Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 41, No. 129, Ed. 1 Tuesday, April 26, 1921 Page: 4 of 12
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FOUR
TUESDAY, APRIL 2G, 1921
TRIBUNE
GALVESTON
/
GALVESTON TRIBUNE
Poetry and Persiflage
ESTABLISHED 1888
The Gold Girl
Author of
mm
CLOSER RELATIONS
kept going- the rest of the
day, to
trils.
try.
Q
his
1
Two
" For a single instant, Be-
$
Germany is very anxious for media-
tion; the allies are hot for immediation.
The reason why more women do not
smoke is probably because it would
call for twice as much rouge to keep
the complexion in presentable shape.
Query: When the police arrest a ne-
gro vag., why is it necessary to run
the patrol wagon to the station at the
rate of 40 miles an hour?
It
a
in
Once on a time she used to think.
While mending at my worn-out shirts,
How proud she was I would not wink
At neighbors’ wives or handsome flirts;
But I’ve become a stupid knave
Since she has seen the latest reel—
Showing how husbands should behave—•
Produced by Cecil DeMille.
Member of the Associated Press.
The Amseeiatea Iren la exclusively entitled to
tie ume to republication of all news dispatches
credited to it or not otherwise credited in thia
paror, and alas the local news published herein.
A medical scientist now insists that
the slower man lives the faster he dies.
What is man to do? At the other ex-
treme stands the motorcycle* cop.
anc
When they are open at both ends do
they become garden hose.
thune gazed into the man’s eyes and
the next he sprang into the saddle, and
dashing _ wildly down the steep slope,
disappeared into the scrub.
“Spec’ I’d ort to killed him,” regret-
ted the mountaineer, as he lowered the
rifle, and gazed off down the valley
“but I hain’t got no appetite for dig-
gin’.”
I don’t suppose you’d find today
Another two such fools as we
Who loved each other, as I say,
Only and right happily;
We know what idiots we were
To think such life was Paradise.
But now, Oh boy, just watch our stir!
Mr. DeMille has put us wise.
—Sordello in Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Speaking of Mr. DeMille.
I have a charming little wife,
Quite clever, so I’ve always thought;
She’s loved me dearly all her life,
Contented with her wedded lot.
I used to take great pride in her,
But shouldn’t have, I’ve come to feel
Since I’ve observed how things occur
in films by Cecil B. DeMille.
So far as has been reported the late
cold snap had little or no effect on the
fish crop.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Patty Makes her Strike.
It was noon, one week from the day
she had returned from the Samuelson
ranch, and Patty Sinclair stood upon
the high shoulder of a butte and look-
ed down into a rock-rimmed valley.
Things are becoming so desperate in
Russia that it has been found neces-
sary to put a part of the bolshevik
army to work, the supply of peasants
to be shot has almost become exhaust-
ed.
SANCTUM SIFTINGS
(
A woman shot out the eyes of her
husband. He ought to retaliate by cut-
ting out her tongue. f
3
I
1
d
■
A sport writer assents that no man
.can expect to win any? sort of champ-
iionship after he has reached the age
of forty. Usually he does not want to;
he has become sensible by the time he
reaches that age.
Bryan thinks the U. S. should set
an example to the world by disarming.
Japan would be willing.
dripped
shirt
a nar-
Any divorce case in high life can
show up a dozen or more co-respond-
ents if the private detectives are giv-
en a free hand.
action. Each one took to his heels
It has been suggested that the de-
velopment of the oil fields of Texas
will bring so many northern people
into the state that it is very likely the
istate will go Republican. Are Republi-
.cans the only people who know a good
'thing when it develops?
Published Evenings Except Sunday at the Tribune Building,
Entered at the Postofriee in Galveston as Second-Clans Mail Matter.
rg I F p y A NFG Business Office and Adv. Dept. 83, Circulation Dept. 1398
1 JL Le t 11 • iN — • Editorial Rooms 49 and 1395, Society Editor 2524
It was during the last observance
that the people of Colorado told it with
snowballs instead of flowers.
Watts ranch, her eager acceptance of 1
the sheep camp the long weary weeks 1
of patiently riding along rock walls,
taking each valley in turn, the growing
fear of runhing out of funds, before
she could locate the claim. She shud-
dered as she- thought of Monk Bethune,
and of how nearly she had fallen a vic-
tim to his machinations. Her thoughts
returned to Vil Holland, her “guardian
devil of the hills,” who had turned out
to be in reality a guardian angel in
disguise. Very much in disguise,”
she smiled, “with his jug of whisky.”
