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Show The red lock Islnnd, got on the house-boat without lettin' Texie know I was there and found out she was safe. "Then, without lettin' 'er know It wns me, I moved the house-boat and hid It in a new place; left her locked In b'cause I thought It would be the safest place she could be jist then and hurried here t' watch the house, fully b'lievin' they intended t' rob the safe t'nlght. "About midnight they come. I killed Black Bogus and hurt Hopkins, but he got away. Texie must 'a' broke out o' the house-boat somehow and swum ashore. I didn't know it, but she was jist comin' into the yard when I jumped out o' the winder after Hopkins, and that last shot he fired at me hit her." It was a tremendous recital, brief; terse; not quite true; yet anything but false ; by far the longest speech he had ever made in his life, even with so much left out. He saw questions still In the eyes - fixed upon him. A moan came from the parlor bedroom and every other consideration gave way to the sufferer. Alone with Uncle Nick, the woodsman woods-man securely fastened the window that had been pried open, closed the door on the gruesome scene and went to the kitchen. Curious faces were beginning be-ginning to gather in the yard. He turned to the old man. "Uncle Nick," his voice showed the strain he was under "send them away. Tell 'em as little as possible, but for her sake, keep 'em away Jerry Brown above all, if he happens t' wake up and take it Into 'is head t' come up here. And I !low y'u better git somebody t' ride In after the coroner." coro-ner." The old man nodded and turned to the door. The other caught his sleeve. "And when it's light, I wish y'u'd sneak up Eagle holler a little and figure and bent his eyes intently opon the dead face, slowly shook his head. "Course, I don't 'low 'Is name's Hopkins, Hop-kins, n' more'n mine Is," he muttered, "but it's the best I can do." The woodsman stooped; raked the mass of hair down; brought the red lock Into view ; spread his hand over the lower part of the face to hide tin beard. "By the lord Ken Colin." Jack took his hand away from ovei the beard ; scraped the hair carefully back into place. "They say that red lock comes down from ol' Red Colin, a sea pirate hundreds hun-dreds of years ago, that it shows up every three 'r four generations, al-w'ys al-w'ys brlngin' along with it a drop 'I two of bad blood. It shore played the devil with Ken." "Didn't it!" was Uncle Nick's thoughtful comment "robbed and murdered 'is ol' man, an' then preached 'is funeral Lord 1" A short silence fell. "I could 'a' killed 'im there at the safe," the woodsman mused, half to himself, "but I didn't. I only shot away 'is gun and fought 'lm fair. When he was down, with 'is hair all mussed up and the red lock worked out in sight, that was the first time I knowed 'im. After that I tried 't' save 'im and let 'im git away, not knowln' he had another pistol hid on 'im. When he thought 'e had me off guard, he turned around quick and shot ; missed me and hit her." ( He stood a long time silent, his head half bent aside, his thoughts doubtless back where a hapless sufferer lay moaning; turned at last; gazed at the knife, buried to a gruesome depth in the blood-mussed shirt-front of the fallen man ; glanced up at his old friend and found the deep-set eyes studying him in thoughtful retrospection. retrospec-tion. "Uncle Nick, what sort of a lock have y'u got on y'ur jaw?" "Tight as a clam-shell, If you say so," was the ready answer. "I'm askin' y'u t' lock it" his words were serious and slow. "It ain't no use t' worry her"- he Jerked his head down the gulch "by lettin' 'er find out it was him " He gazed down at the sprawled body. "I'm askin' you t' 'tend t' layln' 'im out and buryin' 'im ; and be p'lnted p'tie'lar t' keep 'is hair combed so's the red lock don't show. Nobody would know 'im only by that. The way he had 'imself cobbled up them clothes and spec's and whiskers, and the way 'e talked, and 'is face puckered up the way 'e kep it he didn't look a bit more like Ken Colin than you do. Stay here, and I'll send Al up with Doctor Arnold's stretcher t' he'p y' carry 'im in." He stooped to straighten the dead man and a subconscious act of compassion, com-passion, perhaps to get the cramped arm out from under him. As he moved the arm, the frock coat fell open and a piece of soiled white