Evening Star Newspaper, December 25, 1897, Page 17

SRL LOL Written for The Evening Star. “I know he'll be charmed with you— and, oh, Adele, you never in your life met so perfectly delightful a man!” Adele nodded, with dark eyes like stars. fou think you've been having a good time here with me,” her sister-in-law con- tinned, “because ve got half the boys in Oldham ccunty for beaux, but let me tell “t any five of them put to- have as much brains as Phil- nd then he’s not like these cf fellows. He’s never let , as SO many east- ople do here in the west. He's a int of the Adams family, a gradu- Harvard, and he never forgets sort cowboy down and gotten carel ern pe desec ate « either.” Adele looked a bit doubtful. think he'd fancy me at all,’ “I shouldn't she objected. She far too amiable to say that she | could not help particularly detesting the glacial, tiresomely perfect sort of man her ter-in-law had pictured. “He must, Adele, he must!” cried Olive Maynard, almost with te: “Forgive me, dear. for saying it, but you mustn’t—you musta’t—get into any of your queer scrapes, or propose any wild plans. My heart will be broken if you and Phillips don't just adore each other. “I don't happen to things, you kno remonstrated Adele gently. “I can’t help things happen to me, can 1?” * roplied Olive, or begin to think you're a magnet which at- laughing a little. tracts tke lightnings of calamity. Burt | and being your brother he ought to Ile says that safe fords turn boggy When you ride into them; dry arroyos pour down a wall of water and swamp you if| ry to cross them. He avers that any | however old and staid, will eut and | e newly-roped broncos when you're | behind them. I told him that if you did get | { i | 1 were clever about man- f them; but he aid that % as any one so fertile In sug- s of the maddest sort, and that your! ket so tired of it! 1 will try to do just | “r peopie all the time we're at th s—to please you, if not your won- dertul Mr. Adams Olive reflected w tisf: Was searceiy anything ur hich could h m to them at a Christmas dinner, | s ene to which the Browns had } them were to > available ounty, Liddea to ton « bec was Was dinn to berrow trouble, Olive Christma te dr bunch get to the ‘n I think | no uncertainty—I just | tnd look at th F t Uh try t lime for dinrer. Wh ail a ranch tiers Wwe find out about fi find the ran t back—the ground, I Z| rovements—I'll be glad. As for s is a solemn, last farew ing her, he mounied his pony and y, still Tat hing. trcely been gone an hour when rrived from the Browns Brown 1 the er in Ta mas dinner given kK might attend upon Olive almost wept. vite any one here “It too late to in- » moaned, “when eur Pearest ne rT is twenty miles off. And anyhow I couldn't get Phillips Adams, and it was mainly to have you meet him that I cared to go.” Adele would not say that the fact that she was not to be exhibited to the paragon | was, to her, a relief. “We can have a | pleasant Christmas at home alone,” she comforted “We olks here in Texas, on ranches, can't expect to p Christmas | like you did back just take our fun wherever we ¢ and if it hits ay. why th » Christm = gate, where for some one pa a letter to town, s very clated over the me: bore much » tog fter all!" she shouted. ight of the ranch house. She her Tam O'Shanter and flung it as on a remote ranch, with two ris alone, and rather afraid, had, t dreary pi t hear? The girls are 0 get Over as soon as pus- young after all “Oh, Olive, anxious to be convinced, yet ful of the information, inquired fur- “Bright Selwin came past with his she announc “and he said that | Pate Eccles told him. Let's hurry. We'll | be in dinner if we hurry.” doubted € y he saw Pate? is the old invitatien, up the dinner.” “Oh, no,” insis: Ve. “Adele, | Maybe this | sent before they gave d Adele, “this { all right. Come on. Pedro says the horses are all cut, and he'll just have to catch up what he | can ge But there's _nothing—nothing— | ‘op us now!” and she danced | so happy and so exquisitely that Olive's objections evaporat went to hunt up the old Mexican pretty and she place, to se s sort of team could be fcund for them ar that this was only t Burt called “one of Adele's ‘Cycles of Calamity,” quite lost in the thought that she would meet Phil- lips Adams at the dinner, that they must in: neously fall in love, and that she, would have her sister-in-law for a next neighbor. She had gotten them al- most to th r, when Pedro came up wi the horse: ‘ot you the best I can do,” he said, as he brought up a buckboard, to which’ he had harnessed Redeye and Fiddler. “These here team is pretty bad horse.” And so they were, was as wild and senseless as possible, and Redeye unques- tlonab vicious. As they climbed into the vehicle 4 Olive took the lines, Adele exclaim "em go, Pedro. Oh, we're not afraid. If her brother could have known what was happening at this moment, he cer- tainly would, as he had said he should do, have apprehended the very worst. The horses gave one or two aimless plunges, the two pulling in opposite direc tions; and finally, jerking the buckboa along as though it were merely an im dental part of the performance, reached the big road, and settled down to fairly steady traveling. But Adele jumped every time Fiddler did, which alone was quite enough to wear her out, for the he had gotten his name from his nervous, fidgeting manner of trav- is for Fiddle eling. “Oh, no wonder they call him Red- eye!” she shuddered, as the animal so named kicked up viciously against the single-tree, then rolled his lurid orb around upon the girls, as if to note how they took It. Yet, in spite of some minor mishaps, and some larger frights, they did finally reach the Flying M ranch about half-past 1 - o'clock, in high good spirits, and ravenous- ly hungry. ¢ The house appeared to be shut up, and everything about the place looked desolate and inhospitable. There was no welcoming face at door or window. Olive held the team, while Adele got out and knocked and Feconnoitered. There seemed to be no one at_ home. Finally, when they were about to give up LeRVeNe Ds WO IWOVIE WO) CHRISTMAS At the FLYING M. Sage and go away, the kitchen door opened a Uttle and a scared looking young woman out her head to say, “The Browns ain't home. They went, day before yester- day, to see some o’ th’er kin 't ick.” Bhe did not ask them to stay. Indeed, THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1897-24 PAGES. 