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Show lEIBISEB.S' n By 2APJE ELEIT i 0pyrtht. TITO Barrio. who had evidently been watching, for he stepped out on the porch, rifle In hand. Jim kept on to the barred gate. There were flowers In the yard and vines on the cabin proof of feminine hands. And he saw a bed on the porch. "Hello," he shouted, as he got off carefully, needing both hands to handle Helen. "Hullo, yourself," called the man, who was apparently curious, but not unfriendly. Then as Jim let down a bar of the gate with his foot, this resident of Blue valley leaned his rifle against the wall and called to some one within. CHAPTER XIII JIM hurried on to the porch and laid Helen upon the bed. She was so exhausted that she could not speak, but she smiled at Jim. Her plight was evident. Then Jim straightened up to look at the man. His swift gaze, never so penetrating, penetrat-ing, fell upon a sturdy Individual of middle age a typical pioneer, still-faced and bearded. The Instant In-stant Jim looked Into the blue eyes, mildly curious, he knew that whoever who-ever the man was he had not heard of the abduction of Herrick's sister. "Howdy, stranger." "My name's W7all," said Jim in reply, slowly seeking for words. "Mine's Tasker. Whar you from?" "Durango. . . . My my wife and I got lost. She wasn't strong. CHAPTER XII Continued 14 "Come on, Gray," he called to the irse behind, and to Bay : "Steady, Id fellow. If that narrows round tore you want to step sure." lit did narrow. Eight feet, six jt less! Bits of the steep bank ere crumbling away. But the pack orses had gone round. It would jit be safe to try to turn now. 'suddenly Jim encountered a still grower point, scarcely five feet jide. The edge had freshly crum-i;ed. crum-i;ed. It was crumbling now. jBay stepped carefully, confident-i. confident-i. He knew horses i with wide ;acks had safely passed there. He tent on. Jim felt him sink. One j:nd foot had crushed out a section ( earth, letting him down. But tith a snort he plunged ahead to rider trail. Jim's heart had leaped to his broat. He heard thud of hoofs behind, be-hind, a heavy, sliddery rumble, looking back he saw the gray horse Lap from a section of wall, begln- Ing to gap outwards, to solid round ahead. Next Instant six ?et of the trail, close up to the luff, slid down In an avalanche. "Close shave for us all I" cried ;!m, huskily. Right at his feet a red torrent lushed with a wrestling, clashing jound from out a deep-walled gorge 'ft splintered, rocking walls, i This was a tributary, a vicious ihild of the hideous Dirty DeviL it barred Jim's progress. Thirty paces to the fore, on the widest part of the bank, stood the pack iorses. The rain had slackened. The girl, tirring in his arms, roused him out if his bewilderment. He rode on to a huge section of :liff wall which had fallen from ibove and now leaned at an angle iver the trail. It appeared to be i safe retreat. Jim dismounted carefully with Jlelen and, stooping as he moved jinder the leaning rock, he set her down on dry dust. "Is It the end for us?" He did not answer. Folding the licker Into a pillow he laid her ead back upon it. Scrambling up, :e removed the saddle from Bay ad dropped it under the shelter, pen, leading the horse, he stepped Iwward to where the gray and the pack animals had halted. The Instinct of the horses had piided them to halt behind the only lafe spot on the unsafe bank. Jim Iremoved their packs, leaving the laddies on, Without hesitation he poured out all of the grain, about :o quarts for each horse. Lastly be jammed the packs under the edge of the boulders and left the horses free to take care of them-lelves. them-lelves. "If that storm breaks over the head of this gorge, we're lost," soliloquized so-liloquized Jim, in dark solemnity. Gloomy, weighed down . by in-icrutable in-icrutable events, he hurried back lo the shelving rock. He dreaded the coming hours tie night the he knew not what. Jim removed his slicker and folded It Into a long pad. As he trept closer the girl stirred again ind spoke. He thought she asked If he was there. He placed the slicker In the best available place nd covered that with the drier of the two saddle blankets. He pulled Hie saddle closer. Then he lifted the girl over his lap and covered tier with the dry blanket He leaned back against the stone with her head on his shoulder and his nn supporting her. It was not only that he wanted to keep her dry and warm; he had to have her In his arms while he waited for the nameless terror he anticipated. Tliis was the climax of the storm that had been gathering for days. Out upon the level desert It would have been serious for travelers ; here In this gorge It was a maelstrom. mael-strom. Jim did not expect to live to hear it pass away. Yet he did. And then began the aftermath of flood let loose upon such unstable jMrth. The waterfall gradually rose to a thundering, continuous wash. It dominated for a while, until, the thousand streams from bove poured over the rims to deaden dead-en all, to completely deafen Jim. A sheet of water, sliding over the "ck, hid the opaque blackness from At length Jim calculated it was a strong current laden with sand, which at times caused billows to rise and lash their twisting tips back upon themselves. Long he heard these slowly diminishing, gradually separating sounds. The streams ceased flowing, the slides ceased slipping, the rocks ceased rolling and the waterfall failed from a thundering to a hollow hol-low