The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 2, 1902, Page 5

with my own— able a plece of bric- a year's travel a temper es the case co of him that g the devil's minute, Henderson." ering from his he said, then way. where the light Henderson fur captain turned stood and seeking Lo idence hin He e nd recead it, but ought Rather ambiguous phras e captain to quiet pted as & ugh it 1 ¥ that grip for him grand- me his feet into the 1t he ther qu f that thr Who woman—one not 1 mean—if she written here, I e boy from two s reasons why she t way from him.” Goo ne, His reputation ttributing any and » ' len to mention across at the bar- time neither spoke. Then ptain’s eve, and a little spurted from the cen- f A he instant the tar-off K of & rifie came to them me he asked, and . r little cloud of Sust . ' f the barracks, and Her n, springing up, e . ting his eyes. “T¥ 1 making T CHAPTER 1V THE FIGHTING PARSON AND A BAD MAN “Now, then, my maverick, climb up* Brockman called to the boy from the wagor Climb up. Ole Bua'll d up your duds The mules had been hitched In the sacks of cornmeal, cases of cartridges caddies of tobacco, and some sides of fat » aded on, and he was ready to start was ate afternoon, but he N making Los Valley ranch by With an early start next mefy might he able to reach the head of the West Fork of the n Archer County, by the follow ghi—a seventy-mile trip 1o be done tle more than twenty ' " travel Mr. Rud ¥ torsed into the wagon . L f lothing tled with a Y t a very hefty ) Needn't try to uns ' Just cut ‘em. 1 e more, nohow.* 1 face, who carried nd with one fAnger re wae twirling it W ing along the He war reeling in the - ¥ ! Nigger yugflr"’! e tamn blg . Wasowi™ T Bud Belch. er sald, cow v king a fresh straw for hi e r L ck of one the mule ) bout as much tarantu he can tote Golng out 3 way. too. Reckon you'll see the f He's due #hoot the post up some “Won't he fall off?” the boy asked. “He gure will,” Brockman replied as he shook the lines over the mules and the wagon moved out. “He'll go down sud. dendic if ever them troopers kick the b cs off and start after him. Let that chap be a living warning to you, my mav- erick, and break away from hard drink before the habit gets a tight grip on you.” He turned a sober face to the youngster and shook a warning finger at him, “Give up tanglefoot, and keep away from them bars, or you'll he a-bringing of my red hairs In sorrow to the tomb." “Why, you don't really think that I drink, do you?" the boy asked, astonished, “I wouldn't undertake to say for cer- tain,” was the sorrowful reply. *But I savvy the signs a-plenty, and it sure grieves me a heap to see that your nose shows the color of the stuff.” O} milipg ‘1 got that 's just gunburn,” the boy sald up at him and rubbing his nose. that standing out in front of the and a cloud of dust hid the advancing host, if host it was “And wrong once more—whipsawed, so to speak.’’ he sald, after a moment. “They're coming all right. Let tnis be a lesson to you, my maverick, It shows how easy it is to be mistaken. You just SAyE to me, says you, they won't come nohow, and then, here they are. Well, I'll be damned The dust cloud had swirled up to them, and in fte wake a single horseman, quirt in hand, was lashing his mount to top speed, Brockman's fuce was a study for a4 moment; then he leaned forward and urged the mules Intc ey sure enough exclaimed. a lope. will he some fun “That's ole Mister now,” he wrenching it from Horner's hands and iting & boulder with it. “How many times have 1 warned you that you were on the road to hell?” the parson was saying as Brockman stepped up to them, “How many times have I told you that strong drink would lead you to, the crime of blood-letting? Have no fear of God's judgment?" “ghouldn’t have made a nigger damned sausey, then,” the drunken perado mutteped, sullenly and & ously, “Nigger's to blame, Preach to the ole nigger, you." Pargon Potter shook him ag would shake a rat, bumping his heud against the ground agaln and again, “‘Sot that you are!" he cried. “God give me s0 des a terrier Only waste no more time. Get away whild you can.' Brockman assisted Horner to mount, and started him off on a cow trail through the timber. 2 “Time put in trying to convert that chap is plumb wasted, I reckon, parson,’” Brockman sald as Horner disappeared, “Ought to have let the troops take him. He's just naturally a mean one—all bad." “You are wrong, young man,’ Parson Potter replied, warmly. *“You are all wrong. There Is good in him, and a great deal of it. It Is only the rum in him that I8 bad. You ‘'make the common error of supposing that the bad should be left to themselves, to go to the devil in thelr own way., The good rave themselves without PARSON POTTER SHOOK HIM AS A TERRIER WOULD SHAKE A RAT. barn, walting for you to get through loading." “Honest?' Broekman asked, with mock seriousne “You ain't a-deceiving of me? Think what a terrible shock it would be for me to come home some day and find you bogged down with red liquor, or a-making love to the cook, or a-threaten- Ing to shoot up the ranch. Think how I'd suffer, and me so young ‘and unused to them things, Promise me that you'll keen away from the whisky shops out there on the range, and. that you won't shoot my happy heme up none whatever." 