The Lampasas Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 47, No. 2, Ed. 1 Friday, October 25, 1935 Page: 3 of 6
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The Man
From Yonder
(By Harold Titus)
Copywright—WNU Service
CHAPTER XII—Continued
—16—
“Coming!” he shouted thickly and
seized a hammer and attacked the
trunk lock. Ammunition must be in
there.
The crowd milled, now, trampling
the new snow, completely out of hand
at this delay. Two or three aided
Tim in his plea for at least tem-
porary moderation but others rebell-
ed and fought to get the post which
would batter down the stair door.
These weaved to and fro there in the
packed throng, a quarrel within a
quarrel.
And then came a hush, a quick,
spreading- hush which swept the crowd
like a shadow; like a swiftly speed-
ing shadow, wiping out sound as a
shadow wipes out sunlight, breaking
sentences in half. And then rose a
quick popping of excited voices.
“Elliott!” “Here he is!” “Look!”
“He’s hurt!”
Bundled to the ears in a great
over cOat, cap drawn low, supported
on the one side by John Martin and
on the other by Able Armitage, he
came slowly, painfully out of the side
street. He scarcely (seemed to be
aware of that throng; did not look
either to the right or the left. All
his energy was bent on moving for-
ward.
He gained the middle of the street
in an impressive hush. Then he mur-
mured a word to Able and they halt-
ed.
He looked about at his men and
smiled a trifle weakly, but in his look
was a quality which clearly indicat-
ed that love which strong men have
for their kind.
“It’s all right, boys,” he said and
only those in the first ranks could
hear, his voice was that light. “They
didn’t get me . . . badly. I appreciate
this . . . but want you to . . . get
back to . . . camp.”
He panted for breath and lifted
his face to the broken windows above.
Far back in that room he caught a
glimpse of a face watching him—
cocked as though striving to hear.
“It’s my fight,” he went on. “Not
yours. ... I don’t want any ... of
you hurt. Go back. . . . Will you go
. . . back?”
The crowd stirred.
“You bet we will, Ben!” a man
called. “Now that you’re located if
you ask it, we will!”
Tim Jeffers worked his way to
Ben’s side and put a hand on his
shoulder, listening to what Able told
him.
“Go home, boys!” Tim Jeffers call-
ed. “They knifed Ben last night but
he’s well took care of. You team-
,sters, get out your horses; we’ve
found what we come for. To camp,
every last Hoot Owl hand!”
Men relaxed. The post that was to
have battered in Brandon’s door was
dropped. The mob was satisfied.
Slowly Ben Elliott made his way
back to Dawn’s home.
As Tim Jeffers took his place be-
iside the sick man, Able Armitage
[drew into the post office entry to
/atch the mob disperse. Emory Sweet
/as standing there.
“The king is dead!” Able muttered
solemnly, staring at those broken
/indows.
“Long live the king!” said Emory.
Pause.
, “Dead men tell no tales.”
“No, but sometimes a cox-pse will
£ick back!”
CHAPTER XIII
Furiously, Nicholas Brandon saw
[as the days passed the wreckage of
ais power pile up on a flood of pub-
llie resentment, of loosened expres-
sions of distrust and contempt and
xatred which had grown and festered
unobserved for years.
The man who had replaced the
glass in his office windows that Sun-
Jday afternoon worked slowly and si-
[lently where, in other days, he had
| done odd jobs with swift efforts so
that his labor might give his employ-
er satisfaction, and had taken every
Opportunity to make talk with the
'town’s great man.
) On Monday as Brandon walked
\along the street he saw faces leering
^at him,, from windows, and men he
[(passed averted their glances in a
gleeful, isort of embarrassment, or
looked at him with surly, defiant
’ glares.
In yard and mill he was conscious
that his employees were thinking only
l of his fall. He discharged one man
[for loafing and the fellow only laugh-
ed at him. . . . Laughed!
:‘There’s plenty room at Hoot Owl
[or good hands,” he said and laugh-
again.
That mob yesterday had not wreck-
id the town as they had threatened
but the ruin they left was of far
kmore consequence. Their coming had
[stripped Brandon of everything but
his material possessions and now
these only mocked him in survival.
Back in the office he paced the
place like a caged animal.
