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Show ? THE PROGRESSIVE OPINION SEWING OIRCLEJJ) sugar bowl, or salad bowl might be used to adorn the corners of luncheon cloths, while a single flower, leaf and tendril could be placed in napkin corners for a set of distinct individuality. Send your order to: AUNT MARTHA Box 166-- Kansas City, Mo. Enclose 15 cents for each pattern desired. Pattern No Name ; Address hooks and eyes, buttons or a zipper. Corduroy in bright vibrant col-ors is the first choice for a 'fabric for this jumper and jacket. Wool tweeds, gabardine, scotch plaids, flannel and velveteen are other suitable materials. Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1450-- is de-signed for sizes 11, 13, 15, 17 and 19. Cor-responding bust measurements 29, 31, 33, 35 and 37. Size 13 (31) jumper requires 3l,4 yards material; jacket, 2 yards. Send your order to: SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPT. 149 New Montgomery Street San Francisco Calif. Enclose 15 cents for each pattern. Pattern No Size Name Address TjTENSILS appliqued in the col-o- r that is to be accented in the kitchen shall we say yellow or red would be pretty for this set of tea towels. Lovelier still are these designs when delicate, harmonizing tints or shades are used for the flower appliques as aft accent. The panholder in Z9341. 15 cents, with its plaid effect, may be made up using small pin checks. Various moth's the cup. S V i DON'T LET CONSTIPATION SLOW YOU UP When bowels are sluggish and you feel irritable, headachy and everything you do is an effort, do as millions do - chew FEEN-A-MIN- the modern chewing gum laxative. Simply chew FEEN-A-MIN- T before you go to bed sleep with-out being disturbed next morning gentle, thorough relief, helping you feel swell again, full of your normal pep. Try FEEN-A-MIN- Tastes good, is handy and economical. A generous family supply FEEIl-A-r,;i!- IT toe HOTEL BEN LOMOND OGDEN, UTAH jt )5t Boom. 350 Baths - 2.Q0 to 94.01 Family Booms for 4 personal - - 14.00 Air Cooled Loang-- e and Lobby Dining- - Room Coffee Shop Tap Boon Homo of Rotary Kiwanla ExecatWe Exchange OpU mists "2 0" Chamber of Commerce and Ad Club Hotel Ben Lomond OGDEN. UTAH Hubert E. Vliick, Mrr. v "Mail call sounds as sweet as pay call when the folks back home send a carton of cigarettes or a tin of tobacco." This is the con-census among men in all branches of the service who have ranked tobacco first in the gift line. Actual sales records from service stores in the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard showing the fa-vorite cigarette is Camel. The popular smoking tobacco is Prince Albert. Local dealers have been featuring cartons of Camels and pound tins of Prince Albert as most welcome gifts from the folks back home to the boys in the service. Adv. 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Y uJ""V"&esh iuice gives you assays.. li 1 and Every mil cwynr-- t, wmMi,Trt tiipl U-- Boppf'i BaUyvx-x- " - a - - ,:v-- K... arjiM 1Tl Tl,,, ,t ... m mMHMI MIM lU imt 3 CAMELS ARE ITS THE A 1 ( MILDER. r FLAVOR I THEy BURN SLOWER A UKE. ) V ANDTHERES CAMELS ALWAYS ( LESS NICOTINE TASTE SO ) u V IN THE SMOKE J ( GOOD j - i s. , y r "vp L -- -i k ISL0WEBUB'W0CAMELSC0NT'imS ILJ ' 2 THE SMOKE -- 1 28 LESS UlCOTWE r I 4 other largest- - 1 2- - than the average otjh y selling &etteS to independent 5 1 scientific testsof CnnnT the, cigarette of rql C0STL,ER tobaccos j, ' jjf Save Money By Stopping ?."'.., a-- ." o J5 THE BELVEDERE &f L frVl I APARTMENT HOTEL rr a Ri &K V f f $2.00 ,d up Sing!. I I j P?,. ' tlA J? $2.50 nd up Doubl. s f M l ,k r - MODERN . . . FIREPROOF . . . &gJHB i , JLJFg. l ' U J 0 CENTRAL LOCATION ... WITH 47. U j OR WITHOUT KITCHENS. StrALl. I ,ctJ The Belvedere Aparfrment Hotel pt CALVIN 0. JACK, Manager J 1 29 SOUTH STATE STREET SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH , Hi . rtf In SALT LAKE CITY Afb THE : : itft iw house : : r S HOTEL J ""t i Choice of the DiscriminatingTrareler OmiK ti L':7 400 ROOMS 400 BATHS I - - RafQs: $2X)Q fQ $4 00 ; Our $200,000.00 remodeling and refurnishing program has made available the finest hotel accommodations in the West AT OUR SAME POPULAR PRICES. J CAFETERIA j DSNING ROOM BUFFET D,NE DANCE 1 MRS. J. H. WATERS President ! Maagers j MIRROR ROOM J.HOLMAN WATERS ondW. ROSS SUTTON EVERY SATURDAY EVENING ' Mir mVamRaage from $100 to $4.00 Single M , "'11 m FOR EVERY ROOM 1 ' 1 xir Jr m T,LE !ATHS Modem j J r )S All West xposure Rooms I Conge I v TE Service jj Tfyii' new sso.ooo w'--i ' AH! IMII.I.T!..! 