CATTLE KINGDOM
By ALAN LE MAY
@ Alan Le May
WNU Servica
CHAPTER XI—Continued
—13—
Too much long riding alone—espe
cially when it was mixed up
with the night riders’ long rope—
could do queer things to a man
whose head wasn’t too strong in the
first place. Lon Magoon, half out
law, half sneak-thief, all coyote,
might have turned at last into some
thing which must be destroyed at
sight, without hesitation.
Then he walked to the dead horse
and roughly verified the angle of
the shot; then turned and began to
climb the canyon slope.
“Billy, come back! You can’t—”
“You stay down,” he ordered her
savagely. “Or' by God, I'll tie you
down with my pigging-string!”
It would have been easy then to
walk into gunfire, easy to shoot it
out with an ambushed man. Al
ways keeping his eye on Marian’s
position, he searched those upper
slopes, backward, forward, and
quartering. But what happened to
him was the one hardest thing of
all—to find the broken country emp
ty and silent, with nothing in it to
fight or trail.
In the end he could only go back
to the girl with no result to show,
and no assurance as to what was
ahead. He would not have been sur
prised, when he turned his back on
that emptiness, if a gun had spoken
from a place where no one was,
and brought him down.
“No catchum,” he told Marian.
She had not stayed under cover,
but was sitting on a rock, a little
apart from her dead horse. No use
quarreling with her over that; she
had already proved to him that he
couldn’t control anything she chose
to do. He put himself between her
and the rim. “It’s a long walk
back,” he said morosely. “That’s
my fault. I’m not used to this stuff,
or I wouldn’t have lost my pony.
When I saw your horse drop—I lost
my head, I guess."
“Because it was I,” she said with
an unexpected, deep-striking clarity.
“We’d better get going, I think.”
MVe can’t go on? And get—”
“That must have been the man
We were after, that killed your
horse.”
She drew a deep breath, and stood
up. For a moment she looked all
about her, upward at the high, tow
ering rims. Then suddenly he saw
her sway.
He stepped forward in time to
steady her with his hands on her
arms. And now he found that she
was trembling violently. Her face
was white, making her eyes look
enormous, and very dark. “Billy—
I’m afraid—” She sat down on the
rock again, as if her knees would
not hold her up.
“No more danger, child. It’s all
over, and he’s gone.”
“But who could it be? Why should
he want to—hurt me?”
“I—I don’t know that. I can’t
imagine any living thing wanting to
hurt you. I swear, by la Madre de
Dios!—he’ll pay for it if I live to
find him. Now don’t you be afraid
any more. It’s all over, for now.”
The tears began to roll down her
face, and she hid them with her
hands. Quickly he looked about him,
checking the throw of the land. Then
he lifted her up and led her to a
pocket gully at the foot of the pre
cipitous north slope. When he had
made sure that searching lead could
not reach them here, he got the
blanket from her dead pony, and
spread it for her to rest upon; and
gathered bits of dead brush to build
a tiny fire. “Striking fire kind of
seems like setting up a mark,” he
apologized. “But you’re plenty safe
If you stay close under the rock
split. Now you take it easy. We’ll
rest here an hour or so; then we’U
go back.”
Marion drew up her knees, and hid
her eyes against them. One of her
hands reached out to him uncer
tainly, and he took it. Her fingers
were moist and cold, with a tremor
in them; he warmed them between
his hands, noticing how huge his
hands were made to look by her slim
fingers.
Presently she looked up, shook her
head sharply, and drew away her
hand. “I’m all right now. Did you
ever see such silliness?”
"Rest easy. We’ve got lots of
time.”
The dusk had closed more rapidly
at the last, and little light was left
in the sky; but a moon was rising
behind a high point of rocks, sil
houetting a crag that looked like a
horse’s head.
He noticed how huge it looked, as
moons do when they are low to the
earth. The horse-head crag had a
400-foot profile, but it looked little
against the moon, which was made
to look bigger than a mountain, big
ger than a range.