1 ! He's got down, and he's aim- Ing the gun this way," che boy exelaimed, pointing ahead at Horner and Ignoring Brockman's nonsensioal talk fn his ex- citement at what wae taking place Yer, wir, there he goes, oracking loose all_rvight enough,” Brookman sald as a Puft of wmoke arose from the &pot where Horner had dismounted on the sidenill overlooking the post, “Bounds like a emall cannon, doesn't it? He's a-shoot ing them long buffalo cartridges, 1 reck- on, There goes number two,” a8 A Beos ond report reached them. “Now, If them troopers take to shooting back, we're like to find ourselves in a hot vle pickle.” He leaned oyt over the side B0 as to be able (o see buck into the post. “'Blessed if they ain't all running to cover!” he erfed In surprise, “No, sir, Not all of them. There's a chap making a break for the picket-line to get his horse. 8ho! as another shot came from up the hill, “That fellow's given it up, too, Reckon 1 was wrong, my maverick. They ain't coming back at him a bit. He's got 'em all housed up.” There was a clatter of hoofs behind them In the roadway, and he turned again; but the wind was toward them Potter on his trail. If the Fighting Par. son doesn't stampede him, and we get there in time, you'll see some of the hef- tlest religlous doings ever handed out In these parts," Two more shots were fired from the #ldehlll, and then the fusillade ceased. A great cloud of dust vaised by the gallop- ing mules salled on ahead of them and #hut oeut from view all that waa happen- Ing in that direetion; but looking back Hrockman saw that the troopers were eaddling and preparing to start In ohase of Mr, Hoerner, “Reckon the parson has got down te business all right enough'' Brookman #houted in the boy's eara, “If ole Horner aln't on the mourners' beneh yet, he will be by the time we get there.” A minute later he ment the brakebeam down hard and threw his welght back ©on the lines, '“There they are, over there among tham rocks on the right,’ he saiq, “And durned if I ain't wrong again, Can't seem to get my bets down right pohow to=day, Ole Migter Potter's on the beneh, Hold on to these lines.” And he Eprang from the wagon. Belligerent Mr. Horner was lylng flat on his back, and kneeling astride of him, one hand firmly gelpped on the collar of Horner's ghirt and the other brandished before' his face, was the fighting parson —a tall, slender, bearded man, dressed as the ordinary rancher would dress, and with absolutely nothing in his appearance or manner to suggest hie profession, A few yards away the parson's horse and Horner's were engaged in the friend- ly service of nibbling the ticks from each other's necks. Nearby. lay Horner's car- bine, the barrel broken from the stock, as the parson had thrown it aside after patience with you! Shall I surrender you to the wengeance of the niggers you abuse, or will you promise again to live a life of decency? Speak, Which shall it be?™ *Jus' gi' me the gun, and turn loo your ole niggers!'" Horner cried, making a frantlo effort ta rise, “Them troopers are a-coming up the hill, parson,” Hrockman volunteered, “They aln't a-golng to waste no time with him when they get here. They'll sure convert him quiek." “Ay," #aid the pareon, riging, “and send him unrepentant into hell! Get up, Hor« ner, Mount your horse and get away while there i# time, But rgmember, I claim you for the better lifd, 1'll save you in spite of yourselt, Up 'with you and go." Ha stooped and helped the drunken brute to his feet, while Brookman led the desperado’s horee up to him, "You're a good fellow, all rlght, par- #on," Horner muttered as he stared about him, “But,” as he saw the broken gun, ‘you're too damn strong, you are. And ~and say, you hurt my feellngs a heap, sitting on me like that. ‘Deed you did."