'iS'flUlll'ltV- IT PI III INSTALLMENT ELEVEN and Carey to Investigate the last one. Lee Hart, brother of one ot the victims, is also believed to have taken a shot at Terry. Jeff shows Ellen the note left by the killer and she thinks It is Jack s writing. The big ranchers bring in CHAPTER XXIII As Jeff Brand rode back into the hills his mind brooded over the sug-gestion let fall by Ellen. He never had liked Turley. But the fellow's animosity toward the big ranches had shielded him from suspicion. Jeff tried to think" back to the times when the killings were done. He was sure that Turley had not been with him at any of the pe-riods when the assassinations must have taken place. Little things be-gan to fit together. Jack owned a .45-7- 0 Winchester, the weapon used by the killer. That in itself was nothing. Brand could name a dozen men who had one. It only showed he had the weapon handy. Turley had a habit of occasional absence. The boys had joshed him about it, hinting at an unknown woman, and he had smiled wisely, in effect plead-ing guilty to the indictment. More-over, he was a comparatively new settler in the district. He could eas-ily have been planted by the big out-fits as a detective. When Jeff rode up to the cabin on Turley's claim he found two other men there with the homesteader. One was Dave Morgan and the other Bill Herriott. "What's new?" Bill asked after the first greetings. Jeff dropped the bridle reins to the ground. "A heap of things," he drawled. "You'll be surprised. First off, the Diamond Reverse B is quit-ti-business. Sellin' out lock, stock, and barrel." "Who to?" Herriott Inquired. "To Tom, Dick, and Harry. The big boss is on from Boston or some-where. He was at the Box 55 with Terry, and he told the Careys they THE STORY SO FAR: Ellen Carey, the postmaster's daughter, seems inter-ested in two men, Jeff Brand, a rusUcr, and Calhoun Terry, manager of a big ranch. Recently four rustlers had been killed mysteriously. Terry called Jeff CHAPTER XXII It was a special train consisting of two day coaches and three box cars. They were a rough-lookin- g lot, these Texans. Some were bearded, and a good many of the others wore long, drooping mustaches. Seasoned they were cool, tough specimens who had ridden hard and far into the brush after the men on the dodge wanted by the law. At Jim Creek the engineer ran the train onto a siding. Sunday Brown passed through the cars, waking up his men and shouting "All out . . . All out." Sleepily the Texans came to life. They gathered up their bag-gage and their weapons, then filed down the . aisle and dropped from the steps of the coach. Eight or ten men in chaps awaited them there. They were cattlemen and foremen of various outfits. Others would join them as the invaders moved deeper into the territory they meant to comb. Sunday Brown was a big man moving on toward fifty. He stood six foot in his shoes and weighed two hundred pounds of solid bone, gristle, and muscle. His weather-beate- n face was hard and yet wary, as if years in the brush had dried out sympathy and sharp-ened suspicion. Clint Ellison and John McFaddin led the cavalcade. They were famil-iar with the terrain, which was part of the country covered by their spring and fall roundups. The party followed a winding, narrow road through the sage to a ford on the North Fork. Through this the rid-ers splashed to the bank beyond. The sun was beginning to show over the horizon edge, and far away its rays slanted on the blades of a windmill lower down in the valley. Startled antelope, moving down to water, bounded away as if on balli bearing feet. A coyote crept its furtive way through the brush. On the side of a hill the riders caught a glimpse of startled cattle branded with the Reverse B brand. Reminded of Calhoun Terry by the brand, Clint Ellison made bitter comment to his companion. "We're risking our lives for that turncoat as much as for our own stuff. He sits tight and says he won't have any part in this,, but his outfit shares the profits with us." "Cal is a queer combination," Mc- Faddin said. "Hard as nails, but with a soft streak runnin' through him" . T,, Ellison's gray face was set ob-stinately. "The trouble with him is that he has too many friends among the rustlers. He used to be one of that crowd." "No, sir," denied McFaddin promptly. "He came of good, clean stock. His father, Barton Terry, was a fine citizen. Cal is all right, for that matter. Plenty of the small cattlemen are square shooters, Clint. They don't like rustlers any more than we do. I'm disappointed in Cal. But that's the way he is made." He added after a moment: "By the way, who is the bird who bumped off Buck Hart and his friends? Seeing it's all over now, you might as well tell me. I've got a guess, and I'm wonderin' if I'm right." The No, By Joe manager took his time to answer. "You paid your share, John, and I reckon you have a right to know," he said at last. "The fellow's name is Jack Turley. Do you