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Show HE PRQQPESSTVF OPTNTON 246jjBm INSTALLMENT FOURTEEN ley, who turns out to be a spy for the big ranchers. The latter bring a lot of Texas officers to wipe ut the rustlers by actually killing them off. Calhoun protests and persuades the own-er of his ranch to sell It In small par- - honesty, Mr. Ellison. And I'm not answering your questions. That's final." A man appeared in the doorway of the house. He leaned against the jamb for support, but the rifle in his hands was quite steady. "You've got me so plumb scared that I expect I'd better answer yore questions, Ellison," he said, not rais-ing his voice. "I'm the guy in the cabin, and I'm the one who told them about Turley. I knew about it because I shot him this morning. Maybe I'm one of the men you're looking for." The color slowly drained from El-lison's gray face. His guess was that Brand meant to kill him now. CHAPTER XXIX Sunday Brown said: "I don't know who you are, young fellow, but. yore own words convict you and I'm ar-resting you." "I'm standing in the doorway waiting for you to try it," Brand answered. "Just a m6ment," Terry said. "To avoid any mistakes, Larry and I are declaring ourselves. All three of us are in this tight together. You're not taking one without the others." "I'll do the talking for our side, Sunday," Ellison told the Texan. "No need for guns to smoke here." "It's been such a nice, friendly afternoon Mr. Ellison would hate to have trouble start now," jeered Jeff. "Tell your crowd to get the hell out of here before the boys come Wm THE STORY SO FAR: Ellen Carey leems interested In Jeff Brand, dashing rustler, and Calhoun Terry, ranch man-ager. Four rustlers are mysteriously killed. Suspicion fastens on Terry and tali associates. But Jeff kills Jack Tur- - CHAPTER XXVIII Jeff said bluntly, "What in hell are you doing here?" Larry explained, chuckling. Larry tied up the wound with a handkerchief he found in a drawer. Brand rose and tested his leg gin-gerly. Larry caught him as he started to slump down. "Better lie there on the bed," Ter-ry said, without looking round. "Let Larry have your rifle." Jeff looked at Terry's flat, strong back with cold dislike. This was a nice pickle to be in. Without know-ing it, he had come to rescue an enemy, and by another queer topsy-turvy quirk the man had saved him. "How soon will your friends get here?" Larry asked. "I reckon they are gathering quick as they can." "I sent Lee Hart out to pass the word. My guess would be, in an-other hour and a half." After a pause, "We can't stand them off another hour and a half," Terry said. A sinister light quickened Jeff's face. He said ironically: "You'll be able to make a nice deal for your-selves now. They won't have two to hang, but one is better than none." Terry did not answer. Larry flushed angrily. "You have a fine way of making friends, Jeff," he said. "I'm particular about who my friends are," Brand jeered. "I've noticed that. A scoundrel like Lee Hart who shoots from back of a wall at a man not expecting it. A bullypuss ruffian like Jack Tur-ley. A scalawag Uke " "Don't talk about Turley being my friend," Jeff interrupted. "I killed him this morning." Larry stared at him. "Howcome you to kill Turley?" "We found out he was the traitor whto shot Jim Tetlow and the other boys. I gave him an n break, which was more than the skunk deserved. We found the blood money in his cabin." Terry looked at him, and the eyes of the ranchman were hard as agates. "They are starting the wag-on. In ten minutes we may all be dead. I told you before I had noth-ing to do with those murders, and I tell you so now." "They've stopped the wagon," Larry interrupted. "Someone has brought in a horse without a rider. Looks like the roan you were on. Bet a dollar they have recognized the horse and are having a pow-wo-about it." .., ... . "It looks like only one of us may be dead in ten minutes," Jeff snarled. "I'll take that rifle now, Larry. I aim to go out in smoke." Larry looked at the Diamond Re-verse B manager. "Give it to him," Terry said, his gaze fixed on. the outlaw. "But don't make a mistake, Brand. I wouldn't have chosen it that way, but we're all in this tight together. We all come out of it alive or none of us do. Let me do the talking; that is, if any of us get a chance to do any with these fellows." "We're getting a chance, all right," Larry cried. "Someone is running out a white flag from back of the barn." Terry walked to the door, unbolt-ed it, and waved the flour sack. Ellison and Sunday Brown came out of the barn and walked toward the house. When they were about forty yards distant the No, By Jo man-ager shouted a question. "What made you run away, Ter-ry?" he demanded irritably. "You might have got killed." The Diamond Reverse B man waited until they were nearer. "So we might," he agreed, sarcasm rid-ing his voice.. "Whether we ran or whether we stayed. Your hired kill-ers are too ready with their guns, Ellison. I told you it would be that way." "Too bad you were annoyed," El-lison said, with smooth insolence. Into Larry's face beneath the tan dark blood swept. "Your hired kill-ers have been plugging at us tor a couple of hours. You're no better than that dead wolf Turley you were telling us about. The sooner you are run out of the country the better." Larry had made a slip, and Elli-son pounced on it. "Did I mention Turley? How do you know he was the man?" "Never mind how I know. He has nothing to do with our complaint against you. I'm going to see that it gets