The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 23, 1902, Page 4

Copyright, 1801, by J. N. Quail. CHAPTER XIV—Continued. LONE, Brockman would have waited to take one' shot at them and then have given the gray his head and left them as if they were standing still. But now he would take no risk that was not forced upon him; they must not come too close. He touched the gray gently with the spur, the big fellow tossed his mane, half ed his head, and gave a shrill neigh, h sounded like a challenge as he ahead low moan caused Brockman to look down intu the face of his companion. the mooglight falling upon fit, it was like a_face cut in marble; more like the face of a child than that of a woman and a The features were fine ; not beautiful, but and there was a fire hich made it seem like a crown of bronze. It was so like e maverick’s face Brockman wondered not_recognised her even by the flickering light of the campfire. What a little creature she was, to be sure: hardly larger than the boy, he thought. And what a world of trouble had been unloaded upon,that frail body. There must be something fearfully out of gear with human affairs when a great hulking fellow like himself went scot-free of care and a helpless woman like this was crushed to earth and overwhelmed with woe. And she had been deserted in that desolate spot—he would not believe otherwise—by her cur of a husband. It was lucky for him that he was not now within gunshot. Even with this pack of bloodhounds in full cry behind them, he would call him to account, and the surest eye and the quickest finger with the trigger would decide between them. And then— And then a stinging blow upon the left shoulder, which aimost threw him from the saddle and caused him to grunt with the n of it, brought him back in a flash to eir present danger. He had been hit. The Indians had begun firing at Jong range, and a chance shot had struck home. It was a chance shot, /e felt sure, for he had been among them in the Nation and he knew that they were poor a marksmen. Still, it hurt, just the same, and another chance shot might disable the stallion, and then—well, then their scalps would continue the journey north while their bodies would be left there on the prairie for the gray wolves and the coyotes. It was time to run in earnest, and the stallion stretched into giant ‘}é’d“ as he felt the steel boring into his sides. But at every jump now Brockman quivered with pain. It seemed, each time the gray’s feet struck the earth, as if some one were plunging a redhot iron into that wound inte his shoulder. He could feel the warm blood gushing from $t and trickling down his back: the arm grew numb; he only realized it whern he saw his precicus burden slipping away from him. With a great effort he wound his right arm about her and twisted his kand into the opening in his shirt. The gray must guide himeelf now, for that left arm dropped helpless at his side. The hot irons began to reach up—they were plunging into his neck at the back, @nd tnen into his temples. How they tortured him! Oh, for a moment’s rest! Oh, if he could only stop the gray for an instant, so that those iroms would stop snd that he could breathe, for he was suffocating. Something had gotten into his throat: the breath wouldn't come, and when he tried to force 1t the hot irons went jabbing into his side, searing and tearing his breast. He mustn't think about this! It was to Henrietta. they were going, and there were howling devils following close be- hind. That was it—Henrietta! But these red-hot irons? Never mind them; they bad come 2 long way already, and the gray was good and strong yet. But it suddenly had grown awfully hot, and, rtrange thing, that moon was just drying up his brain: he didn’t dare look at it again, for it burned his eyes. Something had set matters going all wrong, for even the grass under their feet, which ought to be waving vellow, was here, there, all ebout, only red—red—red. Henrietta—that was the place; and he must get there for the maverick's sake— yes, and for the sake of the someb ihat he held against his breast. was it; that was worth the effort. The big gray knew it, and was telling him so; he was clicking it out with his hoofs at every stride: “Here's your mamm “Here's our mammy!” “Here’s ur mamm: They were velling back there, but what of tha He could vell, too. Let them have it; he'd give them a throat-splitter to practice on: “Aha-i-e-yah ow-wah!” “Aha-i-e-yah ow-wah “Aha-i~ ow-wah! The woman in his arms came to with a gasp, and stared up into his face. She would think he was drunk. He shouldn’t have velled into her ears that way. d, how dizzy he was! Yes, they were shooting again, but she mustn't think of that, or these hot irons might get_into her brain. “You are hurt!” she cried. “Let me eit up. I can ride. It will be easier for ow.” “No!” he shouted, fiercely. “I'll hold ye here. Ye might fall off. If ye can shoot, get my gun out and give it to ’em.” She drew the revolver from the holster end fired at the black shadows in the distance. “Ageain!” he shouted. “Give it to 'em ! Let them have the hot irons now. ~fe-yah ow-wah! ‘With each shot she fired Brockman sent back & fierce yell. Heh! Bhe was like the maverick—she could fight when she had to. And how quiet she was about it. No trembling now. Times surely had changed. He was the weak one—it was his turn to faint mow. Would she hold him as close, he wondered. Ah, how things were whirling round with him! Pretty soon he would go down with & rush. And she knew it, for £he had caught the horn of the saddle with one hand and was steadying him ‘with the other. Yes, he was going down with a rush in a mipute—but how cool and soft her hand felt on his neck! Henrietta? Yes; but she must go on slone. He would drop in a minute, and then the gray, with only her ht up, would fairly fly away from these Indians. He had done the best he could, but every- thl% was gott!nfi away from him. “Missus Jim,’ he gasped, “I'm hit bad; Tm a-losing ¥ Turn into—the saddle if can. Keep the trall—stay with the —and—ride—ride like heli! Quick— to the saddie.” ol He was swaying from side to side now; l.no:herflumf or two and he woulo be one. y didn’t she let go? She couldn’t 0ld him when he couldn’t hold himself. “Let go of me!” he gasped. Ah, this was it! He was going falling—down, down, down. And there was & sheet' of lightning flashing out there In Tront of them, ang a sadden lond Toar, as of thunder; and he was going down, down, down. As he toppled from the saddle he was consclous that she clung to him to the t, and was falling with him. Then everything slipped away from him. CHAPTER XV. McKENZIE'S MEN, There were many bodies of troops op- erating in and around the Indian Terri- tory in that day, some of them com-s manded by men who since then have be- come famous as fighters. Colonel Miles gnaw lieutenant general) was at Fort upply, in the west; Colonel Custer in the north, and Colonel McKenzie in the