roar and from that to a softening soften-ing splash. Jim Imagined he saw dim stars out In a void that seemed to change from black to gray. Was dawn at hand? Had they been spared? The gurgle of the stream below merged into the distant, low rumble of the Dirty Devil. But the sky was graying, the gorge taking shape In the gloom, and this place which had heard a din of hideous sounds was silent as a grave. At last Jim had to accept a marvelous mar-velous phenomenon dawn was at hand. Gently he slipped Helen into the hollow of the saddle. She was still asleep. His cramped limbs buckled under him and excruciating pains shot through his bones and muscles. In the gray light objects were discernible. dis-cernible. He could not see to the head of the gorge, where the waterfall water-fall had plunged out from the wall. But silence meant that it had been surface water, a product of the storm, and It was gone. Beneath the bank ran a channel of fine-ribbed fine-ribbed sand where not even a puddle pud-dle showed. Sunrise found Jim Wall topping a rise of rocky ground miles beyond the scene of his night vigil. Again he followed his sure-footed lead pack horse. The sky was blue, the sun bright and warm, and at the moment it crowned with gold the top of the purple butte Jim had seen twice before. be-fore. It appeared close now, rearing rear-ing a corrugated peak above yellow and brown hills. Jim was carrying Helen in front of him. Conscious, but too spent to speak or move, she lay back on his arm and watched him. There had been a trail along here once, as was proved by a 'depressed line on the gravelly earth. When Jim surmounted this barren divide he suddenly was confronted by an amazing and marvelous spectacle, "Blue valley 1" he ejaculated. The startling beauty of this lost valley struck Jim next. It resembled resem-bled a winding jewel of emerald and amethyst, set down amid barren bar-ren hills of Jasper and porphyry, and variegated mosaics of foothills waving away on the left, and golden racks of carved rocks, and mounds of brown clay and dunes of rusty earth. "Blue valley I . . . Helen, we're out of the brakes I . . . Safe ! Men live here." She heard him, for she smiled up into his face, glad for his sake, but in her exhaustion beyond caring for her own. There was no sign of. habitation, nor any smoke. But Jim knew this was Blue valley. It was long, perhaps per-haps fifteen miles, and probably the farms were located at the head, where Irrigation had been possible. How could even ploiieers utilize that ferocious river? Below him opened a narrow, winding valley, green as emerald with its cottonwoods and willows. Only In the distance did It shine blue under the hot sun. Through it the Dirty Devil wound a meandering mean-dering course, yellow as a bright ribbon. It was bank-full in swirling swirl-ing flood. And from where it left the valley, which point Jim could not see, a dull chafing of waters came to his ears. At midday Jim passed deserted cabins, some on one side of the river, some on the other. They did not appear so old, yet they were not new. Had Blue valley been abandoned? aban-doned? Jim was convinced It could not be so. But when he espied a deserted church, with vacant eye-like eye-like windows, then his heart sank ; Helen must have rest, care, food. He was at the end of his resources. An hour later he toiled past a shack built of logs and stones, and adjoining a dugout, set into the hill. People had lived there once, but long ago. Jim's last hope fled. He was still far from the head of the valley, but apparently he had left the zone of habitation behind. owe to you alone, Helen. It will be possible now for me even to be happy. But enough of myself. I have traded two of the horses for Tasker's light wagon. I will take you to the stage line and soon you will be at Grand Junction." Jim ceased. Her hands slipped from her eyes, to expose them wide, filmed with tears, through which shone that which made him flee, "Wait please wait!" she called" after him, as he made with giant strides for the gate. But he did not go back. In a moonlit hour that night, late, when the good Taskers had gone to well-earned rest, Jim heard his name called. He ran with swift, noiseless feet to Helen's bedside. "You did not come back," she whispered. "I cannot sleep. . . . There Is something I want to say." He sat down upon the bedside and clasped her hand in his. "Is your real name Jim Wall?" she asked, with more composure. "No. I will tell it if you wish." "Are you a free man?" "Free. What do you mean? Yes, free of course!" "You called me your your wife to these kind people." "I thought that best They would be less curious." "I was not offended and I understood. under-stood. ... I want you to go back to Star ranch with me." "You ask me that!" he exclaimed ex-claimed Incredulously. "Yes, I do." "But you will be perfectly safe. Some one will drive you from Grand Junction." "Perhaps. Only ' IH never feel safe again unless you are near. I've had too great a shock, Jim." "1 can never go back to Star ranch," he replied, gravely. "Why not? Because you are you were a member of a robber gang? I had an ancestor who was a robber baron." "That's not the reason," he said. "What is it then?" "If I leave you now soon as I've placed you In good hands I can ride off in peace go to Arizona, or somewhere some-where and be a cowboy and be happy In the memory of having served you and loved you and through that' having turned my back on the old Ufa . . . But if I went