MN(Iffl
or THE
THREECBa
BY KATE AND VIRGIL
COPyt)lGr BY A CMCLUQG UCO. 907
sued.
Presently she was dragged roughly
to her feet. A big. muscular arm had
heavy grasp of her.
"Make sure of the girl. Red!" com
manded a sharp voice near, and ltvas
gone out Into the night.
Afterward she heard oh, many,
many thu s In the night watches
the eer'e r Sloping of horses' hoofs,
growing fainter and ever fainter,
heard It above the medley of tramp
ling horses imd yelling men, and knew
It for what it meant; but to-night
this evil night she gave but one
quick, bewildered glance Into the
sinister face above her and in a soft,
shuddering voice breathed, "Please
don't," and fainted.
CHAPTER X.
In Which the X Y Z Figures Some
what Mysteriously.
Jim Munson, riding his pony over
the home trail at a slow walk, drooped
sl'-p.ly i:i his .saddle. It was not a
weirdly '.ale hediime, half-past ten,
maybe, but he would have been sleep
ing soundly a Rood hour or more had
this not been his night to go to town
if he chose. He had chosen. He
would not have missed his chance for
a good deal. Hut his dissipation had
been light. The boss never tolerated
much along that line. He had drunk
with some congenial cronies from the
Circle E outfit complimentary to the
future well-being and increasing
wealth of this already well-known and
flourishing cattle ranch. Of course
he must drink a return compliment
to the same rose-colored prosperity
for the Three Bars, which he did and
sighed for more. That made two, and
two were the limit, and here was the
limit overreached already; for there
had always to be a last little com
forter to keep him from nodding in his
saddle.
It was a sleepy night, cool and soft
and still. He could walk his horse all
the way if he wanted to. There was
no haste. The boys would all be in
bed. They would not even wait up for
the mail, knowing his, Jim's, innate
aversion to hurry. Had he not been
so drowsy, he would like to have sung
a bit; but it required a little too much
effort. He would just plod along.
Must all be in bed at Williston's
no light anywhere. A little short of
where the AVilliston branch left the
main trail he half paused. If it were
not so late he would ride up and give
them a hail. But of course they were
asleep. Everything seemed still and
jdark about the premises. He would
just plod along.
"Hello, there! Where'd you come
from?" he cried of a sudden, and be
fore he had had time to carry his re
solve into action.
A man on horseback had drawn rein
directly in front of him. Jim blinked
with the suddenness of the shock.
"Might ask you the same question,"
responded the other with an easy
laugh. "I'm for town to see the doc
tor about my little girl. Been puny
for a week."
"Oh! Where you from?" asked Jim,
with the courteous interest of his
kind.
"New man on the X Y Z." answered
the other, lightly. "Must be gittin' on.
Worried about my baby girl."
He touched spurs to his horse and
was off with a friendly "So long," over
his shoulder.
Jim rode on thoughtfully.
' "'Now don't It beat the devil," h
was thinking, "how that there cow
puncher struck this trail comin from
X Y Z with the X Y Z clean f other
side o' town? Yep, It beats the devil,
for a fac. He must be a ridin' for
his health. It beats the devil." This
last was long drawn out. He rode a
little farther. "It beat the devil," he
thought again the wonder of It was
waking him up "how that blamed
fool could a struck this here trail a
goin' for doc."
At the branch road he stopped Ir
resolutely. "It beats the devil for a fac'." He
looked helplessly over his shoulder.
The man was beyond sight and sound.
"If he hadn't said he was goin for
doc and belonged to the X Y Z," he
pondered. He was swearing because
he could not think of a way out of the
maze of contradiction. He was so
seldom at a loss, this braggadocio Jim.
"Well. I reckon I won't get any he'p
a moonin' here less'n I wait here till
that son-of-a-gun comes back from
seein' doc. Lord, I'd have to camp
out all night. Guess I'll be a movin
on. But I'm plumb a-foot for an idee
as to how that idjit got here from the
X Y Z."