Nobody who had helped make up her
little world of people in the hill coun-
try was forgotten, the Thompsons, the
Samuelsons, and the Wattses—she
thought of them all. "Why, I—I love
A sudden fear shot through her, Nine
valleys in every ten, she knew, ended
in surmountable divides; and she knew,
also that one valley in every ten did
not. Suppose this one that she had
chosen at random terminated in a
cul-de-sac? The Way became steeper.
it daintily and carefully, until the
time comes to smash it in the autumn
and go back to the old cloth hat. And
that’s the best proof of the madness
of spring—not love, not blooming flow-
ers, but the new straw hat that leaves
a red mark on a fellow’s forehead.
Sticking to the Standbys.
Actor—I want you to write me a play
Playwright—Good as done, old top.
Featuring?
Actor—Yours modestly, an airplane,
a bed, an eternal triangle, an ouija
board an opium joint, a radio station,
and say, the servant problem.—Buffalo
Express.
spread the news. This is a true story
It happened in Uncle George’s grocerj
and the man’s name was Watkins. The
strange part of it was that not an
other single voiceless man applied a
the grocery for this Unusual Treatment
—Mrs. Tom Thompson in Howan
Courant.
Too Weak.
(From the Sing Sing Bulletin).
Judge—Did the prisoner offer any re-
sistance?
Copper—Only a dollar, yer honor, and
I wouldn’t take it.
As an evidence of our gradual return
to normalcy, there are less mandolins
in the pawn shop windows, but more
saxophones.
The English lecturer Chesterton says
the United States is an undemocratic
democracy; which would indicate that
he has not visited the solid South.
THE DANCER.
In a rounded dell like a woodland well,
Shut in by a wall of trees,
Where the turf is laid like a carpet
mace
To capture the roaming bees,
The opaline sun looks down upon
The forest with warming smile,
And a spider flings his silver strings
Through the new leaves all the
while.
every one . 9f them,” she cried, as I
though the discovery surprised her. 2
They re all, every one of them, real I
friends—they’re not like the others, the I
smug, sleek, best citizens if Middleton. I
And I’ll not forset one of them. We’ll 2
file that whole vein from one end to G
the other!” Catching up her horse, she 7
mounted, and sat for a moment irre- l
solute. “I could make town, some- ]
time tonight,” she mused, and then her I
eyes rested for a moment upon her |
horse’s neck, sweat-dried hair. "No >• 1
she decided. “We’ll go back to the j
cabin, and you can rest up, and tomor- f
row we’ll start at daylight.” —
To Be Continued. j
The armistice, it appears did not end
our war with Germany, it merely
transferred the scene of hostilities to
Washington.
The April showers are all right but
they need not be so confounded blus-i Running was out of the question, and
In the American reply to the German
appeal for this country to act the part
of mediator in seeking a settlement of
the reparation difference between the
allies and Germany, the suggestion of
a closer relationship between the Unit-
ed States and the leading allied powers
of Europe is to be found. The fact that
this country declined to give its ap-
proval to the Japanese mandate over
the island of Yap, and in fact stated
that no assent had been given by the
United States to any final disposition of
Germany’s seized provinces, may have
encouraged the belief in Germany that
friction, if not something more ser-
ious, might be developed between
America and the allies, and this was
the probable foundation upon which
Germany built her hopes that Presi-
dent Harding might be induced to ar-
bitrate the existing differences between
the conquerors and the conquered.
But America’s reply to Germany car-
ried very little encouragement to that
nation; on the contrary, it was couched
in such language as to give Germany tc
understand that she must make good
the terrible damage wrought by her ar-
mies, and the same message doubtless
co-veyed to England, France and Italy
the information that the United States,
while not disposed to enter the league
of nations as now constituted, expects
to act in harmony with the allies in
bringing about the final settlement of
the war. While it may have been be-
lieved in certain circles in Europe that
the United States proposed to again re-
tire to its condition of splendid isola-
tion, the message transmitted to Ger-
many must be read to mean that this
country was still firm in its attitude to
take no step that would prove harmful
to our national life, and yet would
shirk no responsibility brought on by
the war.
