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ZEN of the Y. D.
A fto-Vel o_f the Foothills
HAD to kill HIM”
cwnpSlS Transley’s hay
cuttins outfit r way Sta t C o k t he
’° y°D ' ranch headquarters
SUN a -ster of men and
llve f s e °an e chap
men is an ry W oman he
v ' h ° Pr Tanslev and Linder dine
v D and his wife and
dauP ter Zen. Transley resolves
Id' marry Zen.
CHAPTER I—Continued.
—2—
“Perhaps you will excuse us now,”
tni j the rancher’s wife.
You will wish to talk over business.
Y n will show yon upstairs, and we
S'expect you to be with us for
br ujthP’ bow she left the room, fol
ded by her daughter Linder had a
sense oi being unsatisfied; It was as
though a ravishing meal bad been
placed before a hungry man, and only
ft., aroma had. reached his senses when
1, had bee. taken a way. Well, it pro
voked the appetite —
The rancher refilled the glasses, but
Transley left tils untouched, and Lin
der did the same. There were busi
ness matters to discuss, and it was no
fair contest to discuss business in the
course of a drinking bout with an old
stager like Y.D.
“I got to have another thousand
tons,' 1 ihe rancher was saying. “Can’t
take chances on any less, and 1 want
you boys to put it up for me.”
"Suits me,” said Transley, "If you’ll
show me where to get the liay.”
“You know the South Y.D. ?”
“Never been on it.”
“Well, it’s a branch of the Y.D.
which runs southeast from the Forks.
Guess it got its name from me, be
cause 1 built my first cabin at the
Forks. That was about the time you
was on a milk diet, Transley, and us
old-timers had all outdoors to play
with. \ T ou see, the Y.D. is'a ean
tank’rous stream, like Its godfather.
At the Forks you’d nat’rally suppose
Is where two branches joined, an’
jogged on henceforth in double har
ness. Well, that ain’t it at all. This
crick has modern Ideas, an’ at the
Forks it divides itself Into two, an’
she hikes for the Gulf o’ Mexico an’
him for Hudson’s bay. As I was say
in’, I built my first cabin at the Forks
—n sort o’ peek-a-boo cabin it was,
where the wolves ustn come an’ look
In at nights. Well, I usta look out
through the same holes. I had the
advantage o’ usin’ language, an’ I
reckon we was about equal scared.
There was no wife or kid in those
days.”
The rancher paused, took n long
draw on Ills pipe, and his eyes glowed
with the light of old recollections.
“Well, as I was sayin’,” he continued
presently, “folks got to callin’ the
stream the Y.D., after me. That’s
what you get for bein’ first on the
ground—a monument for ever an’
ever. This bein’ the main stream got
the name proper, an’ the other branch
bein’ smallest an’ running kind o’ south
nat’rally got called the South Y.D. I
run stock in both valleys when I was
at the Forks, but not much since I
came down here. Well, there’s maybe
a thousand tons o’ hay over In the
S (| uth y.d,, an’ you boys better trail
over there tomorrow an’ pitch into it
—that is, if you’re satisfied with the
price I'm payin’ you.”
“Hie price* is all right,” said Trans
-> “and wo’ll hit the trail at sun-up.
Tliere’l l be no trouble—no confliction
of interests, I mean?”
t'hose Interests?” demanded the
rancher, belligerently. “Ain’t I the fa
ther i.f the Y.D? Ain’t the whole val
ley named for me? When it comes to
interests—’’
'Of course,” Transley agreed, “but
lust wanted to know how things
Eiriod t n case we ran up against some
thing. ’
“Quite proper,” said Y.D., “quite
proper. An’ now the matter’s under
di'cussmn, I’ll jus’ show you my hand.
here > a fellow named Landson down
’he valley of the South Y.D. that’s
fi;nm’ with that hay meadow for
j r “• be ain’t got no claim to it.
fir st on the ground an’ I cut it
•ver i feel like It an’ I’m goin’
IJ S f > f n cuttin’ It. If anybody comes
r* r .' ;n ’ trouble, you just shoo ’em
, Jl ’ 1 go on cuttin’ that hay, spite o’
“ ‘ an’ high water. Y.D.’U stand be
hind you.”
Hanks,” said Transley. “That’s
1 1 wanted to know.”