know him?" "I've met him. That's all. I don't want to know him any better. Fact is, Clint, we have to employ scala-wags like him sometimes, but we don't have to like them any more than we would a sidewinder." "I'm expecting him to meet us somewhere in Box Canyon before we get to Johnson's Prong. Turley has been thick with the rustlers for some time. He knows where they roost and he is to guide us to them." They passed the spot where Tet-lo-has been ambushed and rode up the draw leading to Box Canyon. Here the wagon road swung sharply to the right and followed the edge of the hills to find a way to the up-lands. Ellison halted his little army to give instructions. "We separate here," he said. "The wagons can't go up the canyon, of course. They'll follow the road past Renaud's homestead. If anybody makes inquiries, you are hauling supplies to the Becker coal mines. Don't get excited. The tarps cover the wagons and nobody will suspect anything unusual. We'll meet to-night at Packer's Fork. The rest of us have some clean-u- p jobs to do today. We're going up the gulch, and when we reach the prong are cutting across the hills. If anybody sees us they have to be stopped, no matter whether they are honest set-tlers or thieves. In case they try to run, shoot down their horses. Be careful not to hit them. We could easily make a serious mistake by getting the wrong men. We are hunting certain individuals known to us. It has to be made evident by us that decent citizens have nothing to fear. Is that clear?" There was a murmur of assent. a lot of Texas officers to round up rustlers and kill them. Terry ob-jects. He sets the owner of his ranch to offer its sale in small parcels to small ranchers. In his opinion, the day of the absentee owner Is past. The two men walked into the cab-in and began rummaging among its contents. In a straw tick they found a rip, through which their exploring hands brought a canvas sack. In the sack were four packages of greenbacks. "Must be nearly two thousand dol-lars here," Herriott said. "Five hundred apiece." Jeff's voice was cold as a mountain stream fresh from a glacier. "They pay fine, don't they, Turley?" "You've got it wrong, Jeff," the killer croaked hoarsely. "I wouldn't do that to boys I had bunked with. Don't you know I wouldn't?" "Come clean," Morgan snarled. "Who hired you?" "Nobody. That money came from my folks, like I said. Boys, I been your friend. You wouldn't1" His voice died away in a quaver. "You're bucked out," Jeff said evenly. "You're going on a long journey. Starting right damn now." The man looked round from one to another. His glance slid back to Jeff. "Thing to do is . . . talk this over," Turley began, and stuck. There was no mercy in these im-placable eyes. "You didn't give Buck or Black or the other boys a show for their white alleys," Jeff told him. "You don't deserve one either. But I'm. giving you one. Bill and Dave will keep out of this till I'm through. It will be one of us at a time. Don't keep me waiting, you " The guns came out together. The roar of them was almost simultane-ous. But not quite. Jeff was the quicker by a fraction of a second. Turley spun round from the shock of the bullet, clutched at his heart, and pitched forward full length. After a silence, Morgan said, "That will be all for Mr. Turley." "Two-thre- e times I thought it might be Turley," Brand said. "But it didn't look reasonable. I reckon nothing could be lower than for a human to murder his friends for money." "What will we do with this blood money?" asked Herriot "Jim Tetlow left a wife and three children," Brand said. "Take it up Fisher Creek to her, Bill, when you head for home. Part of it is the price of her husband's death. The other boys weren't married. It will come in handy to feed the kids." Jeff thrust the revolver back Into its holster. "I noticed some Flying V C horses down the trail a way as I came up. We'll rope one, tie the body on it and send It home with this carrion on its back." "Fine!" Morgan ripped out a mal-evolent oath. "Telling them their killer has come back to report." Bill Herriott left for Fisher Creek on his errand to Mrs. Tetlow. The other two rounded up the bunch of Flying V C horses, roped one, and brought it back to the cabin. They found a cross-buc- k pack saddle in the barn and cinched it to the ani-mal. The body was made secure to the cross-buc- k by a lash-rop- e in-terlaced about the load. Jeff threw the diamond hitch expertly so as to absorb any slackness that might arise. Meanwhile Morgan penciled a note, printing it in capital letters to make identification of the writ-ing impossible. They had to drive the packhorse many miles, to be sure it would reach its destination. On Sage Hen Flats they met a cowboy. He rested in the saddle, his weight on one foot and on the thigh of the other leg. "Where you headin' for?" he asked. "Just maverickin' around," Jeff told him. "Know anything new?" "Not a thing. Little while ago I saw John McFaddin. ' They crossed the tableland into a hilly country where they gradually wound down toward Johnson's Prong. When at last they came sud-denly on three horsemen at the foot of the draw. Brand noticed instantly that they were strangers. Swiftly he said to his companion, "Don't start anything." The strangers were watching them, their horses motionless. "Some freight for McFaddin and Collins," Jeff called. "Seen 'em?" After a pause one of the men said, "Yes." "Fine. Turn it over to them. Be seeing you later." Jeff wheeled and led the way round the bend, then went to a can-ter. Someone shouted to them to stop but they kept going. They heard the pounding of hoofs behind them. Just before they disappeared over another hill a rider showed at the head of the draw. He shouted again, then fired, too hurriedly for accura-cy. "This way," Morgan called to his companion, and slid into a hollow be-tween two rises. The country was a huddle of hills, and inside of a few minutes their pursuers had completely lost them. "Who were those fellows?" Mor-gan asked. "They're mighty quick to burn powder. I'll say that." "Yes. With few questions asked." "Must be warriors of some of the big outfits." "Yes, but not cowboys." Brand's eyes were shining with excitement "Part of this army the Republican was tellin' about." Morgan pulled up his mount. "Hell! It might be that-awa- We'd better find out for sure, and if it's so get word to the boys." "Just what I'm thinking, Dave. Let's scout around and find out how big a bunch of them there are." They talked it over together, then made a wide circle to strike John-son's Prong from the pines above. (TO BE CONTINVED) "What's new?" Bill asked after the first greetings. was cutting it up into small tracts to be offered for sale." Brand then spilled his next piece of news. "This guy from Boston had a copy of the Denver Republican with him. There was a piece in it about a big bunch of Texas warriors all gar-nished with guns ready to take oft somewheres to clean out rustlers. Clint Ellison was seen with them." Jeff's eyes had not lifted from Tur-ley as he told this bit of news. "You think they are headin' this way?" Morgan asked. "I wouldn't know. Do yore own figurin'." Brand's hard, shallow eyes still held fast to Turley. "What would you say. Jack?" Turley was disturbed by the stead-iness of that regard. "Why, I wouldn't know, Jeff. Chances are there's nothing to it. It doesn't sound anyways reasonable. But maybe I'm wrong. What's your idea?" "I haven't made up my mind for sure. Thought I'd wait til I heard JJrom you." "From me?" Turley's startled face showed more than astonish-ment. "Why, how would I know?" "I expect you know a lot we don't, Jack," Jeff answered, his voice om-inously gentle. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Herriott. "Take a look at that. Bill, and pass it on to Dave. It was found pinned on Black Yeager's coat. The gent who killed him left a sample of his handwriting. I don't reckon you recognize it." Herriott frowned down at the pa-per, shook his head, and passed it to Morgan. Morgan said, "Can't prove a thing by me," and passed the slip to Tur-ley. As Turley looked at it, a gray-gree- n pallor spread over his swarthy face. "I . . . don't know . . . who wrote it," he mumbled, and looked at Brand, despair in his eyes. "I do." Jeff's voice rang out crisp and hard. "We've found the killer, boys. He's standing there with the paper in his hand that he left on Yeager's coat." "No . . . no! It's not true." Tur-ley gulped down his terror, to fight back. Watching the trapped man's fear-fille- d face, Morgan realized that Jeff had found the guilty man. "Better talk, Turley," he advised ominously. "Talk fast, if you don't want us to believe Jeff." "While he is talking you and Bill search the cabin, Dave. You might find money. A lot of it. He's been playing poor. Let's get wise about that." "From a chalk-dr- throat Turley offered an explanation. "My folks sent me some money, boys." He led the way through the aspen grove and up the steep, crooked trail beyond. It brought them to a long spur, at the upper end of the gorge, which ran out from John-son's Prong. Here Gaines, Collins, and several other stockmen joined the party. The leaders consulted together. They decided it would be better to wait for Turley. Without him as a guide it would be difficult to find the hide-out- s of the outlaws. If he did not arrive in half an hour they could start anyhow. They knew the gen-fer-region they had to comb. Easily Won Small minds are won by trifles. Latin. |