Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 21, 1917, Page 7

Ate SUN Be rs 3 ©) | GY REX BEACH Author of “The Spoilers,” “The Iron Trail,” “The Silver Horde,” Bic.” SYNOPSIS. Sea eae t afoot and alone by an acciden je desert near the Ri Mrs. Alaire Austin, mistress of las rae mas and La Feria ranches, meets Dave Law, Texas Ranger, at a water hole and ie compelled to spend the night there with him, as he is in ambush for a murderer and cannot leave his post. CHAPTER Il—Next day at evening the murderer appears with a co:npanion. CHAPTER IIl—Law captures the derer but is compelled to kill his compan- jon, Panfilo Sanchez, who happens to be a cousin of Mrs. Austin’s horsebreaker, Jose Sanchez. 3 CHAPTER IV—At Las Palm r tells her husband, Ed, that his jourousals and inebriety must stop. Her cattle at La Feria, the Mexican ranch, are con- fiscated by Longorio, Mexican federal | general, and she finds that it is because Ed has been helping the rebel junta. CHAPTER V—On her way to La Feri ae ants meets Longorio, who in love w: er and e for confiscated stock, eee eee CHAPTER VI—Entertained at home by Blaze Jones and his daughter Paloma, Dave hears something about the Tad Lewis outfit, which is suspected of cattle | stealing. With Hicardo Guzman and e@ an Jaze GO on a sc after cattle thieves, . ink ‘ CHAPTER VII—Law catches two of the Lewis outfit branding a stolen calf and in a fight kills one and has his horse shot under him. He trails the other thief to Palmas, where he is insulted by Ed Austin, whom he knows to be very friend- ly with the Lewis outfit CHAPTER XI—Dave and Alaire attend the Las Palmas rodeo. She presents Dave with a horse to replace the one Killed by the cattle thieves. They discuss the kill- ing of Panfilo. CHAPTER XII—Guzman does not re turn from Mexico and his reported kill arouses Americans. Dave and Blaze mur- their Tange to go to Romero across the river and recover the body. Jose hears that Dave killed Panfilo and goes to join Lon gorio. Paloma and Alaire arrange to go to the river to await the return of Blaze and Dave. Longorio appears at Las Pal mas with an escort nd overhears Ed telephoning news of the trip after Guz- man to Tad Lewis, CHAPTER XIII—Longorio compels Ed to go to the river with him. The girls follow and hide in the pumphouse. The Lewis outfit appears. When Blaze and Dave cross the river a general mix-up is prevented by Captain Evans and his rang- ers who appear on the scene and support Dave. Dave arrests Urbina. CHAPTER XIV—Blaze dodges dress- makers and fortune tellers. CHAPTER X¥V~Strange, a fortune tell- er, warns Dave that Jose Is cooking up trouble for him and Alaire, Dave goes to see her and in a moment of emotional stress they confess their love. CHAPTER XVI-—E4d, who had disap- ared after the Guzman incident, comes ck and Alaire decides to divorce him. She writes to her lawyer and to Dave. Jose carries Dave's letter to Longorio, who orders him to kill Ed. Paloma, it happened, was undergoing that peculiar form of feminine torture known as “fitting;” but insecurely basted, pinned and tucked as she was, she came flying down to the gate to meet her visitor. Alaire was introduced to Mrs. Strange, the dressmaker, a large, acid- ulous brunette, with a mouthful of pins; and then, when Paloma had giv- en herself once more into the seam- stress’ hands, the two friends gossiped. “I don’t know what dad will say when he gets the bill for these dresses,” Paloma confessed. “Your father is a mighty queer man,” Mrs. Strange observed. “I haven't so much as laid eyes on him.” Paloma nodded. “Yes. And he’s get- ting more peculiar all the time; I can’t make out what ails him.” “Where is he now?” asked Alaire. “Heaven knows! Out in the barn or under the house.” Taking advan- tage of the dressmaker’s momentary absence from the room, Paloma con- tinued in © whisper: “I wish you'd talk to dad and see what you make of him. He’s absolutely—queer. Mrs. Strange seems to have a peculiar effect on him. Why, it’s almost as if—” “What?” “Well, I suppose I'm foolish, but— I'm beginning to believe in spells. You know, Mrs. Strange’s husband is a sort of—necromancer.” “How silly!” There was no further opportunity for words, as the woman reappeared at that instant; but a little later Alaire went in search of Blaze, still consid- erably mystified. As she neared the farm buildings, she glimpsed a man’s figure hastily disappearing into the barn. The figure bore a suspicious re- semblance to Blaze Jones, yet when she followed, he