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Show jj THE BULLETIN. BINGHAM, UTAH T1 By FRANK H. SPEARMAN rf4nl . Sp.armaN WNU Wi. A burst of gunfire flashed from the chaparral next the river. Slugs whistled through the air. Felipe was hit but not badly. "Charge 'em!" shouted Bowie, and he spurred at the thicket. They rode down the ambush before the three men within It could reload. Short work was made. Two of the men were stopped and bound. The third, dodging rap-idly through the brush, was pur-sued by Simmie out of the Jungle, jerked from his feet by a lariat, and finally trussed up with his compan-ions. Their rifles were hunted up in the thicket, found and thrown into the river. Shack after shack of that group was challenged and emp-tied. Each squatter was allowed to save what he had. The ranch horses they had stolen were claimed by Pedro, but Bowie quickly repaired his tactical error In claiming them. "Where can a man get to on foot in this country, Pedro? We want 'em to travel fast and far. Give 'em the horses." At a point where the river, fed b confluents, broadened, and along the slope running up toward the hills, lay some of the choicest field acres of the Guadalupe rancho. Here Blood, as squatter chief, had fixed his own abode. With the airy as-surance of a squatter he had re-- must be rid of their trespassing and their increasing depredations. No fixed plan was arrived at that night The men chosen were only told to look to their arms, their ammunition, their mounts, and to hunt up a few knots for torches. Bowie understood the value of sus-pense to worry defenders of a post and made no move to leave the rancho until the next day had passed. It was after midnight when he called together his men and rode quietly away for the river. Carmen had refused to go to her room until he started. She was un-nerved by the situation and the dan-ger, and she stood with him at mid-night in the patio until the last mo-ment Tears glistened in the moon-light as she lifted her face to the stars in prayer when he rode away. The raiding party made a wide detour in their approach to the squatter quarter. They forded the river well above it and came slow-ly down through the hills on the farther end of the settlement The moon was high but the chap-arral along the river near the Me-len- a afforded some protection as the horsemen wound their way through it. In the silence after the next half-hou- r one man, Bowie, emerg-ing from the shadows, stepped to the ramshackle door of the nearest shack. It was built with a patch-work of boards picked up wherever found and dragged by lariat, be-hind a horse, to the camp site; wil-low poles chopped from the Melena swamp had been added, together with strips of condemned sails picked up from the water front of Monterey. Bowie knocked with the butt of his pistol on the flimsy door. "Hello! Inside there, boysl Hello!" he called. A second and louder summons brought a tardy and profane re-sponse. "Get up," said Bowie sharp-ly. "I want to talk to you." There was some moving and fum-bling about inside with more pro-fane questions. "We're friends," said Bowie, an-swering a question, "provided you behave yourself. Open the door." "Open it yourself," came the truc-ulent challenge from within. Bowie kicked the door open and sprang to one side. At the same moment a pistol shot rang from within the shack. kg XVH Continued 'irjg -1- 8- e when their fears had "" jjidless, when it became ti,rj:,(D0t a living soul was tW it or hearing, did Bowie ct gti realize that a fountain ? to the plaza was gush-- i' , the air and , roar into ia , t , river over the po- - Ptyerked at the church Dut hfcptcognize it It dawned ettli3t the tower was gone. v&tdii to the house. Their e fought no response. They r.ef,e door of the church; 3i fi barred. With the earth m every few moments un-e- t, they shouted togeth-- ; ie names of the two pad-ei- r own names. Slowly sly the church door was Padre Martinez opened : 0 "very soul men, women ,'of those at the mis-o- n their knees, sending i up to heaven for help, ' eaking into tears, Joined n m i, 1APTEB XVIII nea u before Santa Clara Lrered from the shock of !, earthquake. Gradually - s: the neighboring ranchos ;acho Guadalupe, and the died when It was learned W been no human casual-- iquake was past; but f J)st troublesome problem t' ned him the squatters. I ed to act at once. I nothing to be gained by I may be lost," t j Don Ramon energetical-- I quake has demoralized I in't help but do it. Any-- r oing after them in the