Evening Star Newspaper, July 15, 1923, Page 76

A Story of the Silent Places. | — After a momentary Sileuce wpake ¢ A Yessel of a moic ungainly make: ‘. sneer at me for, learning a1l awey Did the Haud then of the Pottel ALL came early to the hills; & | fall alien und strange to the | desert.” “Fifty years gone| even such a misty and sunless | September came last to the San Quentin country. Senor, I have rid- den across this bare desert when the air was drowsy with sweetness; stir- +up deep all day in wondgous blos soms, snow white, blue and purple golden, fire red. numeless” So quavered Don Apolonio, keeper of the well at the gate of the desert. Assuredly, the senor may buy the sorrel at the price he names and I will do according to his word for this dark one that he leaves behi Red | #old, broad pleces—right! Now fis Alizan thine. Deal justly with mm.l geuor. Ask him not for great speed, for that gift he lacks. A great heart, roughness, courage—these are Ali- san's—and he will do you govd serv- | fce Will not the senor rest until the ! The senor is in haste, | Food, then? A bit in hand the while, tortillus and jerky inj vour saddlebag for the night camp., There will be water in pools by the ! wayside Farewell God! perhaps then with | senor— o 1 A TACGREGOR rode eraftily, a brv:k: 4¥1 jog, a Dbrisk walk; where the, . trail was steep he slipped from the | saddle and led the way (o the next| amooth bit Haed by the head of the pass he | paused on a jurting shoulder The fog lifted for a space; far behind and below there was a glimpse of | toiling horsemen. a black, wavering line where the trail clung to the hill- ide MacGregor teok up a long 34 from the sling below the stirrup leather and dropped two bullets in the trail bhefore the advancing party They shrank back to a huddling clump. The mist shut down. ~'Tis pluin I have naught to fear from these gentry for all the heavy weight this red horse of mine must carry. For they will think twice again at each bend and rock- | fall. But beyont the desert? There's | a telephone line awa’' to the north, and if the good folk of Datil be at 4il of enterprising mind, ‘tis like T shall hear tidings.' Dawn found himebevond the desert the long. slow ridges be- | wooden mountain of the which the rambling I. A ranch was ann hreasting the against the C neath Datils, building of dimly seen AN osald the the pot hoils. For here comes one ai a hard gallop—now he sees me and swerves this way. | must e'en call science to my own employ. Hullo, Ceatsal! Hullo! Give me Spunk piease Hullo, Spunk. MacGregor speeking. Spunk. 1 am now come to a verra strait pluce. and 1 would be extremely blithe to hae vour com- pany See if you canna bring Com- mon-sense wi' you. Hello, Central! Gimme Brains What's th ? answer? Try again. Central. gin ve please. The affair is verra urgent.” The oncoming rider slowed down: MaeGregor turned to meet him. his two hands resting on the saddie horn. *“Tis Mund. self, thanks be.” he muttered. “Aha, Brains! Are ve there at the last of it? That's weel! T shall need you!” He rode on at a walk drew abreast. “Hands up. you!” drawn and leveled MacGregor's hands did not move trom the saddle horn. “And that is no just what ye might call & ceevil sreeting, Mister Mundy. Man, ve think puirly! Do ve see this rifle er my knee? Thirty-forty, smoke- and had I meant ye ill, it wa but stepping behind @ bit bush to] tumble you from the saddle or eer. ye clapped eves on me. “You have my name.'l see” said Mundy. “And you might have taken « pot shot at me from ambush, easy enough. Unless all signs fail, you are fresh from tho loot of Luna New stick up those hands or I'll blow you into eternity.” “And that is a foolish obsairve,” sald MacGregor, composedly. “‘Into eternity!’ says he! Man, I wonder at ye! We're in eternity just noo—as much as we e'er shall be. For the ambush, vou do me great wrong. I was well knowing to yon mischief- making telephone—but I took my chance of inding you a man of sense. Man, theenk ye I have nae self-luve at all! Hands up might be all verra weel for a slim young spark like you. wi' looks and grace to bear it off with. But me, wi' my years and the hulking carcass of me, in such & bairnly play—man, T should look just reedeeculous! The thing cannae be done. horseman ‘Now The riders Mundy's gun was ¥ ok % ok HV'ERY well. I am comifig to get your gun. Keep vour hands on the saddle horn. T have you cov- ered, and if you erook a finger I'll ok mine.” "Ti rly yet in the day, Mr. Mundy." MacGregor held the same unmoved composure. “Dinna be hasty in closing in upon me. I was thinking to propose a compromise. “A compromise? And