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Show I By EDNA FERDER Copyright by Edna Ferbcr. WNU Service THE STORY Yancey Cravat, just returned from the newly opened Indian territory, relates his experiences to a lar&e gathering of the Ven-able Ven-able family. Yancey is married to Sabra Venable; is a criminal lawyer and editor of the Wichita Wigwam. Yancey announces he is going back to the Oklahoma country coun-try with Sabra and their four-year-old son, Cimarron. They arrive ar-rive at Osage, where Yancey intends in-tends to start a newspaper. Yancey Yan-cey is determined to find out who killed Editor Pegler of the New Day. Yancey consents to conduct divine worship on Sunday. During- the services Yancey announces an-nounces he has learned who killed Pegler. He stoops in time to escape es-cape & bullet fired by Yountis. Still stooping, Yancey shoots and kills Yountis. Then he announces that Yountis killed Pegler. Yancey Yan-cey frustrates a bank robbery and kills two desperadoes. Yancey Yan-cey urpes Sabra to Join him in the Run at the opening of the Chero-ke Chero-ke strip. She refuses. He is gone five years. Dixie Lee and her girls arouse the indignation of the wives and mothers of Osage. CHAPTER VIII Continued 12 - "Because they remove any member of tlie tribe that hag had to do with a negro." - "Remove ! "Kill. By torture." She stared at him. He was drunk, of course. "You're talking nonsense," she said crisply. She was very angry. . "Don't let this get around. They might blame you. The Osages. They might I'll just go and take another look at her." The girl was sleeping. Sabra telt a pang of pity as she gazed down at her. "Go to bed off with you," said Doctor Valliant to Isaiah. The boy's face was wet, pulpy with tears and sweat and fright, lie walked slackly, as though exhausted. "Wait." Sabra cut him some bread from the loaf, sliced a piece of meat left from supper. "Here. Eat this. Everything will be all right in the morning." The news got round. Perhaps Doctor Doc-tor Valliant talked In drink. Doubtless Doubt-less the girl who cnme in to help her. Perhaps Isaiah, who after a night's exhausted sleep had suddenly become proudly paternal and boasted loudly about the house (and no doubt out of It) of the size, beauty, and intelligence of the little lump of dusky flesh that lay beside Arlta's bed In the very cradle cra-dle that had held Donna when an infant. in-fant. Arita was frantic to get up. They had to keep her in bed by main force. She had not spoken a dozen words since the birth of the child. On the fourth day following the child's birth Sabra came Into Arita's room early In the morning and she was not there. The , infant was not there. Their beds had been slept In and now were empty. She ran straight Into the yard where Isaiah's little hut stood. He was not there. She questioned ques-tioned the girl who now helped with the housework and who slept on a v couch In the dining room. She had heard nothing, seen nothing- The three had vanished in the night. ' Well, Sabra thought, philosophically, they have gone off. Isaiah can make j out, somehow. Perhaps he can even get a Job as a printer somewhere. He was handy, quick, bright. He lmd some money, for she had given him, in these later years, a little weekly wage, and he had earned a quarter here, a half dollar there. Enough, perhaps, to take them by train back to Kansas. Certainly they had not gone to Arlta's people, for Big Knee, questioned, denied all knowledge of his daughter, of her child, of the blnck boy. They could make nothing of him. His squaw, stout, silent, only shook her head; pretended that she neither spoke nor understood Knglish. Then the rumor rose, spread, received re-ceived credence. It was started by Pete Pltehlyn, the old Indian guide and plainsman, wlio was married to a Cherokee, and who had even been adopted Into the Cherokee tribe. He had got the story from a Cherokee who In turn had had It from an Osage. The Osage, having managed to lay hands on some whisky, and becoming be-coming very drunk, now told the grisly tale for the tlrst time. There had been an O.-'age meeting of the principal chief, old Howling Wolf; the assistant chief; the eight members of the council, which included Big Knee, Arita's father. There the news of the girl's dereliction had been discussed, her punishment gravely decided de-cided upon, and that of Isaiah. They hud come In the night and got X them the black boy, the Indian girl, the Infant by what means no one knew. Arita and her child had been bound together, placed In an untanned and uncured steer hide, the hide was securely fastened, they were carried then to the open, sun-hakeil, and deserted de-serted prairie nnd left there, with n guard. The hide shrank and shrank and shrank In the burning sun, closer and closer, day by day. until soon there was no movement within It. Isaiah, already half dead with fright, was at noonday securely bound ud fastened to a stake. 