"You know,” he said, "it’s funny
how badly things work out; never
the way you want them to be. Many
and many a night, lying out in the
hills, watching my fire—like this—
I’ve thought about how it would be,
if you were there. How I’d get you
to like these hills, and the coyotes
talking, and the smell of smoke in
your hair—you know, foolish stuff.”
"I do love the hills,” she said.
tie shook his head. "This isn’t
it. This isn’t right. You ought to
be able to lie by your fire and smell
pine timber. And that crick out
there ought to have water running
in it. You sit and listen to running
water, and pretty soon you get to
hear voices in it; sometimes you
lie awake for hours trying to get
what they say. But what’s more to
the point, there’s likewise trout in
the water. There ought to be a nice
pan of trout frying, here on the
fire.”
“You fit with things like that, you
Know. As if you were made out of
them.”
He said, “A half hour’s rest in
the rocks, with a long, long walk
ahead—this is about as close as peo
ple get to the way they want things,
I suppose.”
“It’s my fault, Billy. If I hadn't
been so stubborn you wouldn't have
lost <your horse; you'd have gone
on through ”
"Shucks, now!”
She was silent, and they sat look
ing into the fire. The smell of au
tumn was cool and clean in the air,
across the dry sage; and the red
gold moon faintly mellowed the chill
of darkness on the gaunt hills, so
that they sat here in unreality, as if
in a dream.
"Some places,” he said, "they call
that a harvest moon; the Indians
call it the hunting moon, and they
used to make smoke-medicines by
it.” '
"What do you call it?”
"Well—sometimes we call it a
coyote moon. Because it puts a
"Well, You See—" She Met His
Eyes Again—"I Win."
kind of singing craze on the coyotes.
They gather around on hill tops,
seems like, and sing their hearts
out, as if it drove them wild crazy,
some way. Listen.”
Far off, so faint a whisper that it
seemed half imagined, they could
hear now a queer high crooning,
full of interwoven yapping and
trilling, like nothing else on earth.
“It sounds,” Marian said, "as if
there were 40 or 50 of them—sitting
somewhere on a mountain in a
£ing.”
“Two," he told her. “They pair
off this time of year.”
“Two,” she repeated. “Then
that’s why there’s something more
than moon madness in that sing
ing.”
He knew that they should be start
ing the long return, but he could not
bring himself to say so. The thing
that had brought them together
again—the disaster to Horse Dunn
and the 94—had nearly run its
course. And he knew that it was
a good thing for him that it had.
Already he had lived under the
same roof with Marian too long
for his own good. He no longer
had any hope that he could forget
her; she would always be in the
back of his mind some place, wait
ing to come real and close to him in
his dreams.
He supposed he would have to I
learn to live with those dreams. To
sit with her now, far out and alone
beside the little fire was itself an
unreal and precious thing, now that
he no longer fought against it. A
quiet peace had come upon this
place; or something as near peace
as he ever knew any more. She
was very near to him, so near that
though their shoulders did not
touch, it seemed to him that he
could feel her warmth; and her
hair, with the firelight in it, was a
warm smoky mist, shot with gold,
clouding his eyes.
They sat for a long time listening
to the faint coyote song and the lit
tle popping of the fire. Once, as
they sat quiet, he heard far off a
thing he did not understand. It was
so distant and so muffled that he
could not at once decide whether it
could have been the fall of a rock
from a high place, or had been the
report of a gun far away up the
canyon, smothered by close walls
and the drift of the air. He glanced
at Marian to see if she had noticed
it, and saw that she had not.
Marian looked at him, the firelight
pooling long shadows under the
lashes of her steady eyes. "I just
thought of something.”
“What was it?”
"This—isn’t it kind of funny?—
this is exactly the situation we were
speaking of the other day.”
He was puzzled. "When was this?"
"In Inspiration.”
For a moment he didn’t get it.
Then it came back to him in a rush
—the blast of sun upon the dusty
street, the atmosphere of silent,
waiting hostility, the groups of
spurred and booted men in door
ways, watching without seeming to
watch; and he had stood talking to
Marian across the door of a car,
not thinking about what was ahead.
