By~alan le. may
INSTALLMENT 15
THE STORY SO FAR:
Dusty King and Lew Gordon had bulH
bp a vast string of ranches. King was
killed by his powerful and unscrupulous
competitor. Ben Thorpe. Bill Roper.
King's adopted son, was determined to
avenge his death in spite of the opposl
> «
tlon of his sweetheart. Jody Gordon,
and her father. After breaking Thorpe
in Texas, Roper conducted a great raid
upon Thorpe's vast herds in Montana.
Unable to reconcile her father with Rop
er. Jody set out with Shoshone Wilce to
• •
find him. They were attacked by 10m*
of Thorpe'* men hiding In Roper'* (hack.
Wilce escaped, but Jody was captured.
Roper was looking for Jody when he ac
cidentally met Wilce. Together they pre
pared to rescue her.
• e
CHAPTER XX—Continued
Bill glanced at Shoshone to make
Bure that the man was at his el
bow; thgn, his gun out, he flung
wide the door. The slab door re
sisted, wedged in the ice of the sill;
then shuddered open with a noisy
violence.
Roper stepped in with a sidewise
step that at once made room for
Shoshone and brought Roper within
the wall, clear of a possible shot
from behind him in the dark.
“Don’t anybody move!”
The uncertain and flickering light
of the little fire seemed to fill the
room with ample light, compared
to the heavy darkness without. A
man who sat upon a keg by the
fire sprang up, his clawed hand
reaching out to a gunbelt that lay
upon the crude table; but the reach
ing hand rose empty in a continuous
motion as the man put up his hand.
Three crude bunks ranged along the
rear wall. From the first of these,
the one nearest the fire, a man
came out with his hands up; one of
his arms was heavily bandaged, and
its upward motion carried its sling
with it.
Now Shoshone, whose heel had
kicked the door shut behind him as
he came in, made a headlong dive
into the second of the three bunks.
In that instant the thing happened
that Roper most dreaded, so that in
a single split fraction of a second
their chances were irrevocably hurt.
As Shoshone Wilce sprang, a gun
smashed out from within the shad
owy bunk. The blast of its explo
sion was magnified in the close quar
ters, leaving the ears ringing in the
instant of stunned silence that fol
lowed.
The barrel of Shoshone’s .45 had
crashed upon the skull of the man in
the bunk almost in the same in
stant that the shot was fired. A
lean hand, gripping a six-gun,
dropped out over the side of the
bunk, relaxed slowly, and the six
gun slid to the floor from long, dan
gling fingers. Shoshone Wilce held
absolutely motionless for a moment,
half crouched, then straightened
slowly.
“Shoshone—you hit?”
“It’s only—” Shoshone began. His
face was ghastly and his voice qua
vered; but when he had fully
straightened it steadied again into
the same dead flatness as before.
"It’s only—a kind of scratch along
the ribs. I’m all right.”
"Jody! Jody, is it you?”
Jody Gordon had been curled up
in the corner of deepest shadows.
She stood up now, white-faced, her
movements uncertain. Then sud
denly the firelight caught the glint
of the instant tears which over
brimmed her eyes.
“Bill! I thought they’d kill you!”
She flung her arms about his neck
and with the swift impulse of a child,
kissed his mouth.
The man nearest the table made
a sidelong movement toward the hol
stered gun that lay there; Bill Roper
smashed a shot into the wall beside
him, and the man jerked backward.
“Shoshone, can you ride?”
There was a curious strain in the
flatness of Shoshone’s voice. “I’m
okay, I tell you.”
Bill Roper caught up a sheepskin
coat with his free hand, and flung
it over Jody’s shoulders. “Get
gone!” he snapped. “Shoot free the
ponies’ tie-ropes, and ride like hell!
Here—take this!” He thrust the gun
belt from the table into Jody’s un
ready hands. “I’ll see you—where
I said.”
“Bill," said Shoshone, “if it’s the
same to you, I’d rather hold them
here while you ride with her.”
“Get gone, I said! You—”
“Bill, I tell you, I—”
Bill Roper bellowed at him, “You
want to die?”