paper stuck in a pocket of the vest caught his eye. He drew it forth, glanced over the dozen or so scrawled words and passed the paper to Uncle Nick. The old man, muttering something about not having his glasses along, passed it back xand the woodsman read aloud : "This man aint no preacher. Hes Slim Finger Doolln. Hes the slickest forger and counterfitter that ever lived and devilish light fingered with a six gun. He ruined my sister. That's why hes dead. He aint no human. Hes got the guts of a snake and the devils blood. Thats why I knifed lm stid sv shootin im white. It wont 'je no use follerin me cause yu wont ketch me. "LOGE BELDEN." A long silence followed the reading of the note. The woodsman was the first to break It. "I ain't aimin' t' follow 'im," he said, while a spark of flint narrowed his ' eyes "a man that'll back his sister like that." "I 'low he's about as black as the devil makes 'em," was the old hunter's thoughtful comment, as he slowly reached for his pipe, "but we'll haf t' consait 'im one white feather." He kicked Black Bogus' box to the open door, stood It on end, sat down and scraped his match on the door-jamb. door-jamb. With a final word of caution to keep secret the identity of the dead man, the woodsman hurried away. At the Inquest an hour or so later Jack merely repeated the statement he had made the night before. Of Loge Belden and his sister knowing at last her pitiful secret, he let fall no word. The house-boat, when he went to Its hiding-place days later, had disappeared. disap-peared. They had prooably gone with It. They were never followed. (TO BE CONTINUED.) A Tale of the Flatwoocb' By DAVID ANDERSON Author of "TK Blu Moon" Copyright bj Tha Bbbi-Merril Co. CHAPTER XVI II Continued. 25 With a cry. Jack Warhope caught up the unconscious girl In his arms, to discover dis-cover that Rhe must have been In the river, for her garments were completely complete-ly saturated and her hair hung about her shoulders, sodden and dripping. He was wrapping his hunting blouse about her when, with a startled exclamation, ex-clamation, he jerked away his hand and held It up between his face and the sky It was smudged with blood. He bent over the girl blood was streaming stream-ing from her right shoulder and running run-ning down her side. That last bullet from the edge of the yard it had found the core of a tragic target. Picking her up in his arms, he ran around to the kitchen, dashed the door open and laid her on the sofa in the sitting room. He had wrapped her in blankets snatched from the parlor bedroom, tore up a sheet for bandages and was doing his best to stop the blood, when there came the sound of a man running run-ning across the yard, and the next moment mo-ment Uncle Nick, doubtless alarmed by that last shot coming as it did upon the heels of the housekeeper's story was calling and pounding at the sitting room door. Jack threw it open. "Texie's hurt !" he cried. "Quick Doctor Arnold and Aunt Liza and Mrs. Curry." AVithout a question the old man hurried hur-ried away. The woodsman had brought the candle can-dle out of the room where the dead robber lay, closed the door and was doing his best to stop the blood and restore the girl to consciousness, when the doctor ran in. A hurried word or two and he was at the hurt shoulder. The bullet it was his first care. With quick skill he hunted hunt-ed it; fortunately located it almost immediately. im-mediately. It had just missed the lung, ranged upward and lodged barely beneath be-neath the skin at the top of the shoulder. shoul-der. He made a small incision and probed it out. He had washed the wound and had It nearly dressed when Aunt Eliza came running in, followed an instant later by Mrs. Curry, flurried and panting. pant-ing. Changing Texie's sodden garments gar-ments for dry ones, while the woodsman woods-man built a fire in the kitchen stove, they laid her between warm blankets in the parlor bedroom. Picking up the candle, the woodsman crossed the floor, threw open the door of the room where the dead robber lay and motioned for the two men. Even the doctor started, aghast at the gruesome, huddled form sprawled there among the littered, blood-spattered money. Uncle Nick's muttered cry brought the two women running from the sick room, to gaze with the others awed to silence by the tragedy that had again visited the quiet cottage. cot-tage. The woodsman well knew that questions ques-tions would be flashing through each mind had been since the discovery of Texie's hurt knew that each looked to him for the answer. A low moan came from the parlor bedroom. That last treacherous shot he knew that the man with the red lock could never come back. It had been a mistake to shield him ; a blunder to trust him a blunder that was being paid for at a fearful cost. The doctor was the first to break the silence. "What does this mean?" the question ques-tion was half a demand. "It means Caleb Hopkins," was the hard, incisive answer. The doctor started ; the two women caught their breath ; Uncle Nick swore, felt ashamed' of It, looked foolish. "This dead man" the woodsman dropped a hand toward the huddled form "is Black Bogus." The two women wom-en looked at each other; shrank back. I The doctor's eyes lifted ; he drew a j step nearer and gazed hard at the body. "Him and Hopkins and" Loge Belden, the man was about to say, but thought of the mountain girl, and he didn't ; besides, Belden had not shown himself at the robbery "they're both outlaws and counterf'iters. Hopkins would take good money out of the safe and put counterfit bills In place of It. "It wns tit in that killed Tap Simon that is, Pap Simon run out on 'im that night while he was ehangln' the counterfit fr good money, and in the scuffle died of heart disease. That ahet off their game, of course, so they planned f make a clean sweep t'night and go. "Hopkins went t' town and writ I back a letter t' Texie. makin' out It was from Ken. The letter said he ! was sick in town and wanted 'er f I come to 'im. So she went. Ieavin' a note with Mis' Curry fr me. The minute min-ute I got the note I knowed it was Hopkins. I'd be'n suspicious of 'im and had be'n watchin' 'im. so I rode after 'er as quick as I could clean t' the city, t' the place where the letter said Ken was sick; found I was off the trail; rode back as fast as Gray-lock Gray-lock could bring me t' try and pick it up. "I found where Hopkins had bended Texie off up the road a ways and got 'er on that house-boat Uncle XIck and the rest of us saw hid there at the head of Mud haul the day we went selnin'. "But t round wi.ere he'd Tiia It at Alpine Al-pine Island, and watched Mm sneak back to the woods f wait fr dark, as T Mowed. As soon as he was out o' sight, I took Ms skiff, crossed to the "It Means Caleb Hopkins," Was the Hard, Incisive Answer. kinda throw an eye out fr Loge Belden." Bel-den." The brows of the old hunter lifted. "I wondered why y'u left him out in there." He jerked his hoad toward the room they had just left. The next moment, with a step that the years seemed powerless to totter or stiffen, he had glided through the kitchen door and out among the curious curi-ous faces in the yard. CHAPTER XIX The Sprawled Figure on the Broken Floor. The sleepless night wore itself out; morning came to the cottage; and Texie still lived. On the heels of the dawn Uncle Nick poked his head in at the kitchen door and motioned with his finger. The woodsman lifted his face from his hands, rose and went out; Without a word the old man turned and. with another very positive motion of his hand, led the way across the corner of the yard, into the little park, out through the fallow pasture lot and to the Eagle Hollow. road. Well within the dim gray jaws of the hollow he paused. "When I p'inted m' nose up the crick this mornin', as you said, I noticed the door o' that ol' cabin whar Hen Spencer Spen-cer raised the devil that night wus part way open. I knowed it hadn't be'n open f'r years, so I snuck up and peeked in. Come on." With the long, lanky, half running stride that he had probably copied from the Indians, the old ranger and scout, closely followed by the young man. trotted away up the gulch, climbed the fence In front of the cabin of the dead woodchopper, ran up through the dew-wet weeds to the half-tipened door, pushed it wider and entered. There on the dusty flooi boards, partly twisted on his side, his face staring up, one arm crumple under him, with a dirk knife buried to the hilt in his breast, sprawled the man that called himself Caleb Hopkins dead. The woodsman stooped over the body; looked up curiously at las aged companion. "Do y'n know lm?" "It's Hr.pkins." "Look close." The old m.in glanced nt his com-panion. com-panion. cacght the odd expression in his eyes, si cped over the sprawled |