think best, senor. Take . self. To lose you would the whole battle for the I , listened to the decision i iiness and anxiety, but I" ed no alternative. She, .egged Bowie to be care-ts about among the squal-id iajr before, Simmie had at some half dozen of f itened by the fright of I r, had decided to seek "Do you want to murder the fel-low?" "Just want to see how many there is up there shooting," said Parda-lo-amiably. And without hesita-tion he stepped into the doorway himself. No shot greeted him. "Jus's I thought; Jus' two uv 'em tiere. Look here," he said, shak-ing the squatter savagely, "who'i up in the woods?" "Must be Deaf Peterson 'n' the captain," the squatter mumbled. "Jus's I thought Henry Blood and Peterson," commented Parda-loe- . "Get to the horses," exclaimed Bowie. "We'll see how much nghi there is in those fellows. Pedro, look after the woman. Burn the shack and ride after us. That tim-ber is thin; not much chance tc hide. Go!" The run, with Pardaloe and the long-bearde- d Simmie at Bowie's heels, was across an open meadow that exposed the riders to rifle fire. This was held back until the three men were fair moonlight targets. But the beads were drawn on men spurring hard and heading straight at the enemy. The squatter rifles blazed. Blood, especially, was accounted a dead shot but the odds that night were against marksmanship from the wood. Pardaloe's horse stumbled. His knees crumpled, and Pardaloe took a cropper. Man and beast rolled violently along the ground. Simmie took a flesh wound under his right arm. Bowie, riding faster, reached the timber before the squat-ters could reload. Blood and his companion made no stand. Bowie caught sight of the two dashing through the trees on horseback and gave chase to the one closest Simmie, more enraged than seriously hurt took after the other. It chanced that Peterson was Simmie's quarry; Bowie was chas-ing Blood. The squatters rode the fresher horses; they were more familiar with the country. And their pur-suers, not able at every moment to keep their eyes on the chase and dodge among the willows and lau-rels, found their hands full Bowie succeeded in chasing his man out of the timber to a stretch of open country. Both horses, de-spite the desperate spurring of their riders, were showing the grueling pace, but both held out till day was breaking. In the stillness of the early dawn, with Bowie straining every effort to keep his man in sight, the chase, mile after mile, went on; only the flying rhythm of the horses' hoofs broke the silence ushering in a peaceful day. And where nature offered every possible beauty to calm the heart of man, two men thundered in deadly enmity across a field of poppies that turned the dull brown of the cropped grass for miles into a glory of golden blooms. The Texan with straining eyes held his man against the distant horizon. No thought of relenting, no thought of mercy, restrained him. The insolence and invasion of a squatter might be forgiven. But the Texan's thoughts were set on the d murder of an unoffend-ing Indian. That murderer must be held and punished, and his pur-- Held his man against the horizon. solved to take all he wanted for himself and had sworn he would de-fend himself. Profiting by the absence of re-sistance from Don Ramon during his long illness, Blood had built upon his claim a rough attempt at a stockade. It stood on the brow of rise that overlooked the river for "What are you shooting at?" asked Bowie casually. "Why waste your ammunition? There are twen-ty men out here. If you hit one you'll be shot or hanged in ten minutes. We're going to fire your shack. If you want quarter, come out now, while you've got a chance." A tall, gaunt and dirty specimen of the American outlaw frontiers-man of his day slowly emerged from the interior darkness into the clear moonlieht that shone into the ns for their abode. But 'the milder mannered of ' rs. The hard cases re-- the next morning Simmie and Crossing the )peak his men to ask the out for a talk, them had straggled Bowie, on his iined his mission. led you together for a boys," explained Bowie, the six squatters and sing of twice as many king men. "You are ad here that doesn't be- - .. Hold on! Don't all try once. Wait till I get iyou can have your say. atted here on a rancho e from the owner, with-- i leave. killing the rancho cat-- s J you please. You claim miles. The spot had been well cho-sen for defense and would prove, Bowie realized, a troublesome ob-stacle to the cleanup. When they rode up In the