'eax by, but not near enough quite to touch him, waa a rattlesnake so caught by a leather thong that, strike and coil and strike as It might, It could not quite reach, with its venomous head, the writhing, gibbering thing that lay staring with eyes that protruded out of all semblance to human features. But as dusk came on the dew fell, and the leather thong stretched a little with the wet. And as twilight deepened deep-ened and the dew grew heavier the leather thong holding the horrible reptile rep-tile stretched more and more. Presently Pres-ently it was long enough. CHAPTER IX "Remember the Maine! To h I with Spain !" You read this Inflaming Inflam-ing sentiment on posters and banners and on little white buttons pinned to coat lapels or dress fronts. The Oklahoma Okla-homa Wigwam bristled with new words: Manila bay Hobson Philippines. Philip-pines. Through the Southwest sombreros som-breros suddenly became dust-colored army hats with broad, flat brims and peaked crowns. Rough Riders! Here was something some-thing that the Oklahoma country knew and understood tall, lean, hard young men who had practically been born with a horse under them and a gun in hand ; riders, hunters, dead shots ; sunburned, sun-burned, keen eyed, daredevil. Their uniforms, worn with a swagger, had about them a dashing something that the other regiments lacked. And their lieutenant colonel and leader was that energetic, toothy young fellow who was making something of a stir in New York state Roosevelt, his name was. Theodore Roosevelt. Osage was shaken by chills and fever; the hot spasms of patriotism, the cold rigors of virtue. One day the good wives of the community would have a meeting at which they arranged ar-ranged for a home-cooked supper, with coffee, to be served to this or that regiment. Their features would soften with sentiment, their bosoms heave with patriotic- pride. Next day, eyes narrowed, lips forming a straight line, they met to condemn Dixie Lee and her ilk, and to discuss ways and means for ridding the town of their contaminating contam-inating presence. The existence of this woman In the town had always been a festering sore to Sabra. Dixie Lee, the saloons that still lined Pawhuska avenue, the gambling gam-bling houses, all the paraphernalia of vice, were anathema lumped together in the minds of the redoubtable sun-bonnets. sun-bonnets. A new political group had sprung up, ostensibly on the platform of civic virtue. In reality they were tired of seeing all the plums dropping into the lnps of the early-day crew, made up of such strong-arm politicians as had been the first to shake the territorial ter-ritorial tree. In the righteous Indies of the Wyatt type they saw their chance for a strong ally. The saloons nnd the gamblers were too firmly intrenched in-trenched to be moved by the reform element: they had tried it. Sabra had been urged to help. In the columns col-umns of the Oklahoma Wigwam she had unwisely essayed to conduct a campaign against Wick Mongold's saloon, in whose particularly lawless back room it was known that the young boys of the community were In the habit of meeting. With Cim's future fu-ture In mind (and as an excuse) she wrote a stirring editorial In which Near By, but Not Near Enough to . Touch Him. Was a Rattlesnake. she said bold tilings about shielding criminals and protecting tlie Flower of our Southwest's Manhood. Two days later a passer-by at seven in the morning morn-ing saw brisk tlames licking the foundation foun-dation of the Oklahoma Wigwam otlice nnd the Cravat dwelling behind It. The whole had been nicely soaked in coal oil. But for the chance passer-by, Sabra, Cim, Donna, newspaper plant, nnd house would have been charred beyond recognition. As the- town tire protection was still of the scantiest, the alarmed neighbors beat out the (Ire with blankets wet in the near-by horse trough. It was learned that a Mexican had been hired to do the Job for twenty dollar Mongold skipped out After an interval reform turned Its attention to that always vulnerable objective ob-jective known then as the Scarlet Woman. Here It met with less opposition. oppo-sition. Almost five years after Yancey's Yan-cey's departure It looked very much as though Dixie Lee and her fine brick bouse and her plumed and parasoled para-soled girls would soon be routed by the spiritual broomsticks and sunbon-nets sunbon-nets of the purity syuad. It was characteristic that at this moment in Osage's history, when the town was torn, now by martial music, now by the call of civic virtue, Yancey Cravat should have chosen to come riding home; and not that alone, but to come riding home In full panoply of war, more dashing, more romantic, more mysterious than on the day he had ridden away. It was eight o'clock In the morning. The case of Dixie Lee (on the charge of disorderly conduct) was due to come up at ten In the local court. Sabra had been at her desk In the Wigwam office since seven. Horse's hoofs at a gallop, stopping spectacularly in front of the Wigwam office In a whirl of dust. A quick, light step. That step ! But it couldn't be. Sabra sprang to her feet, one hand at her breast, one hand on the desk to steady herself. He strode into the office. For five years she had pictured him returning to her in dramatic dra-matic