Butte. Cornered
by the dogs, the white wolf escaped
because only one of the hounds
dared attack him, because A. V.
Oheeney had no rifle.
In the United States, where
wolves have largely ceased to be a
serious menace to humans, there are
few organizations devoted to their
slaughter though some western [
f loved, and the money he made
from it that he was proud of.
That was why, when the honor
of the ranch went under, dur
ing those terrible weeks last
summer, Sam all but went
under with it
After Margarita left the
place from iter visit of 1909.
taking the twins with her, Sam
went around for a week or two,
with his head cocked to one
side as if he was listening for
something. I knew what he was
missing, and I was not sur
prised when, one day, he told
me he had decided to send tc
San Francisco and get a couple
of children and adopt them.
lie wrote to a big hospital in
San Francisco and got in touch
with a trained nurse who would
be willing to come up and live
on the ranch and take care ol
the two children. He had her go
to an orphan’s home and selecl
the children and bring them
with her when she came. Sam’s
specifications concerning them
were that they were to be a boy
and a girl, under ten and over
five years old, healthy, Ameri
can, and brown-eyed, (Sam’s
own eyes are the color of ball
bluing:, giving his face, with his
red cheeks, and his white beard,
the patriotic effect I have men
tioned.)
The nurse earne early in
September with the twojbrown
eyed children, named Vera and
Alvin. Sam at once renamed
them. John, he said, was the
only name for a boy, and Mary
the only name for a girl. But,
since my name was Mary, he
would let the little girl have
Martha, which meant, accord
ing to Sam, “Boss of the
Ranch.”
The nurse’s name was Mrs.
Ollie Ricker. If you can
imagine a blue-eyed, pink
cheeked, yellow-haired bisque
doll, turned old, you- will have
a good idea of her appearance
at that time. I don’t know how
old she was then. I don’t know
old she is now. Younger by
many years than I am, I am
sure; and yet she has always
seemed old to me; old with the
sudden but inevitable oldness
of a wrecked ship, or a burned
d(,wn house, or a felled tree,
that makes a body forget that
a year ago, or perhaps o'nly
yesterday, it was a fresh, new
thing. She never talked. I ,do
not mean that she never chat
ted, or gossiped. I mean that
she never said one word, not,
“Good-morning,” nor, “Good
night,” nor, “If you please,”
nor, “Thank you,” if she could
possibly avoid it- At the end of
sixteen years of daily associa
tion with Mrs. Ricker, that is,
up to the time of the second
murder on the Desert Moon, I
knew exactly as much about
her past life as you know at
this minute.
John, at that time, was nine
years old. He was as bright,
and as upstanding, and as
handsome, as any little fellow
to be found anywhere; bashful
at first, but ready and glad
1o he friendly, with an uplift
ing smile that wrinkled his
short nose and that would
wheedle a cookey out of a
pickle jar. I may as well say.
tioav, that this description c*
John, at nine years old, is as
good a description as I can
giA’e of John at tAventy-five, if
you Avill draAV his height up to
six feet, and put on AAeight ac
cordingly.
Martha, when she came to
us, AAras a frail, AA’hite-faced
mite, AA’ith enormous broAvn
eyes that looked as if they had
been removed from a jersey
heifer and set in her white
face. The papers from the or
phanage gave her age as five
years; but even I, avIio knew
less about cliildren than it Avas
decent for any woman to knoAV,
soon saw that something Avas
Avrong. She walked Avell
enough, but she could scarcely
talk at all. Her Avavs and her
habits AA'ere those of a tAvo
vear-old infant, yet she Avas
far too large for that age. Be
fore she had been with us a
Aveek I kneAv that Martha Avas
not quite right in her mind.
(TO B* CONTINUED)
states offer wolf bounties. In France
where Avolves still haunt the forests,
there are still “wolf lieutenants”—
landowners who in return for pro
tecting large portions of the terrain
from wolves by maintaining packs
of wolf-hounds, are entitled to hunt
government forests for wild boar
Among noted wolf lieutenants are
‘wo women, the Dowager Duchess
d’U&es and Mme. Alice Abram Ter
ras of Lambesc-Salen, who wears s
man’s uniform.
—* --.
The daily haul of the German
fleet this year has been 4,000,000
Dounds of herring
WHAT NKXTr
me spotlight’s turned again today.
On Mistress Bossy Cow;
The center c' the stage she holds
In Calilo: 4 , now.
A milk inspector there declares
In no uncertain terms,
The tuft of hair between her horns
Is breeding place for germs.
lie vcws these pests — though by
what route
He gives us no detail—
Pull manv a timp and oft descend
Into the foaming pail.
So Bossy to a barber hies,
And lie gets on the job,
To change her former "wind blown"
style.
To nifty “boyish bob.”
—Sam Page
Letting the People Know
Prom New York Times
Scowls greeted Represents .>,«
Gainer, of Texas when he returned
to the tariff conference room after
having told his House colleagues
everything that happened there. But
the applause on the floor which
greeted his promise to keep the
House posted an the activities of
the conferees will be echoed around
the country. Mr. Garner is break
ing precedents, and making a little
mischief, which as a democrat he
is probably willing to do. But his
reportorial activities provide as
surance that conference tariff deals
will be made pretty much in the
open. Heretofore such discussions
have been mass producers of com
promise and log rolling. Every one
knew what was going on, but by the
time the conferees had cgreed and
brought reports back to their respec
1 live houses it was too late to do
anything about many of the sched
ules. Now members of both bodies
are to be given the time and the
opportunity to organize in favor of
certain positions on particular rates.
In his bland explanation of the
deadlock over the casein rate. Mr.