17 vi WENO ONO Golse) Gelselse) Gels she plainly wanted them to go. But they were famishing, and the horses were tired and hungry western ranching country for visitors to make themselves at home whether their hosts are or not, the girls managed to get the team unharnessed and turned into the pasture, and they, themselves, went into the house. There was no fire anywhere, except in the kitchen, so they sat down there. The young woman was not at all hopeful looking. and her mother, an evil-faced old half-breed Indian Squaw, who sitting by the stove as they went in, was positive- ly alarming in appearance. As the visitors sat down she muttered angrily, want no spies in here,” lenly. This was, to y the least, chilling. Olive ignored the remark, and asked the young woman if she could get them something to eat, or even a cup of coffee, saying that they would start back as soon as they were a little rested and refreshed. “Ye: growled the old woman, “you'll go off an’ say I break in Mr. Brown's room, an’ steal whisky, I know. I been drunk as this a many time, an’ didn’t have none 0’ Mr. Brown's whisky. trouble when I'm like I feel now. Folks is Sci of me,” and she broke into a cackling ‘We don’t and eyed them sul- * said Olive to the young woman ou'd have some of the men come h up our horses, and then you can just give us a bit of bread and butter, or something, and we'll go. The young woman, who plainly could not do anything with her mother, and was even a little afraid of her, had long since abandoned any attempt to get dinner, or to quiet the old woman. hain’t a man on the place,” she re- » 48 she sat whimpering and rocking her baby, “nor a soul but mother an’ me, an’ the baby. The cowboys is all gone to town fer Christmas, an’ the boy what does chores, he’s gone, too.” je started to her feet. “Come right she cried, “we'll harness up, our- “I'll make you some troubles before you gits away!’ shouted the old woman after s they sallied forth to the pasture to drive the reluctant Redeye and the un- consenting Fiddler into the corral. pair had gotten into the bunch of M_ horses, and it s only after minutes of breathle: running, heading off and shouting that they were finally brought up to the corral gate. When they had at last been laborious gotten there, It was found that the g: as shut, and the old woman whom they had left at the house, and almost forgott:n in the excitement of the cha stood be- | fore it and vigorously “shoved” th and then mocked the girls’ a wailed Adele, “I don't s a do, unless we jump on the horses and ride off.” Olive gaye ber “Oh glance of disdi n, u jump on Fiddle to jump fifteen feet or and I'll leap gracefully onto then they discovered that the young woman had by some means lured her mother away, and coaxed their two horses rate, cried Adele briskly, harness up now, and go right Oh, I'm so glad! Thank quite beamed upon their de Harness up! They could quite as suc- cessfully have harnessed up a streak of lightning and the north wind. hey ran and chased and coaxed, all about the small- er inclosure, and the horses got wilder and snorted louder every minute. At this juncture Adele came forwa i ired suggestions. ” she declared. o them, do you mea who was not quite s cattle vernacular. w a lasso? ‘No, but I can sit up here on top of the corral fence, and hold this noose out; and you can chase ‘em around the corral; and when they run their heads through the noose, why we'll have ’em, “Yes, oh, yes,"" jeered Olive. “When a horse runs his head through there—wh he'll never do unless he one blini—h Jerk you off that fence, and far, far into a vague and equivocal future.” No, no,” protested Adele the rope gradually. I unde gO on.” Olive laughe yet over the remembrance just rd queried familar with “Why, can you I'll pay out and it. You of that pictui Adele, who was a slender litle thing, with mass: 1 black hair, and solemn big blac! perche! on the fence, white as death and trem Hing, but resolved, her great black ey blazing, and every big freckle showing out against the blank pallor of her littie face, holding that dangling noose out at «rm's length, waiting for those wild horses to come up and run their heads through it! She was tempted to sing out, “Dilly, Hills ct ed!" But Adele's in- discouraged any flip- pancy, so she gathered her impeding ski in one hand, and, feeling like a clown in a circus, ‘chased those horses around and around the corral, they snorting and going twenty feet wide every time they rame to the dangling ncose, and Adele a: ing fiercely why she didn't drive them ry up through it, while the young woman argued and advised, the baby howled and the old woman screamed and cackled ‘ike a witch. Finally Adele suggested, pointing to a little chicken house at one end of the cor- ral, “Can't we drive them into that?” Olive thought the Idea a good one (though she had begun to regard with suspicion auy suggestion that came from Adele), and they both made a sudden, savage dive at eld Redeye, who was just