The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 3, 1903, Page 5

= )) 77 '.W/ = A d N 4 N\ /s A GCGAME o "‘*QS'OD’.'DJv -~ B3 V. ELIJAH BROWN was still thinking out his Sunday sermon at half-past 10 o'clock Saturday night, an unprece- cGented cxperience in a pulpit career of ten years. Herétofore Saturday ncon had never found him unpre: pared with kis “Sabbath discourse,” so faithfully had he cbeyed St. Cider. But oin Tuesday of this weel he had married him a wife, #nd time seemed too brief for any other duty. Even now that the inevitable was upon him, he could not harness his s cbstreperous thoughts, for happiness is a paralysis to in- In place of composing his sermon he sat and stared in the flame of the pine lcgs, his ear alert to the sound of the quick footstep across the hall, where the new mjstress was tidying up for the first married Sunday at the min- ister’s. The wutlook: hegar Paul's command to do all things decently and in vention to assume a serious character, the more so as this unpro- ductive cendition was abnormal, Brown, being famous for h's oratory all through ‘tlie county. Though only tiirty years old, renowned for hav- converted' miire sinners to the bench than any twenty preachers on Brotlier he wa mour ners the Pontitoc ciréuit, the most barren and isolated parish of the Methodist caurch in Western Texas. Its ministrations fell among illiterate cattiemen and their families, z'ude of speeck vas his great gift of persuasion digpiayed at a revivai meeting some two years previous ihat offered to aim his present charge. Poor as it was the ferment. wrought Deneficlal change s in his circumstances. From a yearly salary of $i2, collécted at an. expense of much time and humiliation, and a tramp subsistence from. bouse to house, he haa now reached the dignity of a log cabin own. 350 annually in cash and contributions in nrst frur'~ irom the neigh- g ranches. s certasa provislon made the paradise of matrimony possibie for nis eager admission. But he did not enter until two years ter its gates were unclosed. He was sure of himself, sure of his mate—still man was at war with his own rt. During these two years an Armageddon waged in his soul, the ond in his life. For two years he resisted. Then, with the last, as with the first struggle. he fought the battie—and lost! Defeated, yet triumphant, he brought home his bride. He was stiil so en- .slaved with the fairy enchantment of his bliss that no foreboding whispers were " beginning to stir his conscience. Besides, after ali, had he been more wicked than others? Given a chance, what m would not clutch happiness whatever his past? To-night, with the wind shricking like devils cast out. and the sieet pelting the wooden shutters, he hugged himseif for the wisdom of his conclusion and once more turped his face toward iu's sermon. Suddenly, without warning, a fierce gust biew rising of the north window sash, and snuffed into the room from a ghost- tallow dip d out the ordinary a reckless extravagance had tempted him to light. He turned in bewilderment to peer after the mysterious cause in the dark rners of the room beyond the fireglow, when bang The minister then very deliberately faced about once more. stirred the logs on the brick firedogs to a brighter flame, threw on a handful of lightwood ps and slowly rose from his chair. His full height brought him opposite a r looking glass in a red plush frame, before which he always knotted s 1k tie for Sunday service The reflection in its depths transfixed his geze. His color blanched slowly wounded at the seat of life and bleeding to death by drops. He stared at the pictured face, blue with cold, that leered over his shoulder into the . e window shut down with a mirror like a grimacing fiend Not a disturbed the quiet of the room, except the crackling fire and the warring elements outdoors. . You!" gasped the minister at last, in the voice of one throttled by night- wcomer, a man of gigantic build, dressed in a uniform of black and Instead, he crept with a deprecatory, feline his Anak strength and corded muscles, to the >f paper on which Elijah had_endeavorcd 1ad rewarded his efforts at a scrmon. Up brother offend th . the map jn st permost was the text, “If With a contemptuous gesture es brushed away the scraps to the fioor and seated himmelf atop the table, his left leg swinging careles uncertain_perch me, * he admitted, after settling himself thus cor . considerin’ we ain’t met in eighteen yea A pregnant silence fell between them )jke a pall The minister passed a shaking hand over his forehead. He W3a once more face to face