The Canadian Record (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 8, 1920 Page: 6 of 8
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"The COWPUNCHER"
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 13)
the door, ami I>:ive explained flic sit-
uation In ii IV w word':!. "We: must
take can- of him. Hociiie," lie kuUI. "I
feel u personal responsibility:'' i
"Of c6ursc we will take him,'' she
answered, 'ile will live here until
we liave a—some place of our own."
Her face was bright with something
which tnu.sl be tenderness. "Bring
him upstairs. We will allot him a
room and introduce him first to—the
bathroom. And tomorrow we shall
have an excursion downtown, and f? t
some new clothes for Charlie—El-
den."
As they moved up the stairs Con-
ward, who had been In another room
in convcrsnlion with Mrs. llurtly, fol-
lowed them unseen. The evening had
been interminable for ('onward. For
three hours lie had awaited word that
his victim had been trapped, anil for
three hours no word had come. If
Ills plans had miscarried. If Dave hftd
discovered the plot, well— And here
at length was Dave, engrossed in a
very ditl'eivnl mailer. Conward fol-
lowed them up the stairs.
Irene and Dave chatted with the
boy for a few moments, then Irene
turned to some arrangements for his
comfort and Dave started downstairs.
In the passage he was met by Con-
war;}
"What are you doing; here?" Dave
demanded, am he felt hla head begin-
ning to swim in anger.
Conward leered only the more of-
fensively, and walked down the stairs
beside him At the foot he coolly lit
another cigarette. He held the match
before hiin and calmly watched It
burn out. Then he extended It toward
Dave.
•'You remember our wager, Blden.
I present you with—« burned-out
match."
"You Itarl" cried Dave. "Ton In-
famous Harl"
"Ask her," Conward replied. "She
will deny It, of course. All women
do."
Dave felt his muscles tighten, and
knew that In a moment he would tear
his victim to pieces. As his clenched
fist came to the side of his body ii
struck something hard. His re-
volver! He had forgotten; he was
not In the habit of carrying It. In an
instant he had Conward covered.
Dave did not press the trigger at
once. He took a fierce delight In tor-
He Took a Fierce Delight in Tortur-
ing the Man Who Had Wrecked Hit
Life.
turing the man who had wrecked his,
life--even while he told himself he
could not believe his boast. Now he
■watched the color fade from Con-
ward's cheek; the eyes stand out In
his face; the livid blotches more livid
still; the cigarette drop from his
nerveless lips.
"You aqe a brave man, Conward,"
he said, and there was the rasp of
hate and contempt In his voice. "You
are a very brave man."
Mrs. Hardy, sensing something
wrong, came out from her sitting
room. With a little cry she swooned
iiwny.
Conward tried to speak, but words
stuck In his throat. With a dry
tongue he licked his drier Hps.
"Do you believe In hell, Conward?"
Dave continued.* "I've always had
some doubt myself, but In thirty sec-
onds—you'll know."
Irene appeared on the stairway.
For a moment her eyes refused to
grasp the scene before them: Con-
ward cowering terror-stricken; Dave
fierce, steely, Implacable, with his re-
volver lined on Conward's brain.
Through some strange whim of her
mind her thought In that instant flew
back to the bottles on the posts of
the Elden ranch, and Dave breaking
five out of six on the gallop. Then
suddenly she became aware of one
thing only. A tragedy waa being en-
acted before her eyes.
"Oh, don't, Dave I Don't, don't
shoot htm l" she cried, flying down
the remaining steps. Before Dave
could grasp iter purpose she was upon
hfbi, had clutched hla revolver, had
wrapped her arms about hla. "Don't,
don't, Dave I" she pleaded. "For my
sake don't do—that t"
Her worda were tragically unfortu-
nate. For a moment Dave stood as
one paralysed; then his heart dried
op within him.
"So that's the way of itr he said,
as he broke her grip, and the horror
in his own eyes would hot let him
read the soddcin horror In hers. "All
Mailt; take It," and he placed the re-
volver in Her hand. "You should
know what to do with It" And be-
" " i stop him he had walked
to the .cat* trat at-
■—©tor waslost
traffic,
'ttfreStyS
j When Dave sprang Into his car h
' gave the motor a full head and drove
j through the city streets in a fury of
i recklessness, liis mind was numbed;
it was Incapable of assorting thoughts
and placing them in proper relation-
ship to one another. He was soon out
of ilie city, roaring through the still
autumn night with undiminished
speed.
