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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 31, 1935)
Harold Titus* W M.O ift a vi ct. SYNOPSIS Ben Elliott—from "yonder"— makes his entry into the lumbering town of Tincup. He has brought along an old man, Don Stuart, who had been eager to reach Tincup. CHAPTER I—Continued —2— Watchers felt their middles ach ing as they followed those straining contestants. Again the Bull sought to strike Elliott’s extended hand and missed by incites. Ills left hand raised Jerkily, up ami tip. His body tilted. His great torso was twisting, wrenching at the hips, and, seeing this, Elliott leaped high, came dowrn running, sent water sloshing back and forth the length of the stick until with a throaty cry of rage and humiliation, of hatred and jealousy, the great Bull, missing a stride, went sideways and backward, disappeared beneath the surface of the pond with a mighty splash and came up blowing and shaking his black thatched head. Hats went Into the air, then, along with yips and yells and en thusiastic oaths as Ben Elliott, panting heavily, brought the log to a stop and, hands on his knees, stood blowing and grinning and watched the man whose title he had taken swim for the broom sticks. The Bull slnnk quickly toward the boiler room of the mill, water streaming from his pants and sleeves. The pond man threw out his pike pole and brought the cedar log to shore and there Blrney, the announcer and master of ceremo nies. greeted Elliott with a clap on the back and, with the other hand, thrust a roll of currency at him. “Here’s your money ni 1 you sure deserve It !* he cried, close In Ben’s -ear to make himself heard. “You’d ®ot It on a foul, anyhow!” Others surged around the victor and Elliott accepted this homage modestly. “Luck!” he said to one enthusi astic well-wisher. “I got the breaks 1n luck.” “Luck be domned!" shrilled Bird Eye. “I’ll lick any mon are me own ■old or me heavy who says 'twas luck! Yon got stuff, me b’y; you igot guts!” “Thanks, chum!” Elliott laughed. ■“I hope you don’t find me out I” He shouldered his way slowly to bis pack-sack and. surrounded by his admirers, with Bird-Eye In the fore, changed to his shoes again. He looked about for Don Stuart, •craning his neck to see over the crowd which was new moving np toward Tincnp’s main thoroughfare. “Who ye want?” Bird Eye asked “Owld Ponny?” “Yeah. Stuart The old duffer’s •broke, on top of being sick, and I -want to look out for him.” A mnn at his elbow said cau tiously : “I’m afeerd old Don won’t do much visitin’ in Tlncup." Bird-Eye turned to him Inquiringly and the man nodded. “Brandon. He found him here while th’ birlin’ was goin’ on. He’s llfeely made ether arrange ments.” “Th’ dirty stinker!” Bird-Eye said beneath his breath. “So he’s drivin’ him ont already, Is he? Well, th’ ,ow down—” “Who’s driving who out?" Elliott asked. “Mist her Brandon. Ainencky xnolght he a free country but Tin cop ain’t In it. thin. Owld Donny ain’t welcome here ’nd ’t’s likely he's got his orders to move on.” Elliott hitched his pack-sack a bit higher. “What’s this? Orders? What’s wrong with him? Seemed like a harmless old gaffer to me. Bent on coming to Tincup, too; wanted It like a little kid wants candy. Got my goat. . . . Who’s going to run him cfT’” Bird Eye had hopped nimbly to a log from which point lie could see across bobbing heads. “Ah-ha!” he exclaimed. "Sure. It’s Mist tier Brandon liisseli who’s a-mnnin’ owld Donny off!” Elliott craned his neck and could see, half-way to the depot, twc men on the sidewalk. One was his com panion in travel earlier that day; the other a man he had not seen be fore. The latter had Dun Stuart by one arm hut that contact was not the friendly assistance which Ben had offered the old fellow. As El liott looked, the feeble old man tried to draw away, but the other was Insistent, scarcely hesitated in his progress toward the station. "Train west’s due now,” Bird-Eye said. “Sure, *nd pore owld Donny, h^’ll be a passenger. It's a cryin’ shame, kapln’ him away from Tin cap so!’ Elliott started forward, Bird-Eye at his heels, crossing the street, leaping to ttie high board sidewalk and swinging on. He overtook the two he followed Just in time to hear Stuart gasp: “—ain't long to . . . live, Nick. I’d like . . . stay here. . . . Ain’t pleasant to . . . he sick and not . . . among friends.” "Never mind.” the other said as one might to a protesting child. "I’ve told you any number of times to stay away.” On this reply Elliott moved abreast of the man. "Hello, old timer?' he said, ad dressing Stuart. “Going some place?” ne did not look at the man said to be Nicholas brandon. Ills man ner en the question w as almost cas ual. “Oh . . . hello.” Dan panted. “I . . . Mister braiubm, here . . . won't let me . . . stay.” Then Elliott looked at brandon. A man of undetermined age; not old. neither young. Powerfully built, with a peculiarly white face and eyes as black as night. These eyes bored Into Elliott’s now, keen ly, Intelligently, with the look of a man who is accustomed to gauging others without delay or hesitation. "Oh, this man doesn't want you to stay!” ben said softly. And then with a smile, to brandon: “l sort of took the old timer under my wing today. He wants to stay here quite badly. Pll look after him.” “There’s no place for him here,” Brandon said positively. “Come, Stuart, it’s almost train time.” He twitched at the old man’s arm but Ben broke In, brow wrinkled as If he wanted to handle a perplexing matter fairly. “Well, now, say! No place? Sup pose a place was made for him a few days? I’d sort of planned on that There’s a hotel here, and I’d be willing to—* "I don't know you,” brandon In terrupted and Irritability crept Into his voice. "I’ve never even seen you. I’ve known this man for years. He’s an old employee of mine. This is my affair. I never hnve others, especially strangers, meddling.” A low whisper came from Stuart and Ben rubbed his chin with one knuckle. "Yeah. I am butting In, 1 guess. But . . . You see, the old timer told me a little about himself. He’s been lonesome a long time, I take It He's not what you’d call in ro bust health. 1 figure that if I was In his shape I’d like to be with a few old friends myself and If—” In the distance a train whistled and on the sound Brandon's eyes snapped. “I’ve no time to argue my affairs,” he said sharply. “Come, Stuart” "But, Nick! See . . here, With a Sharp Oath Brandon Went Down Into the Half-Thawed Mire of the Street. Nick . . I'll never get back . . . again. It’s lonesome, bein’ sick . alone, where you can’t . . Nick! You’re . . hurt ing my wrist!” He winced from the grasp and on that tfie last shadow of a smile went out of Ben Elliott’s face. He put himself squarely before Brandon. “Let him go," he said quietly, hut his look drove hard into those black eyes. The man hesitated and Hushed. “If you -iren't looking for trouble.” he said, voice edged with wrath, “you’ll keep out of this!" “Fair enough. But unless you've got a better reason than I know about, lei the old timer alone! Let go of his wrist!” he added sharply, as Stuart winced again. “I’ll thar.U you to keep out of—" “Let—go—his—wrist, you d—d bully 1” He had grasped Brandon’s fore arm with both hands, letting his pack slip to the sidewalk. The clutch on Don Stuart's arm loosened. With a snarl Brandon drew back and swung for Ben's jnw. Elliott ducked, swayed forward and bend ing his supple body caught Bran don about the middle, drove his head into the mnn’a chest, raised a knee to his groin, lifted him from his feet, swung, shoved and flung him free. With a sharp oath Brandon went down in the half-thawed mire of the street, sprawling ignomlnlously on his bnck. Well, new! That was something else again. Men hnd been coming, edging cautiously near during the brief argument between Elliott and Nicholas Brandon. But when Bran don. the man who ruled Tlncup and Its county, was seen lifted from his feet and tossed Ignomlnlously Into the mud, trampled by its horses, stirred by the wheels of his wagons and tractors, the street which led through the town, to his mill . . . Well, then they came a-run ning! Bird-Eye cackled an Impudent laugh and turned to watch the faces of the vanguard who came to see their Uige lord, sprawled In the mud there, scramble to his feet. Their voices were raised In incredulity. In two decades and more no man save Bird-Eye Blaine had dared lift even his voice in Tincup in other than respect for Nicholas Brandon. And now this stranger had picked him up and thrown him away! But Brandon was up, lurching for the sidewalk where Ben Elliott stood, legs spread, fists clenched hut witli good humor repossessed and grinning ns lie had grinned at Bull Duval; grinning as a man will who loves combat for its own sake arid not at all as one who fights in red rage. However his smile faded and ids Jnw settled ns Brandon uplifted Ills face In that rush. Murder was there, in the black eyes, in the loose hanging of the lower lip. In the purple flush of his cheeks. Mur der, and no less. As quickly as that homicidal look had come, it passed. Something like fear swept those eyes, driving it away. Not fear of this encounter, Ben knew; not fear of a stronger, younger man. Some thing else again; something entire ly different. It was the sort of fear that comes from within; the kind of fear a man has for his own irn nu I sites. Brandon halted abruptly. His fists relaxed Into hands and with one of them he brushed rather aim lessly at mud on his sleeve. A dozen men were close, then, holding back, watching, waiting, listening. Others were coming. And as Brandon hnlted, looking up into Elliott’s face and evidently fighting for seif-control, one of these new arrivals pushed to the front and came up importantly. “What's the matter, Mr. Bran