“ ‘If you and I were set afoot.’ ”
she quoted, “ ‘some place far off in
the mountains at night, with only
one blanket between us—’ ”
He was resting perfectly still on
one elbow, looking at the fire; but
he could feel her eyes, so near his
face, watching him under her
lashes. And behind her eyes he
supposed she was laughing at him.
“I was right,” she said. “You
didn’t know it then, but you can see
it now. You see—it seems a good
deal different, now that we're really
here."
"Does it?” he said without ex
pression. He got up with a sort
of stiff, slow leisure, for the little
fire was burning low. He went be
yond the fire, squatted on one heel
beside it, and fed it pieces of
stick.
“You see, I know you, Billy.
Sometimes I think I know you better
than I know myself.” Her eyes
wavered and drifted out toward the
low young stars. "I can remember
when I was afraid of you. If we
had been out here then—two years
ago—I would have wanted nothing
so much as to get back among other
people. That’s all gone, now.”
He looked at her. She had never
seemed more lovely, more human,
more elementally desirable than she
looked now, a tired girl in cow
country work clothes, slim and lazy,
relaxed by the little fire as if she
had never known any other resting
place in her life. Her face was
quiet, almost grave; but though
her eyes looked drowsy there was a
little gleam in them that did not
come from the flame in front: a
small provocative glimmer of fire
within, which he had seen in her
eyes only two or three times in
his life—and never before the last
two or three days.
Their eyes met and held, his
steady and masked within, hers
seeming to laugh at him a little,
half veiled by her lashes.
"I said,” she reminded him, "that
if we were—in a situation like this,
there wouldn’t be anything for me
to worry about, nothing at all. And
you said, if I thought that I was a
fool. Well, you see—” she met his
eyes again—“I win.”
Still her eyes held, and he could
not understand why hers did not
drop. "I can’t believe, hardly,” he
said, “that you have any idea what
sort of thing you’re talking about.”
She smiled. “You think I don’t?
That's because western men are
certainly the most conventional peo
ple in the world.”
Suddenly he angered. He had not
brought her here of his own will,
nor set them afoot, nor wished to
rest here with her. He would not
even have been on her range, or
within a day’s ride of it, if her in
terests had not drawn him in and
held him. She had made her de
cisions in regard to him long ago,
and to change them he had spent
his every resource without any ef
fect. And now, at the last—it
amused her to torment him. It
seemed to him that there was a
capricious she-devil in that girl—
perhaps in all women, given op
portunity.
“You see, I know you,” she was
saying again.
The masks behind his eyes
dropped away, and though his face
hardly changed his eyes reddened,
seeming to smoke with an angry
fire that came up behind. She her
self had lighted that fire, long ago.
It was a fire that had driven him re
lentlessly, making him rich; it could
have made him work for her all her
life—or it could break him again,
and drive him up and down the
world. Suddenly he did not know
whether he loved or hated this girl.
"I'll give you the same answer I
gave you in Inspiration.” he said,
his words almost inaudible, even
against the stillness of the night.
“If you think that, you’re a little
fool.”
Still she met his eyes, so long, so
steadily, so knowingly that he won
dered for an instant what was hap
pening, was going to happen, there
under the coyote moon.
Then he saw her face change, so
that she was suddenly pale, and
the unreadable light in her eyes
went out, and she was like a little
girl. Abruptly she pressed her face
hard into her hands.
He made his voice as hard and
cold as the rocks that hung over
them. "Now what?”
She answered in a muffled voice.
"I was wrong—I am afraid. I—I
fail every one ...” She lifted her
head and glanced about her, as if
she were seeing this place for the
first time. A black shape lay be
side the empty dust of the stream,
like a great black bottle overturned
—the carcass of Marian’s dead
horse. Suddenly the girl turned side
ways, and dropped her head in her
arms upon the blanket. She began
to cry, terribly, silently except for
the choke of her breath.