with the in- carnate tragedy of his life. In the delirious speculations of his worst misery he had never foreseen this horror—the evii dead come to haunt him. With its res- sction his conscience stirred. What anodyne had stilled its voice that he had not f: v confessed his story to the young girl he loved, who had intrusted her life to his keeping and unknowingly exchanged her honest name for his dis- honored one? Here, unexpectedly, the skeleton of hjs past stood before him, clothed in flesh and blood! od God! what would be the outcome of this? How explain to his wife of a few days that he had played false with her confidence and made her daughter to a felon? How condone his share in the tragedy—this perjury to save this father's life from the nooze? Beads of sweat trickled down his face and his hand trembled with the palsy t age as he tried to wipe them off. How did you get out?” he asked ar: from his parched throat through the lips glued to his gums with viscous r several vain attempts to force the : u ain’t =0 glad to see Vi pa. eh, Bud?’ sneered the convici. *I ain't t how 1 picked out, but I'll go this fur with you—I been hammerin’ tool3 for eighteen year. Gimme the tools and the chanst, and what's t6 hinder? *"here's my secret! 1 been hidin' in your wcodpile two days, waitin’ a chanst me e parson and his new wife, likewise my new daughter. You see, 1 your goin's on from the chapel parson, who used .to coddle my soul every brath. He didn’t suspicion, old fool. I was fixin’ to skip an’ had to know where : was 10 get rid of these clothes. He belleved I was a lost sheep come home pastur. But they ain’t no pastur in my territory. It pays longer to be a wolf than a ram. I didn’t tell him you was my son,” he admitted, after a suf- ficient time to let his words sink in and corrode. lijah shuddered to think how often his wife in going to the woodpile had within speaking distance of this man, whom, dreadful as it seemed, he had thought to be safely entombed for life in the State penitentiary, a hundred miles away. He dropped into the chair from which he had just staggered up and pondered this torturing apparition. The convict, with keen enjoyment of the situation, shook with another of his saturnine laughe, that seemed his only expression of satisfaction and bore no resemblance to merriment. Come, Bud, hearten up,” he encouraged the minister, bitterly. here to stay. And whatever I done in the past 1 was drove PRI ) oot WISH you wouldn't,” she sald. *“You don’'t seem to realize how dreadful it is.” Her tall son frowned. “Darn it all! what did Buck go to you for? 1 knew you'd make a fuss.” “Please, Jemmy," she begged: *‘this man is a stranger to you. He's never done you any harm. Let the others hound him; you keep out of it, Jemmy. 'Tain’t right, and I couldn’t ever feel the same toward you If you had a hand in it.” “Now, see here,” he said, deseprately, *“you can’t under- stand it, I know, but the crowd wouldn’t never forgive me if T didn’t go in with them. Red Jack never did me a hurt nor won my money, nor he never swiped none of my cattle. I ain't ever laid eyes on him myself. But it's all the same; we settlers have got to stand by one an- other, and when the majority says there's a bad man to be shelled out of the com- munity, the bunch as a whole has to do it. If I hung back from my share of the row they'd never stand by me. 'Tain’t as if we was all home in the East. You haven't learned the customs yet, but I tell you I've got to go.” She wrung her hands and (cars gathered in her eyes. “It's lynching, Jemmy! “Yep, and if there wasn’t lynch law there’d be no law. Mother, don’t you take on. You've come out here and you've got to learn to stand our ways. [ know it's hard on you, but you'll get used to it by and by.” “What'll they make you do, Jemuay?" “Oh, nothing much; put me on guard somewhere to keep 4 lookout and =ee he don’t get past and over the border into Mexico. They'll run a big circle and graduvally draw him in. Then he’ll probably step out to Mendez; he's stuck on that half-breed girl. They'll have an exira watch there and pinch him. She's said she'd turn him over.” “She’d betray him!” ““Sure, or Mendez wouldn’t run the Blue Devil. h-m!” he sald suddenly, realizing that his tongue had run away with him. “Don’t you take on; gu t'll come out all right anyhow. He'll get across the line and there won't be any Fourth of July at all. There now. This ain’t no place for you, mother, and I was a dinged fool to let yer come.” “No, 1 don’t understand this sort of thing, thank God. I don’t understand the killing of nary a lving