approaching the little shed, and in he went. She had barely slammed the flapping door to and opened her lips to shout self- congratulations, when something went off like a cannon. The door burst off its hinges and knocked both of the girls down flat; the s'des of the house flew out in every direction, plank by plank, with the sounds of brisk musketry, and, with a final kick, in which he almost stood on his nese, ol] Redeye tossed the flimsy roof skyward ard bounced off. As the giris crawled out from under the mangled door, and while Redeye was dis- seminuting the fragments of the chicken house, they saw the Flying M garrison withdrawing from the corral. They swarm- ed up over the fence, baby and ail, and shot cut across the pasture to the house. And they stood not upon the order of their going, for the dreadful old woman led the precession, clearing the fence like « sailor, and running like a mustang, her wicked cackle silenced for once. When Olive gor to her feet and surveyed Adele as central figure of this scene— grotesque, despite its close approach to tragic—she felt a deep sense of gratitude that at least Phillips Adams was not there to see. Yea, thrice better were it to be in danger and distress with none to help, than to be rescued from such absurd ca- lamity by him, and, as a result, have all her romantic plans “nipped in the flower and faded in the bud.’ “I'm going to the house,” she announced, when tney had made sure no bones were broken. ‘I've ieft my wrap there, and I’m so worn out that I just must sit down and rest. When they got to the house they found the doors all shut, the place looking just as it had when they came, and again, ap- parently, no one at home. They guessed that the two Indian wo- men were in the kitchen, however; so, avoiding that portion of the house, they went directly into the room which was used as a sitting room, and sat down to repair damages and talk over the situa- tion. “I move we start walking up the May- nard ranch trail; we're almost sure to meet some one,"’ counseled Olive. “Yes,"" agreed Adele, ‘and if we don’t, I'd rather sit out in the road all night than stay under the roof with that terri- ble old woman.” They got their belongings together, and Adele, who was first at the door, turn- ed with an exclamation of terror. It was locked on the outside! so, as it is customary in the ; one—and before they reached it the old with a wild skirl of laughter, slammed to the heavy shutter, and while they could hear her bringing up a clothes pole to prop it. Then she pounded on the planks and shout- I caught ye, now!” end- woman, they stood trembling, ed, “I caught ye! ing with mumbling chuckles and threats. “What shall we do! do?" cried Olive. daughter will stop her? Let's call.” They called, but with no effect. Adele had another inspiration. some matches on the mantel,” and burn our way out!” “You mad girl,” answered Olive, laugh- ing a little hysterically through her tears, “it would roast us, of course, before there would be any breach big enough for us to possibly the get out through. And then, Browns might object, too. “Listen, Adele,” firing idea, now?" The girls crouched down by the door and listened. The hag had gone to the to be dancing and crooning a strange sort of front of the house, and seemed chant. Adele turned, with eyes the size of sauc- ers, “It's the death chant of the Apaches,” it is,” as Olive seemed it’s the song they chant when they’re going to kill some one—and she breathed. “Oh about to question; I—hark—what's that?” There was the sound of horses’ then a ‘“halloo” and some laughter. “What's up here, man’s. voice, Oh, what can we “Don’t you supose her she exclaimed, cutting short the other’s arguments in favor of the “what’s that wretch doing hoofs, Yellow Feather?” which Olive recognized as IVINETA JIMS STORY Twice He Became’ a Hero Without Intending to Be. Then “Here are she an- nounced, “suppose we set fire to the house BOTH TIMES HIS HORSE RAN AWAY Carried Him Willy-nilly on to Deeds of ‘Daring. WILD WEST ADVENTURES ————— “Vineta Jim” is one of the officials at the Capitol. He is a man of great versatility and originality. He is not known as ‘Vine- ta Jim” here in Washington, but he is best known by that name down at his home in Tennessee and in certain sections of the west. He has a reputation as a writer, a cowboy and an Indian fighter. By many he is regarded as a great hero. His friends s | here know him best as a keen wit. Phillips Adams’, calicd out cheerily. The other day he got confidential with a “Yellow Feather want whisky, please, | star reporter. good, gentlemens. Want whisky pienty |” «.,ccjdent often makes heroes,” he said. bad,” screamed the old woman. ie ; rhitauniset ae t & icy aaleh 2 eaMecn Ged en tislemian wand wice in my life I gained some fame. there was a chorus of laughter. “You've | have enjoyed the sensation of being a hero jest had a little teo much of that same.” | and have had my courage praised with loud continued the speaker, “and I'll warrant you've been up to some mischief. This speech recalled the girls to their own situation, and they called for release, but The men were joking the old altogether there seemed to be too much noise for the prisoners within the house to be able to Up to this time they had supposed that the men were Boing they ainly be discovered Olive was comforting herseif that it would, after all, be a rather roman- uc situation, and a favorable introduction; but it began to appear that, as the men found no one at home, they were prepar- The girls became aimost to no avail. woman, she was shouting, and make themselves heard. to stop at the Flying M, and that hemselves would ¢ id released. ing to ride on. frantic. Olive pounded wildly on the wall with a caught up from the center table, here, 00! Can't you think of anything to book, screaming, and can't get out! Oh, Adele! do?’ “Yes,” replied Adele, firmly. up the chimne We're in Halloo- “Please wait! Halloo. “You can't—you'll—. Oh, Adele—you'll—" But Olive spoke to an empty room. The chimney wide, built of fireplace. Lith flume. Olive heard her climbing and scrambling, and she leaned against the mantel and laughed till she was too weak to give he heard Adele the assistance for which her begging in muffled tones. “Oh, Adele! Are you stuck What do you want me to do? up “Light a fire there in the fireplace and in wild j The full of nests, and the old birds | dete wallows. smok* ‘ern out,” vociferated excitement. “It's chimney chimne: are fighting me. “Smoke them out?” gasp laughing and crying. “Why, you do? You're But what Adele Oh! Wow! Ov ‘m going at the Flying M was big and stone, and with a capacious slender Adele had ducked her dark head, and vanished up the sooty Di there? ped Olive between what would reply was will never be known, for two full-grown swifts, in eager acclaim, but I didn’t have the courage to tell that it was all an accident. But the fact is that things just happened to me so that I couldn't get out of being a hero, and I made the best of it. “I went west from Tennessee to make my fortune. I got out on the cattle ranges and was looking for a job. 1 knew nothing at all about herding cattle. I could ride fairly well, as most southern men can, and could manage ’most any horse that another man could, but knew nothing about herding cat- tle, and had no sort of conception of what one of those big western herds was like. “I had hardiy get into camp among the cowbc on an immense cattle ranch when something happened, and the cry went up that there was a stampede. We were right out on the prairie and the herd of cattle, which was off at some distance, was com- ing on the jump in our direction. The cow- boys jumped on their horses and scattered for high places. 1 had no idea how serious a thing a stampede of cattle was. I had no conception of the size of the herd and did not realize the danger. Reckless Riding. “I rode straight toward the cattle on the dead run, trying to head them off as I would a few cows in a pasture. When I got pretty close to them the thing began to dawn upon me. In front of me were .-hous- ands of cattle, covering acres of ground, bearing down toward me Tike a charge of valry, fairly making the earth tremble with the tramp of their feet. Their dilated nostrils, great spreading horns and bulky forms wedged together in a great rushing convinced me that I had no business riding headlong into them. I wheeled my se around and put out on the dead run. The herd came thundering behind me. At every jump of my ho: he bunch of cattle seemed to get bigger. They were right be ime. Iw leading the charge. All at once L thought what would happen if my should stumble, I bore off a little to ruck Olive tight in the inquiring right to get’ outof the line of their n she had turned up to They followed cl in my lead. Ss movements, and sent sharply to the right I bore, but with soot and flying | they were directiy in my trail. They were ashe into the of the room. a following me to a dead certainty, end I ‘The men had grown tired of chafing Yel- | could only guess what the finish would be, low Feather, and were prenaring: © a Part. | but I bore off still more to the right. Final- en their attention was attractec 4 ly 1 got into heuvily ro} ground, and, anation in one of the ranch house chim Mectin toys chance Te tdrned MQUicely Bening neys, from the top of which, as they looked. | 4 ridge and cut out directly to the left a flight of angry birds burst twittering out | ajone the sunken ground, the ridge biding cried Bu “What's that ving gotten back ¢ way home. ‘A sooty head appeared above the chim- Adele got firm footing on a higher projec- ledge, then popped suddeniy up, ney which scattered Maynard, who rlier than he expect- ! to, had fallen in with this party on his me from view. The to the right until they great circle and ge d and wound up te a standstill, W n I app don the top of a ridge a mile away the cowboys came over to me on the gallop. “It's the best 1 ever saw!’ cried one of tle kept on bearing ot to running in a t Dao tre ea eaetes y them, slapping me on the shoulder. ‘I ke’ a black caricature of snow, were sm, slapping on the 's Uke ed wildiy, and the apparition shricked— | Never saw cattle milled better.’ “ae *2Oh, boys! Oh, Burt! Don't go away. in't know what he meant, but saw = a 4 : ea saic ig. - Were shut up in here!” Then, as though ple so I said nothing. They the inadequacy of thes: press the tra the aker, hands and cried, “Help! collapsing, mis she stretched out app Help! Fire! soot and twittering birds. ‘The other boys were so wild with laugh- ter that nothing was to be gotten out of tame words to ex- » situation had just struck aling: and d her footing and vanished down the chimney, sending up a cloud of were all over yhelming in their praise of my ‘milling.’ They said I had saved the herd, and took me up in triumph to the owner of the ranch. There was one of the cowboys I knew, called Yellow John, who came from the same county I did in Ten- nessee. I got him aside and asked him what it was all about and what ‘milling’ was. Regarded as a Hero. em; but Burt thought he recognized e yon in the distressful chimney sweep “I kinder thought you didn't know what (who but Dele would pop her head out of | you were doing,’ he said, ‘but don’t say a a neighbor's ae oe vedo stand werd.’ He then explained that ‘milling’ shrie you for help and rescue ¢ Aes ae nimapuitines ie in toward the house, call. |Was leading a stampeded herd off their ing to the others to keep the old ‘woman, | Straight, headlong course and getting them en in misch as he believed But Yellow F sight of the chimne found, then or later. The other boys were f. ather had fled at the first climber, and was not too weak from laughter to give much assistance, and it was Phillips Adams who helped Burt dis- lodge the clothespole, push up the window to run in a circle, so that they would get mixed up and locked in a bunch. Cowboys take the lead of a stampeded herd at the risk of their lives to save the herd from de- struction or heavy loss; and this is what £ had done without intending to. “I took Yellow John's advice to say noth- W lirg, and was made a great hero of. I was and rescue his wife and sister, sooty, Jat on taken into service, and w the bruised, but able to tell their story. high paid cowboy on the raneh. With Poor Olive! were cleansed of soot and ashes, buckboard, she found it could. looked so distractingly pretty that Adele, the history of all the day's horrors. The boys, riding in a cavalcade the buckboard, all joined and ever backward about laughing at Ad All but Phillips Adams. He silence Adele or reach that crous points every few minutes, gusted. Their Christmas was rescued. cook in the Panhandle. They had rib roast, broiled steaks and cutlets, the lightest of sour dough biscuits, chili con carne, stewed fruits, pies baked in Dutch ovens and that piece de resist- ance of a cow camp feast, the wonderful calf's head roast. As they sat in the crisp, clear dusk—like an October evening—around the camp fire, telling Christmas stories, Olive found Phil- She had hardly indeed, she had avoided him. Now, as he looked across the smoke at Adele, he said, with a note of feeling in his deep voice: “I think, Mrs. Maynard, that I never saw so intrepid a tender a frame. proud of her? Hear For the boys were twentieth time ,the episode of Redeye and the hen lips Adams at her sid spoken to him thus fai spirit in so slight and Aren't you awfull: those idiots laugh having Adele recount for the hou s But Olive looked at Phillips Adams’ earn- taken Adele seriously, and the Christmas dinner which they didn’t have at the Flying M was going to be a magnificent success after est face and was happy. He had all. —_e—___ Tommy—“Paw, what is an extraordinary session of the legislature?” Mr. kind."’"—Indianapolis Journal. —-+ 0+ _____ Cook (addressing a Klondike party)— “Boys, how will you have your boots cook- ed—fried on cre side, or turned over?”— They ran to the one window—s back ! Life. It seemed to her that humil- iation could go no further. Yet, when they washed and repaired, and once more oer +h their. Adele, freshed and in her right mind once mone, she was beginning to pluck up some courage again (though Phillips had appeared to her during the entre episode more silent than she had ever known him), when Burt be- gan asking them about the adventure, and who was as naif as a child, related about their voices to and received the narration with guf- whoops of Gute cena searcely smiled, and Olive, sitting in acute discom- fort and wishing there was some way to husband hers, who kept bringing out new and ludi- reflected dolefully that Phillips appeared utterly dis- ‘They were going to a range dinner gotten up by Phil- lips Adams in their honor, when he heard of the collapse of the Brown festivities, and cooked by Arizona Sam, the best range be Figg—‘One in which no fool bills were passed would be very much that re- Yellow John’s assistance I managed to play ont the hand. “TL was still enjoying the glory of this ad- venture, when, in 1882, the Creek war broke out, and Lieut. Black was ordered to prevent a collision between the two bands of Indians, one under Speche and the other under Chicotah. Lieut. Black re- cruited his compar-y with some of the most daring of the cowboys, and Yellow John and I were of the party. The two bands of Indians had been advancing toward each other, and were separated by a range of hills, and there were but two passes through which they could g Lieut. Black's troops were camped near one of these pass Across the pass from the camp was an elevation commanding a view of both passes. Yellow John and I were stationed on this elevation to watch the iurther pass under orders to give the alarm at once if the Indians made a move. It was not deemed possible that the In- dians would attempt the pass between us and the camp. I had never had anything to do with Indians, and I don’t suppose Yellow John had, but we kept our eyes and ears open. We did not hear a sound nor see a sight of an Indian. e Brush With Indians, Yellow John was on his horse and I was standing with my hand on the saddle. Di- rectly there was a whiz, and an arrow went through the calf of Yellow John’s jeg, through the saddle tethers and into the horse. It was just enough to set the horse wild, and it dashed off toward the camp. I threw myself into my saddle, lost the reins, and my horse followed that of Yellow John. This happened in an instant. A shower of arrows followed the first one, and they came from between us and the camp. Neither of us ‘had any control over his horse, nor any choice of what direction we would take. We kiew the Indians were between us and the camp, and that we were dashing right into mela, but we had to go where our horses took ‘us. The Indians had refrained from ‘using firearms lest they should alarm the camp. I do not know just what happened, except that the ar- rows were whizzing about me and I was lying as close as T couta to my horse’s neck shooting, while the hot'se was going like all possessed. I rodé into camp with a re- volver in each hand with all the