* YAy, and I wags sorely tempted to hurt your face, Horner,” the parson maid, re- gretfully, ''God forglve me, but I was sorely tempted to do the Lord's work of chastising you. But go. The troopers will be here in a moment.” “And me with no gun!" Horner sald ruefully as he staggered toward his horse. “'Me With no gun.” “@Go,"” the parson repeated Impatiently. “Since you have parted company with Goodwin and his helllons there is some hope for you. I'll undertake to mollify these soldlers, so that you may return. \ help, but it {8 we who must reclaim the bad, There are the troops. Go on and leave me to settle this matter with them as [ may/ “Now, there's a chap,' Brookman sald to the hoy when they were under way once more, ‘‘there's a chap with too much nerve for a pi m, He ought to be a fanger—or a Sheriff—that's what, 'stea of rustling around mavericking sinners," 'Has he got & brand, too?" the maver- fek anked, S Hrockman stared at him for a nloment; then: "Reckon he has' he sald, with a &rin, “Reckon he has, all right; but they don't need hardln{ none; @0 what does he do but g0 a-Fustiing on poor old Satan's range. Just puts in all his time stealin cattle from (hat poor ole horned he-devil what ain't got nothing but a tall to fan hiseelf with," A trivial and wseemingly unimportant thing sometimes has a powerful influence upon the destinies of men. The drunken bravado of My, Hornet, from Broockman's point of view, was vastly amusing, but of no vital importance either to the mavers lek or to himself. Yet, had it not been for the confusion eaused by Horner, and the time consumed. in hunting for him tn the hills west of the town, Captain Davis would have been able to comply, as he was anxious to do, with the request made by the boy's mother and have assumed e of him. What effect that change would have had on the boy's career and how it might have affected the lives of the boy's mother and Brockman and oth. ers It is idle to speculate about. But that it would have been vital no one who fol- lows their history can doubt. ‘When Captain Davis was free to search for the boy he and Brockman were far / away upon their journey to the ranch. And theh a runner with definite news about the Kiowas called the captain and his men off in another direction; far to the south, and the situation could not be altered for a time, much as the captain regretted fit. As for Brockman, he prpceeded to give the maverick his own version of that en- counter, and then forgot all about It “We sure missed a heap,” he sald. “But the sign made it all pretty clear to me. The ole parson he just made a run by Mister Horner and came up behind him, Then he fetched him a hefty cuff with one hand and snatched the gun with the oth- er. He busted the gun on a rock, and then he just sat down on him to think what next. Guess Mister Horner thought the hand o' Providence Sure had fallen heavy on him when the parson handed him that one. And I reckon the parson wouid gure have added him to his herd all right If them troopers hadn't come along Just then. Like to bet my boots against a biscuit that he gets him yet. Just thini what a Sheriff that chap ‘d make—and him a-doing nothihg but preach and ras- #la with singers! It sure Is a shame.” CHAPTER V. HOW THE HALF-DIAMOND L HU WENT TO BROCKMAN'S RELIEF The men on the Half-Diamond L ranch used to say that John Dalton could smell an Indlan miles and miles away. Dalton was the boss-herder, a thin, wiry, ner- vous man, with skin the color of a rl prickly pear and eyes like-a hawk's poleon Benols—old Pole, the boys affec tionately had dubbed him—sald to him once: . R “'Ye'd a-been an eagle, Joh it you just hadn’'t been’ born a human.” Dalton’s manner of handling his men, was much like an old hen's fashion of fussing over a young brood. He would 0 sleepless to Increase their comforts, would rustle up dainties in the game way for them when they were a bit off their feed, would scold them llke sin when they went*beyond bounds with him, and would go strutting around with. fight in his eye If an outsider so much as hinte that his chicks wern't the best ever hatched, 'The mén always were giving him trouble, always nagging, but they all loved him and would have gone al most o ny extreme to have proved it had thers been occaslon. Just now John's nose was hothering him a great deal, The ranch cattle to the number of some thousands were be- ing “loose-harded’'—that s, left to go where they would within certain libersl limits—on the range over toward Union Creek, miles to the west of the ranch. Ordinarily the men divided into two par- ties and rode around them once a day from opposite directions, heuding the outlylng cattle back toward a comon cen- tar, but to-day, because of John's nose, there had Leen a change. The men h gone out singly, radiating from the ranch lke spokes in a wheel, with instructions to ride ten miles stralghtaway and returu without regard to the cattle, but with their eyes wide open for Indian sign. The men had all returned shortly after noon, and not one had seen anything suspi- clous. After thelr midday ~meal they had grouped themselves in the shade of the ranch on the east and were talking in desultory fashion of the events of the mornirg, when Dalton sprang up, ran to his saddle and pulled his range-glasses from a case he carried swung upon