moon-light to Blood's place Bowie gave orders to his scouts and vaqueros. "Take no chances here. This man is tough. He will shoot to kill; don't let him beat you to it. Scatter now. Work around by the Melena. Don't expose yourselves any more than you have to." doorway. He was rigged in a loose ragged shirt and loose ragged trou-sers. He cursed and growled; swore he knew nothing of any sum-mons, had been in Yerba Buena for three days, and ordered the mid-night trespassers off his premises. Bowie made no effort to appease him. He repeated bluntly, "Get your belongings out of this shack if you don't want 'em burned up." The squatter flew into a rage apparently a planned one, for he suer meant he should be. With a sharp jerk of the bit Blood wheeled suddenly to the right, away from the poppies and toward the Melena. It was a desperate move for refuge, but if the murderer could gain the swamp far enough ahead of his pursuer he could turn on Bow-ie and pick him off his horse from hiding. It was a ten-mil- e run to the great swamp. Mile after mile fled under the drumming feet of the straining ponies. Yet Blood, even on the fresher mount, could gain but little on his grim pursuer. Every glance backward from the murderer's sad-dle lessened his hope of a chance to reload for a shot after gaining the swamp, for Bowie, alive to the trick, was bent on defeating it Sooner than seemed possible, the two men, racing on narrowing planes, thundered into the lush grass of the Melena border. Blood, glancing back over his shoulder, yelled a defiance and, halting on the very edge of the morass, whipped out a pistol and threw a shot at his pursuer. It was an impossible shot, made from the saddle on a restive horse at more than fifty yards, yet the slug went home, tearing into Bowie's al-ready pricked right forearm and shattering it between the elbow and wrist. With an impatient curse the wounded Texan, crouching in his saddle, spurred headlong at his en-emy. But Blood did not wait for the attack. Bowie knew that the squat-ter must have a second loaded pis-tol or he never would have fired so wild a shot a shot with which he could at best only have hoped to hit the horse. But Blood did not know that Bowie had thrown away his empty pistols and now carried only a knife. The squatter wheeled and plunged into the bog, Bowie racing after him. When Blood, hotly pursued by Bowie, dashed into the swamp a feathered scream rose from a myri-ad of birds in their sanctuary, rudely invaded. Slinking cats scampered madly from under the plunging hoofs of the two horses. The Me-lena woke in panic. (TO I1F COM IWED) He had hardly spoken when the scream of a woman surprised ev-eryone. A second scream followed; then a succession of moans, growing fainter. Bowie's mind worked fast. He passed his rifle to the nearest o. "Spread out and charge 'em, boys. A fight inside is our only chance," he shouted. "Scatter." Spreading into a fan, they dashed forward. A second surprise greet-ed them at the stockade a burst of gunfire. A vaquero was knocked from his saddle; a horse went down. Bowie and his two Texans galloped through the flimsy stockade to find themselves facing five fighting men. They emptied their pistols, sprang from their saddles and rushed the squatters, who, clubbing their rifles laid hotly about them. But they were dealing with men familiar with every trick of frontier fighting, and the knives of the quick-foote- d Tex-ans turned the tide. One of the squatters went down, out. Two of them ran for the cabin, and the re-maining two threw up their hands. Pricking them significantly, the Tex-an pushed them as unwilling shields toward the shack. A gunshot flashed from the cabin. The squatter hos-tages yelled to the defenders not to shoot and, leaping to the shack door. Pardaloe crashed it in and jumped aside. There was no further fire from within. The vaqueros came up with loaded rifles, torches were lighted, and the men followed their leaders inside. An Indian woman, strapped and gagged, lay on the floor. Pedro cut her bonds. She had been kidnaped from the mission. Two men. she told them, had bound and gagged her when she had tried to escape. Who were they? Where were they? Bowie tried to learn. He flung open the back door. The moonlight streamed in. A rifle shot rang out and tore into the lintel above his head. It was from the woods and. as Pardaloe shoved a screaming squatter into the doorway, a second shot came from the woods. "Hold on, Ben," protested Bowie, pulling the squatter victim away. ended it