The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 22, 1898, Page 25

By a Sudden Lithe Spring She Placed Her Foot on His Stirrup, and, Bounding to the Saddle, Threw Her Arms @Around His Neck and Pressed a Kiss Upon His Lips. PART L NLY one shot had been fire —to the ringles open nd around a ho h . his dubfous origin, she at wi his compa tracted st Even the had taken th western twitching finge: husbanc up on ths her back, took his under the to the second c: > with r men alive have brougt »ur_chanci n'looked up. Nobod d Pete, and and stole them, full r the interfere ture. Yet th nts of a horse; as w a few days befor pointer. This was_his sole distinetion. The unexpected question stirr ittitude of reck art o child Howe tomed to s it wa result that oked on with ¢ oking at his friendless captive. pointment; there had bee Jue idea struck him, tacle! A bo phew o Jane, ye might do worse than come yere and barrel to view the to @ dying man, and him a stranger,” he handsome, y Ke siting ¥ against the doorp: O i ere seemed to be @ subtle stroke of poetry and irony sgainst the vin . Only a yellow in this that equally struck the hetic crowd. It was as actively perplexed, He could not make out if } well known that Salomy thought no small vere_just o g ¥ backw Doltoes arihorst ways off the locat swain and forw le g a captive and the with a ke scorn. : Nev ge. Red Pete gave grace and outstretched hand toward the prisor rward. It seemed ght hand grasped his lef! n she paused, her shy 3 1 fixed themselves upon him. She took the chewing gum from her mouth, wiped her red lips with the back of her hand, by a sudden lithe spring placed her foot on his stirrup, her arms about his neck They remained thus she had much to say—incoherently, furiously, vindic- r. His soul would roast in hell for day’'s work! He called himself a man, skunkin’ in fraid to show himseif excepr with a crowd 3 of women and children. t on insult, inveighing against his low blood. g st flung out a 1d taunt of his invalid wife—the insult of a woman to a woman—until his white face grew rigid, and only that -American fetish of the sanctity of sex kept his s from the lock of his rifle. Even her noticed it, and with a half-authoritative ‘Let , old gal,” and a pat of his freed left nand on 1st parting. The ringleader, still white h of the woman's tongue, turned abruptly Otiv nd if you've got anybody to say doomed man wore as her i loosed by his captors. s grew bold a upon his 1ips. ned moment-—the man on the threshold of death, the young woman in the full- ness of youth and beauty—linked 1 crowd laughed; in the audacious effrontery of the girl's act the ultimate fate of the two men was forgotten. She slipped languidly to the ground; she was the focus ringleader saw It and his oppor- Time's up—forward!” and the next moment the whole cavalcade was sweeping over the clearing into the dark- horse beside his ¢ heir: destiny Sawyers Crossing, quarters of the committee, where the council was still were to expiate the council had already found them They rode in great and breathless haste—a haste ch, strangely enough, even the captives séemed to stirred or spoke. He was r there—being a chance confederare picked up by nown to no one. Still young, but an out- rom his abandoned boyhood, of which father and r were only an. ugly forgotten dream, he loved accepting the frontier penalty - with that animal on which 3 life 50 often depended. But he understood the good iown by the one he bestrode— -the property of Judge Boom- sitting, and e of which That haste possibly prevented them from noticing the had taken place in the second captive since the episode of the Kiss. remained as if it had burned through his mask of indif- alert and keen, his mouth till lingered there. for the horse of the high color 1is eyes were quick, half open, as if the girl's ki that haste had made them careless, n who led him 1 him for a moment out indifference, for attitude it was, E 1. But it may have touched t that moment he was less than his companion 4 . he only shook his head. v fell on the handsome giri oking at him. The ringieader, d_by his complete loneliness, ame moment he saw that the slipped in_a gopher hole, rolled over, nseated his rider and even dragged the bound and help Boompuinter's favorite In an instant they were all on_their feet again, but in that supreme moment the second cuptive had felt that the cords which bound his arms had slipped to his ¢ keeping his elbows to his -sides, and obliging to help him mount, it escaped their notice. e to his captors, and keeping in the crush of the throng, he further working his from Judge inds downward out of his bonds. wilderness, middle rushed their horses »d_the flapping of the deep in ferns, whose tall fronds in their furious gallop and c : h