don?” he asked sharply, with the manner of one ready to render serv ice. Brandon did not reply at once. He settled his coat on his shoul ders. “Sheriff, arrest this young man Immediately," he snid then. “I'll swear to a complaint of assault and battery myself.” A sigh of relief, of disappoint ment, of taxing tension, or of all these combined, went up from the growing group. The sheriff turned to Elliott and touched his arm sig nificantly. “You’d better come along, Elli ott,” he said. “You took in too much territory.” Ben looked 'about almost fool ishly. He was embarrassed and sur prised. He had expected a rough and-tumble fight in what he con sidered a righteous cause and sure ly he was the sort who would nave heen on familiar ground in such an encounter. But here he was. with a sheriff plucking at bis sleeve 1 He laughed a bit sheepishly. “All right. Sheriff. If it’s arrest ing you run to here in Tincup, likely I’m it!” He turned for hts pack-sack and as he did so observed old Don Stuart sitting weakly on the step of the vacant store building before which the scene had been enacted. He was obviously a sick man and trouble clouded Elliott’s eyes. “Minute, Sheriff.” he said and crossed to Don. thrusting one hand into a [innts pocket. "Here, old timer," he said gent ly. The hand came out and into Stuart’s palm he pressed a thin packet of bills and some change. “(Jet one of your old buddies . . . Here you!”—straightening and beckoning Bird-Eye, who ap proached with alacrity. “(Jet the old timer to a hotel Belter get a dec tor, too. lie's heeled enough to take care of himself a few days. After that . . . we'll see.” He turned then and fastened a se vere gaze on Brandon. "And you. chum, let him alone!" tie warned. “Until a doctor says he can travel, you watch your step wit., him!" But Brundon ignored this. lie was buttoning his coat, pushing his way through the group, whi.’h fell aside respectfully. "All right, Sheri IT," said Ben to that worthy. "lad's go!” CHAPTER II A BI.E ABMITAGE, Justice of the ** peace In Tlneup, looked over Ins spectacles into the face of the prisoner before him and a twinkle appeared in his keen blue eyes. He asked: “Now, young man, you're charged i with assault and battery on the per son of Nicholas Brandon. Are yon guilty t" From the rear windows of his cluttered little office, Able had watched young Ben Elliott emerge from the status of a complete stranger to the populace to that of Its latest hero by sending Mr. Bull Duval to a damp and Ignomini ous finish In the log blrllng. After that he picked up an old clarinet and commenced to play a halting, aimless and not comp etely musical tune. Ue was so occupied either with the musical performance or with hla thoughts that he did not hear the tramp of many feet on the walk outside and was unaware that he was about to be called on to func tion In an official capacity. When the door opened, though, and Bon Elliott. Hlckens, the sheriff, and Nicholas Brandon, followed. It seemed, by the total male popula tion of the county, surged through the doorway, the clarinet’s squawk ing leaped Into a shrill squeal and died away. The Judge’s feet dropped to the floor and he swung hla chair to face the entrance. The sheriff stnted his errand, the complaint was drawn. Nicholas Bran don affixed his signature and then for the ffrst time Able looked close ly Into the face of the defendant. It was a long and searching look and was met steadily hy a pair of clear steel-grny eyes. "Are you guilty or not?” Able re peated and Ben Elliott who had stood at ease before him. slouch hat In his great brown hands, gave his head n grave twist “Well, If pitching a tnan off the "Guilty, Eh?" sidewalk into the mud is called as sault and battery in Tincup, then I’m about a hundred per cent guilty," he said. A stir in the room followed that and Able frowned, a convincingly Judicial frown. "Guilty, eh?" He cleared his throat at length. “Now how about this disruption of the peace, any how?" The sheriff spoke. “You see, Able, ’twas this way. Mr.—'* “Now, Just a minute. Art. This accused has pleaded guilty, as I un derstand it. I don’t see any need of anybody else saying anything. He's thrown himself on the mercy of the court, you might say, and it’s regular and proper and according to the spirit of the statute that*I ques tion him before passing sentence.” The sheriff sniffed and subsided Clearly, there was little friendship between him and the Justice. “Now, Mr. ...” Able glanced at the complaint again. “Mr. Hen Elliott, how come that you go about the country tossing reputable citi zens Into the mud?” “Why, he was trying to make a friend of mine do something he didn’t want to do. That’s all. I butted in, I guess; he got hard and so,"—shrug—“I lost my head for a minute and put him In his place.” “In the mud. you mean." “Yeah, in the mud.” "Well, go on; go on. Go back to the beginning. I want to know