He shrugged his shoulders and pick
ed up the fallen bridle rein. He kept
on straight ahead, and it was well for
him that he did so. It was not the
last of the affair. The old, prosaic
trail seemed fairly bristling with
gttostTy visitants that night, lie had
gone but a scant quarter-nvila when
he met a second horseman, and this
time he would have sworn on oath
that the man had not been on the
forward trail as long as he should
have been to be seen In the starlight.
Jim was not dozing now and he knew
what he was about. The fellow struck
D.BOYLE
the trail from across country and from
the direction of Williston's home cat
tle sheds.
"The devil!" he muttered, and this
time he was in deep and terrible earn
est. "Hullo!" the fellow accosted him,
genially.
"Too damned pleasant the whole
bunch of 'em," found quick lodgment
in Jim's active brain. Aloud, he re
sponded with answering good nature,
"Hullo!"
"Where ye goin'?" asked the other,
as if in no particular haste to part
company. If he had met with a sur
prise, he carried it off well.
"Home. Been to town." Jim was
on tender hooks to be off.
"Belong to the Three Bars, don't
you?"
"Yep."
"Thought so. Well, good luck to
you."
"Say," said Jim, suddenly, "you
don't happen to hang out at the X Y Z,
do you?"
"Naw! What d'ye suppose I'd be
doing here this time of night if I
did?" There was scorn in his voice
and suspicion, too. "Why?" he asked.
"Oh, nothin'. Thought I knew your
build, but I guess I was mistaken. So
long."
He had an Itching desire to ask If
this night traveler, too, was In quest
of the doctor, but caution held him
silent. He had need to proceed wari
ly. He rode briskly along until he
judged he had gone far enough to
allay suspicion, then he halted sud
denly. Very wideawake was Jim
now. His hand rested unconsciously
on the Colt's 45, protruding from his
loosely hanging belt. His impulse was
to ride boldly back and up to Willis
ton's door, and thus satisfy himself
as to what was doing so mysteriously.
There was not a cowardly drop in
Jim's circulation. But if foul play was
abroad for Williston that night, he,
Jim, of course, was spotted and would
never be permitted to reach the
house. It would mean a useless sac
rifice. Now, he needed to be alive.
There was a crying need for his good
and active service. Afterwards well,
it was all in the day's work. It
wouldn't so much matter then. It
touched spurs lightly, bent his head
against the friction of the air and
urged his horse to the maddest, wild
est race he had ever run since that
day long ago, to be forgotten by
neither, when he had been broken to
his master's will.
Paul Langford dropped one shoe
nervelessly to the wolfskin in front of
his bed. Though his bachelor room
was plain in most respects, plain for
the better convenience of the, bachelor
hands that had it to put in rights
every day with the exception of a
cook, Langford kept no servant the
wolfskin here, an Indian blanket
thrown over a stiff chair by the table,
a Japanese screen concealing the ugly
little sheet-iron stove that stood over
in its corner all the year round, gave
evidence that his tastes were really
luxurious. An oil lamp was burning
dimly on the table. The scot of many
burnings adhered to the chimney's
inner side.
The sound of galloping hoof-beats
on the hard road below came up to
him. A solitary horseman was com
ing that way and he was putting his
horse to the limit, too.
"Who the deuce," began Langford.
"It's Jim's cow pony as sure as I'm
a sinner! What brings him home at
that pace, I wonder? Is he drunk?"
He peered out indifferently. The
hoof-beats rang nearer and nearer,
Langford Rode Slightly In Advance.
clattered through the stable yards and,
before they ceased, two or three re
volver shots rang out in rapid succes
sion. Jim had fired into the air to
arouse the house.
Springing from his reeking bronco,
he ran quickly to the stable and threw
wide the door. Here the boss, the
first to. gain the outside because al
ready dressed, found him hastily sad
dling a fresh mount. Langford asked
no question. That would come later.
He stepped silently to Sadie's stall.
1 ' i
. IM
In an Incredibly short' space 'oft
time the rest of the boys came leaping
out of the ranchhouse, slamming the
door behind them. Tc be up and do
ing was the meat they fed on. In less
than ten minutes they were all mount
ed and ready, five of them, silent, full
to the brim of reckless hardihood,
prime for any adventure that would
serve to break the monotony of their
lives. More than that, every fibar of
their being, when touched, would re
spond, a tuneful, sounding string of
loyalty to the traditions of the Three
Bars and to its young master. Each
was fully armed. They asked no ques
tion. Yet there could be no doubt of
a surprise when the time came for
action. They were always prepared,
these boys of the most popular ranch
outfit west of the river. Right in the
face of this popularity, perhaps be
cause of it, they were a bit overbear
ing, these boys, and held fellowship
with any outside the Three Bars a
thing not to be lightly entered into.
It was a fine thing to work for "the
boss, and out of the content accruing
therefrom sprang a conservatism like
that of the proudest aristocrat of the
land.
Langford took the trail first. Jim
had said but the one word, "Willis
ton" It was enough. Nothing was
to be heard but the rapid though reg
ular pound of hoof-beats on the level
trail. It is a silent country, the cow
country; and its gravity begets grav
ity. Langford, riding slightly in advance,
was having a bad time with himself.
The keenest self-reproach was stab
bing him like a physical pain. His
honor his good honor, that he held so
high and stainless was his word not
given by it that the Willistons might
count on his sure protection? What
had he done to merit this proud boast?
Knowing that Jesse Black was once
more at liberty, fully realizing of what
vast import to the state would be Wil
liston's testimony when the rustlers
should be brought to trial, he had sat
stupidly back and done nothing. And
he had promised. Would Williston
have had the courage without that
promise? Why were not some of his
cowboys even now sleeping with an
eye upon that little claim shack where
lived that scholar-man who was not
fit for the rough life of the plains,
maybe, but who had been brave
enough and high-minded enough to lay
his all on the white altar of telling
what he knew for right's sake. And
the girl
"God! The girl!" he cried aloud.
"What did you say, boss?" asked
Jim, pounding alongside.
"Nothing!" said Langford, curtly.
He spurred his mare savagely. In
the shock of surplse, and the sting
that his neglected word brought him,
he had forgotten the girl Williston's
"little girl" with the grave eyes the
girl who was not 10 but 20 and more
the girl who had waited for him,
whom he had sent n her long way
alone, joyously, as one free of a duty
that promised to be irksome the girl
who had brought the blood to his face
when, ashamed, he had galloped off
to the spring the girl who had closed
her door when a man's curious eyes
had roved that way. How could he
forget?
The little cavalcade swept on with j
increased speed, following the lead I
of the master. Soon the sound of j
shooting was borne to them distinctly
through the quiet night.
"Thank God, boys!" cried Langford,
digging in his spurs once more. "They
are not surprised! Listen! God!
What a plucky fight! If they can only
hold out!"
At that moment a tiny tongue of
flame leaped up away to the front
of them, gleaming in the darkness like
a beacon light. Now there were two
they grew, spread, leaped heaven
ward in mad revel. Langford's heart
sank like lead. He groaned in an ex
ceeding bitterness of spirit. The
worst had happened. Would they be
in time? These claim shanties burn
like paper. And the girl! He doubted
not that she had sustained her share
of the good fight. She had fought
like a man. she must die like a man
would be the outlaw's reasoning. He
believed she would die like a man
if that meant bravely but something
clutched at his heart-strings with the
thought. Her big, solemn eyes came
back to him now as they had looked
when she had lifted them to him
gravely as he sat his horse and she
had said she had waited for him. Was
she waiting now?
The boys rallied to the new im
petus gloriously. They knew now
what it meant and their hardy hearts
thrilled to the excitement of it, and
the danger. They swept from the main
trail into the dimmer one leading to
Williston's, without diminution of
speed. Presently, the boss drew rein
with a suddenness that would have
played havoc with the equilibrium of
less seasoned horsemen than cowboys.
They followed with the precision and
accord of trained cayalrymen. Now
and then could be seen a black, sinis
ter figure patrolling the burning home
stead, but hugging closely the outer
skirt of darkness, waiting for the
doomed door to open.