me with finger on trigger—me that could hit vou blindfolded?" ae doot of it at all. Myself, T am slow on the draw—but, man! if T'm slow, I'm extrordinary eefee- cient!” “Fool! T can shoot You three times before you get to your gun." ae doot, nae doot” sald Mac- Gregor pacificall. “It has been done—yet here am 1, little the waur o't. Come, Mr. Mundy, I came here the noo beeause ve are bespoken a man of parts and experlence—and thereby the better able to judge weel and deal wisely with another man as good as yoursel'” i “Sure of that “Positeeve. Now, gin Ye were free to look ye wad some ten-twelve hlack specks coming this way ahindt me on the plain, a long hour back, or near two, To speak the plain truth, I doot they meah me nae guid at a’ “I sheuld conclude that this wa: veur unlueky day. Mr. Whatever- vour-name-is. The whole country t of here is warned by telephene. Heavy, heavy hangs over your hea “f am = little struck wi' that cir cumstanee myself.” sald MacGregor stmply, “But if you ean eenstruet me in what way 1 should he any worse off to be shot by you just now, than to be hanged in a tow from ! pleasant juniper a little Jater, 1 shall he the more obleegit, If you canna do this, then T shall expect ye to nete that yve can have naught to galm by changing shets wi' o whe has naught to 1 and to conseeder the proposestion I mak' te you.” | back ! nae ask of ye if you hav lindeed. The Hand of the Potter “You put it very aitractively and I| see yonr point.” sald Mundy. A slow | smile lit up his face. He put his gun | in the scabbard. “Well, lot's have 1t “Let us e'en be riding toward your ranch gate while ye hear my offe for when the sun reaches here we should be seen—and yonder weary | bodies gain on us while we stand here daffing.” They rode on together. “First of it." MacGregor resumed e should know that not ome of these gentry behind have seen my face, the which I kep' streectly cov- ered durin' my brief stay in Luna. Second, ve may care to know that the bit stroke I pulled off in Luna was even less than justice. For within year and day a good friend of mine was there begowked and cozened by that same partnership— ves and that wi' treachery—of mair than I regained for him by plain force at noonday. Third, for yeur own self, it is far known that you und | | the Wyandotté Company and Steel-| foot Morgan are not agreeing verra | well—-" ) “You never hesrd that I've taken| any the worst of it. did you? | “No. but that they keep you well occupied. So hear me now. I need| only but | discreet persuns aboot ¥ Mundy laughed. “No one ai the| ranch today but Hurley, the waler- mason. He's all right " PR «\/ERRA weel. Do you away betimes on that beastie atween your knees, and 1 will be water-mason to you—the mair that 1 can run your steam pump as well as the best. The story wil] be that the outlaw body passed by night.: unseen. 1ftin’ your night horse as he | flitted. and leavin' this sarrel of mine Your man Hurley can join your out-| fit and lose himself. For 1 shall be blameless Maxwell. your water-| mason—and who So eager to run down the runagate robber as he? And when they see how it is, that their man has got clean away. these men from Luna will be all for the eating and sleeping.” “Very pretty, and it can be done agreed Mundy. “They will not be ex- pecting their outlaw to call them in to breakfast, certainly. But I do not see where 1 am to gain anything.” “You are to hear, then, said nu' outlaw. “I will fight your battles| with vou against all comers ot murder, you mind, but plain warfare against men fit for war' “A fighting man, and siow on the draw?" I am that same. Slow. 1 cannot deny ft—slow, in compare with the Dbest. But man, I'm experlenced. I'm judgmatical, and I'm fine on the lat- ter end. You have had word of me, vour own self. in El Paso, where, 1 saw your face, though you saw not mine. So now 1 offer you the naked choice, peace or war. A hundred miles and twenty. at the least of it, [ have now made in sax- and-thirty hours—and blow high, blow low, I ride no step beyond yonder gate.” “I am decidedly inclined toward | peace,” said Clay Mundy. But as to your value in my little range war— you forgot to mention jour name, you know.” “The name is MacGregor.” “Not Sandy MacGregor? Of Black Mountain? “That same neatly. “You're on sald Clay Mundy. “Se MacGregor became Maxwell, and Mundy's. The search party cam: and swore, and slept. Nonme mi trusted Maxwell, that kindly and capable cook, who sympathized so feelingly with them. In the seven.up tournament organized after that big sleep, Maxwell won the admir: tion of all and the money of most; and they went