chambers empty. The troops got out and drove the Indians back, préventing their escape, that had been cleverly Gésigned. The next morning I found’ that both flanks of my horse were powder-burnt. I had been shocting straight down into the ground with both hands; instead of shooting at the Indians. I was so scared I did not know what I was doing. But I was a great hero. Lieut. Black complimented me on my daring, and it was reported to the depart- ment that the escape of old Speche had been prevented by the daring venture of Vineta Jim and ‘Yellow John—only giving our right names—who had fought their way through and warned the command. “I did not like to look at Yellow John, and he avoided looking at me when these things were being said. —>— < Narrow Escape. From the Cincinnati Enquirer. Perry Patettic—I hear you was caught takin’ a bath, more or less.” Wayworn Watson—Wot could I do? A ‘woman throwed @ whole bucket of soapsuds on me, an’ you didn’t think I was goin’ to let it stay on an’ soak into me system, did of yer" STRANGE BOTH WERE BAD MEN| And Each Met His Death With His Boots On. TWO TERRORS OF THE SOUTRWEST Dynamite Dick Was a Member of Bill Dalton’s Gang. RED BUCK’S GAME FINISH! Written for The Evening Star. ETHOUGHTIT VV rather singular down our way that Charlie Clifton, better known as ‘Dynamite Dick,’ and ‘Red’ Buck Wakeman, a former member of Clifton’s gang of desperadoes, should haye been killed so close to- gether, both in point of time and plac said Frank S. Wick- wie thall, a business man from Guthrie, Okla., to a Star man at the Shereham the other night. “A couple of deputy United States mar- shals let the daylight in and the life out of Wakeman on the trail a couple of miles from Cnecotah, I. f., on Sunday, November 7, and on the following day another set of marshals rounded Clifton up in Sid Wil- liams’ shack, fifteen miles west of Checo- tah, and managed to give him his finishing dcse of lead after one of the hottest on: gainst-many gun fights on record. The on we thought it queer was because r Clifton and Wakeman were known to have been deadly enemies for of years, although they were formerly sworn comrades in banditism. Wakeman having once been, s I said, a member, and Important one, of Dynam Wakeman broke away from gang about three years ago and nization of his own. Clif- 3 s said arcund the territory, didn’t mind this so much—for he wasn’t a man, you see, to place obstacles in the paths of his friends’ ambiticns—but when Wake- man got collared in a clean hold-up by a pesse of marshals in the Cherokee country a couple of years ago, and landed in the Jail at Guthrie, he did a bit of ‘peaching’ on his old chief that caused Clifton to give ft out that he purposed killing Wakeman on sight. Wakeman escaped from the Guthrie jail before his case came to jail, the last ccuple but he never managed to get his gang together again, because of the way he wilted when he was locked up. He be- came a drifter around the two territories, employing all of his wit and his knowl. edge of the country to keep out of the way of the detached parties of marshals that he knew were after him. When he was cavght and given his quietus on the Che- cotah trail last month it is not likely that he had the smallest notion that his former chief was pocketed in a shack only a dozen miles away, or he would prebably have forsaken that neighborhood on the double before the marshals got him, for Wakeman is said to have feared Dy than he did the combined civil and mili authorities of the United States. ary Nor can OLD FRIENDS, in Iowa. When the located Clifton and cabin, the ndit kite was punctured, n this deal; keep out and stop fumbling them guns. This out of solitaire, and I'm going to with my boots on an@ without any ing.” “Then been nine marshals _finall: boys together surrounded probably knew that hi. for he said to William: “ "Sid, you're not in of it, is William: a inst d of making his fight from the cagin window holes and from cracks between the logs. like a good many | nervy bad men have done when similar! rounded up, he pushed Williams and hi wife and children into a corner of th shack, gave each of the two «ids a hug— he had a couple of his own, you see—and then he grabbed the two guns out of his belt lying on his bunk, sprang to the cabi door and threw it wide open, and gave t yelp ‘Now come at me!’ “He opened fire on the group of mars! all of them mounted, with the words, got four of them pretty badly before’ they jet him have the volley that sent him over the big divide. “Wakeman didn’t make such a bad finish, either, although he did it from the brush and not exactly in the open. He was on the Checotah trail, most likely bound for Wichita, Kan., where he had friends, when | the two marshals who had been beating the two territories for him came up behind him on foot. He did not hear their ap- proach, but plodded on in an apparent sense of securi “H one of the marshals called after him when only thirty feet sep- arated them, ‘are you ready to be tanen in now, or is ita case of shoot?” Regan to Fire. “The marshals told us afterward in Guth- rie that Wakeman didn’t even turn around to see if he was covered—as he was, by the four guns of the two marshals—but simply made a sidewise leap from the trail into the brush, so quickly that the four valls y sent after him as he made the m« nowhere near hitting him. With only nd shoulders sticking above the akeman turned upon his hunters, © were still shooting at him, and began is fir ‘Shoot? | a—a— He died, riddled with bullets, and went 0 eternity with that word on his lips, ich seems characteristic enough as the is. nd he yelled. ‘You bet your ing worl of a bad man, if rather hor- rifying. Neither of