suddenly by pulling a pis-tol, hidden under his trouser band where his shirt hung loose, and fir-ing it straight into Bowie's face. It was not quite fast enough, Bow-ie knocked the barrel aside and laid the butt of his own pistol heavily across the squatter's head as the man sprang to clinch him. He slammed the squatter aside just as a second man sprang like a panther through the doorway, knife in hand. It was a knife with a long blade. Bowie, taken somewhat by surprise, confessed next day it looked a yard long. He ducked to one side, but the second squatter, a smaller and quicker man, got the knife point into Bowie's left forearm before the lat-ter could escape it. The stab served only to enrage the Texan, and the wiry squatter took a fast beating from the pistol butt while Pardaloe and Simmie threw and bound the tall fellow. "This buck is a wildcat," ex-claimed Bowie, turning his smaller captive over to Pedro. "Look for his knife, Pedro. It's here some-where on the ground. Felipe, fire this shack. No matter about the be-longings. These fellows don't de-serve any consideration. But first make sure there isn't someone drunk and asleep inside." Felipe, with lighted pitch pine, hurried into and out of the empty cabin. The next minute it was ablaze. The two squatters were dragged away and left bound in the chaparral to work themselves free. "Move fast, boys," counseled Bow-ie as he galloped with his men down the river. "The whole nest will be awake after that shot." A quarter of a mile brought them to the second cabin. It was sounded, searched, found empty, and burned. "Guess some of the boys skedad-dled," suggested Pardaloe. "How's your arm. Henry?" "All right." "Bleeding?" "Not much." "Got it tied pretty well?" "Good enough for tonight. Come on." "There's another shack." said Pardaloe suddenly. "Look out!" f-- yourselves; you claim Jjvner's got more cattle Jkis and you haven't got you don't say a word that you've killed f Monterey, do you? Not Jut his beef quarters and you've traded for whisky 71 don't say a word about f rancho storehouse and J'selves to flour and grain fHiat has happened twice, f ' that's going to stop. I more about old scores; t trying to burn the mis- - before last and your de-- f at the Indian women be you. 3 ( notice: You're headed, !1. to get off Guadalupe 3 of! the mission lands in ,' hours or to stand your rifles and shotguns. For 'morning I'll be here to fvhote mess up and it'll p-al'-s my say. Now you j'crsnn did talk, and he Sand long. "We stand on Is bony fidey settlers and i the United States of J he shouted finally. "You P us 'n' we don't surren-'lestead- s for you nor for fsors in Californy. Capt'n :f here tomorrow, boss, fi if you want to. 'N' if :;ng for a fight you can "I here now where you're and." r5ad your warning, boys," ie evenly; and without he and his compan- - :per that night there was at the quarters of the "aqueros. Bowie had Simmie, Pedro, force of the hardiest of 'tor a conference. The sttack on the squatter as discussed. The sug-- ' daylight assault was 'since it was almost cer-iu- 't in more casualties be likely in a night raid. Part of Bowie's plan to -l-uatters. but the rancho rETROIT. Hurry-u- p Yost Is still wearing the same old Will Rog-ers grin. The man, who came to Ann Arbor as head coach with Willie lies ton 40 years ago, today as ath-letic director looks at Tom Harmon, one of the greatest running backs of all time. Forty years &g Wolverine sup-porters, chanting "The Yellow and the Blue," looked upon Willie lies-to- n as the nonpareil. Today the sport-lovin- g city of Detroit can't be-lieve that lleston was another Har-mon. As long as both belong to Michigan football history, Yost merely grins. "What about an e Michi-gan backfleld," he asks, "with Ben-ny Friedman at quarter, Heston and Harmon at the halves and Johnny Garrels at full? What other all-tim- e college backfleld could ever equal that bunch? Name one." The closest we could think of In-cluded Thorpe, Calac, Guyon, and Hudson or Mt. Pleasant at Carlisle or Gipp, Savoldi, Elchenlaub and Carideo or Dorais of Notre Dame, not overlooking Marty Brill. The Michigan collection (till leads. The Harmon Case When you get right down to the facts In the case, Tommy Harmon of Michigan has already proved his place In the football roundup. In the 21 or more games of his career he has been a star at almost every start They have checked him and there as Bob Zuppke did a year ago. But don't forget that even La-- Ut Adw TOM HARMON the brilliant Red Grange knew games