“Okay,” Shoshone said, in that
same strained, lifeless tone. He
seized Jody’s wrist, tore open the
door with the hand that still held his
gun, and was gone into the dark.
When they were gone Bill Roper
stood listening. Outside two shots
rang, a moment apcrt, as Shoshone
shot the tied ponies free; then sound
ed a swift crackle of the ice crust
under their hoofs as two horses gal
loped down-valley, and Roper knew
that Shoshone and Jody Gordon were
on their way.
Bill Roper estimated that he had
a few seconds left. Unhurriedly, al
most leisurely, he picked up the
gun dropped by the man in the
bunk, and thrust it in his own belt.
After that he collected three or four
other weapons in a brief search that
seemed perfunctory, yet was effec
tive because of his own practiced
knowledge of where a range rider is
ape to put his gun. These he kicked
into a little heap beside the door,
so that he would know where they
were.
The man with the wounded arm
spoke thickly. “You’ll never get out
of here alive,” he told Roper.
“I wouldn’t worry about that, was
I you,” Roper said. He slammed
another harmless shot over the
speaker’s head, interestingly close
to the man’c scalp. He needed a
continued sound of action at the
cabin to draw the outposts in, so
that Shoshone and Jody Gordon
would have their chance to get clear.
After that a full minute passed
and stretched to a minute and a
half. Evidently the outposts had
been farther away from the cabin
than Shoshone had calculated; but
Roper heard none of them fire.
He thought, "If I can keep them in
terested just ten minutes more—”
Now a furiously ridden horse was
coming up. Roper flattened him
self against the wall beside the open
door, and waited until he heard the
man drop from his pony just out
side. He stepped to the door, fired
once; and a man crashed face down
ward upon the door sill itself to lie
utterly motionless.
With his boot Roper pushed the
inert heap off the door sill, so that
the door might be closed at need.
Because there were only two more
shots in his gun, he picked up one
of the weapons he had collected,
and checked its loading.
“I’d stand real still if I was you,"
he warned the two who stood with
their hands up. He fired one more
shot between them, for purposes of
general discipline. “I ought to kill
you; maybe I will in a minute—
haven’t decided yet.”
Now another horse was coming in
fast; in another second or two it
“I’d stand real still if I was you.”
would string into view around the
corner of the cabin.
Roper cast a quick glance to see
that his captives were where he
thought they were. They had not
moved. He dropped to one knee
beside the door and fired twice
quickly as a shape, dark on dark
ness, whirled around the corner of
the cabin.
That was all—the end of the one
man war he had started to cover
the retreat of Shoshone. He never
remembered the shock of the blow
that downed him. All conscious
ness ended at once, as sharply as
if cut off with a knife.
He never knew which of the two
men behind him sprang forward to
smash him down; but he knew as
soon as he knew anything at all,
that a long time had passed—more
time than he could afford to lose.
CHAPTER XXI
Nobody but an old range rider
could have located in the dark the
brush corral where Shoshone Wilce
and Jody Gordon were supposed to
wait for Bill Roper. What would
have been a simple problem by day
light, in darkness became a test of
scouting ability and cowman’s in
stinct. Yet somehow, by the throw
of the land, and by his deep knowl
edge of the habits of thought of cow
men, Shoshone Wilce nosed out that
circular corral of brush, in a dark
ness so thick that he was uncertain
he had found the landmark until he
had touched it with his hands.
A faint line of grey was already
appearing on the rim of the world,
and a whisky-jack was calling rauc
ously somewhere in the scrub pine.
“It’s almost daylight already,”
Jody Gordon said, fear in her voice.
“If he doesn’t come soon—if he
doesn't come—”
She broke off, unable to go on.
“Half an hour,” Shoshone Wilce
said. “We’ll wait half an hour.”
“And then—?”
“We’ve got to go on.”
“I can’t! Not if he doesn’t come.
We’ll have to go back. We’ll have
to try—”
“He said go on. We have to ds
like he said.” Shoshone’s voice
dropped to a curious fierce whisper.