was nowhere to be seen. ~ “Mr. Jones!” Alaire called. She re- Peated Blaze’s name several times; then something stirred. The door of a harness closet opened cautiously, and out of the blackness peered Paloma’s father. He looked more owlish than ever behind his big, gold-rimmed spec- tacles. “What in the world are you doing in there?” she cried. Blaze emerged, blinking. du: and perspiring. “Hale Mie Austin!” he saluted her with a poor assumption of breeziness. “I was fixin’ some harness, but I'm right glad to see you.” Alaire regarded him quizzically. “What made you hide?” she asked. “Hide? Who, me?” “I saw you dodge in here like a— ” He was Blaze confess the willies, like that dr reckon I've got oman I see looks inaker.” Why do you hate her so?” “I don't know 's I hate her, but her and her husband have put a jinx on me. They're the worst people I ever ; See, Miz Austin,” “You don't really believe tn such things?" Blaze dusted off a seat for his visi- tor, suying: “I never did till lately, but now I'm worse than a plantation nigger. I tell you. there's this world we don’t sabe. get Paloma to fire her. fuiled. I wish you'd dresses are rotten.” “But they're very nice; the ly; and I've just be complir her. Now what has this woman done to you?” things in I wish you'd I've tried and tell her those It seemed impossible that a mun of | that he and his wife had played every Blaze Jones’ character could actually DeALTON VALENTINES The Door of a Harness Closet Opened, and Out of the Blackness Peered Paloma’s Father. harbor crude superstitions, and yét there was no mistaking his earnest- ness when he said: “I ain't sure whether she’s to blame, or her husband, but misfortune has folded me to herself.” “How?” “Well, I'm sick.” “You don't look it.” “I don't exactly feel it, elther, but Iam. I don’t sleep good, my heart's actin’ up, I've got rheumatism, my stomach feels like/I'd swallowed some- thing alive—" “You're smoking too much,” Alatre affirmed, with conviction. But skepticism aroused Blaze’s in- dignation. With elaborate sarcasm, he retorted: “I reckon that’s why my best team of mules ran away and dragged me through a ten-acre patch of grass burrs, eh? It’s a wonder I wasn't killed. I reckon I smoked so much that I give a tobacco heart to the best three-year-old bull in my pasture! Well, I smoked him to death, all right. Probably it was nicotine poisonin’ that killed twenty acres of my cotton, too; and maybe if I'd cut out tobacco I'd have floated that bond issue on the irrigation ditch. But I was wedded to cigarettes, so my banks are closin’ down on me. Sure! That's what a man gets for smokin’.” “And do you attribute all these mis- fortunes to Paloma’s dressmaker?” The man nodded gloomily, “That ain’t half! Everything goes wrong. I’m scared to pack a weapon for fear I'll injure myself. Why, I've carried a bowie knife in my bootleg ever since | shed of her. | ward ride. about Ed's deaslin’s than you do, Miz Austin; all I know is that I got a ser- pent in my household and I can't get I've got a lapful ct troubles of my own.” “This is too occult for me,” she de- clared, rising. “But—I'm interested in what you say about Mr. Strange. If the Mexicans tell him so much, perhaps he can tell me something. I do hope you have no more misfortunes.” “You stay to supper,” B) > urged hospitably. “I'll be in as soon as that tarantula’s gone.” But Alaire declined. After a brief chat with Paloma, she remounted Montrose and prepared for the home- At the gate, however, she met Dave Law on his new mare, and when Dave had learned the object of her visit to Jonesville he insisted upon accompanying her. It was early Cusk when they reached | Las Palmas; it was nearly midnight when Dave threw his leg across his “Paloma was telling me about vont | saddle and started home. Alaire’s parting words rang sweetly in his ears: “This has been the pleas- | antest day I can remember.” The words themselves meant little, but Dave had caught a wistful under- tone In the speaker's voice, und fancied he had seen in her eyes a queer, half- frightened expression, us of one just awakened, . . . . . Jose Sanchez had beheld Dave Law at the Las Palmas table twice within a few du He spent this evening Ia- boriously composing a letter to his friend und patron, Gen. Luis Longorto. CHAPTER Xv. An Awakening. Time was when Phil Strange boasted fairground and seaside amusement park from Coney island to Galveston. | In his battered wardrobe trunks were parts of old costumes, scrapbooks of clippings, and a goodly collection of lithographs, some advertising the su- pernatural powers of “Professor Magi, | Sovereign of the Unseen World,” and | others the accomplishments of “Mile. Le Garde, Renowned Serpent Enchan- these guudy portraits of » Mystic” no one would have recognized Phil Strange. And even more difficult would it have been to resemblance between Mrs, » und the blond, bushy-headed of the posters, Nev- ertheless, the likenesses at one time had been considered not too flattering, | and Phil treasured them’ as evidences | I was a babe in urms, you might say; | but the other day I jabbed myself with it and nearly got blood-polsonin’. This fellow, Strange, with his fortune- tellin’ and his charms and his conjures, has hocus-pocused the whole neigh- borhood. He’s gettin’ rich off of the Mexicans. He knows more secrets than a parrot.” “He is nothing more than a circus fakir, Mr. Jones.” “Yes'm! Just the same, these greas- ers 'd vote him into the legislature if he asked them. Why, he knows who fetched back Ricardo Guzman’s body! He told me so.” ‘ “Really?” Alaire looked up quickly, then the smile left her face. After a moment she said, “Perhaps he could tell me something I want to know?” “No, don’t you get him started,” Blaze cautioned, hastily, “or he'll put a spell on you like he did on me.” “J want to know what Ed had to do with the Guzman affair.” Blaze shook his head slowly. “Well, he’s mixed up somehow with Lewis, Dave thinks Tad was at the bottom of the killin’, and he hoped to prove it on him; but our government won't do anything, and he’s stumped for the time beln’, I don’t know any more|cussions, Dave agreed. of imperishable distinction. But the Stranges had tired of public life. For a long time the wife had confessed to a lack of interest In her vocation which amounted almost to a repugnance, Snake-charming, she had discovered, was far from an ideal pre- fession for a woman of refinement. It possessed unpleasant features, and even such euphemistic titles as “Ser- pent Enchantress” and “Reptilian Mesmerist” failed to rob the calling of a certain odium, a suggestion of vulgarity in the minds of the more discriminating. This had become so distressing to Mrs. Stfange’s finer sensibilities that she had voiced a yearning to forsake the platform and pit for something more congenial, and finally she had prevailed upon Phil to make a change. The step had not been taken without misgivings, but a benign Providence had watched over the pair. Mrs. Strange was a natural seamstress, and luck had directed her and Phil to a community which was not only in need of a good dressmaker but peculiarly ripe for the talents of a soothsayer. Phil, too, had intended to embrace a new profession; but he had soon dis- covered that Jonesville offered better financial returns to a man of his ac- cepted gifts than did the choicest of seaside concessions, and therefore he had resumed his old calling under a slightly different gulse. Before gong he acknowledged himself well pleased with the new environment, for his wife was far happier in draping dress goods upon the figures of her customers than hanging python folds about her own, and he found his own fame growing with every day. His mediumistie gifts came into general demand. The coun- try-people journeyed miles to consult him, and Blaze Jones’ statement that they confided in the fortune-teller as they would have confided in a priest was scarcely an exaggeration. Phil did indeed become the repository for confessions of many sorts, Contrary to Blaze's belief, however, Strange was no Prince of Darkness, and took little joy in some of the se- crets forced upon him. Phil was a good man in his way—so conscientious that certain information he acquired weighed him down with a sense of un- pleasant responsibility. Chaneing to meet Dave Law one day, he determined to relieve himself of at least one troublesome burden. But Dave was not easily approach- able. He met the medium’s allusions to the oceult with contemptuons amuse- ment, nor would he consent to a pri- vate “reading.” Strange grew almost desperate enough to speak the ungar- nished truth. “You'd better pay a little attention to me,” he grieved; “I’ve got a mes- sage to you from the ‘Unseen World.’ ” “Charges ‘collect,’ I reckon,” the Ranger grinned. Strange waved aside the suggestion. “It came unbidden, and I pass it on for what it’s worth.” As Dave turned away, he added, hastily, “It’s about a skeleton-in the chaparral, and a red- haired woman.” Dave stopped; he eyed the speaker curiously. “Go on,” said he. But a public street, Strange ex- plained, was no place for psychic dis- When they a ' | . | DeArton VALENTINE “Over Her Head Floats a Skeleton—” | were alone In the fortune-telling “par Jor,” he sat back while the medium closed his eyes and prepared to explore the Invisible. After a brief delay Phil began: “I see n great many things—that| woman I told you about, and three men. One of ’em Is you, the other twe 1s Mexicans, You're at a water hole in the mesquite. Now there's a shoot-' ing scrape; I see the body of a dead) man. And now the scene changes. Everything dissolves. I’m in a wan: sion; and the red-haired woman comes toward me. Over her head floats a skeleton—” . Dave ke in crisply. Let's get down to cases. your mind, Strange?” The psychic simulated a shudder— @ painful contortion, such as anyone might suffer if rudely jerked out of} the spirit world. “Eh? What was I—? There! You've/| broke the connection,” he declared “Did I tell you anything?” | “All right!) What's on) “No. But evidently you can.” “I'm sorry. They never come back.” | “Rot!” Phil was hurt, indignant. With some stiffuess he explained the danger of interrupting a seance of this sort, but Law remained obdurate, ‘ “You can put over that second-sight stuff with the greasers,” he declared sharply, “but not with me. So, Jose} Sanchez has been to see you and you want to warn me, Is that it?” | “I don't know any such _party,”| Strange protested. He eyed his caller for a moment; then with an abrupt change of manner he complained: “Say, Bo! What's the matter with you? I've got a reputation to protect, and I do things my own way. I'm get- ting set to slip you something, and you; try to make me look like a sucker.| Is that any way to act?” “I prefer to talk to you when your eyes are open. I know all about—” “You don't know nothing about any- thing,” snapped the other. “Jose's got it in for Mrs. Austin.” “You said you didn't know him.” “Well, I don't. He's never been to see me in his life, but—his sweetheart has. Rosa Morales comes regular.” “Rosa! Jose's sweetheart!” i ‘Wes. Her and Jose have joined out | together since you shot Panfilo, and they're framing something.” “What, for instance?” The fortune-teller hesitated, “T only wish I knew,” he said slowly. “It looks to be like a killing.” Dave nodded. “Probably is. Jose would like to get me, and of course the girl—" “Oh, they don't aim to get you. ain't the one they're after.” “No? Who, then?” “I don't know nothing definite, In this business, you understand, a fel- low has to put two and two together. All the same, I'm sure Jose ain't carv- ing no epitaph for you. From what I've dug out of Rosa, he’s acting for a third party—somebody with pull and a lot of coin—but who it is I don’t know. Anyhow, he’s cooking trouble for the Austins, and I want to stand from under.” Now that the speaker had dropped all pretense, answered Dave's ques- tions without evasion and told what he knew. It was not much, to Dave's way of thinking, but it was enough to give cause for thought, and when the men finally parted it was with the un- derstanding that Strange would promptly communicate any further in- telligence on this subject that came his way. On the following day Dave's duties called him to Brownsville, where court was in session. He had planned to leave by the morning train; but as he continued to meditate over Strange’s words, he decided that, before going, he ought to advise Alaire of the fel- low’s suspicions in order that she might discharge Jose Sanchez and in other ways protect herself against his possible spite. Since the matter was one that could not well be talked over by telephone, Dave determined to go in person to Las Palmas that evening. Truth to say, he was hungry to see Alaire. By this time he had almost ceased to combat the feeling she aroused in him, and it was in obedience to an impulse far stronger than friend- ly anxiety that he hired a machine and, shortly after dark, took the river road. The Fates are malicious jades. They delight in playing ill-natured pranks upon us. Not content with spinning and measuring and cutting the threads of our lives to suit themselves, they must also tangle the skein, causing us to cut capers to satisfy their whims. You ‘seemed firmer. | such wise do the Fates amuse them- | | | ! arrive. Dave Law been more certain of his moral streigth than on this evening; | at no time had his grip upon himself Nor had Aluire the least reason to doubt her self-control. Dave, to be sure, had appealed to her fancy and her interest; in fact, he so dominated her thoughts that the im- aginary creature whom she called her | dreum-husband had gradually taken on | best way we can, | his physical likeness. | that she But the idea was in any way enamored of him had never entered his mind. In selves. Alaire had gone to her favorite after- dinner refuge, a nook on one of the side galleries, where there was a wide, swinging wicker couch; and there, in a restful obscurity fragrant with flow- | ers, she had prepared to spend the | evening with her dreams. She did not hear Dave's automobile Her first intimation of his presence came with the sound of his| heel upon the porch. When he ap- peared, it was almost like the mate- rialization of her uppermost thought— quite as if a figure from her fancy had stepped forth full-clad, She rose and met him, smiling. “How did you know I wanted to see you?” she inquired, Dave took her hand and looked down at her, framing a commonplace reply. But for some reason the words lay un- spoken upon his tongue. Alaire’s in- formal greeting, her parted lips, the welcoming light in her eyes, had sent them flying. It seemed to him that the dim half-lght which tllumined nook emanated from her face and her person, that the fragrance which came to his nostrils was the perfume of her breath, and at the prompting of these thoughts all his smothered longings rose us if at a signal. As mutinous prisoners in a jail delivery overpower their guards, so did Dave's long-re- | pressed emotions guin the upper hand | of him now, and so swift was their | uprising that he could not summon more than a feeble, panicky resistunc The awkwardness of the pause which followed Alnire’s inquiry strengthened the rebellious impulses within him, and quite unconsciously his friendly grasp upon her fingers tightened. For her part, as she saw this sudden change sweep over him, her own face altered and she felt something within her breast leap into life. No woman could have failed to read the meaning of his) sudden tgitation, it worked shinilar in Alaire, ind, strange to say, a b to control her- self und to away, but instead found that her hand had answered and ‘that her ey were flushing gnition of his kk All in an 1n- stant she realized how deathly tired of her own struggle she had become, und experienced a reckless impulse to cast away all reStraint and blindly meet his first advance. She had no time to question her yearnings; she seemed to understand only that this man offered her rest and security; that in his arms lay sanctuary. To both it seemed that they stood there silently, hand in hand, for a very long time, though in reality there was scarcely a moment of hesitation on the part of either. A drunken, breathless instant of uncertainty, them Alaire was on Dave's breast, and his strength, his ardor, his desire, was throbbing through her. Her bare arms were about his ne ; a sigh, the token of utter surrender, fluttered from ber throat. She raised her face to his and thair lips melted together. “Dream-man !"” she murmured. As consciousness returns after a swoon, so did realization return to Alaire Austin. Faintly, uncertainly at first, then with a swift, strong effort, » st Ww “Dream Man!” She Murmured. she pushed herself out of Dave's reluc- tunt arms. They stood apart, fright- ened. Dave's gaze was questioning. Alaire began to tremble and to struggle with her breath. “Are we—mad?” she gasped. “What have we done?” “There’s no use fighting. It was here—it was bound to come out. Oh, Alaire—1!" “Don't!” She shook her head, and, avoiding his outstretched hands, went to the edge of the veranda and leaned weakly against a pillar, with her head in the crook of her arm. Dave fol- lowed her, but the words he spoke were scarcely intelligible. Finally she raised her face to bis: “No! It is useless to deny it—now that we know. But I didn't know, un- til_a moment ago.” : x | At no time since meeting Alaire had | me! \ this | stute of feeling} “T've known all the time—ever sincd | the first moment I saw you,” he told her, hoarsely. “To me you're all t } is; nothing else matters. And yoo lov i I wonder if I'm awake.” “Dream-man,” Shé repeated, mor@ slowly. “Oh, why did you come sq@ late?” “So late?” “Yes. We must think It ont, the I—wonder what you think of me?” “You must know. There’s no need for excuses; there's nothing to explal except the miracle that sueh great happiness could come to a fellow like me.” “Happiness? It means anything