all about this affair.” Elliott drew a long breath. "1 started for Tincup several (lays ago. I was a long ways off. over In Minnesota. This morning I got down to the Junction west of here and while I waited for my train got talking to this old timer. Don Stuart, who was In the station. May be you know him. Judge. Other folks here do." Able blinked twice; hard. "The old fellow Is about all In. I’d say. He's got It into his head that he’s about to die and probably his guess Isn’t such a had one. Seems this used to be his stamping ground, that lie's been away a long time and that he’d started back to finish his days here where he could see some old friends. He went broke on the way and was Just sit ting there this morning waiting for something to happen. I happened. I wasn't any too well heeled my self, but I had enough for Ids ticket so I brought him along. "As luck would have It. I got a chance to pick up a few dollars of Tincup money as soon as we got In and I bad to have it, with the old timer on my bands. While 1 was busy getting this cash this man Brandon evidently saw my buddy and started rushing him back to the depot to tnke the next train back to where be came from. I didn’t like that so well. I tried to talk him out of It hut Mr. Brandon Isn’t a greater talker. That** all. . . . Here I am I" (TO BE CONTINUED.} Thirty Years By JEWELL H. MOGFORD A. McClure Newspaper Syndicate. WNU Service. D LACING bis watch on his desk * In front of him, Kenneth Rowell picked up the gun. With his free bund he pulled his evening coat back and with cnlm, calculating movement, placed the muzzle over his heart. His handsome young face was set and colorless, his line body tense. He looked at the watch. In the soft light of the shaded gas Jet the minute hand marked five minutes to eleven. Five minutes to wait He relaxed slightly. He must pull the trigger at exactly eleven. That had been Kathleen's last caution an hour ago as they stood on the little bal cony of the country club. "We must go together, darling— at the same Instant." He could hear again the half-sob with her whispered words ns her small head nestled against Ills shoulder. He hud held her close—the first time he had ever taken her in Ills arms, for, young as she was, she was another man's wife. "1 shall not see him again," Kath leen had said, after a moment “I’ll leave a note on his desk." lie did not like to think of Chuunce.v Grimes. Yet, they were taking the only way out, tie and Kathleen. He held the gun ngnlust his heart again. Three minutes now. "We must both tie sure of the time," she had cautioned ngnin, “and very careful." He had known in the silliness that followed that she was trying to hanlsh the fear j of a possible slip in their plans. ■ “For I could never liear being with out you, darling, no matter where." He forced his mind to register the time. One more minute. In voluntarily he turned the gun and looked Into the muzzle. The cold ugliness or its startled him. Kath-! leen, at this moment, too, must he frightened. I?ut In a few Hecomls now a bullet—vainly he tried to force hack this thought—a bullet j would go tearing through her soft tlesh—and his own. The minute hand again. It plain ly marked eleven-three I Frantically he reached the wall telephone and turned the crank. Then, at lust, the Grimes’ butler, excitedly: “Mrs. Grimes? She’s gonel Came | back from the club, must have gone out again by the slue door . . . husband frantic, just found a note on his desk . . . suicide, yes, at exactly eleven, the note said, but didn’t say where . . . gun gone, too . . The scattered words, each a definite flame, burnt into his brain. Too late! She had gone alone 1 • • * On the boat bound for the Orient Kenneth Howell knew little peace. The waves swishing against the sides of the vessel shrieked Kath leen's last words to him, “I couldn't bear being without you, dnrllng, no matter where.” The throb of the engine groaned them, the wind hissed them. He had failed her, had let tier go alone Into that vast unknown. It was the same everywhere he went. Itunning from his con science, he traveled for five mis erable years, from country to coun try, but never back to America. Finally, in Honduras, his money gone, he worked on a coffee plan tation, a common laborer. Always that Insistent cry; never away from It Thirty years passed. He returned, a stowaway, to America. Stooped, a ragged man, old beyond his years, he mo^ed like a forlorn spirit across the soft sward In front of the country club —the old building, enlarged. lie stood beside a shrub under the same little balcony, the same moon, the same soft breeze. The orches tra wns playing a sweet, gliding waltz. They had danced to that same tune thirty years ago, he and Kathleen. He took a step Into deeper shad ow as a womnn, followed by a boy, came out. He saw her distinctly as she stepped through the lighted french doors, the large puffs of her