The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 17, 1898, Page 25

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JULY 17, 1898. whisky dive, and eigh- trail took a sud- ribbon and wound | among the tawny g aves and the soft gray and , so quietly was he kneel- pheming softly to d out among trail. bright, jewel-like across the top of ing levels. along its smooth ging walk, d the bridle r s were coming along at a sw v r withers, { the ride: ning of the right p click close to it; a and the man addie, shot and “the es by the the 1ed over the rose I ¢ of his sleepy lope by the ed madly forward. As a bullet g d from 1 went tearing its ather flaps of the big Mexi- dug n behind the he pumpe ump jerked s lever of but cayuse rearing intended way making good time nt after them d'd v were doing their had r wa den did not move. He with dumb patience breech of his rifle, lked leisurely over to sald, addressing the horse ¢ than your master. If as you're doing he’'d be d of bleaching out here. uft’ in this big aparre 1d down in the ample, bag- sh; a whole full of it. < found out afterward. s to the man lying on his at ragged red gash in his chest where 1ged_through ywn_down your mate for the bad business, but whisky ge by this wad.” And he r than to throw me down,” s though he were trying to murder upon the man himself. I'll use you for a little,” and he g over the use and disappeared d of the trail. ar befc he turned short to the left Here he stopped, and, dismounting, ap some old bags he pulled out from be- it the feet of t use. Jack; hit the trall so of- b s,” he remarked, in a the bags. 1 went across country for truck the big cedar swamp a miles from Golden. z he let his thoughts work themselves iring them at Jack, and punctuating them ligs from the big spurs which hung rather ather hx;:hl-he(- d boots. 1 think that the prospector who laid your as hit the trail for Missoula and 1t Out? o 1 pick \‘1};» tracks there, all right enough, but ack. he added, pulling a watch from his inders took that bad spell about 10 v on the cayuse will strike Golden about nd his Jim-Dandlies will pull out in half pick up your tracks he * for Missoula 1 be a terrible fore night. rted Blazer and rode in a big circult, swamp, and upon the mountain side on s dark when he got to the just opposite the town. reful pull to one side, lettin v. Stopping the horse he too 1 threw it fz on the upper side of took a big swing at it, but the loose aught In the breech and the rifie azer's hoofs. grim then he this outfit'll cut loose 55 cartridges far out swings of his long arm. it omplacently. “I wish the bad fishing now an’ I guess they stream a cinch,” lost the muffled sound of the sharp ring on the smooth-worn of the Kicking Horse, the rider hitching swing and the horse - o S Y e 2t re the day that the whisky smug- oula trail, stark and stiff, with his all over the tawny mat of dried rosebushes, and a young English girl tley’s bachelor quarters, not very sump- were they, elther, showing much of careless sence of order. astonished and sald so, which was quite nad not seen Grace—Grace Alton—since he ;J,l‘,‘n{; { '.\".j«, g™~ SAFE OVER THE STREAM THA had left England. “I'm glad to see you, Grace,” he said, “but you should not come here, all the same. You always had sense, but this is fairly foolish.” “That doesn’t matter in the slightest, and, besides (with a fine touch of womanly inconsistency), no one saw me coming here except the friend who is waiting outside; it's none of their affairs if they did.” “Well, what's expected of me?”’ he asked, resignedly “You're wanted at home, your mother wants you. “I suppose I ought to go, but I'm not going all the same,” he added, taking a long breath, as though the wor scorched his throat a little. e must go, Arvil, 1 want you to go. This life is not the life for you. Your mother sent this money to you to tal you back to her, so you must go now." “You need not come back with me to the hotel. I have a gaod guide with me, the friend who got her to come with me called her Ma olag. 1 know that you will go back, for you've f 1 me, and you never broke a promise to me yet,” she sald, as she slippea quietly out of the door. A little roll of bills wi had left it. lying on the table where she é e . U el St lock when a French half- It lacked half an hour of 12 0 breed, Baptiste Gabrielle, galloped into the square of the police barracks at Golden on a cayuse reeking with the wet which Is from the inside. Thé constable on guard,, pacing solemnly up and down in front of the major's quar- ters, thought the fanatical looking rider was drunk or running amuck, and swore that he would put a hole in him_unl topped. Baptiste was a weird looking object as he slid from the back of the jaded beast, braced like the posts of a sawhoi and flanks pumping in half spasmodic & s a open nostrils clutched at the air the lungs were clamoring or. “By Goss! that felll Whisk’ Sand’son, he get keel,” anted Baptiste, with a face the color of a lemon in a ottle of alcohol. “By tam! a fell’ wit' long neck he keep him behint HE LOOKED AT THE MAN LYING ON HIS BACK WITH THE RAGGED RED GASH IN HIS CHEST. stump, an’ he s’oot him soor.” “1s he dead, Ba'tiste?”’ queried Sergeant Hetherington, in a voice with a full flavor of peat bog about it. *Is he dead, or on’y hur-r-rt?” “Bet you life. that Whisk' fell’ he dead,” replied Bap- tiste. ““That fell’ he s’oot tree, fo' time; Sand’son he kill for soor, he dead w'atever. He try soo't me, but I stan’ him off, an’ come quick tell police fell’.” ,\L)w]rlh him in to the majo aid Hetnerington to a B the major Shot at 10 from Baptiste’s harangue bofled down ock on the Missoula trail, about solden.” 11" wit' long neck.” was the graphic description [} ght forth. or white mz asked me t'ink he hite. T got Whisk Sand’ i ypar’o. ce was the face of a man ; his language that of a n too badly frightened to be anything but natural. Th spect for the head of the force W even as a gral mustard seed in the avalanche.of fear which had swept g(nlm‘trom that red-splashed spot on the Missoula trail to olden. There was no doubt he was telling the truth. “Who's tall, with a long neck?” asked the major short- ly, turning to the sergeant major, who was standing in front of his desk. m long , 100, you bet. That fell’ | . five t'ou o whos “1 will find out, sir,” replied the latter, saluting as he ed ou That long Englishman, Arvil Santley, has a neck like n' Constable Grady says that he's been workin’ to beat two of a kind lately, sir,”” was the ser- geant major’s graphic report when he lined up in front of the desk again. “Let Sergeant Hetherington take two constables and rations for two days and get after this devil before his tracks get cold. Commence at the body. Send it back to Golden. Tell Corporal Ball to look up this Santley outfit ~r— \ b ;‘ A‘U ’JJ JWU\\\!\ T MA.RKED OTHER TERRITORY, HE TURNED AND TAUNTIN > 2 > in town. If he's got the stuff he'll have it cached some- where about."” Sergeant Hetherington and his merry men picked up the tracks the tall man told Blazer they would find, and followed them for many a goodly mile, which time thereof the tall man with the long neck was working his way along the mountain side to the ford. Many ml?(‘s beyond Dan Short's place the tracks vanished. Perhaps some one else had put bags on his hor: feet and led him across country. “‘Corporal” Ball was the officlal recognition of Mr. BaW's efficiency, but ‘‘Lanky” Ball was the godless form of expression his lathlike superstructure provoked among the fellows. “Lank Ball was more fortunate than the sergeant; he discovéred something. Twenty-four hours ufter he started out he discovered that he could not find the man with the neck like an eagle —Arvil Santley—therefore he had disappeared—had lit out —had hit the trail—had packed his outfit and dusted; these were the bits of local colored knowledge he picked up. It was from Mammy Nolan, who Kept a restaurant in a big tent and sold whisky on the side, that he found out about Santley. ‘He lit out south yesterday,” she said, “He got steered up agen a skin game at Dan Sort's, an’ they corraled his last remittance from home. It's about time he did get out, for they had him stone broke. But he was a gentleman, all the same,” said Mammy, as she stood with her hands on her fat hips and looked up and down the corporal’s ungainly figure. “What did you want him for? Has he been cracking some of the constables’ heads? He'd do it quick enough for them if they bothered him.” “I guess he's done worse than that,” said the corporal, as he mounted his horse and rode away. as though he'd done the trick,” sald the major poral Ball made his report. got a good start and will likely head for the sec- ossing on the Columbia and work his way down into Montana. There's a rough town at the crossing and he's dead sure to head for that.” And then because the sergeant was away with two men, and because the whisky men and the gamblers and i i iy G LY SHOOK HIS FIST AT HIS ANGRY PURSUERS. A\ 0 \' Y \i“v‘n'\« \ hose who were cussed simply because they couldn’t help 1'! needed much guldance in their daily life, and because the post was always short of men anyway, the major ha to put a special constable on with Lanky Ball to go after le Bant ow'll need a good man, a rustler, to help you take this Englishman, for he's a husky chap,” sald the major, “Who'll you get?”’ +« Bulldog’ Carney’s the man, sir,” replied Corporal Ball. “Get him,” commanded the officer. “Lanky’ Ball found Car: after much tribulous search: found him at Mammy Nolan's, found him amidst the glamor of many tin lamps. the smoke from which min gled with the odoriferous steam of frying pork, and filled The big tent with & soft, summer-like haze. When ¢Lanky” Ball explained to him what he was wanted for, and that there was a reward of $500, half of which he would get if they captured the man who did the Job, he replied: ‘“Cert, I'll go. for I'm getting stale here and I need a stake to start in again.” They rode out ten miles that night so that they would be sure to ce.an early start on the trail next morning, Over their pipes between ‘grub pile” and “blanket time.’ they drifted on to the subject of the dead man and Arvil ntley. T bet you an G flftl_\n ;m 't do this job., I've got g00 g}g?mvselfr, $or T've got his signat across the bridge of my nose, where his big sprawlin’ English fist caught me Unawares one night. But he’ll show my trademark right enough every time he parts his hair,” he added, by way of vindicating his outraged honor—"for I carved his lofty Drow for him, and if bis skull hadn’t been so damnably thick perhaps we wouldn’t be ch: him now. All the same he’s not the sort to lay a man out for finesfu:]ogqghg hing; lever had any.dealin’ with Whisky Sanderson, e ot was all right for sport, but rney, ‘‘that Santley se to have a down on B for h sn’t in the know. H t (h:‘ l\‘\‘n“. had : any use for him when they were runnin the stuff i «I1 Just go you fifty, Carney.” said the corporal. “The old i Ao S make many mistakes, and if we can get to the second crossin’ of the river sefore Santley we'll bring back the man that laid Sanderson out. "e'sa bet, then id Carney; and there was a queer smile about the regular lips set so firmly in the square jaw. Then they chipped in with their two bianxets and slept under e sover. back to back, with their feet toward the small smoldering campfire; slept soundly, as just men Should—*"Bulldog Carney,” gambler, whisky smuggler and special constable, and “Lanky" Ball, piain’corporal in the v galloped side cks back there He's ahead of us,” said Carney, as they side the next day. *I picked up some tra igain. He doesn't seem to be in any though, for, according to the tracks his cayuse has taking it pretty easy. That d%lé‘l‘ntmn when they struck the crossing they couldn’t find anybody who had taken Santley across the river. = “He must be on this side somewhere yet, said the eorporal. “If you stop here and watch the crossing I'll try and look him up on this side. He'll be about some of the ambling dives, likely b £ He fivukvd him up. He found him. In the queen's name he was made prisoner. Santley laughed when the corporal told him he was wanted for murder. <& “Tt's some blawsted debt, I fancy,” he sald; ‘and the murder racket is only a blind; but I'll go all the same. I m half sorry I left the beastly hole, anyway; It's S0 beastly slow down this way."” When they came back to the crossing Carney was gons —gone, cayuse and all, over the river; he nad given the ferryman $50 to take him across, so the ferryman told the corporal. : 555 The corporal was dumfnlmd»d.i “It's d‘ev‘lll‘sph ;]r\;‘ea;;\’ he muttered; “but orders are orders, an ve Y man and I don’t see as I've any call to go after this crook,’ and he thought of Pearl, and Carney's beautiful marks- manship and various matters, and went thoughtfully back to Golden with his _prisoner. “I got the long Englishman, sir,” reported the corp“oral to the major, when they got back to the barracks; “but the other oné's lit out—took his hook when I was lookin’ up the prisoner.” “What other one?” queried the major. = Bulldog Carney, sir. He skipped across the river. “That looks suspicious,” thoughtfully replied the ma- jor, as he pulled at his iron-gray mustache. “It would be a bad one on us if it turned out that he had done this, and we had carted him out of the country— given him an’ escort; eh, corporal?” Of course there was a trial, with Arvil as the center of attraction. The other had gotten away, and they had to hang somebody if they could; so _they devoted their ener- gles to proving Arvil guilty, and the chances are they would have “ceeded if it hadn’t been for