south, and they were all kept busy chas- ing raiders back upon their reservations and punishing them for depredations. Of the three, the gallant McKenzie probably was the most feared by the Kiowas and the Comanches. “The Man Who Kills" was one of their many names for him, although more generally he was known as_Mangomhente (or “The Man Without a Fon—fingfir'('il. : At the head of a troop of the Cavalrs and guided by Jack suuwl:flu&'; scout, Colonel McKenzie had come 'into from Fort Sili in_search of a rajd- ing party of Kiowas, Ior days his men beén patrolling the territory just h of Red River for sign of them. One tion af ‘the colonel's force having touched Henrietta, he had learned there of the raids taking place farther to the south. Aware that no man on the fron. tier was beiter acquainted with the coun- try and with the situation of the varfous renches than Stillwell, he called the scout into consultation. Coming up from Bait Creek they are 'or the Loving “Let go!” almost .sure to strike brothers’ outfit at the head of the west fork of the Trinity,” Stillwell said to the «duct, the rough chivalry colonel. “That's where we'll find them, if we find them at all."” And at the scout’s suggestion the com- mand had moved south from Henrietta that evening, traveling at a sharp trot. ‘Twenty miles from the town the com- mand was halted to rest the horses. While the men were down Stiilwell rode on in search of water. He had not gone a mile when he heard yells and rifle shots, and he galloped back to the camp to tell the colonel that the Kiowas were running right into them either in pursuit of some one or being pursued. Colonel McKenzie's preparations were made in an instant. Without bugle call and by spoken command the men sprang into their saddles, unsluhg their carbines and waited for the word. And so it happened that out of that flash that was like lightning and on the heels of that roar that was like thunder there ‘came charging a troop of horse. It swept toward the surprised India: another sneet of flame spouted from along the line. Then carbines were thrust into “holsters, and with six-shooters in hand McKenzie's men closed in upon them. ‘he emcounter was short, sharp, deci- sive and altogether one-sided. A few of the Kiowas got away, Satanta among them, but a number were slain and the remainder made prisoners. It was a hard blow to the Indians, and marked the be- ginning of the end of their devilment on the northern frontier of Texas. Satanta himself escaped only for a time. He was caught at Fort Sill on his return, taken to Jacksboro for trial, and sentenced to be hanged in the post there, Fort Rich- ardson. The sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, however, and he died a suicide in the State prison at Hunts- ville. But that was long afterward. The horses of the defeated Kiowas were rounded up. Off on the northern edge of ihe battie-ground an animal stood alone, bis head high in the air. “There’s one you missed, and one that you'll have trouble in catching,” the ¢com- manding officer said to a young lieu- tenant at his side. g “That's a white man's outfit, sure.” said Stillwell. “These bucks all rid 'pack trees.’ That's a stockman's ri “If the horse is as good as he looks, I'll give a hundred for him,” the com- mander said. “You can have him for nothing, for I reckén the owner’s dead,” Stiliwei replied. *“The man who rode that horse is the one they were after, 1 saw him go down just as we opened_ fire.” “Then hunt him up,” said the com- mander. “And take the surgeon with you: he may be alive.” t ropes were spliced hurriedly a long line, and strung along this like fence posts a dozen troopers started out to encircle the gray in a rope corral. The lieutenant at one end of the line, had just passed beyond the stallion when he caught a glimpse of two figures—one kneeling, the other prostrate. to Good God, that's a woman!" he Stillwell. *“Never mind _the horse—bring the surgeon up at once.” In an instant he was_beside the group. To his surprise, the horse, instead of making off, followed and stood near him as he bent over Missus Jim, who had Brockman's head in_her lap. “Are vou hurt?” the lieutenant asked. She turned at. the sound of his voice, and, as she saw his uniform, held out her appealingly. “Oh, sir, he is d he cried. “Help me to save him The surgeon came, made & quick exam- ination of the wound, and shook his head. The lieutenant led Missus Jim (o one side. “Wait here a bit,” he said. “We'll do the best we can for him.” As he turned away, she dropped in the tall grass and burl her face in her hands. Perhaps he was already dead— this man who had befriended her ‘child and who had saved her life. She had known him scarcely more than an hour, yet it seemed that she was losing the friend of a lifetime. His looks, his con- and the unself- ishness of the cowboy—all these fitted into the picture of an ideal man that she had drawn long ago in her: girlhood. And so it seemed to her as if she had }i‘no\;\'n him as long as she had known this eal. There was a tramping about i the grass beside her, but she paid no heed. There was a hot breath upon her neck, but she stirred not. Then the long, slen- der nozzle of the big gray was thrust into the grass at her face and rubbed against the brown hair. She looked up in affright, then arose and clasped her arms about the stallion’s neck. This was sympathy indeed; this was his horse, the gallant animal that had refused to desert them even in dis- aster. “There’s a fighting chance,” the lieu- tenant told her. “If we can get him to camp without shaking the life out of him, he may get well. Bullet is in his lung, and the surgeon dare not risk probing for it here. His head- is hurt, too. Must have had a nasty fall. The cclonel has ordered an escort of ten men to take you both to Henrietta. The surgeon will go along.” It was not until daylight that the start could be made and the wounded man moved, so the escort of ten men was sent into camp on the spot, while McKenzie started north at once with his trouble- some prisoners. A tent was set up over Brockman and some blankets were spread for him. The surgeon sought to persuade Missus Jim to take some rest, but she re- fused to leave Brockman’s side. The surgeon’s intention had been to carry Brockman in on a stretcher made of blankets and swung between slow mov- ing pack horses, but Missus Jim urged him to send some of the escort back to her own camp to bring up the wagon for that purpose, the lieutenant’s phrase, “if we can get him to camp without shakin the life out of him,” having convinc ber that the utmost care was necessary, It was the first the surgeon had heard of a wagon so near at hand. He was glad to comply in order to secure it for an ambulance. And sitting in the bed of her own wag- on with Brockman's head in her lap, Missus Jim rode into Henrietta. Nor was she troubled with questions as to her re- lations with the wounded man, for fron- tiersmen are