Mail arrived. He took the packet
of letters and drank deeply from his
bottle again.
He thumbed the letters absently,
until the script on one caught his
eye. The envelope contained a single
sheet of note paper and he unfolded
it with trembling fingers. On the
sheet was written:
“I never want to see you again. I
know now what the whole country
has known and been afraid to admit
for years. I have' thought you were
my friend but now I know you are
my worst enemy, as you are the
sworn enemy of those I love most.
“DAWN.”
He stood for a time staring at the
paragraph; then read it again and
drained his whisky bottle. Such a
note, now, was to have been expect-
ed by an ordered mind, of course, but
his fevered brain had not foreseen
any necessity for abandoning this, the
most precious of his hopes. He trem-
bled a bit and made a strange sound
in his throat.
A meticulous office man was Nich-
olas Brandon, and though he had suf-
fered the severest blow of his experi-
ence just now he mechanically went
about his habitual procedure. He had
received and read a lettex-. It required
no reply. The next step in orderly
procedux-e was to file it.
In the outer office were ranks and
rows of letter files. Bxxt this letter
did not belong there.
In the great safe to which only he
had combination and keys reposed
two files side by side. He took both
out and placed them on the desk. He
opened one and a cruel smile twitched
his lips. It contained letters on pa-
per of varying size, color and quality.
He riffled through these, stopping now
and again to read a phrase, a sen-
tence, a paragx-aph. . . . Pleas, these
were; a' writing begging for help . . .
and he smiled again.
In the other file were more letters,
some yellowed by age and these older
ones had been written in the unform-
ed script of a child. . . . “Dear Uncle
Nick,” they all began. Always that,
though the handwriting grew form-
ed and matux-e until it was identical
with that on the single sheet he had
just read. These were Dawn Mc-
Manus’ letters to him, saved since
her childhood.
He ran through them almost idly,
his senses dulled by whisky and the
calamity which had befallen him. A
narrow slip of tablet paper fell out.
He looked ^t the penciled ixote on one
side.
“Meet us at Antler Lodge this af-
ternoon.—Dawn.”
Happier memories, that brought;
of the time Dawn had brought girls
home with her froxxx school for
Thanksgiving and had taken them to
the hunting camp for a week end.
Brandon had gone with the party
and it was there that he had first re-
max-ked Dawn’s emerging womanhood,
that the desire for her had been kin-
dled in his blood; there in the camp
where her fathex\ as the whole coun-
try knew, had been with Sam Faxon
on the xxight when Faxon fled to his
death. But Dawn had never known
that. She had laughed and been hap-
py at Antler Lodge.
“Meet us at Antler Lodge this af-
ternoon.—Pawn.”
He read it again. It bore no date;
it was unsoiled; it betrayed no indi-
cation of the time that had passed
since its inscription. The note had
been left on his desk for him three
years before. . . . He leaned forward
sharply and his eyes narrowed. . . .
After a moment he straightened and
smiled oddly. A look like relief, al-
most like happiness spread over his
face.
********
Fine strength of body healed Ben
Elliott’s wound rapidly. By mid-week
he was dressed and sitting before the
fire with Dawn, talking of his returxx
to Hoot Owl oxx the morx'ow.
“It’s been so good, even under the
circumstances, to spend time with
you,”, he said gravely.
The girl flushed but made no reply.
“And all the time I’ve been won-
dering, Dawn, why you wouldn’t let
me come. . . . You’ve been so kind, so
generous, so ... so friendly. And
yet, only a few days ago, you told
me I must never come again. Why
was it, Dawn? Why, when I love you
so?”
“Don’t!” she begged in a light whis-
per. “Please!”
“But it’s beyond any power I have
to keep still. I love you, Dawn, bet-
ter than life. Can you believe that,
when I’ve seen so little of you? Look
at me!”—fiercely. “Don’t you like it,
Dawn, being loved?”
“Ah . . . Like it? It’s wonderful,
Ben. . . . It’s too wonderful!” She
averted her face.
“And loved by me?”
“Yes, yes! It’s all wonderful. It’s
too wondex’ful, Ben. Things like it
just can’t be!”
“Why not? It’s wonderful, you
say, and yet . . . Can’t you explain?”
She was fighting for self-control,
now, and wrested her hands from his,
backing away, white and shaken.