home mingling praises of their new friend with execrations of the escaped outlaw. ok ok OUND-UP season passed with no fresh outbreak of hostilities. After the steer-shipping. Mr. Maxwell had been given & mount, & rope and a branding iron, and so turned loose to learn the range. One day in late October, the rain turned to & blinding storm and Max- well was glad to turn his back to its fury end ride for shelter, at Plc- tured Rock, an overhanging cliff of ltmestone, sheltered from three wind As he turned the bend ia the canyon, Maxwell saw & great light glowing under Pictured Rock. He paused at the hill-foot and shouted: “Hullo, the house! Will your dog bite?" ‘Hi!" Tt was & startled voice: a slender figure in a yellow slicker ap- peared beside the fire, “Dog's dead, poor fellow—starved to death! Come on up!™ The C L A man rode up the short zig-zag of the trail to the fire-lit level. He took but one glance and swept off his hat, for the face he eaw beneath the turned up sombrero w"l the brigtt and sparkling face of a girl. “You will be Miss Bennle May Mor- gan? I ¢ you In Magdalena at the steer-shipping.” “Quite right. And you are Mr. Sandy Maxwell, the new warrior for Clay Mundy.” “Faces like ours are not easlly forgo! aid Maxwell. Miss Bennie laughed. “I wlll g vou a safe-conduct. Get down.” She sat upon her saddle blankets where they were spread before the fire, and leaned back against the sadd The C L A man climbed heavily down and strode to the fire, where he stood dripping and silent. “Well! How about that lunch demanded Mlss Bennie sharply. “It’ past noon. ‘Sorry, Miss Morgan, but I have not 5o much &8s a crumb. And that is a bad thing, for you are far from home, and who knows when this weary storm will be by? But doubtiess they will be abroad to k for yo Miss Bennie laid aside the hat and shook her curly head decidedly. ‘“Not for me. Dad thinks I'm visiting Efe at the X L, and Effle thinks I'm home by this time. But this storm won't . The sun will be out by 3. You'll And now, if you please, suppose you tell me what you are thinking so busily. “I am thinking,” said Maxwell, slowly, “that you are & honnie lass and a merry one. And T was think- ing one more thing, too. The X L is awa' to the southeast and the Mor- gan home ranch as far to the south- New what may Mi ennie Morgan mneed of se, much northing, ten long miles aaide from the straight | send hlm: Plain sheoting done THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., JULY . 15 1923—PART 5. / “THE PUIR, MAD, MISGUIDED LAD!" HE SAID, BETWEEN PAIN-WRUNG LIPS. be found to make an end of this brawling for good and all. And thinks 1, the bonny Earl eof Murray himself was not more goodly to the than Clay Munday—and it Is & great peety for all concerned that Clay Mundy is not stormbound this day at Picture Rock, rather than I! “Well!" Miss' Bennie ped and laughed frankly. “And while you were thinking all those preposter- ous thoughts, 1 was seeing a won- derful pleture, y much like this storm, and this cave. and this fire, and us. A red fire glowing in u cave mouth, and a wind-bent tree! close’ beside; and by the fire a man | straining into the night at some un- seen danger; a cave man, clad in skins, broad-shouldered. long-armed, ferocious, brutal—but unafraid. He is half crouching, he |s peering under his hand; the other hand clutches ay knotted elub: & dog strains beside his foot, teeth bared, glaring, stiff legs braced back, neck bLristling: be- hind hm, half hidden, shrinking in the shadow—a woman and a child And the name of that picture could be ‘Home F B MAXWELLS heaw tace lit up; his M glugstsn blood thrilled at the spirit and beauty of her; his voice rang with frank admiration. “And that is @ brave thought you have conjured up, too, and I will be war- rant you would be unco’ fine woman to a cave man—though I'm judgin’ you would be having a bit club of your own." “Now you are trying to torment me,” sald Miss Bennie, briskly. “Roll oke. I know you want to. A pipe, sinece you are so kind,” said Maxwell, fumbling for it. “Do you admire your friend Clay Mundy s0o much?’ said Miss Bennie next, elbows or knees, chin In hands. Maxwell rolled & slow eye on her, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “My employer. I did not say friend, though it may come to that yet. But I am not calling him friend yet till I know the heart of him. So you will not be taking Clay Mundy to your cave upon my say-so till I am better acquaint’ wi' hifn. But doot- less you know him vera well your- o1t Miss Bennie evaded this issul “See, the storm is breaking. clear as suddenly as it came on. will be on my way soon.” Maxwell shook out the saddle blankets and saddled her horse. “Of course, I will he seeing that you get safe home—" “Really, I'd rather you wouldn said Miss Bennle earnestly. “T don’ want to be rude, but T am still— She gave him her eyes and blushed to her hair—"T am still * * * north of where I should be. And your camp lies farther vet to the north.” 