chivalrous and their cour- teey and kindliness are not of the inquisi- ve sort. CHAPTER XVL WHAT CAME OF THE SALE OF A WOMAN’S LOCKET. In that day Henrietta was a collection of log huts and cheap frame dwellings. The only two-story building in the town was known as “The Hotel.” The ground floor front ‘of this hotel was fitted up as a bar and gambling saloon, with faro and roulette and poker and monte tables. In the rear, separated from the saloon by a thin board partition, was the hotel din- ing-room. Upstairs were the sleeping apartments. The patrons of the place were stockmen, gamblers and buffalo hunters, with an occasional woman of a certain ‘class, who would stop only long enough to get her beari before branch- ing out with a resort of her own. o this place, bad as it was, the wounded cowboy was taken; and here also, simply because there was no other filwe. Missus Jim took up her abode as is nurse. The thought of a tragedy that would perhaps occur were the gam- bler to find her here in attendance upon a sick man had come into her mind not once, but many times; yet as often she had resolutely put it away in the convic- tion that she was performing a duty. This man had befriended her boy. He had risked his life for her; she surely would do as much for him. One thing which sorely troubled her was that she was without funds, penni- less, and the proprietor of the hotel, a cross-grained,” cross-eyed man whom the gamblers called Muggins “for luck,” was hard-fisted and insistent. % But there were some things of value in the wagon, and little by little the effects it contained were sold to provide neces- saries for the sick man. At the end of a month the wagon itself had to go. ‘‘Now, indeed, I am doomed,” she had told herself when parting with it. Still the sick man grew no better; still was he hovering between life and death. Sometimes, she thought, he knev her; but these were rare moments. More often he gave her the impression that he was waking into a new existence in which he would have no remembrance of the thinge that had gone before. And at all times he was as helpless as a child and needed her constant care. Often she compared him, as he lay there helpless, with the strong, valiant, self-reliant, reckless fellow who invaded her lonely camp on that fateful night. “And for succoring me, a stranger, he has been reduced to this,” she would say: g]nd her heart would swell with pity for m. There came a day when even that which she had received for the wagon was exhausted, and the need for money was great and distressing. z, “Ye'd better let me have that f suggested Muggins. ““He's a terrible feeder. but I kin make him earn his grub. Not the gray, nor even the smallest item of the cowboy's equipment would she part with. As for the gray, she visited him every day to be certain that his wants were attended to. She could open her heart to him as she could open it to no other living thing; she couid throw her arms about his neck and tell him that she loved him and kiss the black star in his forehead; she could do and did these things—for had he not had a part of her salvation? Sell him? She would as soon think of selling her own flesh dnd blood. Yet bills must be paid that the sick might get well, and she must pay them. All that remained were some bits of jewelry, a large oval locket and her ear- rings—things for which no man would care. Here was greater proof of her pity than all which had gone before, for to sell these she would have to go among the women of the town, and perhaps be jeered at and laughed at by them, and told how-— Never mind; it had to be done, and it was done. Back with a double eagle instead of the locket, the bills were paid, and she went into the sickroom to watch and to wonder how it ail would end. She never again could live with the man who called her wife; never had she loathed him so much—not even when she made the dis- tressing after-marriage discovery that the selfsstyled ranchman who came courting her for a second time in her Kentueky home was in reality only a gambler at cards, that his “range” was the Texas frontier, and that his “cattle” were the troopers at the Government posts. She could never a~ain be as a wife to him. And as soon as he became conscious and strong she must leave this sick man; she must get as far froim him as possible, be- e—because— Ye can't go into that room,” Muggins ‘was saying to some one out on the stairs. ““Ye can’'t go in there, Rose.” “Then call her out,” a woman's voice e 11 her out, or in go, In whole ranch. Who is that I'm not to talk te her? Trot hi re'll be trouble, I can tell you. said Missus Jim, appearing in and raising a warning finger. the hall “There’s a very sick man in that room and the slightest noise disturbs him.” “Where did_you get this?’ the woman called Rose demanded to know, tremb- ling with excitement as she held out the oval locket which had been sold only a little while before. ‘‘Where did you get it? And who are you, anyway?’ t is worth mary times what the wom- an I sold it to gave me for Iit, said Missus Jim, quietly. “But if she is not satisfied she may have the earrings as well. The money has been spent.” ““"Taint the money,” said Rose, calmed by the other’s manner; ‘’tain't the money, but something else. Ge away, Muggins. I won't hurt her, but 1 want to talk to her alone.” “Come into my room, then,” Missus Jim saild, leading the way to an apart- ment at the other end of the hall. “What 1 want to know,” sald Rose, opening the locket and pointing to a pic- ture it contained, “is who this man is, and what he is to you.” “That is the portrait of my husband,” Missus Jim replied. “Name! Name! Give me his name!” the other woman alincst shouted. “Goodwin—James Goodwin,” she replied, wondering at the demand. “I knew it—I knew it!”" Rose screamed. “My husband!"—(she was mimicking Missus Jim now)—‘Why, you poor fool, he's my husband, too; mine before yours! God, but he shall suffer for this!" “If he is your husband,” Misses Jim was thinking in a dazed way of the sick man in the other room and of the effect all this. if true, might have upon their he is your husband, take him. ill not dispute possession with you.” Are you crazy?' Rose asked. “Don’t you realize what this means to you? That I am his legal wife and that you neter have been? He left me peniless in San Antonio a year ago—and he must have gone at once to you.” ““We were married less than eight months ago,” Missus Jim faltered. What nightmare was this coming upon her now? A dishonored woman! And for an instant she aimost rejoiced at the discov- ery! Her composure was gone on the in- stant. ‘“What shall I do?” she moaned. “What can I do?” “Do?" said Rose. “Do as I intend to do—show him no mercy, sick or well. Hound him: hound him o the very last.” . She darted from the room, and Missus Jim heard her running along the hall. A door opened, and she heard a shriek of laughter and the cry: “Come on! Let Jim Goodwin look upon both of his wives!” ‘l‘l”"“ did it all mean? she asked her- self. band had come on to at last to Henrietta? Husband? Had she called him that? That cry! Surely that was her patient’s voice! She sped along the hall to_ find Rose standing at his bedside, speechless with astonishment. Brockman was staring at her in a puzzled way. Rose turned upon her. ““Who is this man? she cried. “This is not my hus- gand:nnr yours! Muggins said he was ere. Missus Jim made no reply. She had eyes only for her patient, ang he was holding a thin hand out to greet her; he knew her, and that evidence enough that reason had re'i‘l}x'rned, e expression on her face as she knelt beside the bed revealed a great delln to Rose Goodwin. : CHAPTER XVII. § “THE ONLY ORIG%%SI%XL MISSUS GOOD- Half a dozen men had come in over the trail from Jacksboro. In front of the ho- and ‘‘Howdy, gents?" said that worth; - bi: his hands. “What'll it be?” Py “Liquor first, then rooms, grub, and feed for the horses,”” one of the newcomers re- tel they drew up and dismounted, then trooped in to Muggins' bar. ied. “‘In for a little fun, or to stay?’ querfed M‘lzl_fginl. as he set out bottle and glasses. at depends,” said the other. *‘Good- win, here, talks of going ‘on up to aiil. He's got a fool notion that the Kiowas have carried off his woman, and he wants to_see McKenzie about it.” Muggins seemed to be studying the ceiliffg; in reality his gaze was focused on the man referred to as Goodwin. Was he kin to the man upstairs, whose scalp Rose was seeking? It might be a good thing to let her know there was an- other Goodwin on the premises and to learn her views with respect to this ona. Muggins had a reason of his own for wishing to stand well with Rose. “T'll just go up and see about the rooms,” he said. ‘““Ye won’t mind doub- ling up, I s'pose, for we're a bit crowded. Here you, Manuel!" he added, pushing & sleepy Mexican boy off a bencg by the door as he went out. ‘“Take that cavvy- yard o' horses back to the corral an’ give ‘em some hay.” The door of Brockman’s room was ajar. Muggins, peering in, saw Rose drop on one knee beside Missus Jim, and, placing both hands on her shoulders, turn her head so that shg could look Into her eyes. ““That’s why you're so ready to give uj the other,” she said. i i< Muggins snapped his fingers to get her attention. ‘“What Is 1t, you old frate?"’ she called out. “Let’s have it. ut with it. We're all friends here.” “Huh! the woods seem to be full o’ Goodwins just now,” he saild, with a grin that was ‘meant to be conciliators; “‘woods is plumb full of 'em. There's an- other of 'em in the bar, an’ this'n the Injuns carried off his woman. Missus Jim uttered a little ery, and, sll a-tremble, turned from the bed. This, then, is where It all ends,” she said, as one unconsciously sj “How can he face me, or I Rim? Bu ng of the sort,” Rose sud_emphatically, “unlesy gaurs, fo & hurry to get to heaven. You'll tell him nothing iet, and you must not see him here. I know the brute. Let me handle him in the only way' that he can be handled. Every rancher in_town shall know the right of this, and I'll see to it that they put him_ through his paces.” “Ye'd ‘better hide out, then, the pair o' yez,” Muggins, ‘“or he'll be a-seeing of ye first. An' he's got a strong party; six of ‘em, all well heeled. They're a-puttin’ up here, too.” "‘};u come along to my shack till I / The gambler Could it be possible that her hus- * figure this thing out.” Rose said to ssus Jim. “No onme can hurt- you there, and no one would think of looking for you there. You needn’t fear con- tamination,” rather fiercely, as Missus Jim seemed to shrink from the offer; “yow'll have the place all to yourself. It isn’t that,” Missus Jim said quickly. “Don't think I meant that. But how jcan I leave this sick man? He has nolone else to depend on." / Rose strode past her and stood beside the bed. ““Can you understand what I say?” she asked of Brockman, The wounded man nodded faintly. ‘Then listen. = This woman s in You are too weak to protect Would you rather have her come Wwith me, with one of my sort, or remain here and ‘be murdered—perhaps before your eyes?” Missus Jim bent oyer him to catch his answer. - The thin hand was again ex- tende “Go with her, Missus Jim!"- he gasped. The words were so faint as to be hardly audible. “Good!" criea cose. *“And you won't be left alone either, for Muggins shall bring a woman to take care of you.” Anything to oblige Rose,” Muggins said, and got his eyes in a fearful tangie as he leered at her, There was a sudden commotion in the bar below—a shout, a scufiling of feet, a stampede to the street and a jangle of oaths and queries out in front. Muggins ran haif way down the stairs, peered out, then hurried back as fast as his legs couid carry him. It's the wagon,” he sald to the wom- en. “Manuel drove it out to the road an' this pey Goodwin has set up a claim to it. ‘He’s a-hollerin’ for me now to tell him where I got it. Ye'd better lite out 0 onct—down the back way an’ 'round Y the corral.’” ““Here, landlord! eved thief? Lan was shouting. “Comin'!" " yelled Muggins, hurrying both women into the hall. (“Off with ye, quick, while they’'re all out in _front!) Comin’, durn ye! Here 1 be.” In his eag- erness to prevent them from coming up he tripped and fell from top to bottom of the stairs. Where's that cross- lord!” some one below With the breath jolted out of him, Muggins was unceremonfously jerked to his feet by the Goodwin crowd and plant- ed face to face with its leader. “How aid you come by that outfit?”’ the gambler demanded to know, pointing to the wagon, which had been drawn up in front of the hote:. “Oh, that? How did I ecome by that?” Muggins repeated, rubbing his head and striving for tme to- think. ‘‘Why—er— some o’ the boys found it .own south by the branch, after the Kiowas went up a couple o’ moons back.” ‘“The woman—what became of her?” ‘Goodwin asked. ‘“There weren't nc woman., Leastwise we hadn’t lost no woman, an’ so we didn’t look for none.” “You're a-lying, Muggins,” said the gambler. ' “That Mexican says you bought this ‘wagon from a woman, and that the woman calls herself Missus Goodwin. You're holding out on me. Deal square or there’ll be trouble. Where is this Missus Goodwin?"” ‘‘Here she is!" said a voice on the edge of the crowd. “Rose!” muttered Muggin: 2 She pushed through the mob. and piaced herselt directly in front of the gambler, her arms akimbo, her head thrown back, her whole attitude Dbreathing defiance. The gambler started back in surprise and swore a great oath. “‘Here she is,”” Rose sald again. “Missus Goodwin, if you please, and the only orig- inal Missus Goodwin in this town. If any of you doubt it, just ask him she pointed to the gambler. ‘“‘Muggins lied to you, did he? Don't suppose that you ever told a lie in your life, did you? ‘Well, the boy was right. Missus Good- win did sell that outfit; and I'd like to have some of you tell me who has a bet- ter right to sell Missus Goodwin's prop- erty than Missus Goodwin herself. Par- : ticularly, you men will pleace to under- stand, when Mister Goodwin runs off like a cur u% leaves/ .to ‘shift for bergelf.’” . 4 7§ ¥ " _made a ent indica- tive of intense disgust ' sought to push his way out through the“crowd. “Just one minute, iIf you please.”” Rose said, with mocking politeness. ‘‘Let us have this matter thoroughly cieared up. I appeal to vyou, men. Does this rig belong to Muggins, who bought it and paid for it with hard dollars, or does it belong to this man who only claims it? “Muggins!" lh?{lttd the crowd, enjoy- ing to the full the spectacle Rose was providing. The Goodwinites hastily aban- doned the fleld and took refuge in the bar. “Thank you, my bullies!” cried the triumphant Rose. 3, CHAPTER XVIIL BENOIS SQUARES ACCOUNTS WITH THE MAVERICK. “If that leg of yours is fit for busiress, Pole,” Dalton said to Benols, “we’ll move camp up to the Little Wichita and join the Tkard and Herald hunts. They're starting the spring round-up in Clay County, and the plan is to work across to the Brazos. lkard sends word that he's found a big bunch of our cattle on the range between the Wichitas.” "’fhe leg is_all right,” Pole made an- swer, "but it Seems to be inches too long for the other one now. Had to let out two holes in the right sweat leather to ve it room. Ain't heard nothing from d. have you?”’ “No. They haven't turned him up any- where yet. Nobody seems to have seen him after he left the Herald party to strike across for town.” “We'll have to go to Henrietta for news of him,” said Pole. “‘Something has hsgl‘)ened to him sure. the Kiowas had got him that gray would have worked back to the range by now.™ “You and the maverick can go in_ for grub when we join the round-up,” Dal- ton said, “and maybe you'll be able to pick up some trace of him."” ‘‘Here, youngster,” Benois called to the maverick as Dalton wentaway to order a round-up of the herd horses, “help me to grease this wagon. We're going up States, and we'll drop info Henrietta to see how Brockman'’s coming along with that fam- ily matter.” “Do you think we'll find him there?” the maverick asked. “Can’t say. Almost hope not. If he's there yet, it's because he can’t get away. Anyhow, it won't do any harm to have that town gun slicked up a bit. Even a pop like that might come in handy.” ““Why did he go away?” “Reckon he'll tell you when ye ask him,” was Pole’s rather gruff answer. “Petticoats may have had someth'ng to do with it. You 'n' me’ll be chief cook and bottle washer this trip. We'll run the wagon; the others'll do the rounding-up and cutting out.. And say! If we run across any one you know, just call off his brand to me before you rs)e‘ap a word to anybody else. There’s a friend of yours up there that I'm kinder itching ‘fi-fi.‘ good look at. Savwvy?" su t t's funny,” sald the maverick in rise. “Why, I've never been there, i: there’ only ope man in that place 1 OW. “He's the chap,” said Pole. { “Mister Benois,” sald the little fellow earnestly, “did Mister Brockman go to Henrietfa to find him?" “Reckon you'll have to ask Bréckman about that,” was Pole’s reply, On the way up every one in'the hunt noticed that the maverick th preoccu- jed. Nothing seemed to Interest him. oven an immense herd of antelope, per- haps a thousand strong, scudding across thelr route into the northwest, that drew shouts and shots from the others, failed to_win his attention. “Ain’t ing _for another spell of shakes, are you?’ Bud Willett asked, - The boy only shook his head. t could have called Mr. Brockman to Hen- rietta? Had anything happened to his mother? If o, how could they have heard of it without his knowing of it, too? How did it come that th knew anything about this man, or that was in Henrietta? These were riddles he could not solve, nor could he drive them ‘from his mind. And that hint about the revolver! The diminutive weapon was oiled and rubbed and wrap) up so that not a partticle of dust could penetrate to interfere with its mechanism. Camp for the round-up had been pitched on the Little Wichita, a_few miles to the west of Henrletta. They made it on the afternoon of the second day out, the day following that one on ghlch the Goodwin party had ridden into WL “You aln’t going in to-day, ure you?” Jack Langford asked of Pole when he \ “So_you've got-the dr saw him hifching up a fresh team. “Sure,” saild Pole. “Didn’t tell you be- fore, but Ed he came up to town om a shooting matter, and I reckon he's hit trouble. Promised him I'd take up the game where he left off. That's my busl ness in town.” . Then I'm’ with you,” Langford said. “We'll take Ringer and Aulen, and I'll drop a hint to Kirby that if we ain't back by night we need looking after.” “Good!” grunted Beno's as he buckled a collar and swung the hames into plact ~‘Maverick’s in it. too. It's his gam but he doesn’t know the play. Man that ran away with his mammy’s the cuss we ant. On the way in Langford traded his mount with the maverick for a seat in the wagon. “‘Man’s a gambler,” Benois sald to him. “Don't know no better wav than to get right in among the blacklegs'and then watch the youngster. The man he shies at’ll be my meat. You'ns can keep the flies off.” “‘Better not let on about Ed until the game's on, then,” suggested Langford. “'Twon’t do to pass the drop up to them.” “‘No. Just keep your eyes on the mav- erick and your ears open for brag, and we'll see and hear enough.” “I'll post the others,” Langford said. ‘‘Here, youngster, give me back that ca- yuse."” At the beginning of the one street that split the town from east to west Benois lashed his team into a lope and drove fur- iously into the settlement, his escort gal- loping alongside. In front of the hotel he pulled up with a loud ‘“Whoa-ho there!” that brought all the loungers to the street. “Como le ve, muchacho?”’ he called out to Manuel, throwing him the lines. “Bien, senor,” replied the boy. “E los otros?"’ “Tambien, senor."” The boy evidently had no news to offer. Benois turned to Allen. “See where he takes the horses, so's we'll know where to find 'em if we need 'em in a hurry.” Then_ he limped into the bar, closely fol- lowed by the maverick and the others. “Give us something to cut the dust out of our throats,” he said to Muggins. “‘Drinking alone?’ one oi tne Goodwin party asked, leaving a roulette wheel he had been twirling and sauntering up to the bar. “Nope,” Pole replied, taking his meas- wre; ‘“drinking with someé picked cattle, two here and one a-coming.” “Better order some mother’'s milk for the young Durham,” the gambler said sneeringly, ;lgrklng his thumb toward the maverick. The remark seemed to tickle the fancy of the loungers, for they roare.d with laughter, ~Ringer was about tc make a hot reply, wnen Benois headed him off. “Don't mind owning up that ye got the breed straight,” he said. ‘‘He’s blooded stock, all right, and clean bred. Most of the cattle hereabouis must a-been crossed iwllh coyote, for they're hell on howi- This .time the laugh was on the gamb- lers, and Muggins joined fn it so heartily that Langford suspected his mirth was forced. Allen came in from the corral, and as he filled his glass he whispered to Pole: “Hd's big In a flash Benois tuined upon Musgin: “Ye've got a horse out in your pen _nat was stolen from our outfit. Brdanded with a balf-diamond L on the left shoulder. What do you know about it?" he de- manded. “Stolen, did ye say?’ Muggins gasped. This was serious. Men had been swung up to trees for having stolen horses in their possession. “‘Why, that horse be longs to the man upstairs—the chap with a_builet in his lung,” he hastened to ex- ain. p'rhen “the man upstairs’” must be Brockman! Benois lirted his glass. “To our absent friend,” he said “To_our absent friend,” the others re- Muggids ventured. Langtord said, “with the man upstair. ? The maverick's eyes were dancing. “Mdybe the man upstairs is—" Benois warned him voqlh,u “ck lance. “Go ‘over to the wheel and t that on the red,” he said, tossing the boy a coin. “Here you are, Mister Durham.” ‘The gambler gave the wheel a turn. ‘““The eagle bird pays you a hundred for one; the red only give you even money.” The maverick was bending oyer the lay- out, examining it curlouslv when a new- comer entered the bar. The man was Goodwin. He took in the cowboys at a glance and then his eyes fell upon the maverick. With an oath he sprang at the boy, seized him by the neck, held him out ‘s length a shook him fiercely. he cried, ‘“‘I've found you, have 1, you pup? Now, by the Lord, I'll know where that mother of yours i§ hidden or I'll break every bone in your body." Benois jumped at Goodwin, wrested the boy from his grasp and passed him to Ringer, 'who drogped him behind the bar. Benois slid his hand to the grip of his six-shooter. Ile made no effort o draw the weapon, but pressed down on the grip until the holster was uptilted so that the muzzle of the revolver was on a line with Goudwin's waist. “Ye've done all the harm ye'll ever do that boy or Lis mother,” he said quietly. Goodwin flashed a glance about the bar. 0op on me, have you?” “Well, all right. I cave."” Benois was watching him like a hawk. e saw Goodwin lift his head and a ile grow upon his face. e scented he muttered. treachery. “That's right, Muggins,” the gambler suddenly called out. “Taxe the boy up- stairs for me.” Benois wheeled about to face the bar. Muggins was nowhere in sight. At the same instant a warning cry from Lang- ford told him that he had been tricked. He turned. Goodwin had him covered. Two revolvers spoke at the same in- stant. The gambler's shot, aimed at the head, slit Pole'sright ear. Benois had fired through his holster and the bullet entered the gambler’s vitals. Goodwin spun half around, the weapon fell from his hand and he sank slowly to the floor. With drawn revolvers Allen, Langford and Ringer lined up beside Benois. *‘Out You go, all of you!' cried Langford. first man that tries to pull goes down! There was a rush for the door. The maverick climbed up on the bar. He saw the gambler writhing on the floor and Benols standing over him. He jumped down, was caught in the rush and carried into the street. In ten seconds the place was clear. Then uus}l‘dn- arose from behind the . where he had dl‘ogped at the first n of hostilitles. < t out, for God's sake!” he pleaded. x‘:"fhey'll come back an’ tear down the shack!” He seized thc dying man_ by the shoulders and half dragged, half carried him out to the road- way. “Hoof it, I tell ye!” he called out to the cowboys. “Them 'gnmblers'll get together an' clean ye out!” “*Bri e wagon and the horses ‘round here in front,” Allen -said to him. “We've got a little} business ~with the n-inn upstairs, and we'll just take him "%’l’ly, that man can't travel none!" Muggins shouted back. “He's too near ““Then we'll wait till he can,” Langford sald. “He's going with us, if we have to out your ole town to get him." hers was a shout and a cheer from down the -, Muggins looked in that direction, then turned and fled. “Here they come!” he yelled as he disappeared around a corner of the house. “I told ye to_dust, durn ve!” Benois limped to the door. A big mob was gathe down the street. Men were running about with guns and pis- tols in their hands, and the gambler who had been manipulating the roulette wheel was there haranguing them id pointi i fne direction of Muggine bar, A “There's going to be trouble,” Pole sald to tWe others. “There's most too many of 'em for us, but we're under al::v 3 l;l wouux;"tt H't,l’r fio auch if e maverick wasn't in it.” s vl 1 e shut and t's most dark now. If we can stand them off for a while, ma; “Kirby’ h: E the b.!l“n after u-."-'.’:'a Rii :’ ‘Here they come,” Pole said. “Lay low and make the maverick keep under e 5 bar. “By God, len jumj r. “By they've got “He's gon R XIX. CHAPTE! THE MAVERICK'S RIDE TO CAMP. A clatter of hoofs broke in upon the confuston outside, and a gray horse, the rider lying far out upon his neck, flashed by the windows of the bar headed west. Cries of “That’s one of ’em!” were fol- behind the m!"” he cried. Sl ray is out there in the pen.” o poc. lowed by a volley from the mob, and then the rider striightened up in the sad- dle and shrilled out a deflant “Aha-i-e- ' as he disappeared in the yelled Ringer. “Who can that be?" » 5 “That sure was the maverick." Pole, grinning. “He's cut and run fo Onzfiur.m; nerve—-zfllhtoge!her. “Aha-i-e-yah ow-wah!” The shock of the “shout made the glasses dance op Muggins' shelves. It was followed by a fusiiade from ihe street that smashed window llghts a.‘n‘ splintered wood. The cowboys replied with their six-shooters and then rl[h’«'n Qut another yell as they saw the mo scrambling to cover. There was a shuffiing about In the room over their heads; then a shock, as x[ some one had fallen; then a sound :as of something heavy drawn across the flgor Out in the s.reet the mob was ma’b‘s\llg again. Upstairs there was a Crasl % glass, as if soie one had huried a ¢ through the window. There was anothe; volley from the street, and then the gam- blers threw themselves upon the do'n‘!l' with the intention of breaking it in au coming hand to hand with the cowboys. Tke revolvers of the besieged were h\_x:}‘j but they were only four against many un it seemed as if the place would be taken by storm when half a dozen shots from the room upstairs, fired right upon tihe heads of the assaulting party, caused tac gamblers again to seramble to cover. Something fell back on the floor of the room overhead, and again there was sound as of something being dragged about. P ¥rom the windows of a log hut across the road a volley was poured into that upper room, and the spat of the bullets as they ripped into the ceiling and wnll? was plainly heard in the bar. Then fo a few minutes the firing ceased alto- gether. “That was pretty d? aid Langford. was Ringer's reply. said it. the hot,” sald Benois. “How about you, Allen?" Pole asked anxiously. There was no answer. “Bad as that?” Benois. muttered. “Thought they were overshooting us. *Ss-st!"" came a sibilant hiss from rear of the bar. “Oh, so .you're there, are sald, tremendously relieved. doing?” “nge one crawling around in that back room,” Allen replied in a hoarse whisper. They listened. Allen was right. S'ume one was feeling his way ajong the part- tion. They could hear the hand as it shd across the pine boards. “Shoot at the sound,” Ringer suggested. Allen was about to act on the advice when a faint voice called out: “Hello, you people! "Brot‘kflzan!" cried. Benois, a lump ris- ing in his throat as he shoved Al}fi.n s re- volver aside. ‘‘Where's the door?” “There ain’t any,” Ia!ngfal:.d said. “No- that when we cameé in. “?'esdland back a bit, Ed,” Pole called out, “till I break through for ve.” He lhrew) himself against the partition and XE’.