into the Denver papers that you attacked us." Sunday Brown spoke for the first time. "Who is the man that slipped into the cabin a little while ago?" Terry looked at him bleakly. "You wounded the man, whoever he is. That's enough for one day. I ad-vise you-a- ll to mount your horses and get out of here while you can." "Don't try the high and mighty with me, Terry," the No, By Joe manager advised, restraining his temper with difficulty. "I'm asking you two questions, and I don't in-tend to leave till I get answers. The first is, how do you know Turley was killed, unless you were in on the job? The second is, who did you carry into the cabin a little while ago?" "You're out of luck in your ques-tions, Ellison," drawled Terry. "We won't answer either of them." Little white spots of rage dented Ellison's nose. "By God, you're not In the clear yet, Terry. I'll tell you that. You're in with these thieves ... or you're not. I've asked you two plain questions. If you are an honest man you won't wait a mo-ment to clear yourself." Terry looked him over coldly. He too was curbing his anger not too easily. "I'll be the judge of my eels to small ranchers. Terry and his foreman, Larry, are fired upon by the big owners' invading army and they find cover in a small cabin. There, too, Jeff goes. Wounded, he is dragged into the cabin by Terry. bers of the rescue posse made that clear. Wild rumors circulated. Lane Carey and his daughter came out of the ranch house to get the news. ' From a little distance Terry watched Ellen's face as the men eased Brand from the saddle so that he would not have to put any weight on his wounded leg. He could see her breath catch and the intent fear in her eyes. Jeff limped forward, an arm around the shoulder of Roan Alford. "Back from the war," he told El-len. "With a h hero story for you. Only trouble is two other guys were the heroes." "We had better have him carried upstairs," Ellen said to her father. "He can have the spare room." Jeff shook his head. "Sorry, but I have to say "No, thanks," lady. If I stay here these Texas wolves would be liable to collect the only scalp I have. The boys are going to take me to Round Top in your wag-on." Ellen had Jim bring down a mat-tress and put it on the porch. The wounded man lay down on it, pro-testing that there was no sense in babying him. The girl made him a pitcher of cool lemonade and he drank several glasses of it. She waved a good-by- e at him as the guarded wagon rolled down the road. Watching her, Terry thought there was a kind of light, flying grace in the girl's movements. "Will you tell me all about it-- just what happened?" she asked. Larry described their adventure In detail. "I expect they hated to let Jeff go," Larry concluded. "The blamed idiot stood In the doorway and told Ellison he was the man who had killed his spy Turley." Ellen gave a little groan. "Did you say that Jeff . . . killed Tur-ley?" she asked. "Yes." The color had washed out of El-len's face. "I'm responsible for Tur-ley- 's death," she said in a low mon-otone. "I . . . told Jeff the man might be Turley, and I said the writing on the note left by the killer looked like his." "Then you did a service to this district," Terry told her bluntly. "Don't worry about that. The fel-low had to be killed." "Yes, but why did I do it? I might have known what Jeff would do. And I wasn't sure. Maybe Maybe maybe Turley wasn't the right man." "They found the money in his cab-in. He was the right man." Larry nodded reassurance. "He's better dead. Don't waste any pity on him." "You're so sure about that, aren't you?" the girl cried in passionate protest. "Only God can make a life, but it's all right to cut one off if you take a fancy to play at being His agent." Terry explained gently: "When a mad dog is loose it has to be shot to protect people." "Calhoun is right, Ellen," Carey agreed. "You are not in the least to blame, but you surely would have been if you had concealed any in-formation you had about the identity of the killer." Lane brushed the doubts of his daughter aside as of no weight. "What happened to any number of better men is of impor-tance. I am thinking about the out-come of this raid. I don't see how a pitched battle can be avoided, and if so a great many will be killed. Isn't that your view, Calhoun?" "Yes, and Ellison's men will be defeated in the end. This invasion has been botched from the begin-ning. The Texans won't escape with-out heavy loss unless they get out at once." "Why did Mr. Ellison start so crazy a thing?" Ellen cried. "Isn't there any way to stop it? Can't you do something, Mr. Terry?" Calhoun shook his head. "How can I, since both sides distrust me and I have influence with neither? I have thought of one thing to ask the government to send troops from Fort Garfield to stop the war. I have no influence at Washington. Mr. Powers probably has, if I could, get word to him. Larry and I are go-ing to town. I'll see Horace Gar-ve- y and try to get him to join me in a wire." "Good. I'll come to town as soon as I can get off. That will be after the down stage passes," said Carey. Larry went with Carey to saddle fresh horses from the Box 55 corral. Terry started with them but was detained by Ellen's voice, small-er in volume than usual. "Just a minute, please, Mr. Ter-ry." He waited, his gaze on her. "I want to 'fess up," she said at last. "You must think I'm a dread-ful little prig, the way I have treat-ed you." His voice sounded cold, because he was keeping a tight rein on his emotions. "I haven't any complaint, Miss