where he failed to pick up two first downs. I saw one against Nebraska. Football has known too many great backs to offer you any com-plete list it had known some even before the days of Snake Ames at Princeton, one of the best, around 1889. Heston, Eckrrsall, Thorpe, Coy, Mahan, Tryon, Gipp, Nevcrs, Grange, Nagurskl, Joestlng, Stev-ens, Dutch Clarke, Whlzzer White and a long list of others have led the parade at one time or another. Don't believe for a second that all had nothing but big days. They have all known dark days on one or more occasions. Grange Stopped I still recall the day when I trav-eled with "Our Town" Frank Cra-ven, the football loving actor, to Ur-ba-to see Red Grange run against Nebraska which had a tackle by the name of Weir a d hurdler. That day we failed to see the fa-mous Redhead cross the scrimmage line. Frank Reagan made over 300 yards against Princeton but only six yards at ball carrying against Michigan. Fritz Pollard at Brown was a star back, but Colgate stopped him cold-er than two dead mackerel. No one can keep running for ever. There were few backs the equals of Eddie Mahan, the Harvard Scythe but Cornell arrested his march at the line of scrimmage one afternoon. There Is a big argument now un-der way from Berkeley to Cam-bridge, meaning the Pacific and the Atlantic, as to where Harmon be-longs In the galaxy of stars. Many of them will tell you EvashevskI made him. Harmon will say so. Self-Mad- e Back EvashevskI is one of the best blocking backs of this generation. A grand football player. But he didn't make Tommy Harmon. Harmon made Harmon. When EvashevskI went out in the Penn game and his substitute entered, Harmon picked up even more ground. Great backs make themselves not their blockers, who can certainly help. But the main job is still up to the outstanding ball carrier, given any sort of a chance to get in mo-tion. The point is that Harmon has been a star since his first game a star frem his first game in 1938 to his last charge against Pennsylvania. When he raa wild against Califor-nia, starting his last college season, scoring 28 points, they all said the Golden Bear was only a fuzzy kit-ten. But the Golden Bear came back to beat St Mary's, the team that beat Fordham, and to hold Washington to a 7-- 6 decision after Washington had played Minnesota practically to a standstill. So Cali-fornia must have had a few good football players on the field. SPEAKING Of SPORTS By ROBERT McSHANE j ' Riltowd by Wattam Nawipapar Union 1 BIG league baseball writers confirmed a fact long around Detroit that Hank Greenberg was the player who put the Tigers out in front in 1940. Greenberg, who risked his career last spring by shifting from first base to left field for the good of the Tigers, was named the most valu-able player In the American league for the second time by a commit-tee of 24 baseball writers, three from each of the eight cities in the cir-cuit. The Tigers' big slugger drove In 150 runs during the past season, hammering out 41 home runs. He led the Junior league in both those departments. He batted .340, the highest mark of his career. No one would have predicted last winter that Greenberg would be crowned the most valuable player in his league at the close of 1940. For seven years prior to the past season Hank had handled transactions at first base. Last spring he was switched to the outfleld so that the valuable bat of Rudy York, as well as his own, could be kept in the lineup. The Big Switch Things were far from bright for the tall, lanky Bronx boy when the Tigers' front office called him to Detroit for a chat. It was then that the Detroit officials offered Greenberg his choice of taking a sizable salary slash or shifting from first base to the outfield In order to make a place for York, the misfit. York hadn't proved satisfactory as an outfielder, a third baseman or a catcher and it was either one of two mm ... mn ii.niimmsmMmnt awmi .J - ' J f ! . - - '. iLv HANK GREENBERG things trade him or play him at first. The decision was up to Green-berg and ft wasn't a particularly tough one to make. In the first place, no man relishes a salary slash. Then, too, Greenberg knew that York's bat would give Detroit needed power and that to trade him would be unthinkable. Hank went to the outfleld. Even though operating in strange territory and in the face of predic- - tions that he would prove a flop, Hank not only kept up his share of the defense, but assisted materially In the Tigers' pennant success with a large variety of plain and