00d-by, then, Miss Morgan.” ‘Good-by, Mr. MacGregor." He stared after her as she rode clattering down the steep. ‘Mac- Gregor!” ho repeated. acGregor, ways she! And never @ soul of the San Quentin kens sught of the late MacGregor save Clay Mundy's own self! Little lady, it is in my mind that you are owre far north!” She waved her hand gayly; her fresh young veice floated back to him, lingering, soft and slow: He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring: And the bonny Earl of Murray Oh! He might have been & king. He was a braw gallant, And he played at the glove; And the bonuy Earl of Murray Oh! He was the queen's love! ©Ob! Lang may his lady Laute ewre the castle down. Ere she see the Earl of Murray Come sounding threugh the to The girl passed from sight down the narrow canvon. MacGregor-Max- well put foot to stirruj ‘When he came to the beaten trail again, where the ho! feet pattered rhythmically on the firm ground. he crooned a plaintive and wandering air: trust the ha TR O T REt o "ty Tove betrayed and sad although T leave ou, & Yo ':"'\'-' ‘wandoriag traltor weeps. pogr love, Ay! Paloma azu “Now why do I wing such an fll- omened and unchancy son that?" He held his cupped hand te his mouth. “Hullo, Central! Can you get Brains for me? + + Try again, Dlease. . « o« Now, Brains, did you mark the It will 1 | please! . the piain way, wi' no cause give . And what am 1 to dosin such case as that? A little louder, Oh! 1 am to see where Clay Mundy rides this day, is that 1 And If he means her nuething but good? It is what 1 will know. And then I will be best man—and to be best man at this employ should be no empty form. For indeed I think the Morgans are like to be little pleased.” . % sald Miss +4] THOUGHT it was vou S0 1 Bennie May Morgan waited for you Aren't you rather out of your own range, Mr. Maxwell?™ With elaborate surprise, MacGreg took his bearings from the distant circling hillsa “Why so I am! 1 was on my way to Datil. 1 see now that I should have ridden eastlike this morning instead of wedt.” “It is shorter that way—eand dryer.” she agreed. “This road to Datil is very damp after you pass California.’ It was like this” he exclaimed. “Clay Mundy set off for Datil early ever lose e ar Gregor “Yet we must meet!” proudly “You two sheuld wed out of hand, then, and put the round world be- tween you and this place,” said Mac- iregor. Miss Bennle sighed. “That !s what T tell Clay. Clay does not want to &o. He cannot bearyto have it eai that he had to run aw from San Quentin. But I ‘will never marry him till he is ready to go' ‘He is a fool for his pains and I will be the one who will tell him that same!” declared MacGregor stoutly No—you mustn't say one word to him about me—please! He would be furious—and he is a dangerous ma; “I thauk ye kindly for this unex- pected care of my safety,” sald Mac- Gregor humbly. “Oh, thess men! Must vou hear that you are so dangerous, too? There would be trouble and you know it. I'll tell him—not that you wins, Bennie Morgan must s you must meet?’ sald Mac- She said it MACGREGOR STARED AFTER HER AS SHE RODE CLATTERING DOWN THE STEEP. this merhing, whilst I staid In ump.\.hl.vo seen me, but that we might so shoeing horses. He was riding his | easily be seen—and that our meet- Jugador horse—fine T ken the crooked | ings must be few and far between foot of him. And when later in the { She checked herself with a startle day I came upon the track of that twisted hoof, I found suddenly a great | lids. | mian who would not think twice be: desire to go after him to Datll, where 1 have never yet been. And I said to myself, ‘Plainly if you follow this track you will come to that place. And so you see me here.” “And now that you're here, Mr.