It has become quite apparent that
this country is an important part of the
great world, that we have too many in-
• terests in common with other nations
to permit of our longer claiming ex-
front. The uninjured eye was
Queer how many strong, healthy
children have come from contry
homes where they never heard of a
sanitary drinking cup but everybody
used the old gourd which hung against
• the side of the cistern.
The Spring Straw Hat.
(From the San Francisco Call.)
All winter long man wears a hat that
is easy and comfortable—a friendly
slouchy, well-worn sort of thing that
he can pull down over his ears when
the wind blows or throw into the air
at a football game. It’s just the sort
of clothing a man ought to wear, not
tyrannical but companionable. And then
along comes spring. In the spring, say I
the poets, the spirit of man breaks its
bonds. A fellow feels restless and in-
domitable, fit for anything and free as
the wind. He brooks no restraint, not
he. He looks upon his good old cap
or hat and decides he ought to buy an-
other. And he does. He goes and gets
himself a straw hat—a stiff, uncom-
fortable, unreliable sort of thing that
is faithless to every passing breeze. A
man can’t roll it up and put it in his
pocket, he can’t throw it into the air,
he can’t pull it down over his ears, he
can’t do anything with it except wear
A Jovial Husband On Tour.
The story is told of a motor cyclist
living a few miles west who took his
wife on a fishing trip one Sunday. Re-
turning home the motor cycle struck
a bump and. dislodged the wife from
the seat behind. The husband unaware
of his wife’s absence rode merrily on.
Failing to hear her laugh at one of his
jokes the husband turned aroung to
learn why, and discovered the deser-
tion. Back a mile or so friend wife
was found nursing a broken arm.—
Great Bend Tribune.
One moment she stands with out-
stretched hands,
A figure of frozen spray,
Then away she goes on her silken toes,
To some unheard roundelay,
The sheltering trees turn in the
breeze,
And flowerets, tiptoe, glancing
With faces shy, and wondering eye,
To watch Spring's darling dancing.
—Carolyn M. Lewis, in the New York
Sun.
emption from those respensibilities
whicla must be assumed when a people
1 enter upon national life. It was not
left to the war to make this responsi-
bility known to the people of this coun-
try. These who had watched the de-
velopment of commerce and the i/dus-
tries in the United States were forced
to the conclusion that sooner Zr later
we must take cur place amcg those
influences which keep the affairs of the
world in motion. The war but hastened
। the inevitable, and we are today, where
we might have been a quarter of a cen-
tury from n©w had not the world war
shortened the period of incubation
Which was making us into a world
power. ,
The settlement of the indemnity tc
be paid by Germany is but one^of the
big problems the allies will be. called
upon to solve, but it is one which must
be disposed of before much can be done
in the way of a return to normal con-
ditions, if the world ever dees return
to the desired condition. In settling
the indemnity, in all probability, the
American diplomats will see that pro-
vision is made to care for the surplus
products of the United States, that the
American farmer shall not be made to
suffer because of his patriotic desire
to see that the world is clothed and fed,
and in protecting the interests of the
American citizen this country will nat-
urally make concessions of some sort
whereby the assuming of .certain obli-
gations will be a condition and the con-
sequences will be that in this indirect
way the United States will become in-
volved in- the affairs of Europe and
therefore be expected to be interested
in whatever affects the weal or woe of
that portion of the globe.
That America will hereafter have its
representative in the council of nations
appears to be almost assured, although
it may not be the supreme council as
it is now constituted. Europe will be
so gratified to have the United States
a member of that body that concessions
will be made and the atmosphere of
the council chamber made to conform to
the ideas of the United States tc such
an extent a’ to make us a part of that
body witl. t entangling us too deeply
in affairs strictly European.
If Knighthood Were In Flower.
(From Life.)
The Maiden—In God’s name, hasten,
Sir Knight! save me!
Sir Launcelot—Not so fast, my good
girl. The reporters have not yet ar-
rived; besides, there are the serial
rights and the motion picture royalties
to be considered.
On the glistening green where the sun
is seen.
The brighter for circling shade,
A dancer turns like a flame that burns,
In a fretted chalice laid.