"Boys!" began Langford. But he
never gave the intended command to
charge at once with wild shouting and
shooting to frighten away the maraud
ers and give warning to the besieged
that rescue was at hand. For at that
moment the door opened and Willis
ton and his daughter stepped out in
full view of raider and rescuer. Would
tnere be parley? A man, slouching In
his saddle, rode up into the circle of
lurid light. Was it Jesse Black? There
was something hauntingly familiar
about the droop of the shoulders. That
was all; hardly enough to hang, a
man.
Langford raised his rifle quickly.
Hli nerves were perfectly steady. His"
sight was never truer. His bullet
went straight to the rifle arm of the
outlaw; with a ringing shout he ral
lied his comrades, spurred his pony
forward, and the little party charged
the astounded raiders with a fury of
shots that made each rustler stand
well to his own support, leaving the
Williston's, for the time being, free
from their attention.
The desperadoes were on the run.
They cared to take no risk of identi
fication. It wag not easy to determine
how many there were. There seemed
a half-dozen or more, but probably
four or five at the most would tell
their number.
The flames were sinking. Willis
ton had disappeared. The boys scat
tered in wild pursuit. Wheeling his
horse, Langford was in time to see
a big. muscular fellow swing a girlish
form to the saddle in front of him.
Quick as a flash he spurred forward,
lifted, his heavy .Colt's revolver high
over his head and brought it down on
the fellow's Bkull with a force that
knocked him senseless without time
for a sigh or moan. As his arms fell
iax and he toppled in his saddle,
Langford caught the girl and swung
her free of entanglement.
"Poor little girl," he breatehed over
her as her white face dropped with
unconscious pathos against his big
shoulder. "Poor little girl I'm sorry
I didn't mean to honest I'm sor
ry." He chafed her hands gently.
"And I don't know where your father
is, either. Are you hurt anywhere, or
have you only fainted? God knows I
don't wonder. It was hellish. Why,
child, child, your arm! It is broken!
Oh, little girl, I didn't mean to hon
est honest. I'm sorry."
Jim rode up panting, eyes blood
shot. "We can't find him, boss. They've
carried him off, dead or alive."
"I don't know, Jim. I don't know
what to do now."
His eyes were full of trouble.
"Ain't no use cryin' over spilt milk
and that's a fac'. 'Bout as sensible as
a tryin' to pick it up after it is spilt.
We won't find Williston this here
night, that's one thing sure. So we'll
just tote the little gal home to the
Three Bars with us."
The boys were returning, silent,
gloomy, disconsolate. They eyed the
boss tentatively. Would they receive
praise or censure? They had worked
hard.
"You're all right, boys," said Lang
ford, smiling away their gloom. "But
about the girl. There is no woman at
the Three Bars, you know "
"So you'd leave her out all night to
the dew and the coyotes and the hoss
thieves, would you," interrupted Jim,
with a fine sarcasm, "jest because
there ain't no growed-up woman at the
Three Bars? What d'ye think Willis
ton's little gal'd care for style? She
ain't afraid o us ol' grizzled fellers.
I hope to the Lord there won't never
be no growed-up woman at the Three
Bars yep, that's what I hope. I
think that mouse-haired gal reporter
'd be just turrible fussy, and I think
she's a goin' to marry a down eastern
er chap, anyway."
"Just pick up that fellow, will you,
boys, and strap him to his horse, and
we'll take him along," said Langford.
"I don't believe he's dead."
"What fellow?" asked the Scribe.
peering casually about.
Langford had unconsciously ridden
forward a bit to meet the boys as they
had clattered up shamefacedly. Now
he turned.
"Why, that fellow over there. I
knocked him out."
He rode back slowly. There was no
man there, no the trace of a man.
They stared at each other a moment,
silently. Then Langford spoke.
"No, I am not going to leave Willis
ton's little girl out in the dew," he
said, with an inscrutable smile.
"While some of you ride in to get
some one to see about that body out
there and bring out the doctor, I'll
take her over to White's for to-night,
anyway. Mrs. White will care for her.
Then perhaps we will send for the 'gal
reporter,' Jim."
CHAPTER XI.
"You Are the Boss."
She held out her left hand with a
sad little smile. "It is good of you to
come so soon," she said, simply.