He sat down against a rock andi
waited. The gaunt, dead rock-hillsi
leaned over them sadly c«ld and!
silent, blackened by the twistedl
ghost shapes of the parched brush,
And the coyote moon was pale and
old, no longer golden, but greenish,
like phosphorus rubbed on a dead
and frozen face.
Once she said, "But it’s your
fault, too—that I fail—-your fault at
much as my own.”
His answer was perfectly honest.
"I don’t know what you mean.”
CHAPTER XII
It was impossible for him to sit
waiting for her weeping to stop,
while her slim body shook con
vulsively with her effort to suppress
it, and her breath jerked uncontrol
lably in her throat. Her tumbled
hair made her seem a child; he had
never seen her look so small, so
fragilely made. And he thou; ht he
had never in his life seen anything
so pitifully in need of comforting.
He swore under his breath and
got to his feet.
For a few moments he stood over
her, watching the movement of the
firelight in her hair. He could hard
ly prevent himself from touching
her; almost he stooped and picked
her up in his arms. But he was
telling himself that that was the last
thing she wanted.
He walked out a little way into the
dark, and stood listening to the night
silence. He was still worrying about
the distant muffled sound of concus
sion which he had heard. It seemed
to him now that what he had heard
was unquestionably the sound of a
gun—perhaps a gun fired near the
forgotten miner's shanty at the up
per end of the gulch; but what he
could not imagine was who could
have fired it. He had assumed that
it was Lon Magoon who had killed
Marian’s pony; but now he saw that
something was wrong. If Magoon
had fired upon Marian Dunn and
killed her horse he would not have
gone to the cabin at the head of the
gulch, but would have put long coun
try between himself and them.
Therefore two men, not one, must
be prowling these hills. He thought
of Coffee’s theory that there had
been a third man at Short Crick—
and was worse puzzled than before.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Mustangs of Texas Face Last Round-Up;
Was Ideal Mount of Ranching Industry
It’s the last round-up for the mus
tang of the western range country.
Thoroughbred stock is fast replac
ing the tough, nimble-footed horse
which was the pioneer’s staunchest
ally in creating a ranch empire.
Sharply changed conditions have
minimized the importance of the
horse in the modern live stock indus
try, with the result that the mus
tang — the Southwest's distinctive
breed of horse—is no longer in great
demand.
The vast ranches which once
stretched for miles across the plains,
unfenced and with indefinite bound
aries, have given way to compact
units, the largest seldom more than
a few thousand acres.
These smaller ranches, writes a
Del Rio, Texas, correspondent in the
Cleveland Plain Dealer, with new
methods of stock raising, and the
free use of motor vehicles, have less
need of the durable mustang which
was found to be so inexpensive.
Racing, with its constant call for
blooded stock, has had a strong in
fluence on breeding in the last few
years.
It may be significant that horses
in Texas today are valued at con
siderably more than all the millions
of cattle or sheep in this stock
raising state.
Cattlemen are concentrating o n
thoroughbred stables, breeding fine
horses for racing, polo and show pur
poses. The mustang, a decidedly
"cheap” horse in contrast with the
spirited animal required for these
sports, may eventually suffer the
fate of the buffalo, say some stock
men.
Light and fast on his feet,
equipped by nature to pick his way
over the rockiest hills and through
brushy tangles, the mustang was the
ideal mount in the eariy days of
the ranching industry.
Be Chic This Fall in Fine Lace
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
I ACE, lace lace! Write n
*—' down on your shopping
memoranda as many times as
you wish and then add a post
script in favor of lace, for lace
reaches a new high this season in
the matter of importance. Yes, in
deed, if you are seeking style dis
tinction, the sooner you turn lace
ward the better.
What the style creators of our day
and generation are doing with lace
in the way of daring and ingenious
handling leaves nothing to the imag
ination. For instance, there are the
stunning lace trimmed black sheer
wool dresses that bear the Paris
stamp and carry that "something
different” look which we all covet.