“You can’t understand, perhaps.
Sometimes I can’t understand myself.
Always I’ve wanted to be loved by
... by you, Ben Elliott! It’s given
me the only true happiixess I’ve ever
had.
“And then I had to remember what
I arn. Caix’t you see that a girl who
is known as the daughter of a mur-
derer can’t let any man love her?”
“That’s foolish! .■ . . It’s terrible, I
know, for yoix to bear. But let me
help, dear girl; let me staxxd by your
side and help!”
“No, no! I can’t bear it! I coxxldn’t
take a cloud to you and to your chil-
dren. . . . And it’s all a mistake, all
a lie! My father was no killer!” Her
voice rose in charp conviction on
that. “He was kind and gentle ;■ he
never would hurt aixother. All these
years I’ve known it and others know
it, but just being sure in our own
minds isn’t enough. The whole world
must know! Something tells me my
father is alive somewhere, waiting,
watching, suffering. . . . But until we
can prove that or "something else
comes up to banish this cloud ... No,
don’t kiss me again! I can’t stand it,
I tell you! I can’t stand it, Ben!”
Sobbjng, she fled the room.
“Well, that ought not to be impos-
sible!” Elliott said to himself after
a long, thoughtful interval. “Nothing
much is. . . .”
He made no further xnoves toward
love making after that but far into
the night he talked with Dawn of her
fathex'. She had xxot heax’d all of the
story, he realized. She did not know,
for instance, that the tragedy which
preceded McManus’ disappeax’ance
took place in Antler Lodge; she did
not know how far her father had gone
in his attempts to drown sox-row of
his wife’s death by drinking.’ But she
did know that Faxon was dead, that
her father was blamed and that a
dusty warrant for his arrest on a
charge of homicide still reposed in
the county records.
Next day he declared that he felt
fit to drive back to camp and for an
hour argued with Dawn, trying to
win her promise that he lxxight coxxxe
again, but she begged hinx to stay
away for a time, at least.
Elliott did not go at once to the
stable where his team awaited him.
He entered the court house and went
over the lxxeager records of the case,
but little that was new rewarded his
search. The net yield of that search
was only to impress him with the
proportions of the new task he had
set for himself and as he drove out
of town his heart was heavier than
it had been in years.
Putting the Hoot Owl on its feet
had been a lark; shearing Brandoix
of his power had been hazardous but,
after all, simple. . . . But this other
was soxnething else again.
That night. Bix-d-Eye Blaine sat
with Elliott for long and went over
the circumstances leadiixg up to Fax-
son’s death. Men in Tincup commenc-
ed to whisper that Elliott was delv-
ing into the McManus case and the
gossip reached Brandon who was lock-
ed in his office much of the time,
now, soaked with whisky. He did ixot
drink for many hours, after the news
reached him. He kept his head clear
and planned.
WHAT
DO
THE
W
LOOK like;
What DO the new styles really
look like? You’ve read about
them, thought about them, talk-
ed about them . . . and you want
to KNOW! All this talk of drap-
ing . . . will that mean bulges in
the wrong places? And the new
silhouette . . . just what is it,
anyway? Lampasas merchants
know . . . and they’re showing
these new styles to you every
day in the ads in the Lampasas
Leader. They are AUTHENTIC
styles . . . the same models that
are being shown in the world’s
fashion centers! The pictures
you see in these ads are drawn
in the New York studios of the
Meyer Both Company, which in
turn gathers information from
every style center in the world.
Read the ads in the Lampasas
Leader to keep yourself posted
on new style trends . . . this sea-
son and every season!
LAMPASAS LEADER
CHAPTER XIY
Able told Dawn of Ben’s activity,
watching hex- face narrowly because
he uixdex'stood the obstacle that was
between these two. He saw hope
come, followed by misgiving and
troxxble.
It was on Friday that Dawn left
Tincup, striking across country far
from the road toward Hoot Owl.
She was going to see Ben Elliott
and tell him that she must see him
now, that her heart could have xxo
peace without him; that he must come
to her and let her stand beside him
while he pried into the past and at-
tempted to make it give up truth.
At noon, on the edge of a swamp,
she sought shelter from the fitful
wind, built a small fire and ate the
lunch she carried. Then she went on,
sighting her xxxill far away froxxx the
top of the next ridge.