White as a pearl are the robes that
whirl
PRound her rosy limbs and breast;
So swift and fleet are her dainty feet,
They scarce break a daisy’s rest.
den treasure. She remembered the I
jibes and doubts, and covert sneer of I
the Middleton people, her father’s deatr I
her own anger and revolt, when sb ]
had suddenly decided, in the face T ]
their council, entreaties, and commani ■
to take up his work where he had leH, 2
it. With kaleidoscopic rapidity he1,' !
thoughts flew over the events of the" I
ensuing months—the meeting with Vil I
Holland, her diaappointment in the s
Eastern Offices.
New York Office. 341 Fifth Ave.
D. J. Randall.
Chicago. St. Louis and Detroit Office*.
The S. C. Beckwith Agency.
By
JAMES B. HENDRYX ,
her horse was forging upward in a
curious scrambling walk. A noise of
clattering rocks sounded behind her,
and Patty glaced backward straight
into the face of Bethune. Reckless of
a fall, in the blind fury of his passion,
the quarter-breed had forced his horse
to his utmost and rapidly closed up the
gap until scarcely ten yards separated
him from the fleeing girl.
In a frenzy of terror she lashed her
laboring horse’s flanks as the animal
dug and clawed like a cat at the loose
rock footing of the steep scent. White
to the lips she searched the foreground
for a ravine or a coulee that would
afford a means of escape. But before
her loomed only the ever steepening
wall, its surface half concealed by the
scattering scrub. Once more she look-
ed backward. The breath was whistling
through the blood-red flaring nostrils
of Bethune’s horse, and her glance
flew to the face of the man. Never in
her wildest nightmares had she im-
agined the soul-curdling horror of that
face. The lips writhed back in a hid-
eous grin of hate. A long blue-red welt
bisected the features obliquely—a welt
from which red blood flowed freely at
the corner of a swollen eye. White
foam gathered upon the distorted lips
and drooled down onto the chin where
and the snow, and the rain nave des-
troyed it long ago,” sne muttered. "And
now for my own notice.” Producing
from her bag a pencil and a
piece of paper, she wrote her descrip-
tion and affixed it to a stake by means
of a bit of wire. Then, descending
once more into the valley, she pro-
duced her luncheon and threw herself
down beside the little creek. It was
mid-afternoon, and she suddenly dis-
covered that she was ravenouly hun-
gry. With her back against a rock
fragrment, she sat and feasted her eyes
upon her claim—hers—HERS! Her
thoughts flew backward to the enthu-
siasm of her father over this very
claim. She remembered how his eyes
had lighted as he told her of its hid-
and needless act, for each minute de-
tail of the spot at which she stared
was indelibly engraved upon her mem-
ory. For hours on end, she had studied
those photographs, and now—she
A AS OF FIRE.—And there
A appeared unto them cloven
"E• tongues like as of fire, and
IBK it sat upon each of them.
V‘ —Acts 2:3.
Anyhow, it is pleasant to learn that
somebody somewhere is enjoying the
blessing of a reduced price loaf of
bread.
mingled with the
pink meringu that
fluffy chunks upon
Her eyes roved slowly up and down
the depression where the dark green of
the scrub contrasted sharply with the
crinkly buffalo grass, yellowed to
spun gold beneath the rays of the sum-
mer sun.
She reached up and stroked the neck
of her horse. “Just think, old partner,
three days from now I may be teaching
school in that horrid little town with
its ratty hotel, and its picture shows,
and its saloons, and you may be turn-
ed out in a pasture with nothing to do
but eat and grow fat! If we don’t find
our claim today or tomorrow, it’s good-
by hill country ‘til next summer.”
The day following her encounter
with Bethune, Vil Holland had appear-
ed, true to his promise, and instructed
her in the use of her father’s six-gun.
At the end of an hour’s practice, she
had been able to kick up the dirt in
close proximity to a tomato can at
fifteen steps, and twice she had actual-
ly hit it. “That’s good enough for any
use you’re apt to have for it,” her in-
structor had approved. “The main thing
is that you ain’t afraid of it. An’ re-
member,” he added, “a gun ain’t made
to bluff with. Don’t pull it on anyone
unless you go through with it. Only
short-horns an’ pilgrims ever pull a
gun that don’t need wipin’ before it’s
put back—I could show you the graves
of several of ’em. I’m leavin’ you some
extry shell that you can shoot up the
scenery with. Always pick out some-
thin’ little to shoot gat— start in with
tin cans and work down to match-
sticks. When you can break six-match-
sticks with six shots at ten steps in
ten seconds folks will call you handy
with a gun.” He had made no mention
of his trip to town, of his filing a
homestead, or of their conversation up-
on the top of Lost Creek divide. When
the lesson was finished, he had refused
Patty’s invitation to supper, mounted
his horse and disappeared up the ravine
that led to the notch in the hills. Al-
though neither had mentioned it, Patty
somehow felt that he had heard from
Watts of her encounter with Bethune.
