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D. €, TANUARY 17, 1932. S memm uitors and a Haunted House — By Alb@l‘tfl Hfldefl Saff()r d mah pig now, you needn't bodder to come back in no mawin’.” Irresistible Jackson uttered a loud guffaw. It amused him to look on at Gunboat's discom- fiture. UNBOAT took a slow, menacing step in Irresistible’s. direction, which had the effect of suddenly choking off the guffaw. Then with a keen eye out for Gunboat's next move Irresistible rubbed his hands uneasily over his knees and rose with heavy digpity. “Ah’'ll be steppin’ along now, Ah guess. Ah'll be back in the mawnin’' to build that little pigpen for yuh, Miss Rosetta.” Ha-ha-ha!” roared Gunboat. “He uses his haid fo’ to dribe a nail in, maybe.” The uncomfortable Mr. Jackson beat a hasty retreat, and Gunboat suddenly sobered at the look of admiration in the eyes of the efficient Rosetta as she watched the retreating Mr. Jackson, nervously turned in her direction. Women care for money only? It never entered his mind that the willingness to do them a personal favor, however trivial, was worth more to them—to Rosetta—than all the jobs and f money he could offer. It puzzled him—this solicitude Rosetta was evincing for a mere pig. She paid no attention to Gunboat, but fussed about, much as the proverbial hen with one chick. “Ah wish dere was some nice green grass to put her in,” she complained, mournfully eyeing the sun-frizzled weeds among which Pansy was rooting. “Dese weeds is so dusty Ah’ fraid Pansy'll sneeze her po’ little se’f to def.” “Well, den you'll hab to eat your Thanks= gibin' dinner in July ’'stead of November,” hazarded Gunboat “Shut yo’ big mouth!” Rosetta snapped at him. “Ah ain’t goin’ to eat little Pansy. Not if Ah sta’bes fust. Pete Hzall had a ol'’ sow wid a litter to up an’ die on him; an’ he sol’ me Pansy real cheap; an’' Ah was a-figgerin’ to hab her fo' Thanksgibin'; but den she was 80 cute an’ pink Ah didn't hab de heart to; so Ah’s jist goin’ to keep her, an’ raise her up. Ah hopes Ah can feed her right. Stufl is ightly high-lak,” Rosetta sighed. “Well, Ah neber!” Gunbozt shook his ead in wonder over the ways ot women. pig—and Roseita trez it like it was child, he thought. Seemed like she hought a heap of just a pig. Again he ook his head “Now ain’s she cute?” Roseita insisted, stoop- g to scratch Pansy lovingly Gunboat admitted that she was; then he anged the subject “Dere’s sumpin’ impo'tant Ah been wantin’ p speak to you ’bout, Rosetta,” he began lemnly. From the way Gunboat swung from foot to hot and twisted the hammer in his uneasy ands. Rosetta knew at once what pe was iy leading up to. She was rather pleased. She was fond of Gunboat. Maybe he wasn't a slick dresser like Irresistible, and maybe his feet were huge; still the white folks all liked him, and the colored folks all had a good word for him. But she had no intention of making the TO] 1 too easy for him. . fia—- Ah-—y—. Well de fac’' is, Rosetta, Ah—— Ah——" Gunboat swallowed hard, and rolled his eyes until the frightened whites shone out start- lingly. He had never dreamed it would be so hard to say the simple words “Ah loves you, Rosetta.” He made another desperate attempt to put his thoughts into words. Rosetta lost patience with this long-drawn- out, roundabout wooing. The “Yas, honey,"” which had been hanging ready at her tongue’s end for the past few minutes, began to taste a bit sour. “What you beatin’ ‘round de bush ’bout?” she demanded belligerently. “Say what you got to say, an’ don't be gee-hawin’ dis way an’ dat, lak an’ ol'’ mule.” Gunboat, thus prodded, rushed recklessly into speech. “Well, Ah wants to ax you will you—. Well, it's dis-a-way. Mis’ Blaine, up to de ‘Oaks’, wants a married couple to take care of her place dis Summah, an’ Ah thought maybe you 'an me could git married an'—" “So!"” snapped the disillusioned woman. “So you jist wants to marry me so’s to git a job up to Mis’ Blaine’s. Is dat it?” For it had flashed upon her that Gunboat had spoken no word of love. “It ain't dat way a-tall, Rosetta, 'Deed an’ Ah declare it ain’t. Fo’ de Lawd, Rosetta, Ah loves 2 “Don’t you talk to me of love, you Niggah!” shouted Rosetta, bouncing to her feet in indig- nation. “Take yo' big feet off my place. Comin’ here an’ ba'gainin’ at me to git you a job! ANh'll handle you if Ah catches you 'round here ag’in. Git!” Dejectedly he fled, and presently, sitting on a bale of hay in front of Mason's feed store, he mulled over his troubles. MEANWHILE Rosetta had begun to regret her violent flare-up. As Gunboat had suspected, Rosetta was in need of work, more especially since now there was ravenous little Pansy to be fed. She wondered whether it might not be to her advantage to seek out Gunboat and in- quire further into this prospective job. Inquiring for Gunboat now and then of those she met, she walked through the moon- lit Hollow, and came upcn the re- jected suitor still slumped upon the bale of hay. It was not part of her plan to seem forgiving. Rather she had determined to put herself in Gunboat's way and allow him to seek forgiveness of her Her scheme worked perfectly. Gunboat, seeing