Over tortuous country roads, across
sudden bridges, along slippery hill-
sides, through black bluffs of scrub
land—in some strange way he tried
to drown the uproar in his soul in the j
frenzy of the steel that quivered be- j
ilea til him. On and on into the night.
Bright stars gleamed overhead; a soft !
breeze pressed against his face; it;
was such a night as he had driven, a
year ago, with Bert Morrison. Was
that only u year ago? And what had j
happened;? Where had he been? Oh,
to bring the boy—Charlie, the boy.
When was that? Under the calm
heaven Ill's mind was already attempt-
ing to establish a setpience, to set its
outraged home again In order.
Suddenly the car skidded on a slip-
pery hillside, turned from the road,
plowed through a clump of scrub,
rlcochelted against a dark obstruction,
poised a moment on two wheels, turn- I
ed around, and stopped The shock !
brought Dave to his senses. He sat I.
on the running board and stared MP
a long while Into the darkness.
"No use being a d d fool, any-
way, Dave," he said to himself at |
length. "I got It—where I didn't ex- j
pect it—but I guess that's the way
with everyone." He tried to phlloso- |
pblze; to get a fresh grip on him- ,
self. "Where are we, anyway?" he j
continued. "This country looks famil- ,
tar." He got up again and walked
about, finding his way back to the j
road. He went along it a little way. j
Vague Impressions suggested that he ;
should know the spot, end yet he
could not Identify It. Then, with a j
sudden shock, it came to him. It was
the hjllslde on which Doctor Hardy j
had come to grief; the hillside on i
which he had first seen her bright j
face, her wonderful eyes. . . . A •
poignancy of grief engulfed him,
sweeping away his cheap philosophies. |
Here she stood, young and clean and 1
entrancing, thrust before hlra In an !
Instant out of the wonderful days of
the past. And would she always fol-
low him thus? With an unutterable
sinking he knew that was so—that
the world was not big enough to hide
him from Irene Hardy. There was no
way out.
He started his motor, and even In
his despair felt a thrill of pride as the
faithful gears engaged and the car
climbed back to its place onj the trail.
Was nil faithfulness, then, In things of
steel and Iron, and none in flesh and
blood? He followed the trail. Why
stop now? The long-forgotten ranch
buildings lay across the stream and
behind the tongue of spruce trees, un-
less some wandering foothill Are had
destroyed them. Ho forded the stream ;
without difficulty. That was where he
had carried her out. . . . He felt
his way slowly along the old fence.
That was where she had set up bottles
for his marksmanship. . . . He
stopped where the straggling gate
should be and walked carefully into
the yard. That was where she had ;
first called him Dave. . . . Then
he found the doorstep and sat down
to wait.
When the sun was well up he arose ;
and walked about. His lips were
parched; he found himself nibbling j
them with his teeth, so he went to the ;
stream. He was thirsty, but he drank j
only % mouthful; the water was flat
and Insipid. . . . The old cabin was
In better repair than he would have
thought. He sprung the door open.
It was musty and strung with cob- !
webs. He did not go In but sat down
and tried to think.
Later he walked up the canyon. He
must have walked swiftly, for the sun
was not yet at the meridian when he
found himself at the little nook In the ,
roclc where he and Irene had sat that
afternoon when they had first laid their
hearts open to each other. Suddenly j
one remark stood up In his memory. J
"The day is coming," she hnd said, !
"when our country will want men who
can shoot and ride." And he had said,
"Well, when It does It can call on me."
And today the country did want men
who could shoot and ride, and he had
flown into the foothills to nurse a
broken heart. . . . Broken hearts
can fight as well as whole ones. He
could be of some use yet. At any rats
there was a way out.
Some whim led him through the
grove of spruce trees on his way back |
to the ranch. Here, In an open space,
he looked about, kicking in the dry |
grass. At length his toe disturbed a j
few bleached bones, and he stood and
looked with unseeing eyes far across
the shimmering valley.
"Brownie," he said at length.