man.” ' “Well,” he seid, in the tone with which one humora a fretful child, “I'll just #how up and iet them think I'm solid with 'em, and then I'll slide out and drop the thing. There, now'll that do?” She put her withered hand upon his broad shoulders and looked him square in the face. “You remember, Jemmy.” she said, slowly, “that your old mother is up here alone, for every man’s left the place for this bloody work; all alone, remember; and she'll be a-thinking of you here by the window, waiting for vi to come back with your hands clean of man killing. Don't forget now, boy!" He turned his head quickly lest she read his Intentions of deceit. ‘Yes, mother,’ "he nodded. Catching up his Winchester he jammed down his sombrero &nd made for the door. “Back by sundown, I guess,” he called back; “don’t worry.” She watched him sling himself easil:’ upon his bronco and canter swiftly off over the trall toward the river settlement. She sighed deeply. 8o this was the great Southwest; this was the unfcttered life that had infatuated Jemmy, to i catin tel, The woman's wrinkled face went red with indignation, The crowd’d clean him oui— ) \ ) % afrald of himself, as of some strange wila beast. ( \ ) ) { 5 and would hever consent to her remaining the comnanion of a felon's son, now ( % ) ( { ¢ ) ( ) \ he it man's sins are bound to find mm out. { E comin’ in and out so much all day he didn't git no chanst to git in the hous:. THE SUNDAY CALL. ' Cleverest Storiettes ot the Day. kit Lo UL BN i B thet you swore to, and no one elsc.” “Drove to 1t!" repcated the minister, fiercely, bending forward to -study hi father's face. “Drove to kill mother, ko was a saint to put up with you aad your ways as long as she did! Who drove you, in hell's name? ‘Old Satan, I'u thinkin'! Murderers ain’t made in heaven!™ A sudden cruel brutishness flashed into the convict's pale blue eves as he towered above the parson. s “Murder's a ugly word, Bud Brown' he snarled in a soft, drawling voice, as his prehensile Hps curled back trom his iong white teeth. “It warn't nu murder; neither! Else how'd I be here to-night? The jury quit me, and they done 1t on your Bibul swear!” y Elijah groaned. + “No use pumplin’ your bellows round me!" grinned the father. “Your saint of 2 ma teached you thet lie on her dying bed, when she said, ‘Lij. if there's ques- tions asked about this cuttin’ you got to swear your pa done it by chanst! We all makes mistakes, sonny, and this is the worst day's work he ever done! Aimn't thet a saint of a ma. teachin’ her son to lie with her dyin’ breath? I cut to kill! And she knowed it, and I knowed It, and you knowed it! Now., what's to be dune about 1t? I've lived eighteen year in i.ll, and I'm out! And you bet your life i'mn out to stay!” Come, gimme some money and a suit ow Guds!"” Elijah, leaning forward, did nol move his eves from his father's face, con- torted now with a spasmodic twitching that aitacked him in moments of strong excitement or unmasked passion. There was something so grim and ominous in his son’s quiet attitude that the giant shifted uneasily away from his chair and resumed his seat on the table. “Can’t you hurry?” chafed the convict. “Time’s life to me! Bioodhounds point long noses!" ¢ Elifah continued to stare at him with the unseeing eyes of a somnambulisl His father was pitiless. “All right,” he threatened. “Women was always fond of me. Never see vii> yet 1 couldn’t get around, just gimme time. I'll step into the next room aud lay this case before my new daughter. Maybe she can do something fur her oid pa.” The inanimate figure was galvanized. The minister leaped forward to bluck the w y. 00d Lord, boy.” jeered his. fatler, thrusting out a b awny a-m, “what's your puny musele to tuet fur strength? [ can crack vour back like a peanut shell'und tie your neck and heels together. Out of my way!" He pushed his son aside and made a step toward the door. Elijah turned toward the hearth ina blind nassicn and seized the iron bar vsed for a poker. Striding after his father; he swung it above his head with both hands. The convict halted in surpri Instanily the shock of amazement gave piace ta a look of cratty cunning. “Sc we are father and son after al dadged the blow and returned to the fire place. only your ma’s boy, untidl this mnute.” % The iron clanged to ihe floor, and the man of Ged, sinking to his knees be- ‘ side the table, buried his face in his aims. The horrors of the past and present seemed tc mingle in one inextricable taugle that he was powerless to unravel. All he could think of now was pardon for the murderous thoughts of the