‘gav way with a crash. ;‘\Vgeri:erses ye? he ing into the dar! i A PSEalg a weak voice aimost at his Ye'll have to give me a hand, Leg just won't hold up.” “That was you letting go at ‘em from up above, then,” said Benois as he Hf 2d the wounded cowboy and dmg‘f‘d‘:'.'.m in- he bar. *1 was 'most sure X . heard you all el Brockman gaspec—‘easy, Pole; that's the sore side of me—and it lifted me out of bed. ‘When you let g0 a second time and those fcl- jows took to shooting in at you, I just intos the game. h:f'%):;;vfic‘ldcwn. all gn( you!” cried Lang- ford, who had been peering out in front. Eenois pushed Brocsman to the floor and fell beside him, just in time to escape a shower of bullets. Ringgr knelt beside Lanzford and they emptied their revolvers at the crowd. As tél’éey drovvgd back to re- rger utteréd a groan. lofi%rgx;egc;m?" Benols asked anxiously. “Nope. . But the jig's about up. I've fired my last besl} and Langfolrd has only one ore round.” ¥ m“ThroW him my_belt, Pole,” Brockman said. “It's nearly fuil, and I 'lowed you d need ‘em. Don't let ‘em burn ‘em Up so tagt. “Listen!” It wtlsnAllen who spoke. The gamblers had drawn off to consult upon a new plan f attack. : A\:l y oft to the west there was a rumble and a rush like that which heralds an approaching storm. In the midst of it they heard a thin voice piping the camp cry. It floated up to them clearly, though seemingly ever so far away: the “Aha-i-e-yah ow-wah! Aha-i-e-yah ow- Y he maverick, by all that's lucky!” shouted Langford. “He's bringing up the hunt.” The besieged cowboys sent up a mighty cheer, in vghlch even Brockman joined, though ever so_faintly. It was a spon- tancous tribute to the maverick. There were other yells back there along the road. They could distinguish easily now—the “Yip-yip-vip!""of the Her- ald men and the screaming laugh of the Tkardites, their ‘Ah-ha—ha-ha-ha—ah! The maverick wasn't doing things by halves. He had brought the entire camp to_the rescue. The mobbers heard them, also, and they fell out by twos and threes and hunted cover until not more than twenty re- mained. These, headed by the Goodwin- ites, made a last desperate effort to rush the besieged cowboys: but before they could carry the place the men from camp were upen them, shouting like flends and shooting into them from all sides. Panic-stricken, the mobbers fled in every direction. Then followed a “‘shooting-up of the town' that has become historic on the northern frontier of Texas. From end to end of the settlement the invaders spurred their horses, skooting into win- dows and doorways and _volleying at shadows and yelling like demons until every light was extinguished, every in- habitant burrowed out of sight; until the very dogs were stricken dumb with fright and crouched shivering with their tails be- tween their legs. Then and only then, was the wrath of the cowboys appeased Their natural enemies, the gamblers, had received a drubbing the memory of which could never effaced. Meanwhile the maverick had ‘ffllo the gray up to the door of Muggins' and called out in a voice full of anxiety: “Are we in time? Is everybody all right?” Almost before the words were out of his mouth the door was thrown open and he was lifted off his horse by the men whose relief he had secured and who patted and slapped him approvingly as they carried axm in where Brockman lay upon the oor. It wasn't much of & meeting, so far as speech Is concerned, but there was a world of feeling and of ‘sympathy in the touch of their hands. The maverick knelt beside the wounded cowboy. “Did he do {t?” he asked In an awe- stricken whisper. Brockman understood him. “No: it was a Klowa," he answered. Then he added: “And your little mammy was along when it happened. She's here now. You'll see her ‘thntly. She'll tell you. I s'pose you'll both be off to Kentucky, now that you can be together in."* “Not unless yu're tired of me,” the mav- erick said, his eves full of tears. “Then. you'll’ never go, nor your mammy either,” said Ed. Mugeins sneaked baci Into the bar and surveyed the wreck with a rueful counta nance. “Somebody turned your horse. out of the corral,” he sald to Bencis. “It was that man who had the wheel,” said the maverick. “I saw him do it, ang I heard him threaten to kill us all. Mister Brocl n's ly was the only one that didn’t run off, and I caught and saddled “l.ntk“ I could get out of the camp for { CHAPTER XX. A SEARCH IN THE DARK. In the room upstairs, to which Brock- man again was carried, mother and son were reunited. M ns had been unable to find Rose, so at 'S me to_the hut Rose called ors a patient persuaded Missus Jim i neode&luh Hurrying et she found double reason to rejoice—h, boy was there, and the man who had be- friended him and risked his lite for her was strong enough to sit up and weicome her. She marveled at the sympathy ang affection that had sprung up e them—marveled until she remem i e ory had Booa - 2 e story tol stdesall hut that - dreadfi] Taiomiires made by Rose—and the wounded map one arm about the boy's shoulders, was studying her face across the room, a = BY |B8sEPH-AL Sags QU.-\I i. smile in his eves and an unusually tender note in his voice when he spoke. 'You sure tock a big risk for me,” said. *“And so you wouldm't sell th gray? Well, if ever you go back Kentucky, vou can just take him with you saddle: ain’t in He ain’t broke to a t vet., he ain't: but if much of a hurry to get away the maverick ean coax him to t all right. , [f—if ever you do go he repeated are not going away. a " the maverick asked. 