Carey," he began. "I didn't like you," she admitted. "I thought you were horrid. And I was wrong. In all this dreadful business nobody has been as right as you." The color in her eyes deep-ened as she looked at him. Her heart was fluttering against her ribs, and she told herself not to be a fool. "It was splendid, the way you ran out of the cabin to get Jeff. I know you don't like him. But you went just the same." "I like him as well as he does me," Calhoun said wryly. The girl was In love with Brand, of course. He had no doubt of that. He nodded good-by- e to her stiffly and walked away to join her father and Larry at the corral. (TO BE CONTINUEDJ His guess was that Brand meant to kill him now. to help Jeff, unless you want a real war on yore hands," said Larry. Brand offered a suggestion. "Why drag anybody else into this, Mr. Ellison? You don't like my way of life, and not a thing about you pleases me. We can settle this right here in three seconds with s. If you feel lucky, start smok-ing." "I don't fight duels with outlaws," Ellison replied curtly. "No, you hire killers to shoot 'em down from ambush. You go raiding their homes with sixty gunmen at yore back." Brand's voice was heavy with scorn. "When you open the pot you have a pat hand, and you sure play it close to the belly." Ellison stood stiff and straight. "I don't explain my conduct to thieves," he said shortly. "Meaning me, Mr. Ellison?" Jeff asked gently, his light, blank eyes very steadily fixed on the No, By Joe manager. Terry stepped in front of the lead-er of the regulators, to prevent the rustler from getting a shot at him. "You had better go back to your men, he said. "And tell them we won't baby them any longer. If this battle goes on, we'll be shooting to kill." Ellison turned and started back toward the barn, his flat back straight as a yardstick. Brown fol-lowed him. The three defenders moved back into the house and watched. They had not long to wait. The invaders ran out the white rag again to in-dicate the battle was over. Men and horses poured out of the barn and from the creek bed into the open. Jeff lay on the bed. The fever was mounting in him. "We'll see what we can do for your leg now," Terry said. "Let me have a look at it." He gave Brand a wet towel with which to bathe his hot face while he unfastened the bandage around the ankle and washed the wound. He tied another handkerchief around the leg. "It will have to do until we get you to a doctor," the Diamond Re-verse B manager said. The rescuers arrived about an hour later, Roan Alford and Bill Herriott at their head. A flour sack was nailed to the back door of the Hart cabin, but Roan spread his men and approached carefully. The cabin might be filled with enemies ready to turn loose a blast of gun-fire at them. Bill Herriott came forward alone, waving a white handkerchief. Terry stepped out of the house to meet him. "What are you doing here?" Her-riott asked curtly. Full explanations followed. Terry and Richards rode with the party as far as the Box 55. They were not very welcome. The mem-- stay firmly in place and never 'slip. It ties smoothly at the waist-line with sashes attached at sides. The bow at the shoulder is a fem-inine touch which gives this apron a daintiness which will make it one of your favorites. Pattern No. 8030 is in sizes 34 to 48. 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Speed of Winds The Weather Bureau assigns its terms for wind velocity in accord-ance with the Beaufort wind scale, as follows: Calm, less than 1 mile per hour; light, 1 to 7 m.p.h.; gentle, 8 to 12; moderate, 13 to 18; fresh, 19 to 24; strong, 25 to 38; gale, 39 to 54; whole gale, 55 to 75; and hurricane, above 75 m.p.h. Beloved Singer Pleaded For Mercy, Not Justice The beloved Madame was a woman of rare charm and geniality. She was the first to make fun of her own short-comings, and was often heard to comment on her decidedly matronly figure. On one occasion, a fashionable portrait painter asked her to sit for her portrait. The plump opera star hesitated for a long while before making her decision. "Don't be afraid, Madame," said the artist teasingly. "I'll do you justice." "Ah," replied the prima donna, "it isn't justice I ask at your hands; it is mercy!" Liking Duty The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, but in liking what one has to do. James M. Barrie. Untested Courage No man can answer for his cour- - age who has never been in danger. Rochefoucauld. ASK MS ANOTHER J ? A General Quiz The Questions 1. What Roman emperor made Christianity a legal religion for the first time? 2. Do forest fires kill fish, and if so, how? 3. How much pressure is exert-ed by the . atmosphere at sea level? 4. What is an apocryphal story? 5. How does the Black sea com-pare with Lake Superior in size? 6. What is the largest city in the United States not situated on navigable water? 7. Who wrote: "I keep six hon-est serving men (they taught me all I knew) ; their names are What and Why and When and How and Where and Who"? The Answers 1. Constantine (the Great). 2. Yes. The alkali ash washed down by rains into the streams and lakes kills the fish. 3. Pressure of 14.7 pounds per square inch. 4. One of doubtful authority. 5. The Black sea is five times as large. 6. Indianapolis. 7. Rudyard Kipling. Unerring Sign Virtue alone is the unerring sigr of a noble soul. Boileau. Brave Man The brave man is not he who feels no fear, but he whose noble soul its fear subdues, and bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. Joanna Baillie. |