last few moments. He had never suspected such possibllities in his nature and feit He continued kneeling in a sor* of apathy, Indifferent alike to his father’'s presence and his own impotency. The convict did uot hesitate longer. He sought the closet at the end of the room where hung the minister's one other suit of clothes, and qulckly Gonned it. The next object of his atteution was a three-cornered cupboard in the jamb of the chimney. His fierce curse as he took the Key from the trousers po t and flung wide the door was so loud and blasphemous that Enjan sprang to his feet and stared with his father into its shallow denth. Only this morning he had p'aced in it for safekeeping the small. plated communion service, with the offering for Thanksgiving that had occurred t! Thursday of that eventful week. The shelves were emp The church property was stolen! ““Well, parson,” sneered his father, “the chink’'s gone, as sure as pop. goes the weasel. And not, in my pocket, though you seem to think so.” The minister shivered. “Lord, Bud,” continued the convict contemptuously after all. No more of a hackbone than she had. But I can't tarry, so fork over what cash yvou got and I'll mosey along. I couldn't have bided this t'me only for the dogs losing the scent In the rain. What! twenty-three cents! This all you got? h that. seizing his sor’s hat. hanging on a rall near the door, he pu on with a jaunty tilt over the left ear, and, stridirg to the window, he raised tt . plunged over the ledge and disapreared into the storm. Elijah tricd to think out what he had best do when the stewards had been told and he had been dismissed from preaching the zospel. Of course. his wife would return to her neople, who were honest and proud, he choked with horrible relish, as he “I mistrusted ail along you was you are your ma's boy. himself suspected of theft in its most dastardly form. He gentle he was conscicus of his prison sheoes still toasting before the fire led himito wandcr aimless'y about the room. as if in search of another pair. “Let me in, Lij: I'm afreid!” a frightened vo'de cal’ed. He sprang to the door to find it lccked, and lost some moments in scarch- ing for the key. 3 His wife, a tall, slender. blue-eved girl, stumbled in and fell into his arms, He gathered her to his bosom, and oncs more sought his chair. The wind sobbed a requiem and the n dashed agairst the shutters, but the tempest without was nothirg to that raging in the min ster's breast, as he sat in the firciight trying to shrive his soul and locge his hold on the heaven in his grasp. 1t was done. He had unburdened himself of his secret—the murder of his mother by his father, his own perjury to eave his father’'s life because of his mother's dying prayers, and the long concealment with its crushing end, the robbery of the communion service and the Thanksgiving collection. At the closc id: t warn't noways right fur me to ast you to merry me, Mame. When I don. 1 knowed it fur wrong. I kep’ hopin’ it would turn out all right, bui a Anyhow, a man can sometimes rignt wrong. Early Monday orning, honey TI'll drive you over.to your ma's, an the best you can do is to fergit the man what done such cruel harm.” He tried to loose the elasp of her arms about his neck. “Lij,”” she whispered, “vou ain’t this with blood in his heart when a v interrupted his thoyghis. For ihe first t'me e feet. An uaconqueraBle repugrance to wearing the was tap solving at the d prospect the only one peen so mortal wicked.” He smiled faintly and stroked her corn-cclored hair. “Yes,” she trembled, I don't know as you wiil speak to me.” He laughed vacantly. Everything scemed to be unreal. “Dear. 1 knowed all your secrec before,” she confessed. “Your pa told me behind the woodplle the very day we come home from bein’ merricd.” She paused, but Elijah made no reply bevond a deep sigh. He had never been spared humiliation, and the same merc'less fingers had bared his quivering s.ul to his “He ast me fur money and clothes, but I didn't “he made me teil bride of a few hours. hev any. And, oh, Llj,” she burfed hecr tace in his breast, him this mornin’ about the money you had in the house from Thanksgiving. He made me do it, he truly did! He held my hands fierce, and sald if | didu't mind he would carry me in those Siriped clothes right to your very face. And then he made me tell him where was the key to the cupboard, but folks was He was mortal feared of them catching him in them clothes.” “But he got thet money!" Elijah caught his breath with something like = sob. “It's gone with the pver service. He lied ahout it—sald he