Martin was alone in the office when
she entered and started up so sharp-
ly at sight of her that the girl, in
turn, was startled.
“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed at bit
mystified. “Did I frighten you?”
“No. Not frightened. . . . My
thoughts were . . . far from here.”
“Is Ben about?”
“Haven’t seen him since dinner.
Don’t know where he went.”
Tim Jeffers, just down from camp,
entered then.
“Where’s Ben at?” he asked Mar-
tin.
“I don’t know. Miss McMaxxus, here,
was just asking.”
Martin moved to the old table Ben
used"for a desk.
“Sometimes he leaves a note for
me whexx he’s going away.” He bexxt
over the table, looking at the litter
of papers on it. “No, he left no word
. . . Hum. . . . What’s this?”
He picked up a slip of paper, read
the single line inscribed on it and
looked at Dawn.
“I didn’t mean to pry. . . . Prob-
ably he’s gone to meet you, though.
This is a note froixx you.”
“A note! Why I . . .” Frowning,
she took the paper and read:
“Meet us at Antler Lodge this af-
ternoon.—Dawix.”
“Why!” she cried. “I didn’t . . .
But I must have!”—looking from one
to the other. “That’s my writing.”
“Oh!” She let the paper flutter to
the floor.
“I wrote that! I wrote that years
ago!” she cried, struggling to speak
distinctly. “I wrote that note for Mr.
Brandon. . . . Years ago, . . . How
did it get here? Who is calling Ben
to the lodge?”
“What’s this?” Tim Jeffers asked
roughly. “Brandon? . . . Callin’ Bexx
off alone?”
“Don’t you see?” Martin cried and
his voice was thick. “Dawn wrote it,
all right. But he’s sent it to Ben. . . .
It’s a decoy! Tim, the lad’s on his
way to the lodge alone and Brandon’s
planned it!”
No need for more words, then! On
went Martin’s jacket. Froixx a corner
he snatched snowshoes and a pair for
Tim.
“We’ll go,” he said to Dawn. “You
tell Bullex’—”
“But I’m going, too!” the girl cried
sharply. “I’m going. Oh, hurry, Tim!
We may be too late, now!”
They crossed the railroad tracks at
a run, put on their snowshoes and
with Jeffers breaking trail, entered
the timber. Another had gone that
way today, a man whose heart burned
and sang. Dawn had sent for him;
Dawn wanted him!
Entering the office whilte Mrtin
was in the mill his eyes had encoun-
tered Dawn’s note. No thought of
how it came to be there presented it-
self. The quick conclusion at which
he arrived \Vas that Dawn and others
had gone to Antler Lodge; that was
where the shot had been fired which
sent Sam Faxson to his death. Per-
haps Able had taken Dawn there.
Hastily, he took his snowshoes and
departed.
The distance was a good five miles,
however, and part of the going was
in soft footing. So it was nearly two
hours after his start that he came in
sight of the building on the high bank
of the Mad Woman.
As he went down the slope he saw
snowshoe tracks outside the place.
“Hello!” he cried, mounting a drift
and stopping. “Hello, in there!”
No answer. He twisted his feet
hastily out of their straps, wonder-
ing a bit. For once his alertness was
gone, for once he was wholly off
guard.
“Dawn!” he called again as he
opened the doox\ “Hello, who’s
here—”
He had crossed the threshold, peer-
ing into the gloom, a sudden and cold
misgiving sweeping him. “Turn back;
withdraw!” a small voice warned but
befox’e he could gather himself a blow
struck him and he went down under
a heavy, living weight.
But as Elliott went down, with his
assailant on top, he drew his knees
upwax'd, bowed his back and with a
trick of rough-and-tumble fighting
used the very impact which had floor-
ed him to toss the man on beyond.
He heard hinx curse, saw the other
turn as he pitched across the floor
and scramble to his feet.
“Brandon!” he cried hoarsely as a
savage joy swept him.
At last he was face to face with
the man who had struck so xnany
times froixx the darkness and from be-
hind!
Brandon did not speak. He rushed
with head lowered. Great arms wrap-
ped Ben’s body, a head drove into the
pit of his stomach, driving the breath
from his body.