1 do net know—there is nothing elue for us to do. I fear that we must," she said. hesitatingly. “And yet, there is s Are we, ttle to go back to—after—atter all that do some- H has happened. ~ Still, we must Brockman agreed, n do something, but I reckon_we can rus ng for you. the be le that Eh, my maverick id, smiling in his fa rick mammy, too. _could AV ~T've been thinking some of that same,” Brock: said very softly The raid was ov nd_the bar down- stairs crowded with the cowboys, who were celebrating their vietory e town still was housed up, except for twe persons, a man and a woman, who Wwe searching out the wounded. was Rose. The man might 2 either a cowboy or a gambier to judge by his_attire. He Tied a big six-shooter slung at his hip, wore his into his boots, and the b of his som- brero was a leather strap fastened with a buckle. Their search had led them in front of the hotel, when an exclamation from the woman drew the man to her side and at the same time attracted the attention of those in the bar. The man was kneeling beside a body the woman had pointed out to him, when there was a rush from the bar and twenty volces ordered him at once to declare whether he was for or against the gambiers. He looked up into the scowling faces without flinching, then arose and replled in a strong voice: “T am against the devil in any shape, and this is devil's work.” He pointed to the man at his feet as he spoke. “And if the devil interferes with me,” patting the gun at his hip, “I shall fight him with his own weapons.' ““Men!” It was Rose who spoke, and the tremor in her voice might have been due to the fact that six-shooters were being brandished again by the cowboys. ““Men, this is the parson—Parson Potter. Let him do his work.” Potter was a name to conjure with any- where on that frontier. Every cowboy knew it as that of ‘the Fighting Parson: a man who would sing hymns from the back of a bucking broncho, who could handle the rope like one of themselves, who had preached salvation to a crowd of turbulent sinners held in order by the frowning muzzle of his revolver, and with whose tours of his circuit neither Indian raid nor stress of weather was ever per- mitted to interfere. They saluted him respectfully and drew off. “There is a flicker of life in this sinner yet,” the parson said, stooping over the body. “Let us take him in.” He lifted the unconscious man in his arms, and, guided by Rose, strode off into the night. It was, perhaps, just as well that Missus Jim had been calied away, although there were two reasons why Parson Potter would have had her there: that she might have witnessed the deathbed repentance of the man who had deceived her, and have added her fergiveness to that of the other woman whose life he had wrecked ‘There was another reason, also, but that was not so urgent. It reiated to a deli- cate commission undertaken at the re- quest of Captain Davis to ascertain if she could be induced to leave Goodwin and would permit the captain to arrange for her return to her old home. Throughout the night the parson la- bired with and prayed over and - offer=d what comfort and consolation he could io the dying gambler. In the beginning nh= was reviled, cursed, jeered at. But his infinite patience and pity and unselfish earnestness wrought a change, and at the last there was a wailing ery of “God for- give me!™ that brought Rose to her knees in tears at the bedside. “And you?” he moaned, staring into her face. “And you, Rose?” >3 , Jim! 1 forgive you, too!" she sobbed. ““May God forgive us both “Amen to that!” the parson said; and soon afterward he drew a blanket up over the set face, and touching Rose upon the shoulder went from tne house to work that was awaiting him in the road- way before Muggins' Hotel. There were many new graves in the cemetery on the Little Wichita when all was over, “and each grave a sermon in itseif,” the parson had said as he stood there bareheaded before a motley crowd of sinmers and preached against the futility of serving “in that army that is led by the devil.” CHAPTER XXL BROCKMAN GOES MAVERICKING. For another month Brockman remained in Henrietta, and at the end of that tim he very nearly was his old self in the matter of physical strength. The mav- erick had remained with him, and be- cause of the suddenly developed willful- ness of the boy in opposing a return to their former home Missus Jim also had been compelled to remain. She had taken possession of a log cabin on_the outskirts of town and arranged with Parson Potter that Captain Davis should undertake to settle up her affairs in Kentucky and convert her small holdings there into money. Rose had seen fit to follow son Potter to Jacksboro. There had been some planning done by Brockman and Benois. It had been de- cided that their joint capital would be sufficient to embark them in ranching in a small way, and a partnership had been declared. The ranch was to be in Los Valley, and Benois already had ted with the Half-Diamond L crowd ms.:on‘ down there to take \elg homestead claims. He had claims fil for four persons, these_were proved up satisfactorily later on. Brockman's intentions with respect to Missus Jim were perfectly well known 0. B t ricking I “This business of mavericking humans is getting to be a disease with ‘you, Ed,” he had said on going away. “Ye can try it just onge more, and then ye stop—or I sure will pull on ye.” Twice during that month Brockman had eart to Missus Jim. She 0 on living as she was, he told her. He knew of a chap who wasn't good enough to saddle her horse, but who “thought a heap” of her and who would take Food care of her and of the maverick if only she would say the word; a man who had loved her ever since—well, ever since she had fainted in his arms and had been held tight to his breast that night when life seemed pretty near the end for both of them. There, the thing was out, and he had wondered how he was going to say it. And at the first telll he had th ht from the look upon her face In?i“‘the quaver in her voice that his happiness was certain. No woman could desire a better man for her husband, she had said - ta him. It would make her happier than he knew to be able to give him the an- Swer he wished. But—she could not There was a reason. No, she could not tell him what it was—only that it was gomething not even time would remove. No, it was not she aid not—. He must not ask her that; was it not enough to say that she was not sorry he thought well enon‘;hh‘ct her to ask her to be hi wife and it it did grieve her that there existed a reason why she could ever rry? At the second t all the impetusit that was latent in u;? in T volt and he declared that he just would marry ‘T, Feason or nor reason. He had his ¢wn consent and the maverick’s, and if she didn't know what was good for her they did and he would have his way In spite of all the reasons that could be piled on top of each other. And then she had smiled at him through her tears and told him the thing he pro- posed was impossible. “':':xotn‘l:s:n,tthbe:?btlet m;‘x:)t know the S to be able to judge for him- seif. Di one else know o ? Yes! Who? Goodwin: . Then, so strangely does fate order things, Parson Potter returned to Hen- rietta and Rose followed in his wake. 1, there was a wonderful the woman. She attended every at which. the parson prea ;;«:‘nl.t 'z:x ger volee that started m he [V E ut ot ety 8ave them out. B Missus Jim had not supposed that Rose Continued on Page Ten.