didn’t—but thet's no difference. He'd always rather lie.” “Lij, dear, soon as I could get away from your pa in the woodpile I carried thet money and supper service right over to Steward Rogerses and ast him to keep it fur day or so, a8, 1 didn’t feel safe to watch 'em and ‘vou out the house, He 'lowed 1 was right, and he's got 'em. ‘em before, Lijl—" The silence fell so long and deep between them that Mame sobbed nervously: “Lij, be you mad?” “Mad?” ped: ot 1 didn’t tell you about The man of Giod kissed Fer reverently, and rising from his seat “Blessed be the Lord, whu has iaiced up salvation fur his BETWZ, 77FE PMITL 7B ONE” Y BTITED WAZTS ITTrLEORD its bloody cowboy wars, its mad reveis of eards and drink she thought hastily, and the wild lie bad given She sighed again. restless blood! Whence came it? She could not guess: ,indomitable, Where was rvnaway Teddy—little ved-headed. crazed with the thnsel of a circus rirg so many vears ago” with its excitement, Yet he was a good bo sirength and a beauty all its owa. itance of year a leveled revolver, and heard a stern vVoice order, “Be quiet! 1 want grub, savez?” 3 nose, with wide nostrile, and a pair of reckless eyes, brero heavy with silver arnaments. straye’ golden auburn hair, babyishly soft and fine, fixed ftself in a widening stare, questioning, terrified. “Yes, I'm Red Jack,” he went on: “‘but, for all my business. meal. will yer? ‘cause they dldn't know how to play the national game.” aitempt at levity in his voice. Her eyes looked into his. *‘Oh, little boy Teddy!” The man lowered his gun. “Well, I'll be hanged!" The words drove home 1 nife thrust. “Oh, my God! they shan't hang ver, Teddy! Ch, run-run—they mustn't get yer! They're after yer, they are—go now, and you can make the border. Oh! . to find you like this—and they a hunting of yer!" With a sudden loving movement of his huge arms he folded the little old woman to his Preast. With sobs and tears she clung to him, murmuring his name between ing gasps. . “Go, you must go!" she repeated, while her withered hands clung to him even cloger. “No, T ain't goin’,” he said softly, tell me 1 gotter. I—I ain’t seen yer fer years an’ years, and I'm just dead beat.” that, You see, a measly, lantern-jawed sst of cu “Teddy!" she gasped. nerves. Swiftly she set before him the best she could provide, to touch him with soft, caressing wonder. Huge, shy, awkward, he accepted her min- him Ah. that terrible inher- vel it The door behind her creaked. She turned quickiy, looked inte the barrcl of I'm dead beat, and Her cyes traveled from the shining weapon pointed at her head to the man behind it. .He was tall and handsome, With a square jaw, a grim meuth, a thin ded by a brown som- From underneath the gorgeous Mexican hat Slowly the woman's face scaring women fisi't T won't hurt you, mother. Just give a poor hunted man a decent are after. me There was a wearied chok- “not for a while, mother—no, you needn’t The confession of his immediate need gave her strength, steadied her failing b SR NS SR S I IR G5 SRR R I S SR G G S S S SN L g Sl e PSR R SR B (SR e e A A e A A A A ) N—"/ T7E 4D Dl A SOV ALLEVAY WAS up in that part of New Jersey again the other day.” said John Gilbert, the traveling groceryman, “and they told me John Keenan got seven years. [ was kind o' sorry to hear it, for although. John Keenan undoubtedly deserved all he got, he was a victim of circumstances and mistaken identity, and T can’t help wishing they hadn't socked it to John quite so hard. “I must (eil ycu abeut John Keenan. A year S0 before hearing that he had got seven ye: I was on a busi- ness trip in that part of New Jersey, and early one fore- noon was standing talking with the storekeeper in that little town. A number of men were lounging about the store door, cold as the wea- ther was. “Presently a stranger drove up to the store with a fine-looking horse hitched to a light spring wagon. He had scarcely stopped when two or three of the loungers stepped forward and looked closely at the horse and at him. “This scrutiny the stranger evidently did not fancy, for he gathered up the reins and started his horse. Instantly one of the loungers sprang forward and seized the horse by the bridle. Two or three others jumped to his side. “Quick as a flash the stranger leveled a revolver at the head of the man who had seized the bridle, and told him to let go or he would blow his brains out. *The man dropp:d the brid'e like a hot ccal and jumped out of the way, as did all the rest, some of them tumbling over one another to get through the store door. The stranger gave whip to his