And now a week had passed and she
had seen neither Vil Holland nor the
quarter-breed. It had been a week of
anxiety and hard work for the girl
who had devoted almost every hour of
daylight to the unraveling of her fath-
er’s map. Simple as the directions seem-
ed, her inability to estimate distances
had proven a serious handicap. But by
dogged perseverance, and much retrac-
ing of steps, and correcting of false
leads, she finally stood upon the rim
of the valley she judged to lie two
miles east of the humpbacked butte
that she had figured to be the inverted
U of her father's map.
“If this isn’t the valley, I’m through
for this year,” she said. "And I’ve got
today and tomorrow to explore it.” She
wondered at her indifference—at her
strange lack of excitement at this, the
crucial moment of her long quest, even
as she had wondered at her absence of
fear, believing as she did, that Beth-
une was still in the hills. The feeling
inspired by the outlaw had been a
feeling of rage, rather than terror, and
had rapidly crystalized in her outrag-
ed mind into an abysmal soul-hate.
She knew that, should the man accost
her again, she would kill him—and
not for a single instant did she doubt
her ability to kill him. Vaguely, as she
stood looking out over the valley, she
wondered if he were following her—•
if at that moment he were lying con-
cealed, somewhere among the sur-
“The Promise,” “The Gun-Brand.” “The Texan.”
Copyright 1920. Published by Arrangement with the
Thompson Feature Service, New York.
rounding rocks or patches of scrub?
Yet, she attempted no concealment as,
standing there upon the bare rock she
drew her father’s map and photographs
from her pocket and subjected them to
a long and minute scrutiny. And then,
still holding them in her hand, gazed
once more over the valley. “To ‘a’, to
‘b’,” she repeated. "What is there that
daddy would have designed as ‘a,’ and
‘b?’ ” Suddenly, her glance became fix-
ed upon a point up the valley that lay
just within her range of vision. With
puckered eyes and hat-brim drawn low
upon her forehead, she stared steadily
into the distance. She knew that she
had never before seen this valley, and
yet the place seemed, somehow,
strangely familiar. With a low cry she
bent over one of the photographs. Her
hands trembled violently as her eyes
once more flew to the valley. Yes,
there it was, spread out before her
just the way it was in the photograph
—the rock-strewn ground—she could
even identify the various rocks with
the rocks in the picture. There was the
lone tree, and the long rock wall, high-
er at its upper end, and—yes, she could
just discern it—the zigzag crack in
the rock ledge! Jamming the papers in-
to her pocket she leaped into the saddle
and dashed toward a fringe Of scrub
that marked the course of a coulee
which led downward into the valley.
Over its edge, and down its brush-
choked course, slipping, sliding, scram-
bling, she urged her horse, reckless
of safety, reckless of anything except
that her weary, and at times it had
seemed her hopeless search was about
to end. She stood where her daddy had
stood when he took that photograph—
had seen with her own eyes—the jag-
ged crack in the rock wall!.
In the valley the going -was better,
and with quirt and spur she urged her
horse to his best, her eyes on the lone
pine tree. At the rock wall beyond, she
pulled up sharply and stared at the
jagged crevice that bisected it from
top to bottom. It was the crevice of
the photograph! Very deliberately she
began at the top and traced its course
to the bottom. She noted the scrag-
gly, stunted pines that fringed the rim
of the wall and that the crack started
straight, and then zigzagged to the
ground. Producing the “close up” pho-
tograph, she compared it with the real-
ity before her—an entirely superfluous
The valley floor was fairly level, and
a hundred yards away the girl shot a
swift glance over her shoulder. Be-
thune’s horse was getting under way
in frantic leaps that told of cruel spur-
ring, and with her eyes to the front,
she bent forward over the horn and
slapped her horse’s neck with her gloved
hand. She remembered with a quick
gasp of reliefthat Bethune prided him-
self upon the fact that he never car-
ried a gun. She had once taunted Vil
Holland with the fact, and he had re-
plied that "greasers and breeds were
generally sneaking enough to be knife
men.” Again, she glanced over her
shoulder and smiled grimly as she not-
ed that the distance between the two
flying horses had increased by half.