She had begged so earnestly to sit
up that Mrs. White had improvised an
invalid's chair out of a huge old rocker
and a cracker box. It did very well.
Then she had partially clothed the
girl in a skimpy wrapper of the sort
Langford abominated, throwing a
man's silk handkerchief where the
wrapper failed to meet, and around
the Injured arm. Mrs. White had
then recalled her husband from the
stable's where he was on the point of
mounting to join the relief party that
was to set off in search of Williston
at 10 o'clock. The starting point unan
imously agreed upon was to be the
pitiful remnants of Williston's home.
Men shook their heads dubiously
whenever the question of a possible
leading trail was broached. The soil
was hard and dry from an almost
rainless July and August. The fugi
tives might strike across country any
where with meager chances of their
trail being traced by any.
Mrs. White and her husband, kindly
souls both, lifted the girl as gently as
might be from the bed to the rudely
Contsructed invalid's chair by the sitting-room
window. Then they left
her the woman to putter around her
kitchen, the man to make good his
appointment. But the exertion had
been to much for Mary. She had
counted on strength that she did not
posses. "Where had she lost it? she
wondered, lacking comprehension of
her exceeding weakness. To be sure,
her arm alternately ached and smart
ed, but one's, arm was really such a
mall part of one, and she had Wen
so strong always. She tried to shake
of the falntness creeping over her. It
was effort thrown away. She lay back
on her pollow, very white and worn,
her pretty hair tangled and loosened
from its coils.
Paul came. He was dusty and trav-el-etained.
He had been almost con
tinuously in his saddle Hinco near mid
night of the night before. He Mas
here, big, strong and worthy. Mary
did not cry, but she remembered how
she had wanted to a few hours ago
and she wondered that she could not
now. Strangely enough, it was Paul
who wanted to cry now but he didn't.
He only swallowed hard and held her
poor band with all gentleness, afraid
to let go lest he also let go his mas
tery over the almost insurmountable
tump in his throat.
"What galloping, little girl?" asked
Langford, soothingly. He saw she
was becoming delirous. If doc and
Dick would only come before he had
to go. But they were not com
ing until after dinner. He gazed
down the dusty road. They would wait
for him, the others. He was their
leader by the natural-born right of
push and energy, as well as by his
having been the sole participant with
his own cowboys, in the last night's
tragedy. But would he do well to
keep them waiting? They had already,
delayed too long. And yet how could
he leave Williston's little girl like this
even to find Williston?
"They are carrying my father
away," she said, with startling dis
tinctness. "Don't you hear them? If
you would listen, you could hear them.
Do listen! They are getting faint
now you can hardly hear them. They
are fainter fainter fainter "
She had raised her head. There
was an alert look on her face. She
leaned slightly toward the window.
"Good God! A man can't stand
everything!" cried Langford, hoarsely.
He tore the knotted handkerchief
from his throat. It was as if he was
choking. Then he put his cool, strong
hand to her burning forehead and
gently smoothed back the rough hair.
Gradually, the fixed look of an inde
scrible horror passed away from her
face. The strained, hard eyes soften
ed, became dewy. She looked at him,
a clinging helplessness In her eyes,
but sweet and sane.
"Don't you worry, child," he said
comfortingly. "They can't help find
ing him. Twenty men with the sheriff
start on the trail. There'll be 50 be
fore night. They can't help finding
him. I'm going to stay right here
with you till doc comes. I'll catch
up with them before they've gone far.
I'll send word to the boys not to wait.
Must be somebody around the house, 1
reckon, besides the old lady."
He started cheerily for the door.
"Mr. Langford!"
"Yes?"
"Please come back."
He came quickly to her.
"What is it?"
"Mr. Langford, will you grant me a
favor?"
"Certainly, Miss Mary. Anything in
this world that I can do for you I will
do. You know that, don't you?"
"I am all right now. I don't think
I shall get crazy again if you will let
me sit here by this window and look
out. If I can watch for him, it will
give me something to do. You see, I
could be watching all the time for the
party to come back over that little
rise up the road. I want you to
promise me," she went on, steadily,
"that I may sit here and wait for
you to come back."