“Whatever happens—you remember
that! You have to go on!”
They waited then, while five min
THIS IS A
S UPEiR|O^^E R iTTT
utes passed. Shoshone Wilce kept
his pony moving slowly up and down
to prevent its stiffening up by too
rapid a cooling after its run. and
Jody followed his example.
“Listen here," Shoshone Wilce
said at last. He dropped his voice,
and sat motionless. For a moment
or two there was no sound there
except the rhythmic breathing of
the hard-run ponies. "I want to tell
you something,” Shoshone resumed,
his voice low, husky, and strangely
unsteady. “It looks like I run away
and left you when your pony was
shot down. I see now it looks like
that. But I want you to know I
didn’t go to do nothing like that,
Miss Gordon.”
“I know,” she said, “it was the
only—”
"I shouldn’t have done it,” Sho
shone said. "I wouldn’t do it if I was
doing it s gain. I figured I’d be more
use to you if I could keep my horse
on its feet. I figured I could best
handle it like an Indian would—
pick ’em off one at a time, and make
sure. But I’d do different if I had it
to do again.”
“What else could you have possi
bly done? There wasn’t any chance
for anything else.”
“I should have stood and fought,”
Shoshone said. "Like he would have
done.”
“It was better this way,” Jody
told him. “Don’t you worry about it,
Shoshone.”
Shoshone said vaguely, "I want
you to tell him about it. I want
you to tell him I’d do different if I
had it to do again.”
“Why don’t you tell him your
self?”
“Maybe I will. But if anything
comes up—so’s I don’t get the
chance—’’
“Of course I’ll tell him.”
They fell silent, and after that a
long time passed. Shoshone stopped
walking his horse, and sat perfectly
motionless close to the wall of the
brush corral. The grey light in
creased, while they waited for what
seemed an interminable time.
It seemed to Jody that in a few
minutes more they would have to
admit that daylight was upon them;
it seemed to her that an hour, two
hours, had passed, instead of the
half hour which Shoshone had de
cided they could wait. But still Bill
Roper did not come.
“Do you suppose he could have
ridden past?” Jody asked.
“No," Shoshone said, very low in
his throat.
When she could stand the suspense
no more, Jody Gordon dismounted;
the inaction and the cold was stiff
ening her in the saddle, and now she
led her pony while she stamped and
swung her arms.
She thought, “I’ll lead my pony
five times around the outside of the
corral. He’ll be here by then; he
must be here by then.”
She wondered, as she slowly led
her pony around the circle marked
by the walls of brush, what she
would do if Roper did not come—if
he never came. Perhaps go on?
Perhaps go back . . ,
Jody Gordon was fighting back an
overwhelming, impossible panic.
She knew the cool, hard sufficiency
of the men against whom Roper had
pitted himself. From the standpoint
of her father, who had turned against
him, she knew the unassuageable
bitterness, the vast sinister male
volence which Roper had raised
against himself by the miracles of
the Texas Rustlers’ War. If he were
caught now in the grip of that malev
olence—
It took all her will power to restrain
herself from breaking into a run, or
from mounting her pony and racing
him—where? Any place, if only her
high-strung nerves could find expres
sion in action. But she forced her
self to lead her pony slowly, meas
uring her strides while the daylight
increased.
Then, as she completed the cir
cuit of the corral, and came again
to where Shoshone’s pony stood, she
saw that Shoshone Wilce no longer
sat the saddle. At first she thought
that he had tied his pony and walked
away; but as she came nearer she
saw that the little man was down
in the snow, huddled against the
rough brush of the corral barrier.
Jody sprang forward, calling out
his name.
She sprang forward, calling out
his name, and there was a meaning
less, nightmarish quarter of a min
ute while her pony reared backward
from the sudden jerk upon its bridle
and had to be quieted before she
could advance again.
“Shoshone! What’s the matter?
Are you—are you—?”
Shoshone’s eyes were half open;
he was not asleep, but he did not
answer. And now as she dropped
to her knees beside him In the snow
she saw that a bright trickle of red
had traced a line from the corner
of his mouth, crookedly across his
chin.