"Good old boy,” she whispered. “You
can beat him—can ‘run rings around
him,’ as Vil would say. It would be a
long knife that could harm me now,”
she thought, as she pulled her Stetson
tight against the sweep of the rushing
wind. The ground was becoming more
and more uneven. Loose rock frag-
ments were strewn about in increasing
numbers and the valley was narrowing
to an extent that necessitated frequent
fording of the shallow creek. “He can’t
make any better time than I can,”
muttered the girl, as she noted the
slackening of her horse’s speed. She
was riding on a loose rein, giving her
horse his head, for she realized that to
forc him might mean a misstep and a
fall. She closed her eyes and shudder-
ed at the thoughts of a fall. A thou-
sand times better had she fallen and
been pounded to a pulp by the flying
hoofs of the horse herd than to fall
now—and survive it. The ascent be-
came steeper. Her horse was still run-
ning, but very slowly. His neck and
shoulders were reeking with sweat,
and she could hear the labored breath
pumping through his distended nos-
His Mistake.
"How dare you maltreat the lady so!”
“Rats! This is a modern dance!”—
Lustige Blaetter (Berlin).
Subscription Rates
Member American Newspaper Publishers’ Ass’n., Southern News-
paper Publishers’ Ass’n., and Audit Bureau of Circulations.
blood in
Thus are our time-honored traditions
being shattered. A California voting
booth at which women had been ap-
pointed to be judge and clerks, was
opened exactly on time.
CONSTRUCTIVE ACTIVITIES IN THE
SOUTH.
From Fort Worth Record:
A summary of construction activities
in the South, as published in the Manu-
facturers’ Record from week to week
during the past .seven weeks, and in-
cluding he totals for the week ending
April 8, reveals the truly astonishing
total of $196,402,018 represented in con-
struction work for which definite plans
have been made or preliminary state-
ments announced. Of this huge total,
the sum of $42,439,653 represents con-
tracts actually awarded for the various
new structures, road and street work
and miscellaneous enterprises. For the
week ending April 8 these various ac-
tivities reached a total close to $40,000,-
000, which surpasses by many millions
the total for any of the preceding six
weeks during which the Manufacturers’
Record has been preparing the inform
mation n this manner. This total is
made up of items on which contracts
are to be awarded later, amounting to
$31,570,819, and for work on which the
contracts have already been let,
amounting to $7,919,735. The week’s to-
tal of $39,490,554 compares with last
week’s figure of slightly over $30,000,-
000. In considering the significance. of
these figures as an expression of the
tremendous amount of building con-
struction which is going on in the
South and the large developments that
are being undertaken even under the
adverse conditions which have pre-
vailed everywhere throughout the coun-
try, the fact must be emphasized that
in these big totals are included no small
dwellings or other structures costing
less than $10,000. There are hundreds
of substantial dwellings of good archi-
tectural design and having every mod-
ern improvement under erection in all
parts of the South. These houses cost
much less than the figure mentioned.
No consideration is given to such con-
struction in the totals published in
these columns from week to week.
Moreover, it will readily be recognized
that there are a considerable number
of projects upon which it is not pos-
sible to secure the actual or estimated
cost of construction before the award-
ing of the contract, and in many in-
stances not even then. None qf these
items are included. "If it were possible
to estimate their cost, it is obvious that
the totals would be swelled enormous-
ly. A careful study of these figures
on Southern construction activities as
they are published in the Manufactur-
ers’ Record from week to week cannot
fail to set at rest any misgivings which
the doubter or pessimist might enter-
tain with respect to the essential sound-
ness of conditions throughout this sec-
tion and to show conclusively that the
South is going ahead in a big way.
laughed aloud, and the sound roused
her to action. Slipping from the horse
she fumbled at the pack strings of the
saddle and loosened the canvas bag. She
reached into it, and stood‘erect hold-
ing a light hand-axe. Once more she
consulted her map. "Stake l. c.,” she
read. "That’s lode claim—and then that
funny wiggly mark, and then the word
center.” Her brows drew together as
she studied the ground. Suddenly her
face brightened. "Why, Of course!” she
exclaimed. “That,mark represents the
crack, and daddy meant to stake the
claim with the crack for the center.