the marshals was grazed. But fo get back to Charlie Clifton, or I knew him when he was in | Dynamite Dick. a chubby-faced boy Davenport, Towa. nearly twenty-five ye: 0. He belonged jto a first-rate middle-class family, had a jlot of brothers and sisters, who are now scattered throughout the northwest, and was about as nice, clean, intelligent, up- right a little chap as you'd want to meet. He used to come around to the grocery store in Davenport where I then worked as 2 clerk, plant himself on a bag of bran an. pester me to spin yarns for him. I took quite a fancy to the boy, and lied myself black in the face telling him of the hand- to-hand encounters I had had with Indians, and ail that sort of thing. The Clifton family moved away from Davenport before Chariie was eleven years old, and the next time I saw the boy was in Kansas City, about seven years laver. He was then working in a hardware store, and he was still all right and honest, with nothing of the bad man about him. I happened into the store accidentally, and recognized the young fellow right off, as he did me. ‘You're all right, old man,’ said he to me, ‘if you are the worst fakir that ever tried to stuff a kid. D'ye remember them Injun yarns?” in An Unexpected Meeting. “Well, the next time I saw Charlie Clif- ton he was Dynamite Dick, and bad. It was soon after the opening of the last Oklahoma sirip, and my partner and my- self were on our way down in a prairie schooner to locate a business plant. We OVER THE FARO TABLE. it be at all likely that Clifton knew that Wakeman was anywhere in his vicinage, or he would certainly have gone after him, in spite of the cliques of marshals that he knew were gradually hemming him in, alone and accidentally detached from his gang, in the Checotah country. A_Characteristic Fight. “The fight that Clifton put up against the posse of nine marshals who finally put it on him and wound him up in the door of Sid Williams’ shack was characteristic of the man. He was a bad lot, this Charlie Clifton, but this has got to be said of him: He was a fighter in the open. He was never known to crack a gun from ambush. After this posse had chased him all over the Cherokee nation, making the game so swift for him that he voluntarily fur- loughed his gang so as to give each man an even chance to squeeze out of the network of hunters himself, he made for Williams’ took the trail from Wichita, and it was a bad trail at that, so that we didn’t cover very much ground in a day. We had been about eight days, and had gotten pretty well into the territory, when one night, just as we were preparing to make camp in the wagon, three men on horseback rode up in the moonlight to our outfit. They didn’t make any hostile demonstrations, but I didn’t like the nosey way they sized our outfit up, for all that. Finally one of them rode to the rear end of the wagon, where I was hustling around with the cooking — , making ready for supper, and said ‘om ““Anything much in the wagon, cap?’ “I kind o’ thought the voice sounded fa- miliar, and I looked up and took a good peek at the man’s face in the moonlight. It was Charlie Clifton. He hadn't recog- | he shows that in making a rafiroad runni: nized me in the shadow cast by the schoon- | east and west, as many as thirteen sted er’s hood. - “ ‘What the devil’s that to you?’ said I, going on with my rassling with the pans. **Well,’ said he, cool as you please, ‘be- cause I'm under foraging orders from Bill, Stliqells raid Ir youre © Drei m 5 're a pretty mervy . Bill who? ‘Bill Dalton,’ he replied, quiet ike, and I guess I made a pretty quick turn on him then. “Why, blast your hide, Charlie. Clifton,’ said I, shaking a pan at him, for the thing made me feel pretty warm, “do you mean to tell me that you've gone and got your- self mixed up with Bill Dalton’s gang of cutthroats? What the devil do you mean by 2? I've got a g nm to pull you t horse and spank you, like I've done Many a tme before. “The young fellow recogni had the grace to look a bit ashe himself. He called me out by name, gave me his hand impetuously, and 1 guess he we etty glad to me. ? What kind got yourself tie after a while how?’ of a game is this you've up with? T asked him ‘How'd it happen, any- With Bi Dalton’s “But he wouldn't give me a x y informa- tion whatever about himself, and told me that the gang, Bill Dalton’s, with which he Was conne ted, was being closely on account of in Longview, pressed big bank rob- Tex that down and were pretty sh ions, which the reason i rubbernecked ound our schooner when we hove in it. Well, m: * 1 said co him, you can jump in he: it you have g and become thing wot pardners with y any stuff out of and feed tll you bust back on all my te robber of But nary u get, and you don’t tote this Wagen to your camp evea of killers, eithe “Clifton, who was already known as Dynatente Dick, although 1 didn’t know it, declined the invitation, and shorty after- wards rode away with tbe two men along with him. Right here it ought to be said that the acc nt given in some of the territorial papers of the way Clifton cam by the name of Dynamite Dick was pur {colishness. These accounts stated that he w in th habit of boring holes in his cartriages and haing them with He never did any of one happen to know yarn upon the me supposition, for the rea- son that all of the men Clifton killed close duels—and he kibed ne iy a a men in th way—had their carcasses badly shattered and torn. Clifton was a dead shot, and in close fights he always aim for his ans throat or abdomen, and (hus his builets made bad, gaping wounds. But the dynamite story was entre fiction. Appeared in Gathrie. after I had gone into when town was “A couple of ye brsiners in Guthri the bocming along fit te take rank with New York, as a good many of us thought, Charlie Clifton walked in on me one day with a nice-looking girl on his arm. This was ter the big bank robbery at Ingal which was committed by the Dalton gang, and I felt pretty certain that Dynamite Dick, this former chu faced boy of mine, who I now knew was regarded as the worst desp in che two territor had been mixed up in the robbery. His appearance in Guthrie like to have taken my breath away. “You were in the Ingalls affair? I sata to him when he got away from the young wom moment. “Don’t you lie to me, bey,’ I went on, for I saw him wavering @ bit. >wned up to it. Well, what have you come to Guthrie fer—to get hung?’ I asked him. “He replicd that he wasn't known in Guthrie, and that he had come there to get ris wife, the young woman with him, whom he had married in Kansas City when the girl was only fourteen years old. ““Does she know what you are? I in- quired of him. No,’ he ‘and she won't, er, if I can hel) it ut to the issue on that ques- ticn not ten minutes later. He left store with his wife for a where he was to get a teain for some point he wouldn't mention to me —and I didn’t particularly care to know, as far as that’s concerned. As the two went down the street Turk Hackett, the pro- prietor of a faro layout in Guthrie, and a preity dangerous man, stumbled ot a salocn drunk and bu 1 hard ainst Clifton’s young wife. If Clifton had been alone, Hackett would have been dcad rman in thre. As it was, Dy ite Dick, witth set, as some men who saw t told me, simply turned and look« turned the sta pudence of drunk 2 Hackett re- and then, with the im- —he did not know Clifton from Adam walked up to the desperado. AF lish Thing to Do. “‘Den't like the bumpin’ game, eh, BI? he “But you'll get used to it down In this country. Here's one for yourself,’ and he gave the worst man in the two terri- tcries a shove with his right shoulder that threw him off his feet. Then he stcod and laughed maudlinly. Clifton watk- imost ed up to his wife. “Come on, Gr: he said, and the two walked on down the street. his flyer faro layout to South Mo. It was only a weck after he m move that Clifton walked in on him one afterncon before the game had opened for pl A lot of hangers-on were stand- areund. Cliften approached Hackett ircm behind and tapped him on the shoul- der. ap Have you any fighting tools on you?” Clifton asked him ““That’s a monk ask,’ replied Hackett ‘I've alw vem'on me. What's it to you?” “Because,” said Clifton, ‘I have 2 made it a p never to kill armed man if I can help it. And I’m going to kill you as soon as you get to your feet and face m “Hackett was on his feet and facing him in half a second, and he was dead in about key sort of que the same space’ of time. ‘The hangers-on never made a move. Clifton’s horse was outside, and he got out of Southwest City in a mild canter, with nob after him— for only_a few months before the Dalton gang had robbed a bank in Southwest City nd killed a number of citizens in the breakaway, and the people of the town- ship had got pretty nearly enough of bad man chasing, I don’t b ve that Clifton’s wife ever learned what sort of a man her husband was. He married her under the name of Foote, and the last I heard of her she was living with her two children in nsas City. Dynamite Dick made occasional Auiet visits to see his family Duel With Dalton. “The story about Clifton’s handkerchief duel with Bill Dalton is genuine. The two men had been growling over the divi- sion of plunder for a long while, until, about five years ago, the quarrel came to a head, and the two men shot at cach ether in hot blood down in the Choctaw country, both missing because their shoot- ing arms were thrown up by members of the band. Then both Clifton and Dalton made a declaration. There wasn’t room for both of them in the same gang. They were a unit on that point. Clifton an- nounced that he would quit the outfit and start a gang of his own. Dalton wouldn't have this, probably out of fear as much as from selfishness. “All right,’ said Clifton, ‘then we fight this thing out at powder-singeing range, and the man that way if either of us joes live, runs this outfit.” “Stnere was liquor aboard all hands at the time of this taik, and both Clifton and Dalton were at least half drunk, as Wake- man, who was a member of the gang at the time, confessed when he was locked up in Guthrie. The duel was quickly ar- ranged. With their guns in their right hands, the two men grasped the ends of a red bandanna handkerchief with their left hands, and stood back to back. Cal Forman, one of the worst members of the gang, gave the command to fire. Dalton lurched as he turned to fire, and his pis- tol was discharged prematurely. Clifton caught Dalton in the right shoulder and gave him a bad wound. either man hav- ing been killed, as was anticipated, Clifton quit the band forthwith and formed the organization of his own that terrorized the two territories more than the Dalton boys and their desperadoes ever did. —————— Polarity and Railroad Iron, From Tit-Bits. Prof. Berton has just published an inter- esting collection of statistics which prove the influence that magnetism is exerting in produciug phenomena, which otherwise wuld be inexplicable. Among other things, rails will become crystallized and break, be- fore one rail on @ north and south track is similarly affected. This is due to the generation of magietism by friction, and to the fact that in the former instance the pelarity of magnetic current is resisted in the rush of the train; whereas, in the latter cage it is undisturbed. ——___++-____ Cholly—“Are you positive she is not in?” ‘The Maid—‘T am; I'd lose my job if £