horse and drove away with it on a run. “ “That's Dumond's hoss and Bailey's wagon!" exclaimed half a dozen of the scared natives, after they had got their breath. ‘That's Dumond's hoss and Bailey’s wagon, and that's the man that stole ‘em!” “‘As quickly as it could be done two snoiguns were obtained at the store by twb of the loungers, and the stranger and the rig were still in sight when a crowd of yelling Jerseymen started in chase of them, armed with clubs, axes and any weapons they could lay hold on. “Curious to what the result would be, I followed with the crowd. There was a long steep hill an eighth of 2 mile bevond the store. The hill was icy, and when the pursuers of the alleged horse thief reached the hill the horse was half way up it, but was getting on with difficulty, owing to the slippery surface and the zrade. “Then he slipped and fell. The pursuers were pressing close, and the stran- ger jumped from the wagon, ran into the woods and disappeared. I drove the horse back to the store. The crowd kept on after the stranger. “Thc storekeeper told ¢ that n few nights before some one had stolen a horse from Dan Dumond, who lived two or three miles from the village, and a spring wagon from a neighbor of his named Bailey, and nothing had been heard of the property since. “ “That horse the feller just drove up here with is Dumond's, sure erough, sald the stcrekeeper. ‘And that's Bailey's wagon, all right. Funny the thief should be comin’ right along by here. He might have known that the horse and wagon would be rccognized.’ “Anxious to know how the chase of the horse thief came out, I waited all day at the store, but none of the pursiuers came back. The storekeeper sent word down to Dumond that his horse had been recovered, along with Balley's wagon, and all he had te do was to come up and get it. Along In the afternoon Dumond came up. * “What's this you're sayin’ about my hoss bein" recovered?” said Dumond to or the storekeaper. “‘That’s all 1 said about it,” reslied the storekeeper. ‘He's recovered, and he’s out yonder in my barn.’ ‘“‘Guess not,’ s=aid Dumond. ‘I 1'ered my hoss clean to Peapack and found where the thicf had sold it. But Balley's wagon This was a puzzler The storekeener took Dumond odt to the barn to show him that bis horse and Bailey's wagun were there, and 1 went along to see bow it came out. * ‘Locks like my hoss, that's so.' said Drvmond. ‘But it ain’t. This hoss is younger than mine and haln't got no tocth krocked out on the left side of its Jjaw. Mine has. My hoss 1 got back over to Peapack day before yesterday and he’s home in my barn now. This is Bailey's wagon, though.” ‘““The mystery deepened. None of the horse thief chasers had returned vet. 1 bad to get to the next town that evening. So I drove away, leaving the mys- tery unsolved. > “A few “ays afterward, though. ! returned to that village, not only curious, but anxious fo know how that thief chase had come out, and whether the mys- terr of Dumond’s horse and Bailey's wazon had been cleared up vet. ezt id the storekeepecr. ‘They ketched the thief, and he's over in the county fail 1ow. They chased him all day through the woods and swamps and ther. corner<d him in a stone quarry not more than two miles from the couaty seat, and that's more than twenty miles from here. When they got him nered in the quarry he seemed to just happen to think of somethin’. He whi; out his revolver and p'inted it at ‘'em and says: ‘“‘Have you men got a warrant for me? ** ‘Don’t have to have no warrant for taking a hoss thief!" Joe Gravely an- swered back. “That seemed to surprise the feller. wae pleased at somethin’, he said: * ‘Hoss thief! Is that a'l?" “And he surrendered and went right along with 'em without another word. They took him to the county seat and handed him over to the Sheriff, and the Sheriff badr't no more than seen him when he blurts out: “‘Well, I'll be hanged! John Keenan! “'At that the feller sort o' wi'ted. but he didn't say a word, and the fellers started for home, pleased as could be. But Lord! A madder set o' men than they Wwas you never see when they got back home here. all tattered and torn and drag- ged out. to find that It wasn't Dumond's hoss at all that the feller had stole. *‘Dumond. vou know, had offered a reward of $75 for the capture of the thief that stole his hoss. And that's what them feller citizens o’ mine was after! *“*And the funniest part of it is.’ said the storekeeper, chuckling, ‘the feller ain’'t no boss thief at all nor he didn’'t steal Bailey’s wagon! The hoss he had was his own. He traded an old top buggy for Railey’s wagon.’ *‘The way it come was, the felier that did steal Duménd’s hoss and Bailey's wagon traded the wagon to a farmer back o' Peapack for a buckboard and drove on. A day or twé after that this feller, John Keenan, was drivin’ by that farmer’s in a top buggy that was heavier than he wanted. He seen the light spring wagon at the farmer’s and got up a dicker for it. That's how he hap- pened to have Bailey's wagon. *‘So it's a double joke on my feller citizens. hoss thief. He didn’'t even steal Bailey's wagon!" ““Well, what is he, then?" I asked. ‘* ‘Nothin’ but jest a common tax collector up here jn the adjoinin’ county. He was on his way for Pennsylvania with a couple or three thousand dollars of the county’s tax money.' said the storekeeper. ‘That's all John Keenan is.’ “T haven't heard what they d'd with John Keenan until they told me the other day when I up there again that he got seven years. and I can’t help but say that I was very sorry to hear it—not that he didn't deserve it, mind you—but consider the circumstances he was the victim of!” He put up his pistol, and lookin' as if he The feller John Keenan ain't & @ istrations, a wistful yearning piercing his old reckless manner, making him only an overgrown boy again. She fluttered about him, panting with happiness in his re- covery, trembling with agonized apprehension at his danger. “And you'll never play in those dreadful places again, will you, Ted?” she begged for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time he gave her his promise. “You'll get Into Mexico and take up a ranch and live Guiet, won't you, Ted?” “Yes, T will.” nd I'll come to yer. Jemmy don’t heed me here.” ‘an T get a horse? I'll leave yer Poppy—she isn't safe for me; she’ “Yen. yes!" she quavered. all her toirors aroused anew. ‘“Yes, take Jem- Pinto. He's in the corral back of the house—here's the saddle. Oh, Ted- Gy! gpey're to draw a big circle and they think you're to run to Mendez—a girl —a woman there has promised to give you up!” “What!” The tender, boyish look fled from his face, with every trace of color. e ‘was on his feet, trembling with anger. ‘“What's that—what's that you sey?—she said she'd give me up!” He seized her almost roughly. “It's a lie! It's a lie!—say it's a lie!” ‘The tears poured down her cheeks. “It's true—as God sees me, it's true! Go across the border, Teddy—gn straight. I'll come to yer there, boy. I'l make yer a home—I'll make yer every day the ilttle biscuits yer uster ke so much! The pathetic voice penetrated even his rage and pain. With a flerce shake of his shouiders he cast the thought of the other woman from him. ““Mother. if it wasn't for you I'd go straight there and I'd shoot the whale outfit and be shot myself. But I ain’t been much good to you—and I owe it to spare you what I can. I'll go.” He turned to her again, all tenderness. “When 1 can make a place for you, youw'll come, won't you? I ain't such a bad lot. known." Goad-by—no, don’t come out—I'll get the hcrse—watch from here; if trouble comes, shout!” He was gone. She stood bewildered in the roomi, murmuring incoherent loving words. Mechanically she prayved for his safety. Soon even petitions died upon her lips. Crossing to the docrway she looked out anxiously as she heard him ride away. No sign of human occupation in all the wide horizon. She seat- ed herself in the narrow shade of the long red tiles—and waited. Hour after hour crept slowly by. The sun began to sink, the mesas turned to purple, the #piky cactus shone bronzed gnd fat. Long shadows crept behind the yuecca. The green of the watered lands ame intense, the air took on the vague fresh- ness of coming evening. Twilight came. ‘‘He must be safe now—he must be over the border,” again and again she said it, as if to make it true by very force of desire. Slowly evening mellowed into night, bright and low the great stars swung. Still she sat at the door, her hands clasped in her lap. straining her ears in the silence. In the distance the thud of galloping horses. She rose, clutched the pillar for support. Closer and closer came the rhythmical beat—moving shapes bulked in the dark! 8he threw open the door, letting the yellow lamplight stream across the sill, to lose itself in the blue intensity of tne dark. “What Is it?” she quavered. A man swung himself from the nearest pony. He paused. shifting uneasily. “‘Yer see, it's this wa that Mendex girl, she followed him; but—weil, there was some sort of a mix up near the line— we picked your man putty badly winged.” Then they brought in Jemmy. “It's Buck Long, ma'am.” Red Jack, he got off; an’ . Wy s\ — S