back to Star ranch to see you every day to to " "To ride with me," she Interfered, softly. "Yes to ride with you," he went on hoarsely. "That'd be like what you called your rough experience a little too much. It would be terribly terri-bly too much. I'm only human." "Faint heart never won fair lady," she whispered, averting her face and withdrawing her hand. "Jim, I believe if I were you, I'd risk it." Jim gazed down at the clear-cut profile, at the shadowed eyes, hair silvered In the moonlight; then, stricken and mute, he rushed away. Before dawn Jim had beaten his vain and exalted consciousness into a conviction that the heaven Helen hinted at for him was the generosity of a woman's heart. She could not yet be wholly herself. He must not take advantage of that. But to reassure re-assure her he decided he would conduct con-duct her to Star ranch, careful never to reopen that delicate and Impossible subject, and after she was safely there and all was well he would ride away In the night, letting let-ting his silence speak his farewell. At sunrise Jim acquainted Tasker with his desire to leave for Torrey. Soon they were on the way, Helen comfortably settled In the back of the two-seated wagon and Jim riding rid-ing beside Tasker In front. A rancher, at whose place Tasker stopped, invited them to pass the night at his house, and next morning morn-ing take the road from there to Grand Junction, which could be reached In a long day's drive. Jim accepted both Invitation and advice. In the morning Tasker bade them good-by and God-speed. "Thank you, Mr. Tasker," replied Helen. "I shall remember your kindness. And I'd like to buy back the two horses Jim traded you." "I'll fetch them, if you'll tell me where," replied the rancher. "Star ranch, north of Grand Junction." Junc-tion." "I've heard of thet Wal, you may expect me some day, though I had taken a likin' to your bay hoss." Jim drove off In the clear cold air of a mountain autumn morning before be-fore the 6un had come up. "Helen, you shouldn't have asked him to fetch the horses," said Jim reprovingly. "He'll find out I lied." "Lied! What about?" "I told Tasker you were my wife." TO BE CONTINUED. Jim Hurried On to the Porch and Laid Helen Upon the Bed. She gave out I'm afraid she's In bad shape." "She shore looks bad. But the Lord is good. It's only she's tuckered tuck-ered out." "What place Is this?" "Blue valley. I've stuck It out. But I'll be givin' up soon. No use tryin' to fight thet Dirty Devil river. riv-er. Five years ago there was eighty people livin" hyar. Blue valley has a story, friend " "One I'd be glad to hear," Interrupted Inter-rupted Jim. "Will you help me? I have money and can pay you." "Stay an' welcome, friend. An' keep your money. Me an' my women wom-en folks ask nothin' fer good will toward those in need." "Thank you," Jim replied, huskily. husk-ily. "Will you call them to look after my my wife?" Helen was staring up at Jim with wondering, troubled eyes. "Is everything all right?" she asked, faintly. "Yes, if to find friends an' care Is that," replied the rancher, kindly. kind-ly. T'nen he stepped to the door to call within. "Mary, this rider was not alone. It was his wife he was carryln'. They got lost in the brakes an' she gave out. We must take them In." That night, after the good ranchers ranch-ers assured Jim that Helen was Just worn out Jim went to sleep under the cottonwoods and never moved for seventeen hours. Helen sat up . the second day, white and shaky Indeed but recovering recov-ering with a promise that augured well. Her eyes hung upon Jim with a mute observance. Next morning while the women were at work In the fields and Tasker Tas-ker was away somewhere Jim approached ap-proached Helen on the porch. Her hair, once again under care, shone like burnished gold. "m's eyes. Any moment now a 'nod would rise over the bank, and hen It did Jim meant to climb togher with the girl, to front the hurtling rocks and slipping sides, ml fight till the bitter end. But many changes as the hours bought, that flood did not rise liove the bank. Jim saw the sheet f water fall and the black space f gorge again. The time came to j'1"!, as If ha dreamed, when all i'oauds changed, lessened, faded :,way, except the peculiar thrashing the stream below. And he got to j"'tening for that sound, which oc-i oc-i curred only occasionally. For a jhlle the sliding rush of heavy wa-,er wa-,er swept on, suddenly to change '"to furious splashing. The afternoon waned. The horses plodded on, slower and slower, wearing to exhaustion. Helen was a dead weight. Despair had seized upon him when he turned a yellow corner between the slope and the cottonwoods, to be confronted by a wide pasture at the end of which a log cabin nestled among cottonwoods. cotton-woods. A column of blue smoke rose lazily against the foliage. The horses labored out of the mud to higher ground. Jim rode up to the cabin. Never In all his life had he been so glad to smell smoke, to see a garden, to hear a dog bark. Ills ever-quick ever-quick eye caught sight of a man "Well, you look wonderful this morning," he said. "We must begin be-gin to think of (retting away." "Oh, I'm able to start." "We mustn't overdo it Tomorrow, Tomor-row, perhaps. And then if we're lucky, in three days you'll be back at Star ranch. . . . And I " His evident depression, as he broke off, checked her vivid gladness. glad-ness. "You will never go back to to your old life?" she questioned quickly. "No, so help me, God I This I |