Well, here goes!” She vehemently at-
tacked a young sapling, and ten min-
utes later viewed with pride her four
roughly hacked stakes. Picking up one
of them and the axe, she paced off her
distance, and as she reached the first
corner point, stared in surprise at the
ground. The, claim had already been
staked! Eagerly she stopped to examine
the bit of wood. It had evidently been
in place for some time—how long, the
girl could not tell. Long enough,
though, for its surface to have become
weather-grayed and discolored. "Dad-
dy’s stakes,” she breathed softly, and
as her fingers strayed over the surface
two big tears welled into her eyes and
trickled unheeded down her cheeks. "If
he staked the claim, I wonder why he
didn’t file,” she puzzled over the mat-
ter for a moment, and dismissed it. "I
don’t know why. But. anyway, the
thing for me to do is to get in my own
stakes—only, I’ll file, just as soon as
I can get to the register’s office.”
After considerable difficulty, she
succeeded in planting her own stake
close beside the other, which marked
the southwest corner of the claim, a
short time later the northwest corner
was staked, and the girl stared again
at the rock wall. “Why, I’ve got to put
in my eastern boundary stakes up on
top—three hundred feet back from the
edge!” she exclaimed; “maybe I’ll find
his notice on one of those stakes.” It
required only a moment to locate a ra-
vine that led to the top of the ledge
which was not nearly so high as the
one that formed the opposite side of
the valley. She found the old stakes,
but no sign of a notice. “The wind,
Unusual Treatment.
"Found his voice in a nose-dive.”—
Headline. Dr. So--and-So of the health
service recommended the Unusual
Treatment! Bah. We knew a man
once who kissed his voice good-by ten
years before. And he found his in a
grocery store—just sitting around the
stove like any other loafer. And it
made some sensations .When he sud-
denly heard his own voice again, it
nearly scared him to death. He jumped,
up and turned as white as a sheet and!
the Tears coursed down his cheeks. You
see no doctor had "recommended” or
warned, or anything. The wonder is it
didn’t prove fatal—without any doc
"thataway." More than all that, it
started every loafer present into alert
mo’nin’.” Rifle in hand. Watts stepped
from behind a scrub pine, and as his
yes fell upon Bethune, he stood fumb-
ling his beard with uncertain fingers.
“He—he’ll kill me!” gasped the girl.
“Sho,’ now, Miss—he won’t hourt yo’
none, will you’, Mr. Bethune? Gineral
Jackson! Mr. Bethune, look at yo’ face!
Yo’ must of rode again’ a limb!”
"Shut up, and get out of" here!”
screamed the quarter-breed. “And, if
you know what’s good for you, you’ll
forget that you’ve seen anyone this
morning.”
“B’en layin’ up yere in the gap fer
to git me a deer. I heerd yo’-all
cornin’, like, so’s I waited.”
“Get out, I tell you, before I kill
you! cried Bethune, beside himself
with rage. “Go!” The man’s hand
plunged beneath his shirt and came
out with a glitter of steel.
The mountaineer eyed the blade in-
differently, and turned to the girl. "Ef
yo’ goin’ my ways, ma’am, jest yo’ lead
yo’ boss on ahaid. They’s a game trail
runs slaunchways up th’ough the gap
yender. I’ll kind o’ foller Tong be-
hind.”
“You fool!” shrilled Bethune, as he
made a grab for the girl’s reins, and
the next instand found himself looking
straight into the muzzle of Watt’s
rifle.
"Drap them lines,” drawled the
mountaineer, "thet hain’t yo’ hoss. An’
what’s over an’ above, yo’ better put up
yo’ whittle, an’ tu’n round an go back
wher yo’ com’ from.’
"Lower that gun!’ commanded Be-
thune. "It’s cocked!”
"Yes, hit’s cocked, Mr. Bethune, an’
hit’s sot mighty light on the trigger.
Ef I’d git a little scairt, er a little riled,
er my foot ’ud slip, yo’d have to be
drug down to wher’ the digging’s easy,
an’ buried.”