"God knows you may, little girl, any
way till doc comes."
"You are wiser than doc," pursued
the girl. "He is a good fellow, but
foolish, you know, sometimes. He
might not understand. He might like
to use authority over me because I
am his patient when he did not un
derstand. Promise that I may sit till
you come back."
"I do promise, little girl. Tell him I
said so. Tell him "
"I will tell him you are the boss,"
she said, with a pitiful little attempt
at a jest, and smiling wanly. "He will
mind the boss."
Langford was in agony. Perspira
tion was springing out on his fore
head tho'ugh August was wearing
away peacefully in soft coolness with
"I'll Have to Ride Like Kingdom
Come."
drifting depths of white cloud as a
lounging-robe a blessed reprieve
from the blazing sun of the long
weeks which had gone before.
"And then I want you to promise
me," went on Mary, quietly, "that you
will not think any more of staying be
hind. I could not bear that. I trust
you to go. You will, won't you?"
"Yes. I will go. I will do anything
IM HELPFUL HAND
you can most surely depend
upon in time of trouble is
your bank account. Better
start to acquire a big one
by depositing what you
have in the Bank of Cass
County. You'll find the
necessity of thinking before
paying a great incentive to
saving. When trouble
comes what you have been
prevented from frittering
away will make a comfor
table balance.
The BANK OF CASS COUNTY,
PLATTSMOUTH, NEBRASKA.
ARBOR DAY WED
NESDAY, APRIL 22
Governor Sheldon Issues the
Annual Proclamation
Setting Forth
the Date.
Governor Sheldon has issued the fol
lowing Arbor day proclamation:
In compliance with law and in accord
ance with the custom of designating one
day in the spring time for the purpose of
planting trees, shrubs, vines and flow
ering plants, I, George Lawson Sheldon,
governor of the state of Nebraska, do
hereby proclaim Wednesday, April 22,
1908, Jas Arbor day.
The national observance of Arbor day
is a monument to the memory of J.
Sterling Morton, our esteemed fellow
citizen. The good that has come there
from will be an everlasting benefit to
our great country.
It is peculiarly fitting and appropriate
that Arbor day be observed by the
schools, colleges and universities with
ceremonies in keeping with the import
ance of the occasion. Let it r.ot be
forgotten to impress upon the minds of
the growing generation the value of
forestry and plant culture that they
may have a better appreciation of the
good that will come therefrom.
The beauty of our state attracts and
charms the traveler. Desolate places,
seemingly forgotten by the usual lavish
hand of nature have Leen transformed
by the handwork of man into beautiful
homes. This work of reclamation by
the pioneers and builders of our state
is a grander emblem of rcmemberance
than polished shafts of marble and
granite erected by others o'er their
graves. Around these living monu
ments of green has grown the ivy of
fond rememberance about which it
delights to cling, appreciated now and
to be enjoyed by future generations.
Every tree planted and nurtured and
every fragrant rose that blooms adds to
the resource and charm of life. The
beauty of our street and parks and of
our country homes has promoted cul
ture and refinement among our people.
The propagation of trees and flowering
plants bring happiness into the every
day life, a rich reward for little ef
fort. It is therefore urgently recommended
that the people of our state properly
observe Arbor day. Let us remember
to adorn and beauty our parks and
public places and not forget our homes
and resting places of our beloved ones
in the white cities of the dead.
WAS SEVENTY
TWO YEARS OLD
Moses Hiait Celebrated the
Event Last Saturday
Moses Hiatt, who has lived for more
than fifty years in the county of Cass,
and many of them in the city of Platts
mouth, and was an early inhabitant of
Rock Bluffs, living there in its palm
iest days, was seventy-two years of
age last Saturday, and his good wife,
and son, Demmie, had prepared for
him and his friends a dinner in com
memoration of the event. Those pres
ent enjoyed a general good time in re
counting events which occured some
fifty years or more ago. A delightful
dinner was had and many presents
given as an appreciation of the friend
ship of the host. Those present wished
him many happy returns of the day and
many more such happy event