— “Maxwall—net MacGregor," sald Mao- Gregor. “Thank you; Maxwell. have it." MgoGregor plucked up spirit. ‘It was in_my mind to give you but the bare hint that your secret was stumbled upon. For what one has chanced upon this day another may chance tomorrow." The girl dropped all preten: “1 think you mean kindly by me, Mr. MacGregor, and 1 thank you for it. And you must consider that our case is hard, indeed, Fifty miles each Way avery ranch is lined up oh ome side or the other of this feud. One Well, let's way? And then I theught te-myselt, |[bonny blush of her at the name of | word to my father's esr will mean it 15 an 111 thing that & way canags' mwtwlulum bleodshed and deatheyand them, who- N | shyness in her sudden drooping of “And yet I think there is no fore he whispered evil of Ben Mor- gan's daughter and"—she lifted her brave eyes—‘and A Clay Mundy's sweetheart! MacGregor checked his horse, his poor, dull face 1it up and uplifted. “I think there will be no man so vile as to think an evil thing of you,” hy d. “Yet there is one thing, too, before I turn back—and I think you will not laugh.” She faced him where he stood, so that he carried with him a memory of her dazaling youth against a daz- zle of sun. “T shall not laugh.” * K Xk (T In better than fitty years, they tell me, mince last the San Quen- tin knew any such rains as these,” said MacGregor slowly. “This place has the ill name of a desert. Yet all this day the sir has been heavy ‘with sweetness; all day long I have ,fiOW.fl*—lnd no man knows the name of them! Fifty years they have slept In the blistered brown earth, the seeds of these nameless flowers, walting for this year of many rains. Lassie, there are only too many men like me of deserved and earned {ll naeme. And when you think of us {T would have you think there may be hidden seeds of good in us yet—if | only the rains might come! And if jever you have any néed of me—as is most unlike—I shall be real friend to you. Tt is €0 that I would have you think of old MacGregor. Good-by!" “I shall not forget,” said Bennfe. “And now you are my friend, for I have trusted you very greatly.” “Good-by, then!” sald MacGregor ain. He bent over her hand. ‘Good-by!"" MacGregor moved his camp to Bear Springs, on the southern frontier of the Mundy range. Milt Craig had moved on Clenage, alone. As the day wore on he found him- self well across in the Wyandotte- Morgan country. He turned back. and ill he came down a ridge of backbone 1o the 80 today MacGregor rcde tle curl of smoke rising above | Skullspring bluff | “We are in a hostile country, :.\'emhbnr." suid he to his horse. "It will be the part of prudence to have a Yook into this matter, least we go blundering in where we are nas much wanted.” He tied Nelghbor in a lit- tle hollow of the hill, and went down with Infinite precayution to the edge of the cliff above Skullspring Three men were by the fire belaw 1l strangers t»> MacGregor. That gentlemar lay flat on the rock, peer- ing through a bush, and looked them jover. Two were cowboys; thelr sad- dled hor stood by and alight buggy stood by the fire, The third person, a tall man, had the look of a town man. He wore a black suit and a “hard-bolled” hat “I tel! you,” said the older cowboy, “T41 be good and glad aplenty when this thing is over with. It's a shaky {business.” “Don’t get ocold feet, Joe advised the tall man. “You're getting mighty big money for a small risik, You get the chance just because you're a stranger and can get away without 'i!lnl noticed.” The younger man of the party spoks up. “I'm not only goin’ to get away, but I'm goin' to leep on get- tin' away. Lemme tell you, Mr. Ham- |erick, this country'll be too hot for {me when its over” The tall man was Hamerick, for he answered: “Keep your nerve. Your part iy egsy. You take the first right- hand trail and drift south across that saddleback pass yonder, so you'll get thers before 1 do. The Bents have all | gone to Magdalena for supplies. Mrs. Bent is going to Socorro and Bent'll wait for her. Youre to make vour- selves at home—new men working there: sorry the Bents are gone, and all that” He kicked out the dying fire +And if any one comes, then what?" Joo glowered. “Then you are strangers, passing by. The nearest ranch is twenty-five miles. But it any one should come, it's all off for today. Youwll ride out to good grass and make camp. If we sce your fire, Mundy and me'll turn back. We'll pull it off tomorrow. T am to meet Mundy at that little sugarloaf hill yonder, four or five miles out on the plain. Then I'll go on down the wagon road to Bent's with him. The play {s that I'm sup- posed to think the Bent folks are at home. You boys'll have plenty of time to get settled down.” “1¢ we don't run into a wasm's neat,” satd Joe, sulkily. * ¥ ¥ ¥ AMERICK gave him a sinister look. “You get mo money till I get astraddle of & horse again; Il tell you that right mow, my laddle buek! This bugsy's too easy to track up, if anything goes wrong.” “I won't, en™ Joe took & step forward, his ugly face blotched with ertmson. . Here the vounger man interpesed. “Oh, you both make me siok!” His voice was venomous in its unforced evenn “If you fellows