Bethune deliberately slipped the knife
back into his shirt, and laughed: "Oh,
come, now, Watts, a joke’s a joke. I
played a joke on Miss Sinclair to
frighten her—2—”
"Yo’ done hit, all right," interrupted .
Watts. “An’ the’ts the end on’t.’
The rifle muzzle still covered Be-
thunes chest in the precise region r
heart, and once more he changed his
tactics: "Don’t be a fool, Watts,” he
said, in an undertone, “I’m rich—richer
than you or anyone else knows. I’ve
located Rod Sinclair’s strike and filed
row gleam of venom, and the breath
swished through the man’s nostrils as
from the strain of great physical labor.
“Oh, for my gun!” thought the girl.
“I'd —I’d kill him!” With a wild scram-
ble her horse went down, “Vil! Vil” she
shrieked, in a frenzy of despair, and
freeing herself from the floundering
animal, she struggled to her feet and
faced her pursuer with a sharp rock
fragment upraised in her two hands.
Monk Bethune laughed—as the fiends
must laugh in hell. A laugh that struck
a chill to the very heart of the girl.
Her muscles went limp at the sound of
it and she felt the strength ebbing
from her body like sand from an up-
turned glass. The rock fragment be-
came an insupportable weight. It
crashed to the ground, and rolled clat-
tering to Bethune’s feet. He, too, had
dismounted, and stood beside his horse,
his fists slowly clenching and unclench-
ing in gloating anticipation, Patty
turned to run, but her limbs felt numb
and heavy, and she pitched forward
upon her knees. With a slow move-
ment of his hand, Bethune wiped the
pink foam from his chin, examined it.
snapped it from his fingers, cleansed
them upon the sleeve of his shirt—and
again, deliberately, he laughed, and
started to climb slowly forward.
A rock slipped close beside the girl,
and the next instant a voice sounded
in her ear: “I don’t reckon he’s ’round
yere, Miss. I hain’t saw Vil this
it. If you just slip quietly off about
your business, and forget that you ever
saw anyone here this morning—and
see to it that you never remember it
again, you’ll never regret it. I’ll make
it right with you-—I’ll file you next to
discovery.”
“Yo’ mean,” asked Watts, slowly,
“thet you’ve stole the mine offen Sin-
clair’s darter, an’ filed hit yo’self, an’
thet ef I go ’way an’ let yo’ finish the
job by murderin’ the gal, you’ll give me
some of the mine—is thet what yo’
tryin’ to git at?"
"Put it anyway you want to, damn
you! Words don’t matter, but for
God’s sake, get out! If she once gets
through the gap---”
"Bethune,” Watts drawled the name,
even more than was his wont, and the
quarter-breed noticed that the usually
roving eyes had set into a hard stare
behind which lurked a dangerous glit-
ter, "yo’re a ornery, low-down cur- dog
what hain’t fitten to be run
with by man, beast or devil. I'd
ort to shoot yo" daid right wher’
yo’at—an’ mebbe I will, but comin’ to
squint yo’ over that there
damage looks mo’ like a quirt-lick than
a limb. Thet ort to hurt like fire fer
a couple a days, an’ when it lets up
yo’ face hain’t a-goin’ to be so purty
as what hit wus. Ef she'd jest of drug
the quirt along a little when hit land-
ed she c‘d of cut plumb into the bone—
but hit’s middlin’ fair, as hit stands.
I’m a-goin’ to give yo‛ a chanct—an’ a
warnin’, too. Next time I see yo’ I’m
a-goin’ to kill yo’—whenever, or wher-
ever hit’s at. I’ll do hit, jest as shore
as my name is John Watts. Yo’ kin go
now—back the way yo’ come, pervidin’
yo’ go fast. I’m a-goin' to count up
to wher’ I know how to—I hain’t nev-
er be’n to school none, but I counted up
to nineteen, onct—an’ whin I git to
wher’ I cain’t rec’lec the nex figger,
I’m a-goin’ to shoot, an’ shoot straight
An’ l hain’t a-goin’ to study long about
them figgers, neither. Le’s see, one
comes fust—yere goes, then One/.....
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Galveston Tribune. (Galveston, Tex.), Vol. 41, No. 129, Ed. 1 Tuesday, April 26, 1921, newspaper, April 26, 1921; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1578952/m1/4/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rosenberg Library.