"Brownie." The whole scene came
back upon him—the moonlight, and
Irene's distress, and the little bleed-
ing body. And he had said he didn't
know anything about the justice of
Ood; all he knew was the critter that
couldn't run was the one that got
caught. . . . And he had said that
was life. ... He had said it was
only nature.
And then they had stood among the
trees and beneath the white moon and
pledged their faith. . . .
Again his head went up and the old
light flashed to his eyes. "The first
thing Is to kill the wolf," he said
aloud. "No other innocent shall fall
to h|s fangs. Then—mjr country."
Darkness had again fallen before
Dave found Ml car threading the
streets of dwelt*, still feverish with
Its newborn excitement of war. He
jretcufeed his car to the garage; an
attendant looked up curiously—tt was
evident from his glance that Dave had
already been missed—but no words
were exchanged, tin stood for u mo-
ment in the street, collecting his
thoughts and rehearsing his resolves.
lie was amazed to find that, even
in his bitterness, the city reached a
thousand hands to him— hands of
habit and association and customs of
mind—all urging him back into (ire
old groove; all saying: "The routine
Is the thing. Be a spoke in the wheel;
go round with the rest of us."
"No." he reminded himself. "No, I
can't do thut. I have business on
hand. First—to kill the wolf."
He remembered that he had given
his revolver to Irene. And suddenly
she sat with htm again at the tea
table. . . . Where was he? Yes,
lie had given his revolver to Irene.
Weil, there was another in his rooms!
In the hallway of the block in
which lie had his bachelor apartments
Dave almost collided with a woman.
He drew back, and the light fell on
bis face, but hers was in the shadow.
And then he heard her voice.
"Oh, Dave, I'm so glad— Why,
what has happened?" The last words
ran inio a little treble of pain as she
noted his haggard face.
"You—Edith?" he managed to say,
"Whatever—"
one came toward mm ana placet
her hands on his. "I've been here a
hundred times—ever since morning—
ever since Bert Morrison called up to
say you had disappeared—that there
was some mystery. There Isn't, Is
there, Dave? You're all right, Dave,
aren't you, Dave?"
"I guess I'm all right," he managed
to answer, "but I got a Job on—an im-
portant Job on. I must get it done.
There Is not time—"
But her woman's Intuition had gone
far below his Idle words. "There Is
something wrong, Dave," she said.
"You never looked like this before.
Tell me what it is. Tell me, Dave.
Perhaps I—can help."
Dave was silent for a moment,
wotching her. Suddenly It occurred
to him that Edith Duncan was beauti-
ful.
If she had not quite the fine features
of Irene she had a certain softness of
expression, a certain mellowness, even
tenderness, of lip and eye; a certain
womanly delicacy—
"Edith," he said, "you're white. Why
is it that the woman a man loves will
fail him, and the woman he only
likes—stays true?"
"Oh I" she cried, and he could not
guess the depths from which her cry
was wrung. ... "I should not have
asked you, Dave," she said. "I'm
sorry."
They stood a moment, neither wish-
ing to move away. "You said you had
something that must be done at once,"
she reminded him at length.
"Yc-tf," he answered. "1 have to kill
a man. Then I'm going to join up
with the army."
Iter hands were again upon him.
"But you mustn't, Dave," she pleaded.
"You can't fight for your country then.
You will only increase its troubles in
these troubled times. Don't think I'm
pleading for him, Dave, but for you,
for the sake of us—for the sake of
those—who care."
lie took her hands In his and raised
them to his shoulders and drew her
face close to his. Then, speaking very
slowly, and with each wcjrd by Itself,
"Do you really care?" he said.
"Oh, Dave!"
"Then come to my room and talk
to me. Talk to me ! Talk to me! For
my secret in my heart; burled it even
from you; perhaps most of all from
you. But — you can advise me, Edith.
I will value whatever you say."
She trembled until she thought he
must see her, and she feared to trust
her voice, but she could delay a reply
no longer.
"Dave," she said at length, "why
should you take Conward's word iu
such a matter as this?"
"I didn't take Conward's word.
That's why I didn't kill him at once.
It wasn't his word, it was the insult
that cut. But she tried to save him.
She threw herself upon me. She would
have taken the bullet herself rather
than let it find him. Thut was what—
Sat was what—"
"I know, Dave." She had to hold
herself In check lest the tenderness
that welled within her, and would
sliape words of endearing sympathy
In tier mind, should find utterance in
speech. "I know, Dave," she said.