stive of the offerings of nympr nd shepherds than of man sacrifice—w st to this whirl- ering sun pierced s with yellow armed men. e zed herself from the tremor of leav & on blue and dov _trail of this vengeful storm could murmur of hidden and tranquil waters. bdued light and the : birds started into s side of the trs astonishment, lounged with and on eith. be heard the or came into the gray, reckless mask which the & few moments they would be on the open ridge, whence sloped the common turnpike to “Sawyers,” a mile away. It was the custom of returning cavalcades to take this hill at headlong speed, with shouts and cries that heralded their coming. They withheld the latter that day as incon- sistent with their dignity, but, emerging from the wood, swept silently like an avalanche down the slope. They were well under way, looking only to their horses, when the second captive siipped his right arm from the bonds and succeeded in grasping the reins that lay trailing on the horse’s neck. A sudden ‘“vaquero” jerk, which the well-trained animal understood, threw nim on his haunches with his forelegs firmly planted on the slope. The rest of the cavalcade swept on; the man who was leading the captive's horse by the riata, thinking only of another accident, dropped the line to save himself from being dragged backward from his horse. The captive the next moment was galloping up the slope. the work of a moment. A trained horse and an experienced hand. The cavalcade had covered nearly fifty vards before they could pull up; the freed captive had covered half that distance uphill. The road was so narrow that only two shots could be fired, and these broke dust two yards ahead of the fugitive. They had not dared to fire low—the horse was the more valuable animal. The fugitive knew this in his extremity also, and wouid have lly taken a shot in his own leg to spare that of his ve men were detached to recapture or kill him. The emed inevitable. But he had calculated his . before they could reload he had reached the again; winding In and out between the pillared tree trunks, he offered no mark. They knew his horse was superior to their own: at the end of two hours they re- turned, for he had disappeared without track or trail. The end was briefly told in the Sierra Record: Red Pete, the notorious hors hief, who has so long eluded justice, was captured and hung by the Sawyers Crossing vigilantes last week; his confed- erate, unfortunately, escaped on a valuable horse belonging to Judge Boompointer. The judge had refused $1000 for the horse only a week before. As th hief, who is still at large, would find it difficult to dispose of so valuable an animal without detec- tion, the chances are against either of them turning up again, S e o e Sn.lxnm.\' Jane watched the cavalcade until it had disap- eared Then she became aware that her brief popularity d. Mrs. Red Pete, in stormy hysterics, had in- r'in a sweeping denunciation of the whole uni- verse—possibly for simulating an emotion in which she herself deficient. The other women hated her for her momentary exaltation above them; only the children still admired her as one who had undoubtedly “canoodied’ with a man *‘a-going to be hung’’—a daring flight beyond thelr wildest ambition. Salomy Jane accepted the change with charming unconcern. She put on her yellow nan- keen sunbonnet—a hideous affair that would have ruined any other woman, but which only enhanced the plquancy of her fresh brunette skin—tied the strings, letting the blue-black braids escape below its frilled curtain pehind, jumped on_ her mustang with a casual display of agile ankles in shapely white stockings, whistled to the hound, and, waving her hand with a ‘'so long, sonny!” to the lately bereft but admiring nephew, flappea and fluttered away in_her short brown holland gown. Her father's house was four miles distant. Contrasted with the cabin she had just quitted, it was a superior dwelling, with a long “lean-to” at the rear, which brought the eaves almost to the ground and made it look like a low triangle. It had a long barn and cattle sheds, for Madison Clay was a ‘‘great” stock raiser and the owner of a “quarter sectfon.” "It had a sitting room and a parlor an, whose transportation thither had been a marvel of These things were supposed to give Salomy n undue importance, but the girl's reserve and inac- ty to local advances were rather the result of a azy temperament and the preoccupation of a large, ng_admiration for her father—for some vears a widower. For Mr. Madison Clay's life had been threatened in one or two feuds—it was said, not without cause—and it is possible that the pathetic 'spectacle of her father doing his visiting with a shotzun may have touched her clogely and somewhat prejudiced her against the neigh- boring masculinity. The thought that cattle, horses and “quarter section’ would one day be hers did not disturb her calm. As for Mr. Clay, he accepted her as housewifely, though somewhat “Interfering.” and, being one of ‘“his own womankind,” therefore not witliout some degree o ot's this yer I'm hearin’ of your doin’s over at Red s? Honeyfoglin’ with a horse-thief, eh?” said Mr. Clay two days later at breakfast. “I reckon you heard about the straight thing, then,” said Salomy Jane unconcernedly, without looking round. “What do vou kalkilate Rube will say to it? What are you goin’ to tell him?” said Mr. Clay sarcastically. “Rube,”” or Reuben Waters, was a swain supposed to be favored particularly, by Mr. Clay. Salomy Jane looked un. “I'll tell him that when he's on his way to be hung I'll PN RS . = N 1" When the vengeance wakes,whenthe bat- tle breaks,And the ships sweep_ out to 2 When, the flagshall sign, “Ad vance in line, Train_. ship on an e - ven 3. Gods_ skv and sea, in that storm.shallbe Fate’s_ cha - 0s of smokeand ¥ # sea; ~Whenthe foe is neared,when the decksare cleared,And the col r r 2 .7 - ors__ L2 keel;” Whenthe gunsshallflash,and the shot shall crashyAnd bound on thet:fx:g-:g% flame: And a - crossthat hell, eve - ry shot shall telly Not.a gun can mjss it’s 25 kiss_him—not till then,” said the young lady brightly. This delightful witticism suited the paternal humor, and Mr. Clay smiled, but, nevertheless, he frowned a moment afterward. 3 “But this yer hoss-thief got away arter all, and that's & hoss of a_different color,’” he said grimly. Salomy Jane put down her knife and fork. This was certainly a new and different phase of the situation. She had never thought of it before, and, strangely enough, for time-she became Interested in the man. “Got she repeated. “Did they let him off 7, 'Not much,” said her father brietly. Slipped his cords, and going down the grade, pulled up short, just like & vaquero again’ a lassoed bull, almost dr!\smn the man leadin’ him off his hoss, and they vyutted up the grade. For that matter, on that ‘hoss o Judge Boom- §a(nter'n he mout have draj Eed the whole posse of 'em own on their kuees of he liked! Sarved 'em right, too. nstead of stringin’ him afore the door or shootin” him on sight, they must allow to take him down afore the hull committee *for an example.” ‘Example’ be blowed! Ther's example enough when some stranger comes unbe- knownst slap onter a man hanged to a tree and plugged full of holes. T an example, and he &nows what it means. Wot more do ye want? But then those vigilantes is allus clingin’ and hangin' onter some mere scrap o’ the law they re pretendin’ o despise, It makes me sick! Why, when Jake Myers shot yer ole Aunt Viney's second hus- band, and I laid fn wait for Jake afterward in the Butter- nut hollow, did I tie him to his hoss and retch him down to your Aunt Vipey's cabin ‘for an example’ before [ plugged him? Noi (In deep disgust) No! 'Wny. T just meander=d through the woods, careless like, till he comes out, and T fust rode up to him, and _sald— But Falomy Jane had heard her father's story before. Even one’s dearest relatives are apt to become tiresome in narration. *I know, dad,” she interrupted, “but this ver man-—this hoss-thief—did he get clean away without gettin’ hurt at ail “He did, and unless he's fool enough to sell the hoss, he kin keep away, too. So ye see, ye can't ladle out that purp stuff about a ‘dyin’ stranger’ to Rube. He won't swaller it.” “All the same, dad,” returned the girt cheertully, “I reckon to say it—and say more; I'll teil him that ef he manages to get away, too, I'll marry him—there! But ye don’t ketch Rube takin' any such risks in gettin’ ketched, or in gettin’ away arter!” Madison Clay smiled grimly, pushed back his chair, rose. dropped a perfunctory kiss on his gaughter's hair and, taking his shotgun from the corner, departed on a. peaceful Samaritan mission to a cow who had dropped calf in the far pasture. Inclined as he was to Reuben's woolng from his eligibility as to property, e was con- sclous that he was sadly deflcleit in certain qualities in- herent in the Clay family. It certainly would be a kind of mesalliance. Left to herself, Salomy Jane stared a long time at the coffee pot, and then called the two squaws, who assisted her in her household dutles, to clear away the things while she went up to her own Toom to make her bed. Here she was confronted with a possible prospect of that pro- verbial bed she might be making in her willfulness, and on which she must lie, in the photograph of a somewhat seri- ous young man of refined features—Reuben Waters— stuck in her window frame. Salomy Jane smiled over her Jast witticism regarding him, and enjoved it, like your true humorist, and then, catching sight of her own hand- some face in the little mirror, smiled again. But wasn't it funny about that horse-thief getting off after all! Good Lordy! Fancy Reuben hearing that ha was _alive and going round with that kiss of hers set on his lips! She laughed again, a little more abstractedly. And he had returned it like a man, holding her tight and almost breathless, and he going to be hanged the next minute! Salomy Jane had been kissed at other times, by force, chance or stratagem. In a certain ingenuous forfeit game of the locality known as “I'm a-pintn’,” many had “pined” for a “sweet kiss” from Salomy Jane, which she had yielded in a sense of honor and falr play. She had never been kissed like this before—she would never again —and yet the man was alf ‘And behold, she could see in the mirror that she was blushing. She should hardly know him again. A young man with very bright eyes, a flushed and sunburnt cheek, a kind of fixed look in thé face, and no beard—no, none that she could feel. Yet he was not at all like Reuben—not a. bit. She took Reuben’s picture from the window, and laid it on her workbox. And to think she did not evén know this young man’s name! That was queer. To be kissed by a man whom she might never know! Of course, he knew hers. She wondered if he remembered it and her. But of course he was so glad to get off with his lire that he never thought of anything else. Yet she did not give more than four or five minutes to these speculations, and, like a sensible girl, thought of something else. Once again, how- ever, in opening the closet she found the brown holland gown she had worn on the day before, thought it very tnbecoming, and regretted that she had not worn her best gown on her visit to Red Pete’s cottage. On such an occasion she really might have been more tmpressive. When her father came home that night she asked him the news. No, they had not captured the second horse- thief, who was still at large. Judge Boompointer talked of invoking the aid of the despised law. It remained, then, to see whether the horse-thief fool enough to try to get rid of the animal. Red Pete’s body had been delivered to his widow. Perhaps it would only be netghborly for Salomy Jane to ride over to the funeral. But Salomy Jane did not'take to the suggestion kindly, nor vet did” she explain to her father that, as the other man was still living, she did not care to undergo a second disciplining at the widow’s hands. Nevertheless, she contrasted her situ- ation with that of the widow with a new and singular satisfaction. It might have been Red Pete who had escaped. But he had not the grit of,the nameless one. She had already settled his heroic quality. “Ye aint harkenin’ to me, Salomy."” Salomy_started. “Here I'm askin’ ye if you've seen that hound, Phil Larrabee, sneaking r to-day?” Salomy Jane had not. But she became interested and self-reproachful, for she knew that Phil Larrabee was one of her father's enemies. ‘‘He wouldn’t dare to go by here unless he knew you were out,” she said quickly. That's what gets me,” he said, scratching his grizzled head. “I've been kind o’ thinkin’ o' him afl day, and one of them Chinamen said he saw him at Sawyers Crossing. He was 2 kind of friend o’ Pete’s wife. That's why I thought yermight find out ef he'd been there.” Salomy Jane grew more self-reproachful at her father's self-interest in her “neighborliness.” “But that ain't all,” continued Mr, Clay. “Thar was tracks over the far pasture that warn't mine. 1 followed them, and they went round and round the house two or three times, ez ef they mout heyv bin prowlin’. and then I lost them in the woods again. It's just like that sneekin' hound Larrabee to hev bin lyin’ in wait for me and afraid to meet a man fair and square in the open.” “You just lie low, dad, for a_day or two more, and let me do a little prowlin’, said the gir, with sympa- thetic indignation in her dark eyes. f 1U's that skunk I'll spot him soon enough and let’ you know whar he's ng. “You'll just stay where ye are, Salo: sald her father decisively. “This ain’t no woman's work—tho' I ain’t savin' you haven't got more head for It than some men I know. (To be continued next Sunday.) When' the ; When the squ:d-lrons :lxeet, x'}'hefl it fleet to fleet, And g ratt - ling blasts,front the ar -mored masts, aim; Not a blow will fail,’ on the crumb-ling mazl,’fi::i the N front_ with Spain; From_ ship tc¢ ship, Tom__. hur - ling their dead -1i - est rain; Let their voi - ces loud, through the waves that en - gulf__ the slain, Shall_ sweep the decks of the lip to lip ; the_ quick re - frain: “Re - mem - ber, blind-ing cloud, ev - er, the fierce re - frain: “Re - mem - ber, CTY) e blackened wreckswft}g th& thun-der-ing, dread re - f;g\in-.“Re - mem - ber, -f o scrw’ & , v =P