silken sleeves, her blond curls. Holding tight to his senses, he told himself that this was no ghostly apparition He reminded himself that American papers had said much of late about woman’s return to the fashions of the ItOs. She was heavier, with curves more ample, older, of course. Then he saw that she wns smoking a cigarette. “Hut Kay,’’ the boy wns saying, "I’ll die if you don't leave old <Jrlmesy and marry me I I’ll—I’ll kill myself!" “Don’t try it, svveetums," she an swered in a heavy rontrnlto voice, hut with something of the old sweetness. "1 tried It once. Thought I couldn't live without a certain man. Left the usunl note on (Jrimes.v’s desk, find the gun ready and everything. Hut. well—I caught a last minute boat to Calais In stead.” “Hut Grlmesy. how did he know?’1 the boy asked breathlessly. “Oh, I sent a messenger with an other note from the boat." She lighted one cigarette with the stub of another. Then. Inhaling a long draft, she said languidly: “No, I need you too much. I really couldn’t bear being without you, darling 1" Give Thought to Abnormal Child Neglecting and Spoiling Are Both Extremes to Be Avoided. Depending on what kind of par ents they have, handicapped children are classified into three groups by Dr. John Ituhrah, author of "The i’urent and the iiandicupped Child," In ilygela Magazine. The crippled child may be neglected, or he may be spoiled, or he may be treated sensibly and correctly. The parents of the neglected child will feel outraged that such a thing us a handicapped child has been wished on them. They are liable to worif a bit and then they shut the child out of their lives und emotions us far as possible and feel no respon sibility for his preparation for life. The second set of parents make pity, of themselves and of the child, the biggest stumbling block In the way of educating tho child. If the parent pities the child, the child will pity himself Instead of making the best of his condition. The child Is allowed to become spoiled, irritnble, exacting wanting everything his own way and doing nothing for himself. There Is the third set of parents who nre quick to realize that they have a problem on their hands, and they set about learning how best to solve It. The child must be taught first thut he Is to behave as other children do as far as he Is able, tak ing into consideration his handicap. The child can be taught independ ence If the parent finds out what the child can do for himself and what he cannot do, and then does only what Is necessary. Children like to do things for themselves and It is one way they learn not only to do things, but to be independent. This also applies to teaching the child to make decisions for himself. Children who are never allowed to decide things for themselves grow up Into men and women who have a hard time, and no one needs self-confi dence and independence more than I he handicapped person. Idleness is bad nnd makes children unhappy. The handicapped child should be kept occupied with games and hobbles In which he Is interest ed, but there should be n careful steering between overexertion nnd underexertion. All physically hnndl cnpped children reed extra rest, which should be a part of the dally routine. Too much exercise Is worse thnn none. DROUTH BLAMED ON RECESSION OF ICE FIELDS A theory that changes In climate conditions which have brought drouths to western (anada and parts of the United States may be caused by the recession of glaciers in the Canadian Northwest and Alas ka Is being studied by a committee of the British Association for the Advancement of Science under the secretaryship of Moses B. Cotsworth of Vancouver and Condon. The scientists have found that the warm winds of the Pacific ure not only demolishing great Ice sheets In this district but are hollowing out a path ucross northern Canada on their way cast. Formerly they were diverted by Ice fields In the North and pnssed through southern British Columbia to drop their moisture In rain on the Canadian nnd United States prairies. Now with less ice each year In the North nnd no mountains to precipi tate their moisture, the winds reach the 9,000-foot Ice cap of Greenland The chnnge, Mr. Cotsworth says, seems to be mnklng Alaska warmer and Greenland colder. Meanwhile, the Greenland ice cap has grown Immensely. It Is esti mated to be sufficient to cover North America with a layer of Ice 80 feet thick. Gravitational weight seems to be very gradually exerting a tend oncy to move the earth's crust around its central core of the heav iest metals. Theue changes, Mr. Cotsworth suggests, may prove help ful In the detection of further cli matic changes. Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets are the orig inal little liver pills put up 80 years ago. They regulate liver and bowels.—Aav. Keep Busy No greater crime than loss of time. —Exchange. 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