"The next thing, then, is to make
sure in your own mind whether you
ever really loved Irene Hardy. Re-
cause tr you loved Irene a week ago
you love her tonight"
"Udltli," he said, "there Is no way !
of explaining this. You can't under-
stand. 1 know you have given your-
self up to a life of service, and 1
honor you very much, aud all that, but
| there are some things you won i oe
nble to understand. You can't under-
stand Just how much I loved Irene.
I Have you never known of love being
turned to hate?"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
j You are expected at the Cana-
dian Buiek Garage Saturday to see
the Goodyear Tire demonstration,
free. It will be worth wour while.
2 wants meet in the want column.
I MAKE FARM AND
RANCH LOANS
BUY VENDOR'S LIEN
NOTES
SELL REAL ESTATE
PROMPT SERVICE
Will Crow
Canadian, Texas
KNIGHTS AND LADIES OP"
SECURITY
Canadian Council No. 1729
meets every first and third Thurs-
day nights in the month at 7.30
o'clock in the I. 0. O. F. hall.
Visitors always welcome.
J. R. TRAYLER, President.
B. F. THOMAS, Secretary.
EASTERN STAR CHAPTER
Canadian Chapter O. E. S., No.
227, meets every third Monday
night in each month at the Mason-
ic hall. Visiting members cordial-
ly welcome.
MRS. SALLIE JAMES, W. M.
MRS. SLETA JENNINGS, Secy.
WELCOME REBEKAH LODGE
Meets every second and fourth
Thursday evenings at 8 o'clock at
I. 0. 0. F. Hall.
Mrs. Clyde Allison, N. G.
Miss May Blair, Secretary.
Nazarine Sunday School
Nazarine Sunday School meet?,
every Sunday at 9.45. All child-
ren are cordially invited to attend.
MRS. A. LISKE, Supt.
A RESOLUTION
For the New Year
I will add to my share ol the New
Year's happiness by lightening my
work of home making' by every
practical and economical means.
By lightening my work I will have
more time to devote to my family
and to the pleasant things of lite.
One way I can do this is by sending
the family washing to the
Canadian
1%
m
AsR for
HILL'
FIVE MILLION PEOPLE
USED IT LAST YEAR
HILL'S
CASCARA
1#SB
Standard cold remedy for 20 years
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opiates—breaks up a cold in 24
hours—relieves grip in 3 days.
Money back if it fails. The
genuine box has a Red
k top with Mr. Hili s
picture.
At All Drug Storma
HIDES
We offer the following prices for hides:
PART SALT CURED
SALT CURED . .
DRY FLINT . . .
15 cents
AT VALUE
18 cents
27 cents
Phone or wire our expense when you have any
quantity to sell
We want to handle your hides and must keep
in touch with you. ;
American Coal, Grain and Hide Compare
501 Grant St. AMARILLO, TEXAS Phone 101
Prices subject to change without notice
A
mm
ill" 'I ^
"Yes," He Answered, "I Have te Kill
■ Man."
God's sake talk to me I I must talk
to someone."
She followed him. Inside the room
he had himself under control again.
He. told her the story, all he knew.
When he had finished she arose and
walked to one of the windows and
stood looking with unseeing eyes upon
the street. For the second time in
his life Dave Elden bad laid his heart
bare to her, and again after all these
years he still talked as friend to
friend. That was It She was under
no delusion. Dave's eyes were as
btlnd to her love as they had been
that night when he had first told her
Of Irene Hardy. And she could not
tell him. Most of all she could not
tell him now. v . I She had Waited
all these years, and still she must
Walt. * 1
Dave's eyes were upon her form,
silhouetted against the window. It oc-
curred to him that In form Edith was
very much like Irene. He recalled that
in those dead past days when they
used to ride together Edith had re-
minded him of Irene.
When she stood silent so long he
spoke again.
•Tm afraid I haven't played a very
heroic part," ha said, somewhat
shamefacedly. "I should have
Lay a bet on
rolling 'em with
Albert
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Loomis, L. P. The Canadian Record (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 8, 1920, newspaper, January 8, 1920; Canadian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth125431/m1/6/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hemphill County Library.