Perhaps it is the sleeves banded
with insertions of fine black Chan
tilly that bespeak a new lace story,
or it may be that befrilled edgings
of Val edging (black or white) im
part a charming and youthful air to
a simple black wool frock for prac
tical daytime wear. The way Val
lace is used for neckline finishings
and for outlining decorative little
pockets, likewise for trimming the
I new blouses is most enchanting.
Another adaptation of lace is in
I insets and appliques of individual
motifs. These are positioned any
where on the dress much after the
manner that gay print motifs were
used on monotone fabric during the
past summer. While these insets,
which are apt to be bowknot or bou
quet cutouts, adorn evening gowns
for the most part yet some design
ers work them discreetly and most
attractively into daytime wools and
other fabrics. This fuqpre over lace
has also resulted in the revival of
the dress with a deep lace yoke and
sleeves. Leading couturiers are
showing some lovely models of this
type.
The biggest thrill, however, comes
in the acceptance of lace used in
a fabric way. The idea, to be sure,
is not new for its practicality has
been demonstrated without question
during the last several seasons. Nor
has the advent of fall and prospect
of winter retarded the movement to
use lace as one would any material
for the making of practical cla>
dresses and the blouse to wear with
your autumn wool suit. On the
contrary we have come to realize
and appreciate that a handsome
lace dress tailored to utmost sim
plicity is not only good looking and
practical but being lace it flatters
and “does something” for you as
none other but lace can do.
You’ll love a dress like the one
shown to the right in the illustration
to wear this fall and winter under
your furred cloth or all-fur coat.
Just try out the idea and see how
practically and logically this theory
of lace for the daytime frock works
out. This tailored frock of black
lace over a black slip fits ideally in
to the mood for simple elegance
that dominates the new fashions.
It is an almost classic style accent
ing the slenderizing lines that are a
fashion “must” this season. The
zipper fastening from neckline to
hemline is the piece de resistance,
giving the gold touch that glorifies
black this season throughout the
mode. Speaking of this fastening,
most everything, dress, coat, blouse,
bag and girdle, is decoratively at
the same time practically and con
veniently zippered this season.
If in doubt as to the new blouse
to wear with your autumn suit, let
lace, either handsome wool lace or
the now-so-modish macrame or
some equally as sturdy type, solve
your problem. In a noted Paris
collection showing new clothes for
fall, Martial et Armand presented
the black crepe suit with silver fox
which we are showing to the left in
the picture. The most outstanding
thing about the ensemble is the com
bination of lace with crepe. Lace is
also being combined with many oth
er fabrics in the fall showings of
eminent French designers. In this
case the blouse is of china-blue lace
with interesting neck treatment. A
black belt accents the color con
trast.
© Western Newspaper Union.
HER STARLET BAG
By C HERIE NICHOLAS
The movies have a great deal to
do with the modern trend in child
thought, and when a child sees her
favorite star carrying a smart little
handbag, as little girls in filmland
are wont to do, she wants one too.
To satisfy this longing a well-known
designer is creating miniature rep
licas of "grown-up” handbags for
aspiring starlets. You can see by
the picture that a "starlet” bag car
ries with it just such movie glamor
as delights the heart of any and
eveiy little girl.
WOODEN TRIMMINGS
FOR FALL COSTUMES
Novelty wooden buttons adorn
many of the newest sports frocks
while handsomely carved wooden
clips, pins and buckles are also fea
tured as trimmings. Polished
themes are noted with the real grain
of the wood brought out as well as
though an antique cabinet maker
had been working on it. Plaids,
cut-out leaf and flower motifs and
many other themes also are intro
duced.
Belts made entirely of wooden
pieces hinged together or of wood in
alliance with metal chains are dec
orative assets to suits as well as
dresses while the same ideas are re
peated in the designing of necklaces
and bracelets.
Pouch Bags Fashionable as
an Accessory for Autumn
Pouch bags are back in style for
fall and are shown in soft dull leath
er broader at the base than at the
top. Fashioned with round or rec
tangular caps that fit over the open
ing of the bag. when it is opened the
sides may be spread out so that the
contents may be found easily.
Silky antelopes with severe gold
and silver trim are the loveliest of
afternoon bags.