fancy hitting. As soon as the switch was made Hank put everything be had In learning how to play his new posi-tion. No man In the Florida train-ing camps worked harder than Greenberg. Feller's Chance It Is not unlikely that the loyalty and Hank exhibited in making the transfer was, to some degree, responsible for his being named the league's most valuable player. The belief is strengthened when one remembers that Bob Fel-ler, who won 27 games for the Cleve-land Indians, was second In line. Greenberg received 292 points, Fel-ler received 222. Ordinarily, a pitcher with 27 vic-tories would have more than a fair chance of winning the award. The fact that Feller took part in the June rebellion against Manager Oscar Vitt didn't help his cause when the 24 baseball writers cast their bal-lots. It is not at all impossible that Feller's lack of sympathy with man-agerial authority swayed the bal-lots of some of the writers against him. Feller has been stoutly defended by Cleveland writers as a "misun-derstood" young man. Probably that is true. We are Inclined to agree that his part in the revolution has been exaggerated. But it is equally true that the public's sym- - pathics were with Vitt, and that a stigma attached itself to those play-ers who were insurrectionists. Through his own acts Feller was in-cluded in that classification. If the choice between Greenberg and Feller was so close that it de-pended on a question of team spirit, the Detroit slugger certainly would get the vote of most observers, e e Sport Shorts Joe Louis' political campaigning for Wendell Willkie reduced his weight from 210 to 206 pounds . . . Ben Hogan, Texas pro who plays out of White Plains, N. Y., has fin-ished in the money in each of the 22 golf tournaments in which he competed this year . . . Although Cornell is losing 20 of its first 22 men by graduation this year. Coach Carl Snavely says that he expects to have another strong eleven next year. Set of Shelves From ,3 SpooU and Can Lids By RUTH WYETII SPEAKS "THE other day I went to Hobby Show and there, hang-ing on the wall with a blue ribbon pinned on it, were the spool shelves fr,om SEWING Book 31 Of course, I searched out the proud girl who had made them, and sho told me that she had also made the end table of spools that is in Book 5. I felt most as proud ai I Z7 SPQoiS'7'OF wire i can lidsJ BEADS,, START WITH A LOOP AlLUOIt. rJTPRUN BOTH ENDS SPACED TO f? i5OWN THROU6H MATCH fl --il SPOOLS top no --65i Tv7 hum JJ.P w: 181 THROUGH7C5ATX jfj"' SPOOLS' HYT UOn through' 1w .afikliW BEAD-BAC- V NJeWTTJ TO BOTTOM-TWIS- T ll.Z? ifaaJI she did. All her friends are sav-ing spools for her and her urgent need at the moment was, "some-thing to make for Mother for Christmas." Here is my suggestion. An ador-able set of three corner shelves made of a lid from a tin candy box, one from a cracker can and a coflee can put together with wire, spools and two beads. These shelves were painted cherry red and hung up with a brass hook to hold salt and pepper shakers, vinegar cruet, and other things for making salads. Any home-mak- er will think of a dozen placet where this handy set of shelves could be used. All the directions are here in this sketch. Thera la time to maka th hanging book halves in Book S, or Ua and tubla In Book 6, befora Chrlatmna, U you mall your order for thaaa booklets today. Send oi dar tot MRS. RUTH WVETH SPEARS Drawer IS Bedford Hilli New York Encloit 20c tor Books I and a. 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For over 60 years Pink ham's Com-pound has helped hundreds of thousands of grateful women to go "smiling thru" difficult days. Pinkham'a has helped calm unstrung nerves and lessen annoying female fupo tionsl "IrregulariUes." One of tha tnosl ! tu "woman's" tonics, J'rg ill Salt Lake's NEWEST HOTEL lunA & ' . , 1 HkVW, T K ' 1 Ushfejws Si a irtimaaal Hotel TEMPLE SQUARE Opposite Mormon Tempi HIGHLY RECOMMENDED Rates$150fo$3.00 It's a mark of distinction to stop sr this beautiful hostelry ERNEST C BOSSITER, Ms& TEACHING A CHILD VALUE OF PENNIES f a) A child of a wise mother will be a) taught from early childhood to be- - come a regular reader of the ad ver- - tisements. In thatway better X than in any other can the child be taughtthegreatvalueofpenniesand the permanent benefit which cornea from making every penny count ittttlllll From the Sword The next great task of humanity is not deliverance by the sword, but deliverance fsom the sword. Wasted Advice Who gives advice to a fool, beats the air with a stick. |