the horn. “What is it this time, John—Indians?" Bud Willétt asked as Dalton adjusted the glasses to his eves. “No. White man. Riding like blue blazes, too. Horse all covered with suds. There's trouble back of that chap. Reckon I wasn't oft the scent much, after all.” “That looks like one of the Milliken outfit, Jack Langford, spring- log to his feet. “Remember, John? Wo saw that fellow down In the Valley last round-up." ‘Yes. But he ‘ain't on the upper ranch no more,” sald Frank Ringer. “They ain’t nothing but gers on that uppur ranch now. Six of ‘em. I was over that , way after horses 'bout a month ago.” “Don't make no difféerence where he's Wrom,” Dalton said as the runner galloped up id _dismounted. ‘‘He's got news, sure He strode out to meet the new- comer. “How!" he sald. “How!" sald the runner, stooping loosen his girths. ‘‘Seen any sign hereaway?" “No," Dalton sald as the others came crowding around. ‘“Have you “Yes. It's thick out our wi They killed all the niggers on the upper ranch, and then went on south a plece. But they'll be striking back to the Nation 'fore long, and ole Milliken ‘he thought they'd be ltke to come out whis a-way. Bo he sent me to give you word. “‘Come in and feed,” Dalton said. ‘When the runner had satisfled his hun- he gave them what information he to Indian ad, ‘Ole Batanta hisself must be with this Bunch,” he sald. “‘They sure are wicked, Chopped our men up something terrible. Opened 'em up and emptied the meal sacks into 'em, Niggers made a big fight, too. Cartridge hulls lying around thic er'n heel flles. 'Less they turn back by Los Valley, to rald ole Jim Loving, they Just must come out this a-way. Ole Mil- iiken he sent In for the troops, and the rangers are in camp on the Cameron, down there In the valley. 8o if they turn back to the east of you, they'll catch It #00d and hot, I'm a-thinkin ““They'll know about the rangers," was Dalton's comment. “They'll not into the valley this trip. They've sure got this rald all planned eut. They started in with Militken, and they'll be after us next. Then they'll atrike for the Herald outfit on Union Creek, and from there they'll wo to 'Lish Ikard's on the Hig ‘Wiehita, They'll clean up any buffalo hunters there may be between there and the Panh and get back Into (he Natlon that a-way before the trgopa from Jaokaboro oan get near them. We've got time to get the horses In where we can fight for them, Guess they won't try to rush us again in daylight. They got a bellytul of that last time oW about getting word to the rang-. era?’ asked the runner, Too rleky," said Dalton. '"The In« dlans, by your say-s0, may be between here and the valley, and I'm not going to ask any of my boys to take the chance of getting through them. But I'll send word to Herald and lkard, to put them on the lookout." ‘‘There's Brockman., What are we go- Ing to do about Ed?" Jack Langford sald. ‘Great guns, I plumb forgot Ed!" ex. claimed Dalton. The boss herder looked worrled, “‘H coming out alone from Jacksboro with a wagon-load of grub, and he'll just about run into this bunch,” he explained to the runner. After a mo- ment's thought he turned to the group of herders. = “Boys,”” sald he impressively, “I'm golng to let the horses shift for themselves, If the Indlans get them— well, they've done as much before with all of us right here on the ranch. One of you get off to Herald's and to Ikard's quick as you can. The rest of you saddla your best\mounts—and get a fresh horse for Milltken's man here. We'll br Brockman. through all right or know the ng reason why," ] There was @ dissenting grumble for a moment o S, nd then' Benois called out: “ “Let Milllken's man go on to Herald's John. Every one in this 1 wants t be with the outfit that's going to bring Ed in.* “All right, boys,”" sald the man from Milliken's; “give me a fresh mount and 'l go Hope you'll get him through all right, but.” and he his eye over the party, “fifty to ten's big odd “Get Herald's men' to join lkard's, If you can,” Dalton sald a few minutes later, when the runner was about to start out. “Tell them to work in between these bucks and the Panhandle, so's to cut them off, and perhaps we'll be able to give them a dose that will keep them rom’ coming in again in a hurry The runner nodded, and, clapping spurs to his horse, was off at a gallop. He had not d beyond the first swell In the pral to the wes the Half-Di mond L men, with Winchesters across their knees and with Dalton | the lead were racing away to the eastward. Ten miles from the ranch the trall swung down by the south and through a slough covered with mesquite. At the head of this slough Dalton puiled up and turned in his saddle. Holding his arm out- stretched, with the paim of the hand be tween the lower edge of the sun and the horizon line, he found that three fingers filled the gap. “We'vg three hours of daylight left he said. “If Ed got through all right, we should meet him just this side of Brushy Mountain. That's w long way from here. Come on.” And on they went at a gallop, each man's eyes searching the ground as he rode for sign that would tell whether the Indians had crossed the trail. The sun was a red disk resting on the sky line at their backs when they cume in sight of Brushy Mountain o "There's Bd; he's all right. Whoo pee!"” shouted Langford, and the cowboys gaAve an answering yell as the canvas top of the prairie sehooner flashed white on the timber line a mile aw Iton had pulled up and was looking hard through his fleld anen, Ho saw & thread of smoke-drift away from the wagon, and something besides, for he dug the apurs deep into the reeking sides of his flagging horse, and as sped past the others called out: “Ride, you devils, ride! popping over there!" Pufts of smoke broke out all along the timben, and there was an occasional puff from the wagon, which the four mules were yanking along faster than ever it traveled before; it swayed and bumped and tossed and jolted, now and again ca- reenging on the rim of a gully and seem- ing about to dash itself and its contents to pleces. N Prostrate on the grub in the bed of the wagon lay Brockman, pumping his Win chester viciously every time one of the attacking party came Into view. On the seat, lashing the wheelers with the long ends of the lines and cheering them on In a piping volce, was that midget of a Boy, his big, staring eyes sparkling with ex- citement and his hair blown back from a pale, drawn face. Suddenly he caught sight of the band of men galloping mad- ly down upon them from In front. He made a quick turn around his wrists with the lines, surged back upon them until the mules slowed down, when he wrap- ped them about the brake beam and took Brockman's blg sixgshooter up in both hands, pointing it toward the newcomers. “Keep 'em going!"” cried Brockman. “There’s some of them right in front,” said the little chap, trying hard to draw a bead with the heavy revolver. ““Look!" Brockman pulled aside the canvas cov- he There's hell a~ er. One glance was enough. “Hurrah!" he cried. “Now we'll show 'em. That's our outfit. Hear 'em yell! Pump it into ‘em, boy! And he jumped on the t and swung his hat as the Half-Diamond L crowd circled in between the wagon and the timber. “Follow the trall, my maverick, and keep 'em going,” he sald, as he jumped out with his gun. “We'll caich up with you; the mules will take you to thd ranch if we don't.” With just the suspicion of a quiver on his lips, the little fellow lald down the six-shooter, picked up the lines, clucked to the mules, stralghtened them out and went on. CHAPTER VI A BKITTISH MULE AND AN INDIAN AMBUSH, ‘With the rattle of gunfire and the yells of the cowboys and Indlans ringing In his ears, the boy lashed the mules into a lope and went speeding into the night as fast as they could pull the creaking wagon. Up to the little swell from which Daiton had discovered the attack, and down the other side of It Into the mes- quite bottom they clattered until they struck ground so soft that the hoofs of the mules gave out no sound, and the only nolse of thelr passage was the squeaking of the dry hubs on the axles. Now it had fallen dark, and they were out of hearing of the strife behind them, To the west the sky was sullen with heavy clouds; to the east it was streaked with faint lunar rays that as yet fell far short of the meridian, In a little while the moon would be flooding ‘the trafl with light, On and on and on—with now and again & quick wlance over his ahoulder at the trail, as it In expectation of the coming of the cowboys, and then into the mes« quite about him, in apprehension of a con cealed enemy=the boy held his way Down into an arvoyo skirted with some tall timber, Up again into a grove of scrub oak, and out once more Into the mesquite he urged the team Then out of the waste behind him came A prolonged moaning ory —''wh-who - who. Wwho-0-ah!" The almost spent mules (n- ereased thelr pace without urging, and with trembling hand the boy felt for the revolver besido him. Again the cry, seem Ingly more doleful now that he was listening for 1t—""who—who—who-whoseo- ah!™ Then from all about him the sounds came In irregular chorus, Off in the brush, to the left, some prowling thing slunk away like a shadow of evil, and then evea more that drear refraln. The boy felt his blood ehill and his tousled hair stif- fen as with straining eyes he sought to plerce the gloom. It was like the hoot- Ing of owls, he knew that; but Brockman as they came along had told him that In- dians often mimicked that ery in their signals. And If these sounds were made by Indians? (Continued Next Week.)