one person. His clearing out looked very suspicious, and they found quite a y on him when he e though it was known that he had been clea Y h He would not tell where he got It, either. : business,” he told them. ald a friend, “if you don’t tell.” > he replied, doggedl of all was Baptiste Gabrielle’ Dat fe he s'oot t'ree’ fo’ bee “Hang it evidence. time me. But wc Y by Goss! Steck has head up fom dat Stump. See him me soor.” Then Mammy Nolan went out to the place where nderson had met his fate, and she found some- e bullet that had killed poor Sanderson had rrible hurry, and had gone clean through and through him. Mammy Nolan followed up the line of sight from the stump across where Sanderson had fallen, and luckily lo- cated the bullet in a sand knoll thirty yards beyond. It hardened 38.55 Winchester bullet. llet that killed him, right enough,” put it might pc bly have been fired there some r time.” It wasn’'t quite conclusive. Then she found the bullet that had scorched the leg of the foremost rider that day imbedded in bis saddle. That was conclusive. Then commenced the search for the rifle itself. Thera was only one such rifie owned in Golden, and it had be- longed to Bulldog Carney. Now, Carney had been back in Golden after the mur- der, and he hadn’t taken his rifle with him when he went v with Lanky Ball, so_he must have hidden it some- w . To return to Golden after killing Sanderson he would cross the ford at Kicking Horse. It was a forlorn hope, but she made up her mind to drag the ford for the rifle When Mammy found the rifle where it had dropped she knew she had forged one of the strongest links in the chain of evidence which fastened the guilt on Carney. It w Mammy, too, who introduced & new witness to the court in the person of Grace Alton. She nad come back from Vancouver in obedience to Mammy's telegram. Her evidence was very simple, but effectually cleared up the mystery of the money. B “I gave it to him,” she said simply, *'to pay his pas- sage home to his mother. I told him a falsehood: I told him it was from his mother. He wouldn’t have taken it from me if he had known the truth, but I wanted him to go home to his mother, who was asking for him every day. YWe were children together—Arvil Santley and myself. It was a revelation to that wild Western life, this sweet, womanly girl, and the man who would rather hang than compromise her by telling that she had given him the money. “T had too bad a name,” he said, when his friends rounded on him for a chivalrous goat. Mammy didn’'t know about the money when she sent ace; she only knew that Grace and Santley had met when Grace was in Golden. It came out that Mammy Nolan was e Pinkerton de- tective, and the business of running a restaurant and sell- ing whisky on the side was only a blind. Nobody but the major had known this before. ‘After many moons of anxious tracing, word of Carney came to hand. He was at St. Vincent, just over the bor- ders from Manitoba. “The extradition law is slow,” mused the mapor, “like- wise it is uncertain. Now, if we had Carney on this side the line we could arrest him. At this the sergeant who was standing by pricked his ears. “It moight be managed, sor.” i “Perhaps, perhap: said the major, reflectively, *Cor- poral Ball knows his man. He escorted him out; perhaps he'll escort him back again. You will need considerable money, for it's a long trip,” and he wrote out a fairish- sized order. 5 Lanky Ball and the sergeant located Carney at a small hotel at St. Vincent, not a stone’s throw over the line. A little preliminary rangement with tne hotel keeper, e sleep of the just whnich led to his two figures room, and silently t How still and dark the room was. Not so dark now, for like the headlight of an engine a pullseye lantern was throwing its full glare upon them, and they wers looking into the dark depths of two murderous looking re- volvers as Carney held them he counterpane. you, Lanky > he said, cheerfully, “Glad to see you. Come to pay that fifty, I suppose. Just put it on the table there. I don't feel like getting up. That's right, you can take one hand down,” he 5 “Just lay your gun down on the table fi yugh. Quick, now, cough up that fifty, for you see you're burg- Jars in my room, and if I let d ht through the pair of you it will be 1 right, you ki o Then Lanky put up fifty cases of the good Government money he had brought to pay the expenses of taking Car- ney back. That is the nearest they ever got to Carney, for he 18 still living the life of a “‘gentleman.”—Copyright, 158, by S. 8. McClure Company. 4