her approaching, got awkwardly to his feet, and called out to her beseechingly. “Rosetta, you ain't mad at me, honey, is you? ’'Deed an’ Ah was on'y tryin’ to fix it up so's we could git married.” “What kin’ of a job is dis, up to de ‘Oaks’?” she demanded Gunboat explained in dectail. “Didn’t you say Mis’ Blaine wants a married couple. an’ pow you says she jist wants wown an’ me? What kin’' of doin’s is dis, anyhow?” “She say dat she p'fer dat you an’ me gits married, an’ libs up dere.” “Me lib up to dat spock place! chile!” Gunboat hesitated. He did not relish the lde;a of staying in the gloomy mansion by him- self. “Well?” she said, “Is you or ain’t you goin’ to lib dere? Here Ah’s ready to take de job, an’ here you is weavin’ 'round tryin’ to make up yo’ mind. Says is you or ain’t you?” “Ah is,” said Gunboat desperately. Not dis - UNBOAT moved his few possessions up to “The Oaks” that Saturday, and he also, without Rosetta’s knowledge, asked and won permisslpn to keep a pig on the place. Then he transferred the tiny Pansy to a good sized pen back of the barn, and took Rosetta to see her in her new quarters. Rosetta looked at him with softening eyes. She was on the point of saying something, which might or might not have been important to Gunboat, when she was interrupted by Irresistible Jackson. That erstwhile favored swain had no inten- tion of leaving a clear field for Gunboat. Now he appeared around the end of the barn with a paper parcel in his hand and an ingratiating smile upon his black face. “Ah thought Ah’d drop by an’ see how's you makin’ it, Rosetta,” he informed her, ignoring Gunboat. “You ain't plannin’ on stayin’' here nights, is you, Miss Rosetta?” “Not me!” said Rosetta emphatically. “But Gunboat, here, he's goin’ to stay. He ain’t scairt of de ha'nt,” she added, with a look of admiration in his direction. Irresistible was piqued. “He ain’t stayed, yit,” he suggested mean- ingly. Irresistible strolled off with Rosetta, leaving Gunboat hot with defeat. That evening, as Gunboat entered the shadowy barn, there was a stealthy rustle in the hayloft above him, and an ominous, slow rapping which rooted him where he stood. Suddenly a weird glow lit up the loft, and there, outlined against the light, was a sheeted figure which moved rapidly toward him, With a yell Gunboat leaped backward. Then he stopped. Flames were leaping up from the tinder-dry hay. The mysterious thing was climbing hastily down the ladder from the loft. The shroud it wore billowed up, and beneath it there were trousered legs. Gunboat growled in his throat with rage. He ran after the ghost, which was seemingly un- accustomed to the hampering breadths of its shroud. He caught up with it. And he felled it with his slugging, mauling fists. The glare of the fire lit up the countryside. Warned by the flames the Blaines and their neighbors rallied to Gunboat’s aid. The Hollow folk gathered to watch and enjoy the spectacle. Gunboat worked on. The barn was doomed; but there were bags of feed, tools, many things to be saved. He was here, there, and every- where “Praise de' Lawd!” shouted old Mammy Cindy. “Praise de Lawd fo’ Gunboat!” “Amen!” chorused the excited blacks. The flames broke through the roof. The walls were beginning to totter, Gunboat staggered out, his great chest heav- ing with the strain of his exertions. “Gunboat!” shouted Mr. Blaine, “come away. It isn’t safe. What started this fire anyway?” “A—good fo’ nothin'—piece of trash—wrap- ped up in a sheet,” gasped Gunboat. “Lawdy!” ejaculated Mammy Cindy. *“A spook done set de place afire.” “Ain’t no spook a-tall. Ah done smash him down wid mah fists an’ lay him out ober dere.” The crowd surged toward the limp figure on the ground. Som=z onc snatched the sheet away. “It's dat Jackson-man,” shrilled Mammy Cindy. “Ain't Ah said he was a no ’count, sneakin’ piece of black trash?” “Gunboat! Gunboat!” Some one was tugging at him frantically. He swung about wearily. It was Rosetta. “Save Pansy!” she shrieked at him. “De fire is burnin’ her up. Mah Gawd, don’t let po’ little Pansy roast alibe!” Gunboat locked off to where the walls of the barm swayed dangerously in the rush of the flames, He hesitated. Then he broke into a stumbling run. He lunged across the yard past the weaving flames. They seared his flesh with their hot breath. He reached the pen. But the terrified Pansy eluded his grasp. He must step into the pen to get her. “De walls am fallin’,” shrieked Rosetta, wilkd- eyed with fear. ‘“Come 'way—ye-ow——" Slowly the wall swung out. With a mighty Jeap Gunboat cleared the pen, the tiny bit of pinkish-white pork-flesh held tight in his arms. The burning timbers missed him as they fell; but the flames reached out to lick at his flap- ping trouser-legs. > He reached the crowd. Willing hands beat out the flames. Pansy squirmed safe in her mistress’ arms. “Mah man!” sobbed Rosetta. “Praise de Lawd fo’ mah man! Ain’t no sneakin’ Jackson- trash eber goin’ to set his foot near me agin. Tried to do mah man dirt. Dat’s what he done. Lef’ mah man to walk through fire. Halleluiah! Praise de Lawd fo’' a man what's a man! Praise de Lawd fo’ Gunboat!” (Copyright, 