fashion ; in his white sombrero, his Prince Albert, his high-heeled boots. For five years she had known what she would say, how she would look at him, In what manner she would conduct herself toward him toward this man who had deserted her without a word, cruelly. In an instant, in-stant, at sight of him, all this left her mind, her consciousness. She was in his arms with an inarticulate cry, she was weeping, her arms were about him, the buttons of his uniform crushed her breasts. His uniform. She realized then, without surprise, that he was in the uniform of the Oklahoma Rough Riders. It Is no use saying to a man who has been gone for five years, "Where have you been?" Besides, there was not time. Next morning he was on his way to the Philippines. It was not until he had gone that she realized her failure actually to put this question ques-tion that had been haunting her for half a decade. Cim and Donna took him for granted, grant-ed, as children do. So did Jesse Rickey, with his mind of a child. For that matter, Yancey took his own return re-turn for granted. His manner was nonchalant, his spirits high, his exuberance ex-uberance infectious. He set the pitch. There was about him nothing of the d'linquent husband. He now strode magnificently Into the room wiiere the childrenwere at breakfast, snatched them up, kissed them. You would have thought he had been gone a week. Donna was shy of him. "Your daughter's a Venable, Mrs. Cravat," he said, and turned to the boy. Cim, slender, graceful, taller than he seemed because of that trick of lowering low-ering his fine head and gazing at you from beneath his too-long lashes, readied almost to Yancey's broad shoulders. But he had not Yancey's heroic bulk, his vitality. The Cravat skull structure was contradicted by the narrow Venable face. The mouth was over-sensitive, the hands and feet too exquisite, the smile almost girlish in its wistful sweetness. "'Gods! How the son degenerates from the sire!'" "Yancey !" cried Sabra in shocked protest. It was as though the five years had never been. "Do you want to see my dog?" Cim asked. "Have you got a pony?" "Oh, no." "I'll buy you one this ufternoon. A pinto. Here. Look." He took from his pocket a little soft leathern pouch soiled and worn from much handling. It was laced through at the top with a bit of stout string. He loosed this, poured the bag's contents con-tents oiuo the breakfast table; a little heap of shining yellow. The throe stood looking at it. Cim touched it witli one finger. "What Is it?" Yancey sconned up a handful of It and let it trickle through his hirjors. "That's gold." Ho turned to Sabra. "It's all I've got to show, honey for two years and more in Alaska." "Alasl:a !" she could only repeat, feebly. So that was it. "I'm famished. What's this? Bacon and eg-s?" He readied for a slice of bread fnin the plaie on the table, buttered it lavishly, clapped a strip of coldish bacon on top of that, and devoured de-voured it in razor bits. S.ihra saw then, for the first time, that he was thinner: there were bellow shadows In the pock-marked cheeks; there was a scarcely percept ible sag to the massive mas-sive shoulders. There was something about his hand. The forefinger of the right hand was gene. She felt suddenly sud-denly faint, iil. She reeled a little and stumbled. As always, he sprang toward her. Ilis lips were against her hair. "till, G d! Hew I've missed you, Sabra, sniruri" "Yancey! The children!" It was the prim exclamation of a woman who had forgotten the pleasant ways of dalliance. Those five years had served to accentuate her spinsterish qualities; quali-ties; had made her more nnd more powerful ; less human ; had slowed the machinery of her emotional equipment. equip-ment. A man In the house. A possessive posses-sive male, enfolding her in his arms; touching her hair, her throat with urgent ur-gent fingers. She was embarrassed almost. Besides, this man had neglected neg-lected her, deserted her, had left his children to get on as best they could. She shrugged herself free. Anger leaped within her. He was a stranger. "Don't touch me. You can't come home like this after years after years " "Ah, Penelope!" She stared. "Who?" " 'Strange lady, surely to thee above all womankind the Olympians have given a heart that cannot be softened. No other woman in the world would harden her heart to stand thus aloof from her husband, who after travail and sore had come to her ... to his own country.' " "You and your miserable Milton!" He looked only slightly surprised and did not correct her. One by one, and then In groups and then In crowds, the neighbors and townspeople began to come In the Wyatts, Louie Hefner, Cass Peery, Mott Bixler, Ike Hawes, Grat Gotch, Doc Nisbett the local politicians, the storekeepers, their wives. They came out of curiosity, though they felt proper resentment toward this strange this baffling creature who had ridden rid-den carelessly away, leaving his wife and children to fend for themselves, and now had ridden as casually back again. But at sight of Yancey Cravat in his Rough Rider uniform of khaki, U. S. V. on the