get to Aghting I'll do my best to kill both of you. Got that?"” MacGregor almost hugged himself with delight. h, if they once get to shooting!” he thought. “Tt would be & strange thing If between the four of us we should mot do a good day's work of it!" Now, now, Tait—" “Pon’t Tait me!" said Tait, in the me deadly level. “Hamerick's right, Joe. We'll string along with him till he gets to a saddle—and then may the devll take the hindmost! The sooner 1 see the last of you two, the :fl‘:er ‘Il be. For you, Hamerick— ;’L%*::“elé'«n‘.?:fl“- this thing, but I'm the best man, and den’t you forget it. You'll stick to me against Joe till you're horseback gain, with a fair hance dor & get-away: Joeil stick to Te fill we get a fair divvy on the money—and if either of you don't like it, you ean double up on me whenever vou feel lucky. I'm ready for you both any turn in the road.” It was plain that Talt was to be master. - MacGregor rolled back from the bare rim with scarce more nolse than a shadow would have made. He crawled to the neavest huddle of rocks and hid away. Soom eame the sound of wh and & ringing of shod feet on rock. The tingling echoes died; and then MacGregor climbed back to Neighbor. Keeping to the ridge, he would gain & long mile on the wagon road, deep in the winding pass. When hé came inte the wagon road the h:l"'[y was just befors him, close to the mouth of the pass. MacGregor struck into a gallop. fThe stranger had been going at a brisk gait, but at sight of the horseman he slowed down. “A fine day, air,” sald MacGregor civilly, a8 he rode alongside. “It certainly is, said the stranger. “How far is it to Old Fort Tularosa, can you tell me?’ MaoGregor squinted across the plals “A matter of forty miles, I should say. Goin' across? The' stranger shook his head. ‘Not today. I think I will camp here for the night and have a look in the hills for & deer. You're not going to the Fort yourself, are you?" MacGregor grinned cheerfully. ‘““Well, no; mot today. The fact is, sir’—he sunk his voice to a confidential whisper —*“the fact ie, If you're for camping | 1 | | here the night I must even camp he: too. “What!" “Just that. litle gun which 1 hold here in my Do you remark this hand? and stop to get eut upon his sids, while from the upper bench he saw a 1it-! the | | your ain. For you spoke very glibly of hunting a deer—and vet 1 do not see any rifle, * ok ok ¥ ' AMERICK groaned as he climbed out. “I haven't any riffe. My re- volver is under the cushion. 1If iv's money you're after, you'll get most | mighty little.” | L “All In good time,” said MacGregor i cheerfully. " He went through Hamerick for arms: finding none, he went through the buggy, finding the gun under the cushion. He inspected this carefully, tried it, and stuck it in his walstband. ‘/You see I have no money, you have my gun—what more do you want of me?" spluttered Hamerick. “'Let me g an appointment—I'll be late now ith that deer, ye are meaning? MucGregor sat cross-legged on the ground and whittled off a pipeful of tobacco with loving care. Hamerick pulled himself togsther with an effort. “I see now that you &re not a robber, as I first though:. You can't be doing yourself any possible ®ood by keeping me here. 1 tell you I &m waited for. “I will tell you somewhat, Mr. Ham- erlek” At this unexpected sound of his own name Hamerick started vis ibly. “If Clay Mundy is at all of my mind, this is what we shall do: We | will set you on Clay Mundy's horse and put Clay Mundy's hat upon your head; and we tivo will get in your bit wagon and drive you before our guns— Just at dusk, d’ye mind?—to the Bent ranch; and there, if 1 do not miss my Kuess, you will be shot to death by hands of your own hiring." { Bo far from being appalled, Hamer- ick was black with rage; he stamped, he shook his fist, he struggled for speech in a choking fury. “You fool! You poor spy! Idiot! Why couldn't you tell me you were | Mundy’s man?” “Steady, thers! Are you meaning to murder Clay Mundy? Because we are 8olng on now (o see him."” Hameriek gathered up the reins eagerly. “Come on, then, befors it's too late! Me kill Clay Mundy? Why, you poor, pitiful bungler, Clay Mundy brought me here to play preacher for him MacGregor drew back. His face flamed; his eyes were terrible. He jerked out Hamerlek’s gun and threw it at Hamerick's feet. “Protect your- self!” he said. But Hamerick shrank back, cringing. “T won't! I won't touch it!" “Cur!” h, dom’t kill me, Hamerlek was don’t my wringing his hands. MacGregor turned shamed away. He took up Hamerick's gun. “Strip the harness from that horse, then; take the bridle and ride! Go back the way you came, and keep on | Roing | errand, and there {s no man of Mor- | gan’s men but will kill you at kirk or gallows-foot.” He watched in silence as Hamerick eyes | of the pass; at the plain's edge he saw a horseman, nearby, coming swiftly. 1t was Clay Mundy A M2cGREGOR thrust Hamerick's nn; “¥L petween h!s left knee and the stir- | rup leather and gripped it there. He rode on—and the nameless flowers of San Quentin were stirrup-high about | him as he rode. | He drew rein so Mundy should come to his right side; and as at their first meeting, he 1aid both his hands on the | saddle hern as he halted. Clay Mundy's fece was dark with| suspicion. Have you seen a fool in 2 buggy?’ he demanded. see o fool on & horse!"” responded | | MacGregor calmly. “For the parson you seek, I have put such a werd in his ear that he will never stop this side of tidewater. What devil's work is this, Clay Mundy?" “You cursed meddler! Are you coward as well as meddler, that you dare not move your hands?’ “Put up your foolish gun, man. The thing 18 done and shooting will never undo ft. There will be no mook-mar- riage this way, nor ony day—and now shoot, if you willl b “Think ye I value my life owre high, or that I fear ye at all, that I come seeking you? Take shame to yourself, man! 8Say you will marry the lassie before my eyes, and I will go with her back to the house of the Morgans—and for her I will keep your shame to mysel. Or, If it 1lkes you better, you may even fall ooting.” sald Mundy. *T can kill| you before you can touch your gun.” “It is*what 1 doubt” said Mao- Gregor. ‘“Please yourself. For me there is but the clean stab of death— but you must leave behind the name of a false traitor to be & hissing and a byword in the mouths of men.” “I will eay this much, that I was wrong to call you coward” sald Mundy, in a changed voice. “But I will not be driten further. ¥ will go on alone, and tell her, and send her home.” “You will say vour man fled before the Morgans, or was taken by them, or some such lles, and lure her on to her ruin,” eaid MacGregor. “I wiil not turn back.” “I will glve you the minute to turn back,” sald Mundy. t s what I will never do “Then you will die here, Mundy. “Think of me as one dead an hour gone,” said MaoGregor steadily. “T am beyond the question. Think rather of yourself, You have the plain choice before you—a bonny wife to cherish, life and love, peace and just dealing and quiet days—or at the other hand but dusty death and black shame to ‘back of that! As a snake strikes, Mundy's hand shot out: he jerked MacGreger's gun | gun shots; he wa face it out that you did not plan to| murder | |t |cover a process for satisfactorily re- For I shall tell your name and | fled. Then he rode down to the mouth | By Eugene Manlove Rhodes, bors neck mnd fired once, twises- sgain! Crash of flames, roaring of on his back, neighbor's feet wers in his m.;":- fired once more, blindly, from under the trampling feet. Breathless, crushed, is struggles 1o his kn A yard away, Clay Mundy 1ay on his face, crumpled and si) » “I didnas touch his face " said Mae- Gregor. He threw both guns benind him; he turned Mundy over and opened his shirt. One wound was through the heart. MacGregor looked down upon him. “The puir, mad, misgulded lad>" he sald between painwrung lips. “S he was gone horn-mad with h, revenge. He covered the dead man's face, and sat beside him: he held his hand to his own breast to stay the pulsing blood. “And the puir lasste—she will hear this shameful tale of him' Had r looked forward and killed vonder knave Hamerick, she had blamed none but me. ‘Twas {1l done....Ay, but she's young still. She wi have a cave and a fire of her own ye:.’ There was silance a littls space, and his hand slipped. Then he opened his dulling eves: “Hullo, Central'... Give me Body please -Hullo, Body'! Hullo: Ther you, Body?.... MacGregors Sou, speaking. T am going awi o luck to you—good-by! know where." (Copyright, 1928, Old Question of Pins. HAT time-worn and swered question, “What becomes of all the old pins?" seems to be in @ fair way of being answered in New York city at least, for & company has been formed for the purpose of ra finishing used pins and restorin them to their original newness. Ner that representatives of the compan are to patrol the streets gathering : discarded pins, but it is said tha some of the large dressmaking «stab lishments the pin bill sometimes reaches as high as $1,500 annuall Used only once, the pins are removeds and allowed to drop on tha floor Where they are swept away. Even if gathered up at the close of the el unan- 1day, the pins are too dirty to be used