1932.) Sentiment Saves 1exas Rangers Continued from Ninth Page crowd had double-crossed him. A shooting was inevitable and naturally some one got hurt. One of the Rangers was killed with the opening shot. Sam Bass fired and Dick Ware, the Ranger, promptly went into action. He sent a fatal bullet into the chest of one of the gang and turned his attention toward Sam, and though he was virtually blinded by the outlaw’s shot, he gave Sam wounds that brcught his death three days later. For years the Big Bend country of the Upper Rio Grande was the hiding place for the worst criminals of the State, and it was the Rangers who ferreted them out of their rendezvous. Virtually all of the oil fields of Texas have had their martial-law days, their Ranger clean-ups, and there is constant vigilance along the Rio Grande, for the border of Texas can become a bloody border in a very short time. In 1925 it looked as if the Rangers “would range no more,” for the question of the con- stitutionality of maintaining a Ranger force came up. Rangers at that period had been “overzealous” for dry agents had been too suc- cessful in arresting smugglers to suit many people. Then Rangers had a few natural enemies, the local officers who resented inter= ference by outsiders, who hated the insinuation that they were unable to handle a disturbance. They made a rather formidable protest against the Rangers, whose right of existence was dragged through the courts, and for a while it seemed “the colorful organization was bound to go.” Texas was aroused, and even in the East, where the fame of the Rangers had grown as their prowess was repeated in stories, now friends turned up But Texas decided the Ranger organization was not illegal. Sentiment was too strongly against their going. Texas saw what would happen to the State. The lawless element did not wait for a decision to be handed down; it became hopefully energetic. Bandits on the border promoted their own interests. The conditions became so alarming that Mark McGee, adjutant general, ordered Capt. Wright and his men to stay in the saddle, although this was a violation of the injunction. And it was the sort of thing the Rangers had been used to—going ahead and doing their duty in the face of danger and opposition. During the legal controversy records were brought forth, and every record was to the credit of the Ranger. It was found there were far more calls for the Rangers than could be answered; that often weeks elapsed during which every Ranger was on duty, not one in reserve headquarters, and no mob ever had taken a prisoner away from the Rangers. The constitution maintaining a Ranger force was validated. HE Ranger’s philosophy is best expressed by Capt. Bill McDonald, one of the State’s most noted Rangers. “No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that's in the right and keeps on a-coming,” is McDonald's explanation for the reputation the Rangers have in Texas today. He believes that efficient familiarity with shooting irons is necessary, but his best offen- sive weapon is determination and the realiza- tion that right is on his side. McDonald is the chief actor in the classic Ranger story in Texas. You’ll hear it in San Antone or Amarillo. A town official in Texas found a large-sizeds riot about to drive him out of office. He appealed to the adjutant general to send Rangers. When Bill McDonald swung from the train as it pulled into Dallas the official yelled: “What the——? Just one Ranger?” “Well, you got just one riot, ain’t yeu?” said McDonald, and in two hours the turbulence was over. The riot had occurred when the-city had enforced the anti-prize-fight ordinance. Considerable money had been bet and the promoters threatened mass action. They forgot Bill McDonald was a one-man army whose traditions for carrying on are as sacred as those of the marines. There was no prize fight in Dallas. “The Rangers do the job,” says an Austin official. “Texas suffers a political complex the same as other States, but I believe the Rangers have escaped its blight better than any other group. There have been attempts to spoil the morale of this group, but you can see how difficult it is to shake off the tradition handed down by the Alamo and the greatest hero of the Southwest—Davy Crockett.” (Copyright, 1932) Fast Ginning Hurts Cotton OMPLAINTS from foreign buyers that American cotton was not of as good quality as formerly has led to a research by Department of Agriculture experts into the reasons. They found the answer of ex haustive research to be in the ginning meth- ods. Long staple cotton, for instance, was found to suffer from too rapid operation of the gin and the practice of running under full speed resulted in a rough cotton and shorter staple, resulting in the finished product being graded four grades lower than it should have been because of its original high quality. In other cases, cotton was found to have been picked too green, the resultant moisture bringing azbout undesirable conditions in the cotton. Cotton picked after a rain and not properly prepared also was found to have been fed into the gins with unsatisfactory —ams e o <