New Britain Herald Newspaper, February 3, 1922, Page 10

BEGIN HERE TODAY DAVE SANDERE, range rider on Bar Lazy R outft, and his pal, BOB HART, rescue thelr emplover, EMERSON CRAWFORD, from the rival ranchman, EY STEELMAN. This s In_tho heart of « ORD, the ranch-owner's dnughter, Dave arrives In Denver where he hax traced AD MILLER, & gambler, and his confed- erate, GEORGE DORLE, ers' pet pony, Chiquito, his horse on a corral. GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XII. Dave whistled. The pony pricked up its ears, looked round, and came straight to him. The young man laid bis face against the soft, silky nose, fondled it, whispered endearments to his pet. He put the bronco through its tricks for the benefit of the corral attendant. “Well, I'll be youth commented. sure is a wonder. you mighty well” “Ought to. 1 trained him. him before Miller got him.” “Bet you hated to sell him.” “You know it.” Dave moved for- ward to his end, the intention to get possession of the horse. He spoke in a voice easy and casual. “Saw Miller a while ago. They're talkin' about sellin’ the paint hawss, him and his partner, Doble. I'm to saddle up and show what Chiquito can do.” Dave cinched, swung to the saddle, and rode to the gate of the corral. Two, men were coming in, and by the sound of their voices were quarrel- ing.. They stepped aside to let him pass, one on each side of the gate, #0 that it was necessary to ride be- tween them. They recognized the pinto at the same moment Dave did them. On the heels of that recognition came another. Doble ripped out an oath and a shout of warning. “It's Sanders!” A gun flashed as the pony jumped to a gallop. The silent night grew noisy with shots, voices, the clatter of hoots. Twice Dave fired answers to the challenges which leaped out of the darkness at him. He raced across the bridge spanning the Platte and for a moment drew up on the other side to listen for sounds which might tell him whether lte would be pursued. One.last solitary revolver shot disturbed the stillness. Hfs flight had' no definite objective except to put as much distance be- tween himself and Denver as possi- ble. Day broke over valleys of swirling mist far below the rider. The sun rose and dried the moisture. Dave looked down on a town scattered up and down a gulch. . He left Chiquito at a livery barn, after having personally fed and wa- tered the pinto, and went himself to @ hotel. Three or four men were standing on the steps of the hotel talking with the proprietor. “That's him,” the hotel-keeper said in an excited whisper. A brown-faced man without a coat turned quickly and looked at San- ders. He wore a belt with cartridges and a revolver. “#What's your name?” he demand- the hands deed en- who have stolen Sand- Dave discovers doggoned,” that “The little pinto Acts like he knows Had ed. “Sanders—Dave Sanders.” A1 want you.” . “80? Who are you?" “Sheriff of the county. “Whatdjawant me for?” “Murder.” Dave gasped. His heart beat fast with a prescience of impending dis- aster. ‘“Murder,” he repeated dully. “You're charged with the murder of George Doble last night in Den- ver.” . The boy-stared at him with horror- e MOTHER! Your Child’s Bowels Need A teaspoonful of 1p” now will thor- little bowels and in have a well, playful child again. Iven a cross, feverish, constipated child loves its “fruity” taste, and mothers can rest easy be- cause it never fails to work all the sour bile and poisons right out of the stomach and bowels without griping or upsetting the child. Tell your druggist vou want only the genuine “California Iig Syrup” which has directions for babies and children of all ages printed on bottle. Mother, you must say “California.” Refuse any imitation e R e —FOX’S— Starting Sun., Mon.. Tues,, & Wed. ‘SATURDAY NIG Cecil B. De Mille’s Best Hurry Mother! “‘California Fig § oughly clean the a few hours you WILLAW MACLEOD RAVE: * ALL RIGHTS RESERVED~ Printod by Permission of and by special atrangem with, wfinu stricken eyes, “Doble? My God, did [ kill him?" He clutched at a porch post to steady himself. The hills were sliding queerly up into the sky. CHAPTER XII11, All the way back to Denver, while the train ran down through the nar- row, crooked canon, Dave's mind dwelt in a penumbra of horror, It was impossible he could have killed Doble, he kept telling himself. He had fired back into the night with- out aim. He had not even tried to hit the men who were shooting at him. It must be some ghastly joke. It remained with him, in the back- ground of his mind, up to and through his trial. What shook his nerve was the fact that he had taken a life, not the certainty of the pun- ishment that must follow. It did not take the lawyer whom West engaged long to decide on the line the defense must take. “We'll show that Miller and Doble were 0\ Rty ‘o “WHATDJAWANT ME FOR?" “MURDER."” crooks and that they had wronged Sanders. That will count a lot with a jury,” he told West. “We'll admit the Killing and claim self-defense.” The day before the trial Dave was sitting in his cell cheerlessly reading a newspaper when visitors were an- nounced. At sight of Emerson Craw- ford and Bob Hart he choked in his throat. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Nobody had been kinder to him than West had been, but these were home folks. He gripped their hands, but found himself unable to say anything in answer to their greetings. He was afraid to trust his voice, and he was ashamed of his emotion. “The boys are for you strong, Dave. Steve says he wouldn't worry none if you'd got Miller, too,” Bob breezed on. “Tha's no way to talk, son,” re- proved Crawford. “But don't you get dowhhearted, Dave. We're allowin’ to stand by you to a finish. It ain't as if you'd got a good man. Doble was a meant-hearted scoundrel if ever I met up with one. He's no loss to society. We're goin’ to show the jury that, too.” They did. By the time Crawford, Hart, and, a pair of victims who had been trapped by the sharpers had testified about Miller and Doble, these worthies had no shred of reputation left with the jury. It was shown that they had robbed the defendant of the horse he had trained and that he had gone to a lawyer and found no legal redress within his means. But Dave was unablt to prove self- defense. Miller stuck doggedly to his story. The cowpuncher had fired the first shot. He had continued to fire, though he must have seen Doble sink to the &round immediately. Moreover, the testimony of the doc- tor showed that the fatal shot had taken effect at close range. The jury found him guilty of mur- der in the second degree. The judge sentenced him to ten years in the penetentiary. When Bob Hart came to say good- by before Dave was removed to Canon City, the young range-rider almost broke down. “We're gonna stay with this, Dave. You know Crawford. He goes through when he starts. Soon as there's a chance we'll hit the gov- ernor for a pardon. It's a damn shame, old pal. Tha's what it is.”" Dave nodded A lump in his throat interfered with speech. “The o' man lent me money to buy Chiquito, and I'm gonna keep the pinto till you get out,” continued Bob. *One thing more. Miller's on the way back to Malapi. If he don't get a term for hawss-stealin,” I'm a liar.” CHAPTER XIV. The warden handed him a ticket back to Denver, and with it a stereo- typed little lecture of platitudes. Sanders walked slowly out of the office and through the door in the wall that led back to life. He was free. Tomorrow was his. All the to- morrows of all the yegrs of his life were waiting for him. But the fact stirred in him no emotion. As he stood in the dry Colorado sunshine his heart was quite dead. From one job to another Dave drafted Hi: ubborn pride, due in part to a native honesty that would inot let him live under false pre- Ih-nfif-s in part to a bitterness that had become dogged defiance, kept him out of good places and forced him to do heavy, unskilled labor that brought the poorest pay. Yet he saved money, bought him- |seit good, cheap clothes, and found —PALACE— SUNDAY NIGHT “MOLLY O” 8 Reels of Joy i) NEW BRITAIN school where and mechani | energy to attend night he studied cal engineering One day he stationary smiled grimly and be gan to pack., When he left, the ex- pressman took his trunk to the sta tion The ticket which Banders bought showed Malapl as his desti. nation, . b0 In the early morning Dave turned to rest his cramped limbs, He was in a day coach, and his sleep through the night had been broken, At the junction he took the for Malapi, Already he could that he was going into a new world, one altogether different from that he had last seen here, These men were not cattlemen, They talked the vocabulary of oil. They had the shrewd, keen look of the driller and the wildeatter, At Malapi Dave descended from the stage into a town he hardly knew, Everywhere oll dominated the place. A branch line of a trans-continen- tal rallroad was moving across the desert to tap the new oil fleld, Houses rose overnight. Mule teams jingled in and out freighting supplies to Malapi and from there to the fields, Up the street a team of half- broken broncos came on the gallop. FFrom the buckboard stepped lightly a straight-backed, well-muscled young fellow. “Dave! Where in Mexico you been, old alkali? We been lookin' for you everywhere." “In Denver, Bob." Sanders spoke quietly. His eyes went straight into those of Bob Hart to see what was written there. He found only a glad and joyous wel- come, neither embarrassment nor any sign of shame. “But why didn't you write and let us know?" Bob grew mildly profane in his warmth. “We didn't know when the governor was goin' to act. 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