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PAGE FOUR
RIDER. OF
WGOLDEfO
BAR -cfel
■WILLIAM PATTERSON WHITE
€>k/zi by v
Little how ini CbnpMß'. J*
Continued From Our Last Issue |
There he lay on his back, his legs ■
and arms spread-eagled abroad, his |
body displaying the flattened appear
ance a corpse assumes for the first
few hours after death. Rafe’s throat
had been slit from ear to ear. His
head was cut open and lay in a pool
of blood. His face was scored with
scratches. There was blood on his
coat and vest and shirt, they found
p.n examination. The district at
torney ripped open the shirt and
found four distinct stab wounds in
he region of Rafe’s heart. From
one of these wounds protruded the
broken end of a broad-bladed knife.
“Putt it out,’’ urged Sam Larder,
y ith a slight shudder, his fat face so
white that it showed green in the
moonlight.
“Been dead about two hours,”
proffered the marshal.
•“About that,” agreed Felix. “What
you lookin' at, Arthur?"
“This,” replied the district attor
ney, holding up the handle of the
butcher knife.
With his fingers he traced two ini- ’
tials on th. wood. The initials were !
T ' I
“You can't tell me," said the dis
trict attorney, belligerently, “that
this butcher knife didn' come from
the Walton ranch.”
Sam Larder stated his belief at
once. “She couldn't have done it,
Arthur. Why Rafe’s carved up like
an issue steer. She—-”
'She’s a woman,” interrupted the
district attorney. “And a woman
will do anything when her dander is
up. And we know what this particu- i
lar woman will do when she's mad. '
Didn’t she try to split open Nate
Samson's head when he was hardly
idore than joking with her? I tell
J ou, this Hazel Walton is a mur
cieress, and I’m going to see her '
hung.”
CHAPTER XVI
Behind the, corral of Guqrilla ■
Melody, at the'tip end of Golden Bar. •
Main street, a small spring bubbled
to life amid rocks.
On the night of the first of April
Guerilla reached the spring at eleven
o clock.
I, thought, you were never com- ,
’ n ß> announced a peevish voice.
Ive been waiting here since nine ,
o’clock." |
“You talk much louder, Bill," said
Guerilla calmly, “and you’ll wait I
here a while longer—say about
twenty years longer or fifteen, if the ;
judge feels good-natured. Man alive |
am't you got any sense?"
"I was lonesome,” Billy excused
himself. “1 ve got to talk to some
body. And anyway, a feller hardly
ever gets more'n ten years for a
holy-up where nobody's killed."
“But where somebody is killed the
penalty is worth considerin’,” point
ed out Guerilla Melody. “And Tip
O Gorman was found yesterday
morning lying on the floor of his
front room dead as Julius Caesar,
with your quirt beside him, and your
hold-up where nobodv's killed "
“Tip killed! Tip!”
“Yes, Tip; and on account of the
quirt and the hatband there’s a war
rant issued for you for the murder,
am! two posses are out looking for
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“I saw them," said Billy placidly.
; “And Tip ain’t the only only :
cashed. Rafe Tuckleton passed out I
last night."
•‘How?’’
“Throat cut, head tut, and three I
knife cuts in his heart. Hazel |
Walton is in jail charged with the '
job.”
Biily Wingo stiffened where he sat. '
Hazel Walton in jail! For an instant i
he couldn’t realize it.
"What evidence is there against j
Hazel” Billy cut in sharply.
"In the first place, there’s the knife
that killed Rafe,”_said Guerilla, seat
ing himself beside his friend in the |
shadow oft the rock. Butcher knife j
with T. W. on the handle that Hazel
admitted was hers when they showed
it to her. But she said Dan Slike
had taken the knife—Stuck it in his
boot when he left. Then there was
Rafe's own gun which Hazel had ly
ing on her kitchen table, showing he’d
been there. She admitted that, too,
but said he’d attacked her, and she'd
.managed to get hold of his gun after
'the clock fell on him, and drive him
] out."
“Is that all” asked Billy.
“Lenune get my breath,” Guerilla
begged indignantly. “No, it ain’t
all. The district attorney says those
supplies were bought for you and
they were taken by you. Hazel's
ridin’ horse, the one usedMo be her
uncle's, that's gone, too —with you.”
"If Rale thinks I was at Hazel’s
i it’s reasonable to assume 1 might
i have had a, hand in killin’ Rafe my
! own s^lf. That goes double for Dan
Slike, seeing he had the knife last.”
‘Mt's, reasonable all right -enough,
but then you and Dan Slike ain't
noways available, and Hazel is right
> handy.”
“But how did Slike get hold of the
1 butcher knife, that’s what 1 want io
' know He didn't have it on him
when 1 arrested him last January.”
“That’s the damndest part of the
I whale deal, Bill. Hazel says Dan
i Slike came to her place before Rafe
■ did, and it was him took the sup
plies and her horse and her hat and
I that very same butcher knife which
.gave Rafe his conie-uppance. Slike
I ——:
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I beat her almost senseless, too, she
jsaid.”
Billy Wingo looked up at the stars.