"Shoshone ”
In the ugly panic that swept her
it was many seconds before she
could fully comprehend that Sho
shone Wilce was dead.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Handsome W ools Are New Style
For Town, Travel and School
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
A "HONEY’: of a jacket suit
in deep honey-colored wool
is pictured at right above. The
round yoke of the dress ties in
a bow under the chin. The all
over embroidered or braided
effect is important news for fall.
This jacket subscribes to the new
technique in an all-over embroider
ing, in matching honey-colored
yarn. Brass buttons artfully blend to
the color scheme. The modish off
face tailored brown felt hat has a
corded brim.
Perfect for fall travels is the sim
ple slim black wool dress topped by
a plaid jacket in red, black and
white as pictured to the right. We
have never seen such gorgeous
plaids as those out this season. The
fashion edict is "plaids for every
thing," skirts, blouses, jackets,
suits. Dresses also have plaid ac
cessories with monotone costumes.
Interesting clips fasten it, in line
with the sentiment that prevails for
spectacular buttons and gadget
clips of all sorts. The dashing up
swept hat of black felt has a color
ful pheasant feather.
Soft two-toned wool makes the
goodlooking dress to the left. Here
is a model to delight any career
girl. It is destined to be a campus
favorite too. It flaunts several out
standing fashion trends that college
girls adore. Huge patch pockets as
shown, register in the list. Then
there are the simple straight
sleeves. The belt is studded with
simple nailheads and there are
more nailheads being used this sea
son than you can count. Watch nail
heads! Silver buttons fasten it and
the big emphasis is on buttons for
fall. Note the pheasant feather on
the hat! Hats are being be-feath
ered as they have not been for years
and years past.
Speaking in general, there is lots of
Jersey being used for everything,
from jerkins to hats, daytime
dresses and formal evening modes.
Designers are trimming silks and
wools with velvet also a vast amount
of fringe is being used in versatile
ways. Buttons are spectacular and
look like handsome jewels. Leather
trims abound on sports and travel
togs.
Take a look at 1941 autumn fash
ion showings and you will find a new
high in costume design. The play
made on colors this season is sim
ply fascinating and the big news is
rich quality-kind materials, espe
cially the new wool weaves that
glorify the entire fashion picture.
Most of all, there is that lndescrib
ale something about the new coats,
suits and dresses, that is surpass
ingly goodlooking and assuring to
women who dress with discriminat
ing taste.
Seeing a prevue of fashions as re
cently staged by The Style Creators
of Chicago, one is especially im
pressed with the exquisite finesse
and workmanship. And the lavish
yet subtle use of intriguing surface
decoration that marked the styling
of the hundred or more coats,
dresses and ensembles presented
at this gala occasion, by exhibiting
members of this noteworthy organ
ization. The foursome of fashions
shown here were especially select
ed from this galaxy of smart fall
costumes, selected because of their
adaptability for smart town, travel,
school and office wear.
You will be wanting a tweed cos
tume suit, of course. If it has a
full-length topcoat, as pictured tp
the left at the top in the group and it
will prove a many-purpose outfit
that will give you infinite wear. The
new raglan shoulder and above-the
waist bulkiness is well portrayed in
this toast brown rough tweed. The
long coat is closed with large wood
en buttons and belted in crushed
brown kidskin. The dress beneath
has a silk crepe top with draped
neckline, interesting pockets and a
gold clip.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Lipstick on Lapel
Your lipstick worn at your lapel!
Here it is, swinging from a bar-pin
on this perfect date dress for the
teen age. No more rummaging
about in your purse when you have
that impulse to wield woman’s most
effective weapon.' This adorable
dress with the lipstick gadget at
tached is in deep peacock blue vel
veteen, with bright wool embroid
ery, accenting the square neckline.
Feathers and Veilings
Popular for Fall Hats
You will be in fashion whether
you wear a very large hat or a pro
vocative little confection that
plunges forward in a saucy tilt. The
little hat is keeping veils in the pic
ture. The newest arrangement call
ing for veils that mass at the back
so as to accent the new back-cov
erage treatments.