(To be Continued)
SHOWER GIVEN FOR
MISS RUTH NORMAN
Misses Dorothy Roberts and Gladys
West entertained with a shower
Thursday night at the Roberts’ home
for Miss Ruth Norman, bride-to-be
of John Mack Alexander. The Hal-
lowe’en motif was carried out in the
decorations and in the manner of pre-
senting the gifts. Miss Norman was
the recipient of many beautiful and
useful gifts.
Delicious refreshments wex’e serv-
ed to the following: Mesdames George
Combs, M. W. Brook, Ed Norman,
Louis Dowd, Newt West, Weldon
Cloud, Brown Mayes, Dennis Black,
Reginald Leatherwood, Fred Wolf,
E. H. Robexds, R. S. Nichols, Miss
Lozelle Preston, Miss Annette Rob-
erts, the hostesses, Miss Dorothy
Roberts and Miss Gladys West, and
the honoree, Miss Ruth Norman.
transported by shipper's to the Texas
Company terminal. The four men
pulled out were severely beaten. Two
were carried into the Texas Com-
pany property by companions, and
treated at the plant’s fix-st aid sta-
tion.
The other two men were still miss-
ing several hours later.
The situation along the picket lines
was tense tonight. Striking long-
shoremen were reported to have
doubled their picket strength in an-
ticipation of an attempt by shippers
to rush mox*e non-union dock work-
ers into the terminal property.
Depxity sheriffs were watching the
situation. The plants, outside the
city limits, were outside the juris-
diction of city police.
Christs’ death was the first fatal-
ity in the 10-day old strike of mem-
bers of the Intexmational Longshore-
men’s Association at Texas ports and
Lake Charles, La. Officers said Christ
apparently had been beaten badly be-
fox'e he was shot.
INJURED AFTER LOSING $5,000
Mr. and Mrs. Jack Townsen of
Temple visited here Sunday with his
mother, Mrs. J. W. Townsen.
Norman Heine of the Longhorn
Cavern CCC camp spent the week end
hex'e with his mother. y
DOCK STRIKER FOUND SLAIN
Port Arthur, Oct. 21.—A striking
longshoreman was found shot to death
and two non-union dock workers were
missing late today after non-union
workers and a group of men engaged
in hand-to-hand ■ fighting.
Etienne Christ, 34, who, officers
said, was believed to be a stx-ike pick-
et, was found shot in ‘the back of
the head about 300 feet fx'om the
Texas Company terminal road a short
time after the group of men who,
police said, they believed to be strike
pickets, pulled four non-union men
out of a box car.
The non-union workers were being
Plainview, Oct. 21.—To lose $5,000
to a party of “spiritualists” and with-
in the next hour be run down by a
motox'ist and receive a broken leg,
broken wrist, severe facial lacerations
and possible internal injui'ies were
the experiences today of Mrs. Celia
Sharp of this city.
Mrs. Sharp was crossing the street
after reporting her loss to police
when she was stxnck by the car.
She already was an invalid, being
able to walk only by the use of
crutches.
She was unable to interview at-
torneys from her hospital bed to-
day as they sought more informa-
tion before filing charges on a group
that secured her money upon a prom-
ise to double it within two days.
Constable Bartlett, Muleshoe, ar-
rested two men and one woman at
Muleshoe shortly after the party left
here by autoxxxobile Saturday night.
The money was recovered. The trio,
identified by officers as operators of
a reading establishment, vacated their
place hurriedly, leaving lights burn-
ing and nuxnerous pamphlets entitled
“What Spiritualism Is.”
Mrs. Ben Northington and Mrs.
Myrtle Thomas spent Sunday after-
noon at the Longhorn Cavern near
Burnet.
Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Frazer, Mrs. W.
F. Mace and Mrs. F. J. Harris spent
Sunday in Brady, and were accom-
panied home by Mrs. A. J. Ricks Jr.,
and little daughter, Elizabeth Ann.
Mr. and Mrs. Jeff Bullock and
daughter, Mary, left Friday for Long-
worth where they will make theufc
home for the coming year.
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The Lampasas Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 47, No. 2, Ed. 1 Friday, October 25, 1935, newspaper, October 25, 1935; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth891988/m1/3/: accessed April 23, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.