His lips moved. But no sound is
(sued. After a moment he said, in
an* oddly dead tone of voice, "How
did Slike escape”
“Fas as anybody can tell, he made
him a key somehow and unlocked
■the jail xioor and walked out. Any
way, Riley Tyler found the doot
open yesterday afternoon and Dan’s
cell empty. And the district attor
' ney lost a horse and saddle."
, "If there was any kind of a trail
i it's queer they didn’t run up on Slike
I at Hazel’s.”
“That’s the funny part of it. The
trail led in the opposite direction
i toward Jacksboro. The posse fol
! lowed ft-clear to the West Fork of
'the Wagon jack, where they lost it
ion the rocky ground on the other
(side."
“Do you know somethin’. Guerilla?
It wouldn't surprise me a whole lot
, to find out the district attorney his
own self made that trail to the
i\\ agonjack. I guess I’d beter go
see the district attorney.”
Guerilla Melody chuckled as one
does at a pleasantry.
“I mean it," pronounced Billy.
"He needs a li'l straight talk, and
I he's going to get it prompt and soon.
| Luckily he leaves his window partly
open at night.”
The district attorney, lying on the
broad of his back in bed, suddenly
snored his way into a nightmare.
He dreamed that he was in the
woods, and that a ninety-foot pine
had fallen upon his chest.
The something on his chest spoke
in a carefully restrained whisper,
"Keep very quiet."
The district attorney would have
shivered had he been able to move
that much. He knew that voice. It
belonged to Billy Wingo.
"I hear you arrested Miss Walton."
"J—er —had to," explained the
district attorney. -•
"No evidence a-tall. You were too
previous, Arthur. I’ve got a sneak
ing idea, old settler, that you are
He Was Aiming a Rifle at Another
cluttering up the face of the earth.
Be reasonable now’, don’t you think
so yourself?"
No reply.
“You’re thinking because I’m
talking to you so bright and merry
that 1 don’t mean what I say. Lis
ten —” the whisper lost its airiness
and became a ruthless, snarling
growl—“listen to me. Because of
what you’ve done to her, its’ all 1
can do to keep from strangling the
Like"
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TTXXLZJ ’ f>C^ KOl r
THE AMERICUS TIMES-RECORDER.
breath out of you here and now."
Biily paused. "About Miss Walton,"
he continued in his former tone, “I’ll
give you your choice. If she i.-n’t out
of jail and the warrant against her
withdrawn by noon tomorrow, 1 give
give you your choice. If she isn’t out
or before midnight Sunday. And I
i have a habit of keeping my prom
ises.'’ 9
“All right,” capitulated the dis
trict attorney.
CHAPTER XVI.
i A month.had passed and Billy Win
go, now far south of Golden Bar,
knew that his quest was nearly end
ed. In the past four weeks, Billy
had grown a presentable beard, had
met up with Johnny Dawson, a friend
!of his youth, had three times crossed
the trail of Dan Slike. His latest
information was that Slike and Jack
Murray were inseparable.
Finally, the morning came when
Billy and Dawson believed they had
I Slike in their grasp. They could
I hear his rifle as they gazed down
from the hill oh a scene that had
I many counterparts m the W?st.
A quarter-niile out from the base
of the hill was a tiny fire, beyond
which lay a hog-tied calf. Beyond
the calf a man sprawled behind the
body of a pony. He was aiming a
rifle at another man ensconced be
low’ a cutbank bordering a small
creek. This second man vias not
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THIS IS A STUDEBAKER YEAR
I clearly visible.
; Between this man and tint-man be-
i hind the pony were three hundred '
‘ yards of ground as flat as a floor,
j Billy swept the background of the
I cutbank man with his glasses, i
j “There are two horses tied behind i
i a windfall alongside those rocks. ■
‘Where’s the other man?"
“There’s the other man," said j
Dawson, pointing fifty yards down ‘
stream from the cutbank. “What’s
he doing—drinking?”
Billy turned his glasses. “He ain’t ;
drinking,” he sAid soberly. “His'
head’s under water."
| “I'm sure hoping he ain’t Dan
Slike," Dawson said matter-of-factly. :
"Me too. What— ’’
For the man behind the cutbank !
was climbing up and walking out ‘
into plain sight bf the man behind ■
the pony. The man behind the pony •
did not fire.”
"He’s cashed all right,” Billy re-
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marked suddenly. He looked so
natural he fooled me.'
They ran down the reverse slope
of the flat-topped hill, cut across the
creek and approached the horses
tied behind the windfall.
“Tell you," said Dawson, “loosen
the cinches; then no matter which
horse he tops, he’ll ji rk himsell
down.”
Both saddles were carefully doc
tored. ■
Continued in Our Next Issue.
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THURSDAY. MARCH 2 3.1922.
AMERiCUS LIONS TO VISIT
NEW CLUB AT CORDELE
( ORIfELE, March 23. —The or
ganization meeting cf the Cordele
Lions club will be held Thursday
night at the Suwanee Tea Room.
President Witman'and twenty dele
gates from the Macon club, and Presi
dent H. E. Allen and fifteen or more
members from the Americus club are
to be here to help put on a good pro
gram at the organization meeting.
The Cordele club membership is
completed.