Most of the little hats have snoods
to get that back-coverage look that
milliners tell us is such an impor
tant style feature. If not snoods,
then some other novelty that con
ceals the hair at the back. Larger
brims are also shaped downward or
curtained with ribbons so as to
achieve the back-coverage look.
It is a season for fine feathers of
every description. Entire feather
hats will be worn and on most of
the felts gay quills and pheasant
feathers flaunt their bright colors.
‘Little Black Dress'
Is Still One Favorite
The dressy afternoon black dress
will be repeating its triumphs all
over again this fall. Very charm
ing types are fringe-trimmed. Oth
ers have wide bands of velvet as
trimming. Then again very ultra
types are made of fine fabric cut
along the newest dolman-sleeve,
loose-fitting blouse lines. They are
classics in simplicity.
The dressier blacks are enhanced
with lace trims or with jet embroid
ery. However be the styling dressy
or conservatively practical, the big
news is that black remains stead
fastly in the new autumn style pic
ture.
Set of Cheery Coasters
You Will Enjoy Weaving
A SET of these smart red-and
** white coasters is so delightful
ly easy to weave!
• • •
You can easily make yourself dollies,
belts and purses, too, on cardboard
“looms." Our 32-page booklet tells how.
In detail. Also explains simple methods
of weaving lovely place mats, pillow tops.
knltUng bags, other useful novelties. Send
your order to:
READER-HOME SERVICE
(33 Sixth Avenue New York City
Enclose 10 cents In coin for your
copy of HOW TO WEAVE USEFUL
NOVELTIES.
Name......
Address.
Fringe on Our Flag
There is no significance attached
to the yellow fringe on the Amer
ican flag. According to the war
department it may be regarded as
“fringe only, and is of no value
or significance as a part of the
flag.”
The use of the fringe has long
been a debated question, although
the war department sanctions it,
and the United States Flag asso
ciation does not consider the use
of the fringe as improper. Never
theless, the first flag adopted by
the Continental congress in 1777
bore no fringe, and many patriotic
citizens feel the American flag
needs no decoration.
The men in the service them
selves have solved the problem
of what they want in the way of
gifts from the folks back home.
First hand information from en
listed men on shipboard, in camps
and barracks indicate that tobacco
is first choice in the gift line-up.
Actual sales figures from service
stores show that the favorite cig
arette with men in the Arrhy,
Navy, Marines and Coast Guard is
Camel. Prince Albert Smoking
Tobacco is another special favo
rite. Local dealers feature Camels
by the carton and Prince Albert
in the pound tins as doubly wel
come gifts to the men in the serv
ice from the folks back home.—
Adv.
CREMATION
I FOREST LAWN CEMETERY
• OMAHA •
CREMATION
of the most modem type
Writ* to at for booklot
Friends and Books
Next to acquiring good friends,
the best acquisition is that of good
books.—Colton.
No wonder Clabber Girl is'the
baking day favorite in millions
of homea ... the enthusiastic
choice of millions of women,
women who are proud of their
baking, proud of their thrift.
Order a can of Clabber Girl
from your grocer today. You
will be amazed when ne tells
you Clabber Girl’s price. And,
K'll be delighted with your
results.
You Pay Less for Clabber Girl
. ., but You Use No More • • •
FIRST WITH MEN IN THE ARMY*.CAMELS!
(believe me~)7*ib WALK T
WHEN you S f A MILE FOR )
( REALLY WANT A / V A CAMEL' /
> SMOKE,THERE'S )/ANY TIME.MAN, A
NOTHING LIKE A WHAT FLAVOR! J
7 A CAMEL J 7
fH 5|C BASED ON ACTUAL SALES RECORDS IN ARMY POST j|H
b| exchanges and sales commissaries
THE SMOKE OF SLOWER-BURNING CAMELS CONTAINS
28% LESS NICOTINE
than the average of the 4 other largest
selling cigarettes tested — less than any
of them—according to Independent
scientific teats of the smoke itself I
U 1