CHAPTER II
1 ' ,o >' and Linder were so early
■ .‘‘ xt mor Dlng after their con
- with Y.D. that there was no
<’ of another meeting with
iier’s wife or daughter. They
' Pping quietly out of the house
By ROBERT STEAD
Author of “Tf>t Cebu Tuncher"—“ Tht
HomtJltadtrj"—“ tighterj." tie.
Copyright by ROBERT STEAD
to take breakfast with the men when
Y.D. intercepted them.
"Breakfast is waitin’, boys,” he said,
and led them back into the room where
they had had supper the previous eve
ning. Y.D. ate with them, but the
meal was served by the Chinese boy.
In the yard all was jingling excite
ment. The men of the Y.D. were fra
ternally assisting Transley’s gang in
hitching up and getting nway, and
there was much bustling activity to an
accompaniment' of friendly profanity.
It was not yet six o’clock, but the sun
was. well up over the eastern ridges
that fringed the valley, and to the
west the snow-capped summits of the
mountains shone like polished ivory.
The exhilaration in the air was al
most intoxicating.
Linder quickly converted the ap
parent chaos of horses, wagons and
Implements into order; Transley had
a last word witii Y.D., and the ranch
er, shouting "Good luck, boysl Make
it a thousand tons or more,” waved
them away.
Linder glanced back at the house.
The bright sunshine had not awakened
it; it lay dreaming in its grove of cool,
green trees.
Tlie trail lay, not up the valley, but
across the wedge of foothills which di
vided the South Y.D. from the parent
stream. The ascent was therefore
much more rapid than the trails which
followed the general course of the
stream. Huge hills, shouldering to
gether, left at times only wagon-track
room between; at other places they
skirted dangerous cutbanks worn by
spring freshets, and again trekked for
long distances over gently curving up
lands. In an hour the horses were
showing the strain of it, and Linder
baited them for a momentary rest.
It was at that moment that Drazk
rode up, his face a study in obvious
annoyance.
“Danged if I ain’t left that Pete
horse’s blanket down at the Y.D.,” he
exclaimed.
“Oh, well, you can easily ride back
for it and catch up on us this after
noon,” said Linder, who was not in the
least deceived.
"Thanks, Lin,” said Drazk. HI
beat it down an’ catch up on you this
afternoon, sure,” and he was off down
the trail as fast as "that Pete-horse”
could carry him.
At the Y.D. George conducted the
search for his horse blanket in the
strangest places. It took him mainly
about the yard of the house, and even
to the kitchen door, where he Inter
viewed the Chinese boy.
“You catchee horse blanket around
here?” he inquired, with appropriate
gesticulations.
“You losee hoss blanket?”
“Yep.”
“What kind hoss blanket?”
“Jus’ a brown blanket for that Pete
horse.”
“Whose hoss?”
“Mine,” proudly.
“Where you catchee?”
“Raised him."
“Good hoss?”
“You beteba."
“Huh I”
Pause.
“You no cf tehee horse blanket, hey?”
“No!” said the Chinaman, whose
manner instantly changed. In this
brief conversation he had classified
Drazk, and classified him correctly.
“You catchee him, though —some h 1,
too—you stlckee lound here. Beat it,”
and Drazk found the kitchen door
closed in his face.
Drazk wandered slowly around the
side of the house, and was not above
a surreptitious glance through the
windows. They revealed nothing. He
followed a path out by a little gate.
His ruse had proven a blind trail, nd
there was nothing to do but go down
to the stables, take the horse blanket
from the peg where be had hung It,
and set out again for the South Y.D.
As he turned a corner of the fence
the sight of a young woman burst
upon him. She was hatless and fac
ing the sun. Drazk, for all his ad
miration of the sex, bad little eye Tor
detail. “A sort of chestnut, about
sixteen hands high, and with the look
of a thoroughbred,” he afterwards de
scribed her to Linder.
She turned at the sound of his foot
steps, and Drazk instantly summoned
a smirk which set his homely face
beaming with good humor.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, with
an elaborate bow. “lain Mr. Drazk
Mr. George Drazk —Mr. Transley’s as
sistant. No doubt he spoke of me.”