again on fine fabries. The company mentioned purposes to effect a saving in the pin ftem by taking all the used pens, cleaning and refinishing them. More than a year of experimenta- Was necessary in order to dis. finishing the pina. At first {t was thought that 1f the pins simply wery gathered by means of a magnet in stead of sweeping, they could be ussd again without refinishing, but even then it was found that the pins re- tained enough of the floor dust ta soil white fabries and make their use unprofitable. A process was finally discovered, however, whereby the refinished pins can be returnsh to the users at half the cost of the new product and still the refinishing company will be enabled to make fair working profit Curious Auction Sales. UCTION sales can now be carric d only electricity by a method tha: has been tried out in Holland. The proverbial taciturnity of the people {n that country accounts for the sug- cess of the method there, and no doubt most people would be slad 1o do away with the objectionable noise that prevails at auctions. In the present case, the meathad is applled to selling eggs in the weekly markets which are held in the agri- oultural districts. The egEs are sold in lots of 2,500 in this case. Fach bidder has a numbered seat provided with a push button and eleetrio wir- ing that goes to the seller's stand Ay large dial Is set up here and it eon- tains figures around it ranging from lowest to highest prices. Near it is & board with corresponding sets of figures and each one of thess can be lighted up by an electrio lamp, The seller explains the nature of tha Eoods and then makes a contact 16 & motor device so that the hand moves very slowly over the dial ‘When at a certain figure, a bidde pressed his button and this lights up ths corresponding figure on the board and the hand stops. Then it goes on agaln and a second bidder can indicate a larger figure, and =o on. The board shows at once which is the highest figure bid and an elec-~ trio register also Indicates the num- ber of the seat occupied by the hidder. Time in All Nations. , HERE s a wonderful clock in an Diego, Calif., which tells the time {n all nations at the same mo- ment. That is to say, it gives the time in nearly a score of the princi- pal cities of the world. It Las twenty dlals, four of them four fect in diam- eter and the rest smaller ones on the faces of the larger ones. It also gives the hour, minlute and second of Sen Diego time and the day of the week and day of the month. It s twent - one foet high, and is considered by many to be the largest and best-build street clock anywhere fn the United States. The master ciock 'is inclosed in plate glass at the bottom of the ped- estal, and the Intricate parts and complicated action are plainly visi- ble. It was all made in one shop. &nd cost $3,000, Fifteen months were rep quired to construct and finish ft. The jeweling is of very fine tourmaline, from the scabbard and threw it b hind him. His face lit up with fero- olous joy. “You prating eld windbag. How about it now? Il be driven by no man on earth, much less by a wordy old bluffer like you. “You used other speech but now. Ye are false in war as in love. But I carenae for hard words, 50 you deal fustly with the lassle, Wed her with me to witness, or let her go fre “Talk to the wind!” said Mundy. “For the last time, Mundy, give it up!” “Get off that horse and drag it! You're not worth my killing. Never, en on the San Quentin agat undy—" o ‘Get off, T say!" Mundy spurred close, his cocked gun swung shoulder high, * ok * ok HAWEEL." sair MacGregor. He be- gan to aslide oft slowly, his vight hand on the saddle horn: his Jeft hand went to the gun at his left woared you for sny-bib-srespens-al Eaee) Do thrust it up -under Nelgh agate, jade and topaz. The motive power {s a 200-pound weight, and the clock winds itself automatically. It is illuminated at night. Horsepower Machine. NDIVIDUALS who claim to feel as trong as & horse” may now have the opportunity to put their strength to a test. A device known as the eurostometer, which gauges the strength of human beings In terms of horsepower, has besn perfected. It consists of & bicycle transmission and a handwheel geared to a cylinder, which offers resistance to the motion of the transmission. The person be- [ing tested is required to maintain the velocity of the resisting cylinder at a predetermined number of revolu- tionw per minuta. When the machine is in motion a wejght brake iy grade- ally applied until the revolutions fall below a given standard. The weight registers upon ,a scale beam, on which the horsepower is the univ eff