Garner had a very particular ob
ject. It is his contention and that
of many other representatives from
agricultural districts that the Senate
duty of 514 cents a pound benefits
the farmers, while the House rate of
2*4 cents a pound has the Massa
chusetts paper manufacturers in
mind. Here is marked one of the
clear issues in congress over lh»
pending tariff bill. The special ses
sion was called largely on a farm
relief basis. If, where the interests
of farmers and manufacturers clash,
the farmer loses out, the position of
the democrats and the progressives
is, to their ruind. publicly justified
before the country. The president’s
embarrassments are multiplied. Both
politics and regional interests can
be served under the Garner method,
Acd it is also possible that the daily
airing which the Texan proposes tc
give will result in compromises more
in the agricultural interests
As a matter of fact, what Mr.
Garner tola the open House has
always been whispered about both
chambers after conference sessions
The leaders always know what has
happened; they pass the news on to
ether members and to some news
paper men. But heretofore the in
formation has not been official.
Tariff covenants have not been
openly arrived at, and many nego
I tiators are inclined to believe that
I no covenants can be made in tha
limelight.
When ‘Top" Is Filly.
From Milwaukee J. ..rnal.
Nothing that ^eoplc love and
reverence cots not have rough
hands laid upon ii by some. But la
is strange and incomprehensible to
find a professor of philosophy in a
Christian college proposing to turn
the Twenty-third psalm into
"modern” terms No words in the
language are dearer to people'}
hearts than the psalm which be
gins: "The Lord is my shepherd; 1
shall not want.” They are pait o!
the earliest education of every child
who has any knowledge at all ol
the Bible. But Prof. Holmes ol
Swarthmore thinks them meaning
less to the modern city dweller. Ha
would change them to:
"The Lord is my automobile’s low
gear to help me in climbing hara
hills.
“The Lord is my antiseptic in
times of dangerous epidemics.”
We cannot, quote it all. It is too
cheap, unutterably cheap and
meaningless. And from a college
professor! The veriest school child
in the grades would know better
than this; for he would miss the
beauty of the rhythm. And he
learned what a shepherd was long i
before he heard of antiseptics. The ‘
veriest slogan-loving Babbitt would ;
know enough not to lay hands on ‘
words that have brought comfort |
to millions of hearts, that have led
men to look up to a loving God
with new courage for life’s trials,
and have given hope to the dying
-»» ■ , ■ ■
PERILS OF YOUTII.
Unwind a film of long ago,—
Across your vision passes
A flash of mother, bearing cup
Of sulphur and molasses.
i
The kids are lined up, all a-squirm,
At. morning, night and noon.
While mother stops before each one
And hoists the fatal spoon.
I Then down each anguished throat
descends— |
For blood, in spring, needs thin
ning—
A nauseous mess that fairly jolts
Each youngster's underpinning
The modern youth treads warily
Mid poison booze and gasses;
But they no longer run a-foul
Of sulphur and molasses.
—Sam Page
-♦ --
Fifty-Fifty
From The Humorist.
John—I do hate having a half- >
brother.
Mother—You havent any half
brother.
John—Well, what’s Eric? I always
give him half my apple, half my
candy, half my clothes, half my
bath, and now he’s gone and taken
half my measles.
.-— — ■ -—....
Graft Makes Living Costly.
From Nebraska State Journal.
The Kansas City Star has dug
deep enough into underworld sources
of information to announce that 1
racketeers placed a tax on business |
in that city last year of a million
dollars. Racketeering is spreading. |
It is common in New York, Chicago
and Philadelphia, but the cities less
in size than these have beer, com
paratively free of this evil lr. the
past. Every city should be alert to
the first indication of invasion of
this lawless tax on legitimate busi
ness which the consumer in the
end must pay. The cost of living
may be lowered by absolute removal
of such forms of graft.
Don’t wa|j until
your last/friend
aeserts/you—
IET Sir Walter Raleigh mel
J low down that powerful
pipe of yours 1 Sir Walter will
do it. It’s a particularly mild and
mellow mixture of excellent
tobaccos. And the tobacco is
wrapped in heavy gold foil to
keep it fresh and fragrant to the
last pipeful in the tin.
TUNE IN on 44The Raleigh Revue4* every
Friday, 10:00 to n:oo p. m. (New York Time)
over the WEAF coaat-to-coest network of N. B. C.
SlIlXX^LTER
Raleigh
It's milder
ta -- -
Auto Tire* in Color
The craze for color has taken the
form of a demand for automobile
tires to match the car. In Great Brit
ain and tm the continent automobile
manufacturers are ottering vehicles
on which the tires match the body of
tiie car perfectly. The claim is made
that the tires tints treated with the
special material designed for the pur
pose are preserved and therefore last
much longer, but the principal object
is the harmonious color effect.
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Li^ht Visible at 100 Miles
A beacon light of such size and
sirengm mat it will be visible for
ItXI miles is to be erected on the
Winnipeg store of the Hudson Cay
company as an aid to aerial night
travel. The light, 200 feet high, will
he the largest airway beacon in Can
ada. It will have 20 per cent greater
Intensity than the beacon tower at
Croydon, England.
Faultfinding strains friendship.
in GOOD?.
Most ailments start frompoorelira- J
ination (constipation or semi-consti- I
pation). Intestinal poisons Bap vital- £
ity, undermine yourhealth nr.d mate £
life miserable. Tonight try ^
NATURE’S REMEOT-ai 1-vegetable g*
corrective—not an ordinary laxative. Jp~*
See how N? ■will nid in restoring your
. appetite and rid you of that heavy,
loggy. pepless feeling.
UUd. ttlr. partly wftUblt — *• drarjhti, ealj tSa
FEEL LIKE A MILLION. TAKE