She was inside the Inclosure formed
by the fence, and he outside. She
turned on him eyes which set Drazk’s
pulses strangely a-tingle, and subject
ed him to a deliberate but not un
friendly Inspection.
“No. I don’t believe he did,” she said
at length.
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
Drazk cautiously approached, as
though wondering how near ho could
come without frightening her away.
He reached the fence and leaned Ijis
elbows on It. She showed no disposi
tion to move. He cautiously raised
one foot and rested It on the lower
rail.
“It’s a fire morning, ma’am,” he
ventured.
“Rather,” she replied. “Why aren’t
you with Mr. Trnnsley’s gang?”
The question gave George an open
ing; “Well, you see,” he said, “it’s all
on account of that Pete-horse. That’s
him down there. I rode away tills
morning and plumb forgot his blanket.
So when Mr. Transley seen it he says,
‘Drazk, take the day off an’ go back
for your blanket,’ he says. ‘There’s
no hurry,’ he says. ‘Linder an’ me ’ll
manage,’ he says.”
“Oil I”
“So here 1 am.” lie glanced at her
again. She was showing no disposition
to run away. She was about two yards
from him, along the fence. Drazk won
dered how long it would take him to
bridge that distance. Even as he
looked she leaned her elbows on the
fence and rested one of her feet on the
lower rail. Drazk fancied he saw the
muscles about her mouth pulling her
face Into little, laughing curves, but
she was gazing soberly into the dis
tance.
“He’s some horse, that i’ete-horse,”
be said, taking up the subject which
lay most ready to Ills tongue. “He’s
sure some horse.”
“I have no doubt.’’
"Yep,” Drazk continued. “Him nn’
me lias seen some times. Whew!
Things I couldn’t tell you about, at
all.”
“Well, aren’t you going to?”
Drazk glanced at her curiously.
This girl showed signs of leading him
out of Ills depth. But it was a very
delightful sensation to feel one’s self
being led out of his depth by such a
girl. Her face was motionless; her
eye r s fixed dreamily upon (be brown
prairies that swept up the flanks of
the foothills to the south. Far and
nway on their curving crests the dark
snake-line of Transley’s outfit could
be seen apparently motionless on the
rim of the horizon.
Drazk changed Ills foot on the rail
and the motion brought him six inches
nearer her.
“Well, f’r instance,” he said, spur
ring Ills imagination into action, “there
was the fellow I run down an’ shot In
the Cypress Hills.”
“Shst 1” she exclaimed, and the note
of admiration in her voice stirred him
to further flights.
“Yep,” lie continued, proudly. “Sir
an’ buried him there, right by the
road where lie fell. Only me an’ that
Pete-horse knows the spot.”
George sighed sentimentally. "It’s
awful sad, havin’ to kill a man,” he
went on, “an It makes you feel strange
an’ creepy, ’specially at nights. That
Is, the first one affects you that way,
but you soon get used to It. You see,
he Insulted—”
“The first one? Have you killed
more than one?”
“Oh yes, lots of them. A man like
me, what knocks around all over with
all sorts of people, has to do it
“Then there’s the police. After you
kill a few men nat’rally the police be
gins to worry you. I always hate to
kill a policeman.”
“It must be an Interesting life.”
“It Is, but it’s a hard one,” he said,
after a pause during which he had
changed feet again and taken up an
other six inches of the distance which
separated them. He was almost afraid
to continue the conversation. He was
finding progress so much easier than
he had expected. It was evident that
he had made a tremendous hit with
Y.D.’s daughter. What a story to tell
Linder! What would Transley say?
He wns shaking with excitement.
“It’s nn awful hard life,” he went
on, ‘‘an’ there comes a time, miss,
' when a man wants to quit It. There
comes a time when every decent man
wants to settle down. I been tlilnkln’
about that a lot lately. . , . What
do you think about it?” Drazk had
gone white. lie felt that he actually
had proposed to her.
“Might be a good idea,” she replied,
demurely.
ne changed feet again. He had gone
too far to stop. He must strike the
Iron when It wns hot. Of course he
had no desire to stop, hut it was alt
so wonderful. He could speak to her
now In a whisper.
“How about you, miss? How about
you an’ me Jus’ settlin’ down?”
She did not answer for a moment.