Tweed Skirt
A tweed skirt which has at least
one contrasting panel to match the
shade of sweaters with which the
skirt is worn is a novelty in campus
clothes.
Radio Waves
The longest time that has ever
elapsed between the sending and
receiving of a radio signal is four
minutes and twenty seconds. If,
as it is said, radio waves have a
velocity of 186,000 miles a second,
this particular signal may have
traveled 48,360,000 miles, or a dis
tance equivalent to almost 2,000
trips around the earth.—Collier’s
Weekly.
CARRY YOUR
ALKALIZER
WITH YOU
\ IF OVER-EATING
CAUSES ACID
f INDIGESTION—
i
—HERE'S THE
SENSIBLE THING
TO DO
A #4
The fastest way to “alkalize? is to
carry your alkaliztr with you.
That’s what thousands do now
that genuine Phillips’ comes in
tiny, peppermint flavored tablets
— in a flat tin for pocket or purse.
Then you are always ready.
Use it this way. Take 2 Phillips*
tablets — equal in “alkalizing”
effect to 2 tcaspoonfuls of liquid
Phillips’ from the bottle. At once
you feel “gas,” nausea, “over
crowding” from hyper-acidity be
gin to case. “Acid headaches,”
r’acid breath,” over-acid stomach
arc corrected at the source. This
is the quick way to ease your own
distress — avoid offense to others.
Safe Pleasant Way
To Lose Fat
How would you like to lose 15
pounds of fat in a month and at the
same time increase your energy and
Improve your health?
How would you like to lose your
double chin and your too prominent
hips and at the same time make your
skm so clean and clear that it will
compel admiration?
How would you like to get your
weight down to normal and at the
same time develop that urge for ac
tivity that makes work a pleasure
and also gain in ambition and keen
ness of mind?
Get on the scales today and see how
much you weigh—then get a bottle of
Kruschen Salts which will last you for 4
weeks and costs but a trifle. Take one-half
teaspoonful every morning—modify your
diet—get a little regular gentle exercise—
and when you have finished the contents
of this first bottle weigh yourself again.
Now you will know the pleasant way to
lose unsightly fat and you’ll also know
that the 6 salts of Kruschen have present
ed you with glorious health.
Dut be sure for your health's sake that
you ask for and get Kruschen Salts. Get
them at any drugstore in the world and
If the results one bottle brings do not de
light you—do not Joyfully satisfy you—
why money back.
HOW OFTEN
CAN YOU KISS AND
MAKE UP?
FEW husbands can understand
why a wifo should turn from a
pleasant companion into a shrew
for ono whole week in every month.
You can say "I’m sorry” and
kiss and make up easier before
marriago titan after. If you're wire
and if you want to hold your hus
band. you won’t be a three-quarter
wife.
For three generations one woman
has told another how to go “smil
ing through” with Lydia E. I’ink
ham’s Vegetable Compound. It
helps Nature tone up the system,
thus lessening the discomforts from
the functional disorders which
women must endure in the throe
ordeals of life: 1. Turning from
girlhood to womanhood. 2. Pre
paring for motherhood. 3. Ap
proacliing “middle age."
Don't be a three-quarter wife,
tako LYDIA E. PINKHAM’S
VEGETABLE COMPOUND and
Go “smiling Through.”
To Get Rid of Acid
and Poisonous Waste
Your kidneys help to keep you well
by constantly filtering waste matter
from the blood. If your kidneys get
functionally disordered and fail to
remove excess impurities, there may be
poisoning of the whole system and
body-wide distress.
Burning, scanty or too frequent uri
nation may be a warning of some kidney
or bladder disturbance.
You may suffer nagging backache,
persistent headache, attacks of dizziness,
getting up nights, swelling, puffinesa
under the eyes—feel weak, nervous,' all
played out.
In such cases it Is better to rely on a
medicine that has won country-wide
acclaim than on something less favor
ably known. Use Doan's Pills. A multi
tude of grateful people recommend
Doan's. Ask your neiohborl