bu! that. I was miserable enough Seka what shall I do now?” “Why, readjust your life,” he eri roughly. “Surely you won't hestta: after this?” But Alaire did not seem to hear kam, | She was staring out into the night again. “What a failure I must ber she murmured, finally, “I suppose I | should have seen this comming, but—I didn’t. And in his house, too! This dress is his, and these Jewels—every- thing!” She held up her hands and stared curiously mt the few rings sh wore, as if seeing them for the fi Ume. “How does that make you feel?” Dave stirred; there was resentmen' {n his voice when he answered: “You husband has sucrificed his claim t you, as everybody knows. ‘To my mind he has lost his rights. You're mine, mine!” He waved a vigorous gesture of defiance. “I'll take you away from him at any cost. I'll see that he gives | you up, somehow. You're all I have.” “Of course the Jaw provides a way, but you wouldn't, couldn't, understand how I feel about divorce.” The mere mention of the word was difficult, and caused Alaire to clench her bands, “We're both too shaken to talk sanely now, So let’s wait— “There's something you must under stand before we go any further,” Dave | insisted. “I’m poor; I haven't a thing IT Cun call my own, so I'm not sure E have any right to take you away from all this.” He turned a hostile eye upea aheir surroundings. “Money means so little, and it’s so to be happy without it,” Alnaire told him, “But I'm not altogether poor, Of course everything here is Ed's, but | T have enough, All my life I've had | everything except the very thing you offer—and how I've longed for that! | How I've envied other people! Do you | think I'll be allowed, somehow, to have it?” | “Yes! I've something to say about | that. You gave moa the right when | you gave that kiss,” Alaire shook her head. “I’m not so sure. It seems eusy now, while you a here, but how will it seem later? I'm in no condition at this minute to reason. Perhaps, as you say, it is all a dream; perhaps this feeling I have is Just a passing frenzy.” Dave lnughed softly, confidently. “It's too new yet for you to under stand—but wait. It is frenzy, witch- ery—yes, and more. Tomorrow, and every day ufter, it will grow and grow and grow! Trust me, I’ve watched it in myself.” ; “So you cared for me from the very first?” Alaire questioned. It was the woman's curiosity, the woman's hunger to hear over and over again that truth which never fufls to thrill and yet never fully satisfies. “Oh, even before that, I think! When you came to my fire that evening in the chaparral, I knew every tine ef your face, every movement of your body, every tone of your voice, as 8 man knows and recognizes his ideal But it took time for me to realize all that you meant to me,” Alaire nodded. “Yes, and it syust have been the same with me.” §h¢ met his eyes frankly, but when he reached toward her she held him away “No, dear. Not yet, not again, mot until we have the right. It. wowh® be better for us both If you went away now.” “No, no! Oh, Ihave so much to say I've been dumb all my life, and you've just opened my lips,” “Plense! After Fve decided wha to do—-once I feel that I ean contro myself better—I’ll send for you, Bu “you must promise not to come unti then, for you would only make 1 harder.” At last he took her hand and kisse: her wrist, just over her palse, as | to speed a messnge to her heart, the: Into her rosy palm he whispered a ter der something that thrilled her. She stood white, motionless, agains the dim illumination of the pore unt! he had gone, and not until the Ias sound of his motor had died away di she stir. Then she pressed her ow lips to the palm he had caressed an walked slowly to her room, o CHAPTER XVI. tae The Crash. The several days followimg Dave unexpected call at Las Palmas Alali spent in a delightfol reverie, She ha 80 often wrestled with the question « divorce that she had begun to wear of it. She gave up trying, at lengt and for the time being rested conte: in the knowledge that she loved ar was loved. A week passed while st hugged her thoughts to her breast, ax then one evening she rode home | learn that Ed had returned from Se. Antonio. But Ed was ill, and he did not a Pear at dinner. It had been yea since either had dared invade the ot er’s privacy, and now. Inasmuch as hy husband did not sen@ for her, Alah — did not presume to offer her services ¢ nurse. As a matter of faet, she co sidered this quite. ‘essary, for s) felt sure that he was either sufferir (Continued Tomorrow)