Then, in n low voice:
“It wouldn’t be fair to accept yon
like this, Mr. Drazk. You don’t know
anything about me.”
“An’ I don’t want to—l mean, I don’t
care what about you.”
“But It wouldn’t be fair until you
1 know,” she continued. “There are
things I'd have to tell you, and I don’t
i like to.”
She was looking downward now, and
tie fancied he could see the color ris
ing about her cheeks and her frame
trembling. He turned toward her and
extended his arms. “Tell me—tell
your own George,” he cooed.
“No," she said, with sudden rigidity.
“I can’t confess."
“Come on,” he pleaded. “Tell me.
I’ve been a bad man, too.”
She seemed to be weighing the mat
ter. “If I tell you, you will never,
never mention it to anyone?"
“Never. I swear it to you,” dra
matically raising his hand.
“Well,” she said, looking down bash
fully and making little marks with her
finger-nail in the pole on which they
were leaning, “I never told anyone be
fore, and nobody in the world knows
it except he and me, and he doesn’t
know it now either, because I killed
him. ... 1 had to do it."
“Of course you did, dear,” he mur
mured. It was wonderful tp receive a
woman’s confidence like tills.
“Yes, 1 had to kill him,” she repeat
ed. “You see, lie—he proposed to me
without being Introduced!”
It was some seconds before Drazk
felt tlie blow. It came to litm grad
ually, like returning consciousness to
a man who lias been stunned. Then
nnger swept him.
“You’re playin’ with me,” he cried.
“You’re tnukin’ a fool of niel”
“Oh, George dear, how could I?" she
protested. “Now perhaps you better
run along to that Pete-horse. He looks
lonely.”
“All right," he said, striding away
angrily. As lie walked his rage
deepened, and lie turned and shook
his fist at tier, shouting, “All right, hut
I’ll get you yet, see? You think you’re
smart, and Transley thinks lie’s smart,
but George Drazk Is smarter than
both of you. and lie’ll get you yet."
She waved her hand complacently,
but her composure laid already mad
dened him. He jerked his horse up
roughly, threw himself into tlie saddle,
and set out at n hard gallop along the
trail to tlie South Y.D.
It was mid-afternoon when he over
took Transley’s outfit, now winding
down tlie southern slope of tlie tongue
of foothills which divided the two val
leys of the Y.D. I’ete, wet over the
flanks, pulled up of ids own accord be
side Linder’s wagon.
“T.o, George,” said Linder. “What’s
your hurry?” Then, glancing at his
saddle, “Where’s jour blanket?”
Drazk’s Jaw dropped, but he had a
quick wit, although an unbalanced one.
“Well, Lin, I clean forgot all about
It,” he admitted, with a laugh, “but
when a fellow spends the morning
chatting with old Y.D.’s daughter I
guess lie’s allowed to forget a few
things.” -
“Oh 1”
“Reckon you don’t believe It, eh,
Lin? Reckon you don’t believe I stood
an’ talked for so long I just had to
pull inyself away?”
“You reckon right.”
George was thinking fast. Here wns
an opportunity to present the Incident
in a light which had not before oc
curred to him.
“Guess you wouldn’t believe she told
ine her secret —told me somethin’ she
had never told anybody else, nn’ made
me swear not to mention. Guess you
don’t believe that, neither?”
“You guess right again.” Linder
was quite unperturbed. lie knew
something of Drazk’s gift for ro
mancing.
Drazk leaned over In the saddle un
til he could reach Linder’s ear with a
loud whisper. “And she called me
‘dear’; ‘George dear,’ she said, when I
came away.”
“The h —l she did 1” said Linder, at
last prodded Into Interest. He consid
ered the “George dear” Idea a during
flight, even for Drazk. “Better not
let old Y.D. hear you spinning any
thing like that, George, or he’ll he
likely to spoil your youthful beauty.”
“Oh, Y.D.’s all right,” snld George,
knowingly. “Y.D.’s all right. Well, I
guess I’ll let Pete feed n bit here, and
then we’ll go back for his blunket.
You’ll have to excuse me a bit these
days, Lin; you know how It Is when a
fellow’s In love.”
“Huh 1” snld Linder.
Suppose Transley starts In to
cut hay and is warned off by
Landson, who Is .already at
work. What do you imagine will
happen?
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
The Faith of Woman
Scaitergood McL. Harris, the emi
nent Pittsburgh divorce lawyer, wns
praising the fuith and trust of woman.
“A young woman,” he suld, “snld to
me the other day with a laugh:
“ ‘lsn’t It simply Incredible how
'careless the post-office people are?’
“ ‘Careless?’ said I. ‘How so?’
“ ‘Why,’ she said, ‘take, for example,
the case of Pete.’ Pete was Mr rich
and prorilgute young husband. ‘Here’s
Pete,’ she went on, ‘being kept In that
nasty, dirty city of Altoona, hard at
work In the rolling mills for the past
month, and every blessed letter I get
from him is postmarked Palm Beach.' “
GOOD PI
RQAgSjgl
MOTORISTS PAYING
FOR BETTER ROADS
(By WILLIAM O. EDENS, President Illinois
Highway Improvement Association.)
It is a trite but true saying that tlie
motor car Is responsible for good
ronds ns we know tlieni In the year
1924 in the United States.
There Is no place in tlie country
where tills Is more true than in Illi
nois. In tlie current year motorists
will pay In license fees to the state
alone approximately $10,000,000 for
tlie maintenance and building of
roads.
Nearly every city In tlie state levies
a wheel tax against motor vehicles.
It Is probably safe to say that tlie ag
gregate 1924 nnullclpal wheel tax col
lected In Illinois will be $5,000,(XX).
Thus the motorists of tlie state will
pay approximately $15,000,000 this
year for roads and streets.
It Is claimed by some experts In
taxation that this Is a special lax, and
that tlie legislation responsible for it
Is class legislation. Ejpwever that may
be, It Is an historic fact that organi
zations representing the motorists
of tlie state were the first to propose
and agree that such a tax should he
levied, In order that the state might
be saved from the. terrible transporta
tion conditions under which it labored
until the modern businesslike method
of road Improvement was evolved.
It has become a habit of some later
day advocates of good roads to claim
pioneership and to assert that what
ever progress has been made In the
state Is due solely to their initiative
and efforts. The transition which Illi
nois Is now experiencing Is due to a
movement started by motorists and
not by politicians, and Is the natural
outcome and continuation of a road
building effort that was created more
than a dozen years ago.
It may be Interesting at tills time,
therefore, to give a brief sketch of the
good ronds movement that lias brought
to Illinois many hundreds of miles of
concrete and other permanent pave
ments in place of mud, sand and clay
that were prevalent In (he early purt
of the present century.
Road and Ditch Machine
Lessens Strain on Team
In addition to being durably con
structed and adapted for operation In
either soft or hard ground, this scraper
Road and Ditch Machino.
Is provided on Its under side with seml
cylindrlcal runners which not only de
crease the strain upon the horses but
also do aw r ay with the necessity of
holding onto the bandies while the load
Is being taken to the dump. E. Allen
and F. Allen, Clure, Mich., are the In
ventors.
Plan Road Schools for
Pan-American Delegates
Forty delegates will be brought to
this country from Pan-American coun
tries to make an Intensive “shirt
sleeves” study of highways and high
way transport under the terms of a
plan approved by government, auto
motive, road machinery, road material
and banking representatives at a
meeting held In New York.
The proposal as outlined by Assist
ant Secretary of Commerce J. Walter
Drake, T. H. MacDonald, chief of
the United States bureau of public
roads, and Dr. G. Sherwell, secretary
general of the Inter-American high
commission, provides that the men to
be Invited will be named here, and all
of their expenses will be paid by pri
vate subscription.
The Immediate purpose Is to give
the delegates a sufficient understand
ing of developed highway transport to
enable them to participate actively In
the Pan-American Hlghvvuy congress
proposed at the hist meeting of the
Pan-American Union and which wilt
he held as a separate project In 1024.
The ultimate objective is the promo
tion of closer relations between the
United States and the other countries
of the Americas.
Roy D. Chapin, Hudson-Essex com
pany; VV. A. Beatty, Austin Manufac
turing company, and Fred I. Kent,
Bankers’ Trust company, were named
as an executive committee. Details
In this country will be handled by the
highway education bourd. S. T.
Henry, formerly of the Englr.eerlng-
News-Record, will manage the project.