collar, they were snared again in the mesh of his enchantment. en-chantment. The Rough Riders. Remember Re-member the Maine, to h 1 with Spain ! There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight. He became a figure symbolic of the war, of the Oklahoma country, of the territory, of the Southwest South-west impetuous, romantic, advertur-Ing. advertur-Ing. The renegade was a hero ; the outcast had returned a conqueror. Alaska. Oklahoma had not been so busy with its own growing pains that it had failed to hear of Alaska and the gold rush. "Alaska I Go on, you wasn't never in Alaska! Heard you'd turned Injun. Heard you was buried up in Boot hill along of the Doolins." He got out the little leather sack. While they gathered round him he poured out before their glistening eyes the shining yellow heap of that treasure treas-ure with which the whole history of the Southwest was intertwined. Gold. The hills and the plains had been honeycombed for it; men had hungered hun-gered and fought and parched for it; had died for it ; had been killed for it ; had sacrificed honor, home, happiness in the hope of finding It. And here was the precious yellow stuff from far-off Alaska trickling through Yancey Yan-cey Cravat's slim white fingers. "D n it all, Yancey, some folks has all the luck." "Luck! Call It luck, do you, Mott, to be frozen, starved, lost, snow-blinded snow-blinded ! One whole winter shut up alone in a one-room cabin with the snow piled to the roof-top and no living liv-ing soul to talk to for months. Luck to have your pardner that you trusted cheat you out of your claim and rob you of your gold in the bargain ! All but this handful. I was going to see Sabra covered In gold like an Aztec princess." The eyes of listening Osage swung to the prim blue serge figure of the cheated Aztec princess, encountered the level gaze, the unsmiling lips; swung back again hastily to the dashing, dash-ing, the martial figure of the lately despised de-spised wanderer. A tale of another world; a story of a land so remote from the brilliant scarlet and orange of the burning Southwest country that the very sound of the words he used in describing it fell with a strange cadence on the ears of the eager listeners. Yukon. Yu-kon. Chilkoot Pass, Skagway. Kuskokwim. Klondike. Moose. Caribou. Cari-bou. Huskies. Sledges. Nome. Sitka Blizzards. Snow blindness. Frozen fingers. Pemmlcan. Cold. Cold. Cold Gold. Gold. Gold. To the fascinated figures crowded Into the stuffy rooms of this little frame house squatting oq the sun-baked Oklahoma prairie h brought, by the magic of his voice and his eloquence, the relentless movement move-ment of the glaciers, the black menace of icy rivers, the waste plains of blinding, blind-ing, treacherous snow. Two years of this, he said; and looked ruefully down at the stump that had been his famous trigger finger. They, too, looked. Two years. Two years, and he had been gone five. That left three unaccounted for, right enough. The old stories seeped up ia their minds. Their eyes, grown ae customed to the uniform, were less dazzled now. They saw the indefinable indefin-able break that had couie to the magnificent mag-nificent figure not a break, really, but a loosening, a lowering of the resistance re-sistance such as comes to steel that has been too often in the flaming fur- p. 3y She Was In His Arms. nace. You looked at the massive shoulders they did not droop. The rare glance still pierced you like a sword thrust. The buffalo head, lowered, low-ered, menaced you ; lifted, thrilled you. Yet something had vanished. "Where'd you join up, Yancey?" "San Antonio. Leonard Wood's down there Colonel Wood now and young Roosevelt, lieutenant colonel. He's been drilling the boys. Most of them born on a horse and weaned on a Winchester. We're better equipped than the regulars that have been at it for years. Youug Roosevelt's to thank for that. They were all for issuing us winter clothing, by' G d, to wear through a summer campaign in the tropics these nincompoops in Washington Wash-ington and they'd have done it if it hadn't been for him." Southwest Davis spoke up from the crowd. "That case, you'll be leaving right soon, won't you? Week or so." "Week !" echoed Yancey, and looked at Sabra. "I go back to San Antonio tomorrow. The regiment leaves for Tampa next day." He had not told her before. Yet she said nothing, gave no sign. She had outfaced them with her pride and her spirit for five years; she would give them no satisfaction now. Five years. One day. San Antonio Tampa Tam-pa Cuba the Philippines War. She gave no sign. Curiously, the picture that was passing in her mind was this: she saw herself, as though It were some one she had known in the dim, far past, standing in the cool, shady corridor of the mission school In Wich-' ita. She saw, through the open door, the oblong of Kansas sunshine and skj and garden; there swept over her again that wave of nostalgia she had felt for the scene she was leaving; she was shaken by terror of this strange Indian country to which she was goiny with her husband. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |