Newspaper Page Text
GUNLOCK RANCH
By Frank H. Spearman
Copyright Frank H. Spearman
WNU Service
CHAPTER XlV—Continued
—2l—
—a chance that rarely favors des
perate measures, Denison sprawled
from the final leap across the bridge
gap into a fringe of sand and wil
lows that overgrew the eastern bridge
approach.
Threading the undergrowth on his
trembling horse, Denison got away
from the bridge as fast as he could;
somebody was still throwing rifle
sings toward it; but once away from
the danger point, he lost no time In
making himself heard. Out on the old
trail the steers, alarmed by the shoot
ing, and worried secretly by the two
Indians, were milling, and McCrossen,
shouting and cursing, was trying to
bring order out of the confusion.
Denison, from the willows, called
loudly, “Who’s driving these cattle?”
“The man that owns ’em,” shouted
McCrossen, riding out into the open,
fifty yards away. “Who the hell are
you, hidin’ in that brush? If you’re a
man, show yourself.”
Denison pushed into the open.
“You're driving this bunch, McCros
sen?”
“I am. What do you want, Deni
son?” he demanded angrily.
“I want these steers, McCrossen. 3
And I want you.”
“These steers belong to me for
wages, an’ I’ve got twice as many back
there yet. Now I’ve got just one
word for you, Denison: Get out of my
way an’ keep out of my way.”
“If you've got any rights in these
cattle, turn ’em back to the Meadows
and lay your claim for wages before
the Stockmen’s Claims Board,” retort
ed Denison.
“What the hell’s all this to you? Do
you claim ’em?” demanded McCrossen
savagely.
“I don’t claim a hoof, but I want to
talk with you. McCrossen, before you
jump to the Panhandle.”
“What about?”
“About who fired my ranch house
and about Henry Sawdy.”
“Tryin’ to pick a quarrel with me,
eh, Denison? Well, you needn’t try
■very hard. I don’t like you, Denison. I
never did. I never had any use for
you. Now will you pull off these bums
that are millin’ my steers?”
“Will you head ’em back for the
Meadows and talk to me?”
"No!”
i “No 1”
The two refusals were fast. But
while the second was being uttered,
Rebstock cried, “Crowd him, Dave!”
and fired at Denison.
The next instant three horsemen
were plunging at one another on rear
ing horses and throwing their shots at
one another in a very uncertain light.
Retreat was out of the thinking.
Denison, caught between the two
men, was forced to divide his fire.
With a blow stinging his left arm, he
jumped his horse past the two, whirled,
and came back outside, with McCros
sen shooting at him fast. The maneu
ver of Denison’s put McCros m into
Rebstock’s line of fire.
But hardly had Denison whirled
when he felt a sickening blow in the
stomach from McCrossen’s gun, hard
ly ten yards away. He had been
crouching on his horse’s back and was
already stirrup-loose. He slid off and
rolled like a cat toward the brush.
Rebstock saw the trick but, forgetting
that a wounded man is the most dan
gerous man, he yelled and spurred
straight at him.
The horse refused the smell of
blood. He shied. Rebstock spurred
him. As the horse reared, the feeble
light of the moon struck, for an instant,
Rebstock’s features. In that instant
Denison fired point-blank at him.
The blow was terrible. Rebstock’s
arms jerked high, and his gun flew
into the air. He sprang convulsively
upward, toppled and, as his frightened
horse whirled, lurched from the sad
dle to the ground. He never spoke
again.
Fully expecting that McCrossen
would ride in to finish him, Denison
flipped open the loading gate of his
gun instinctively, and punched out the
empty shells.
His head in a whirl, expecting that
any instant McCrossen would be on
him, Denison tried to reload. Just as
he got the cartridge into his revolver,
he caught the sound of a horse’s hoofs
and then heard Bob Scott calling.
“Here, Bob.” exclaimed Denison
from the brush. “Look out for Mc-
Crossen.”
Scott slipped off his horse. “Mc-
Crossen won’t bother for a while. Are
you hit. Bill?”
“I stopped a couple of slugs some
how. What about McCrossen?” he
asked irritably.
“He’s lyin’ over by the bridge. He
wants to talk to you. Bill.”
“Twist a tourniquet around this arm
before I try it, Bob. Don’t trust Mc-
Crossen. Have you got his guns? He’d
Hke nothing better than another crack
at me,” muttered Denison, staggering,
with Scott's help, to his feet.
“McCrossen’s stripped clean,” de
clared Scott. “He’s dyin’. That’s the
plain truth. Can’t you make up your
mind to see what he wants?”
“Go ahead. But give me my gun and
watch out,” muttered Denison.
In the light of the moon, McCrossen,
propped up by Frying Pan, reclined
•gainst the trunk of a half-grown tree.
His eyes were closed.
“Here’s Bill, Dave,” Scott spoke low
and gently. “You said you wanted to
speak to him.”
“Yes, Dave?” said Denison, halt
ingly.
“I'm done, Bill.”
“Dave,” exclaimed Denison, “I’m
sorry it had to end this way.”
“I talked pretty rough tonight,” said
McCrossen, brokenly, spitting the blood
out of his throat.
"That’s all right, Dave.”
“Didn’t really mean it all. You’ve
always shot square, Bill. If some folks
I’ve trained with had done that way,
I mightn’t be here tonight. Bill, a
favor —” ,
“Go on, Dave.”
“I’ve got an old-maid sister back
East. She’s all I’ve got. I'd hate her
to know this come, rustlin', Bill.”
“It’ll never be said, Dave.”
“Let it be a straight-out fight, Bill—
you know.”
“I know, Dave; I know. What’s her
address?”
“In my trunk, Bill,” murmured Mc-
Crossen thickly. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Give me —your hand.”
Pardaloe was the first to reach Gun
lock on the way home shortly before
gHWIIpSS
Ms® myth
J ~Wwol
“I Know, Dave; I Know. What’s
Her Address?”
daylight. He rode In on his way to
town to get hold of Dr. Carpy for Den
ison, whose condition worried him.
Fortunately the surgeon was al
ready at Gunlock, whither he had been
summoned to care for Sawdy.
With Sawdy’s flesh wound already
bandaged, Carpy sat in the living room,
drinking a pot of coffee supplied by
Jane.
He was enjoying in leisurely fashion
his third or fourth cup of steaming
stimulant when the sound of hoofs was
heard. In a moment a resounding rap
came at the door.
Jane started. In terrified appeal, she
looked at the doctor. Carpy responded
by calmly wiping his lips.
“Who's there?” he demanded curtly.
"Bill Pardaloe!” came the response.
Carpy flung the door open.
Jane ran out of the bedroom. “Oh.
Mr. Pardaloe!” she cried. “Where is
Bill? Where is he?”
“He's on his way back to the hos
pital.”
“Is he hurt? Is he w’ounded? Tell
me!” cried the frantic girl.
“Why, no. yes that is, he was
aimin’ to get back to the hospital be
fore Doc found .out he was gone,” par
ried the veteran awkwardly.
Carpy intervened sternly: “Where Is
he now? Talk, Bill!”
“Ain’t I talkin’? He's on the way
here with Bob Scott.”
“Then he’s not hurt?” cried Jane.
“Why, no, yes—a little, maybe,”
stammered Pardaloe.
Telescope Reveals Objects in the Fog,
Clouds or Darkness; Patent Is Allowed
Battleships concealed behind
smoke screens, airplanes hiding
above clouds—in fact, all sorts of
objects, such as airports, buildings,
mountains whether enveloped in
fog, smoke clouds or total darkness
—are made visible, it is claimed,
by a new kind of “telescope ap
paratus” described in a United
States patent recently granted to
a Dallas, Texas, inventor.
The telescope, Science Service
says, is intended to penetrate
through visible obstructions by
transposing a reflected noise pic
ture of the concealed object into a
half-tone, ghostlike picture visible
on a ground glass screen. Sound
which readily penetrates smoke,
clouds, fog and darkness would be
literally made to see.
The invention intended to make
this possible includes a sound gen
erator which looks like an anti-air
craft searchlight. But, unlike the
latter, it projects a beam of high
frequency sound waves produced by
a siren. The operator sweeps the
sky or horizon with the sound beam
as he watches a translucent screen
before him. When the sound beam
strikes anything a picture of it
shows up on the screen.
The picture is obtained this way:
When the sound vibrations strike
an object—for example, a battle
ship—they are deflected and modi
fied in varying intensities according
to the shape and structure of the
ship. These deflected vibrations are
picked up by a sound receiver and
focused on a light controlling panel.
The panel is literally peppered
THE SUMMERVILLE NEWS: THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1936
“Where you from?” demanded Car
py, still stern.
“Deep Creek.”
“Was there a fight?”
“There was a little brush, Doc.”
“Was Denison wounded?”
“Why—l guess he was pinked, Doc,
yes.”
“Where was he hit?” demanded
Carpy.
“In the forearm, Doc. We got a tour
niquet on that —he got another in the
stomach.”
Carpy felt the force of the disclos
ure. “Is he bleeding at the mouth?”
he thundered.
“Why, no, Doc. But he claims he’s
all in.”
“We’ll bring him out, if that’s all.
Who was in the fight? Talk fast!”
“Dave McCrossen and Barney—with
Bill.”
“Where are McCrossen and Reb
stock?”
“Right where they were when John
Fryin’ Pan left me. He was oil his
way to the Reservation to hunt up a
couple of bucks to bury ’em and bring
in the cattle,” said Pardaloe in mat
ter-of-fact fashion.
“Sit down here, Bill. Jane,” direct
ed the doctor, “get the boy a pot of
coffee.”
“And boil plenty of clean water on
the stove.”
‘‘Yes, doctor. Bill is going to stop
here on the way in, isn’t he, Mr. Pard
aloe?” asked Jane, tremulously.
Pardaloe nodded. “Ought to show
up after while. They’re ridin’ kind of
slow.”
Jane ran to the kitchen. She roused
Quong to heat the water and came
back with supplies.
“No,” continued Pardaloe, deep in
a saucer of hot coffee, “I didn’t see
it. I was over on the west side of the
creek —it's bad there. I don’t
know how Bill came up. They never
copld-a got him across down there. We
cut over the reservation and plugged
for Gunlock —” He pricked up his ears
and interrupted himself. “Shucks!
That sounds like somebody now!”
Jane listened eagerly. “I can’t hear
anyone,” she said.
“You will in a minute. There they
are again.”
Jane ran for the door. “Hold on a
minute, Missy,” exclaimed Pardaloe.
“Let’s make sure who it is.”
He opened the door himself, stepped
quickly outside, and shut it behind
him. Within a very few minutes, ages
to Jane, she heard the stamping of
horses. Pardaloe flung the door open
and called for Carpy. Jane hurried
out with him.
Drooping low, Denison, iron-willed,
had stuck to the end of the gruelling
ride. Scott told how they had followed
up the east bank of the creek—he
himself on Rebstock’s horse; how by
great good fortune they had found a
flask of whisky in Rebstock’s saddle
bag, and that this had helped revive
the wounded man when they halted
to “spell” him; and how they had
crossed Deep Creek at a reservation
ford not far below Gunlock ranch.
Carpy and Pardaloe lifted Denison
down from the horse. Jane supported
his heaf and stooped to caress him
and murmur low words. They laid him
on her bed.
While Carpy tore open Denison’s
clothing and made a hasty examina
tion, buckets of hot water were
brought in.
The surgeon, with wearied back,
presently straightened up. “Jane,” he
said solemnly, “you’re a lucky girl.
The bullet that meant death for your
boy struck his belt buckle and tore
around his side. Look here. This was
all I was afraid of, this stomach wound.
I didn’t think so much about Bill,
here. But, Jane. I didn’t want you
fixing for a funeral when you ought
to be fixing for a wedding! We’ll get
him back to the hospital in a few
days.”
“Oh, no, Doctor,” exclaimed Jane
unsteadily, but with cold decision.
“Why, what do you mean, girl?”
“I mean he’s at Gunlock to stay.
He's never going to leave it!”
(THE END)
with cells, each of which consists oi
a short tube in which a highly pol
ished reflecting diaphragm and a
mirror having two transparent
strips are mounted in opposite ends,
thereby forming a chamber within
the tube.
The diaphragm in each cell vi
brates with an intensity correspond
ing to the reflected sound waves
focused upon it. This vibration
varies a narrow beam of light ad
mitted in the chamber of each cell
through one of the transparent
strips. Here the light beam, as it
bounces back and forth between
diaphragm and mirror, is deflected
and spread until it reaches the sec
ond slit in the mirror, through which
it is projected on the ground glass
screen. Upon striking the screen
the light beams emitted by the cells
are diffused in proportion to their
deflections.
Thus each cell forms an element
in a sound picture of the battleship
which is transposed into a corre
sponding visible picture element.
With the simultaneous projection of
these elements on the screen a
composite, half-tone picture, some
what coarse, of the battleship be
comes visible.
The cells are so constructed that
their diaphragms will yibrate only
to sounds of predetermined fre
quency to which the device is
“tuned” or set to receive.
The inventor states that his in
vention may also be used in landing
airplanes, in navigating ships, in
fighting fires, when fog, smoke and
darkness cut off visibility.
ThelUaMoO-O'
(l/l Tales and
Traditions
jS-t from American.
TkSBBfSv Political History
O! L -jBM FRANK E. HAGEN
11 ELMO scon WATSON
HOW’RE YOU BETTING
THOSE loose old days, before
betting was considered illegal,
brought considerable wagering on
the results of presidential cam
paigns—the amounts at stake fre
quently totalling millions.
It was back in that era, 1908 to
be specific, that brokers making
book on the election actually record
ed 60,000 to 1 against the chances
of one of the candidates. The long
shot entry was Eugene V. Debs,
perennial Socialist candidate.
That same campaign demonstrat
ed that the professional odds-layers
knew considerable about their busi
ness. In September, 1908, Taft was
the 2 to 1 favorite over Bryan;
by October the odds lengthened to
3 to 1 and on election day Taft’s
chances were rated at 8 to 1, with
few takers.
Anyone who believes the pro
fessional wagerers are infallible
should thumb back the record to
1916 when it is estimated from five
to ten million dollars changed
hand on the result.
Wilson and Hughes were the
leading contenders, with Wilson on
the inside track because he was
ur for re-election. In September,
1916, the financial district in New
York was betting 2 to 1 on Hughes.
In October the odds were 10 to
7 and even money was placed the
day of election.
Closeness of the contest, in doubt
for days until California returns
moved into the Wilson column,
perhaps was excuse for the error
in judgment by the financiers.
They may be wrong again in
1936 but perhaps it would be well
for readers to confine themselves
to freak bets, if any at all are
made. Perhaps the most ingenious
of these occurred in that same 1916
election.
A man, apparently three sheets
in the wind, strolled into a com
missioner’s office, bet $5 he could
name 20 states Wilson would car
ry. He then bet $lO he could name
ten additional states. Then he of
fered S2O he could name still an
other 10 states.
“And now,” he announced, “here’s
SSO says I can name eight states
more for W : ’son.”
When the rush to take him sub
sided, the bettor, miraculously so
bered, named his states. The
“pitch” of his game was that he
reserved eight states of the solid
South as the block on which the
SSO wager was laid. He could not
fail to win at least sls!
ALLISON OF IOWA
FIRST honors for “coming close”
to the presidency, although he
is minus even the standing of an
“also-ran,” must be awarded Wil
liam B. Allison of lowa.
Allison’s doubtful honor came to
him at the Republican convention
of 1888, which ended finally with
the nomination of Benjamin Harri
son, later elected President.
Delegates to the convention had
balloted ineffectually for several
candidates when a four-hour recess
was taken to permit a counting of
noses. Delegates from New York,
Illinois, California, Wisconsin,
Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, lowa
and Missouri, went into conference.
Representatives from each of
these states were practically em
powered to act for the entire state
delegation. Senator Hoar of Mass
achusetts spoke in favor of Alli
son of lowa after several of the
candidates had been discussed. It
was finally agreed that Allison’s fit
ness for the high job was apparent
and that he should get the support
of the conferring states.
New York state had been repre
sented, however, by only three of
its four delegates-at-large. The
three who agreed on Allison failed
to reckon with their absent col
league, Chauncey Depew, the
rapier-worded banqueteer.
Depew was president of a rail
road at the time. He had been
supported as a candidate but was
forced to withdraw because of
farm belt opposition to the rail
roads. Much of the opposition to
him had come from lowa and so
he turned thumbs-down on Allison.
Subsequent events proved that if
Depew had not balked, the con
ferring states would have nominat
ed Allison and he would have been
elected President in place of Har
rison.
The ironical part of this personal
catastrophe is that Allison’s stature
measured fully as high as the job
demanded. He had moved out to
lowa as a young lawyer, served
eight years in the lower house of
congress and, beginning in 1872,
was a United States senator from
the Tall Corn state for an unbroken
period of 35 years.
(g) Western Newspaper Union.
Britain Traces 1776 Failure
The British attribute their fail
ure in our Revolution to the fact
that, according to them, it was
largely a naval war and the Eng
lish fleet lacked its usual dash and
enterprise. Their armies failed on
land for want of proper support
from the sea and Yorktown’s sur
render was due to the actual, if
temporary, loss of the command
of the sea, with Paul Jones harry
ing the English at their own doors.
Hobby to Restore Youth
An elderly Minneapolis man for
got old age and bio'J. pressure,
and went a long way toward re
covering his youth by building
a miniature tabernacle of Moses,
according to biblical specifica
tions.
His experience is not far differ
ent from that of all who have
discovered the life-giving value of
a hobby, who know that in a lei
sure time vocation, be it ever so
nutty, there is relaxation, zest and
profound satisfaction. —Minnea
polis Star.
SOUPS
16 of
kinds
FINER
FLAVOR
I I
l-.nkw AND TOT THEY COSt OI
ONE-FOURTH LESS!
MEAT PERFECT
AFTER 8 YEARS
IN OPEN ROOM
Someone should tell Mr. “Belleve-
It-or-Not” Ripley this story that
comes from John S. Hill, store
keeper In South Carolina. “I have
now hanging on the back door of my
store,” he writes, “a strip of meat
smoked with FIGARO Condensed
Smoke EIGHT YEARS ago. This
piece of meat is ribbed belly, about
18 inches long and 6 inches wide. It
is firm, sweet and sound as a dol
lar — neither rancid nor spoiled in
any manner, and has kept perfectly
these eight years. FIGARO is the
finest thing I have ever seen for
smoking meat. I have been using it
ever since it was
first put on the
\ market.”
Ksfa I (Signed)
gak « John S. Hill.
W Mr. Hill has to
jL-A buy the meat he
Wjfe/gK-j/ cures, so he can-
~~ J not afford to lose
any of it. Yet the
average farm
< does lose SO Ihs.
■ ? ever y y ear > be-
cause the meat
S.E. COLGIN j s no i thorough-
ly smoked. Dur
ing cold weather,
keeping meat Is a simple matter.
But when summer comes, or a warm
spell during the winter, look out.
Rancidness develops. You suddenly
find the meat alive with "skippers,”
or worms. Green mold appears on
It Or It dries out and hardens.
Thorough smoking is the only
known way to prevent all these
troubles. But how? Everyone knows
how uncertain the old smokehouse
method is. Other so-called smoking
methods, or substitutes for smok-
THE FIGARO Co. DALLAS,TEX.
Manufacturers of Smoke Products
FIGARO Condensed Smoke-Barbecue Smoke Sauce-Sausage Seasoning
POCKETS By GLUYAS WILLIAMS
FEELS SYRA'NBE AND ON- PUfc CLEAN HANDKERMifF SAFES MYO SIDE WKEf LOWS OYER COUECfiON
CONFORfaBLE IN HIS NW W BREASI FOCKEf, ALSO A WAP OF SIRW&, I"UE OF CIRCULARS. PICftRE
SUNDAY SUrf A FOUNTAIN PEN AND FLIERS HE WANES 1b REftltN POSftARDS, MOVIE PRO6W
HALF A DOZEN "PENCIL ft EDDIE SELZER, AND AN AND ADMISSION
SfUBS APPLE 1o BAY LMIER SEE WHAY Yo DISCARD
vJaj MI <3O XUJ/
\ 111 ill/ Vll/r
SftFFS "WEM AU, ft* HAS A YrOVBLE .... A,, . .
EEfHER WIIU.POCKEY GEECiNS A YOP, H>s HAR - SEPMA
BOOK AND AN OLD BOlt MONICA AND A FEW MORE ° R £,
UtfO INSIDE PoCXEY BWlf®U-
WONf HAVE ft USE CLEAN ONE
From a MEDICAL JOURNAL
THIS: ABOUT COLDS! it
91
“The researches
(of these doctors) C 9
led them to believe that colds result from an acid
condition of the body. To overcome this they
prescribe various alkalies.” That’s why, today...
LODEN'S 5/
NOW CONTAIN AN
ALKALINE FACTOR
ing, are likewise risky. How can you
tell whether or not the meat is thor
oughly smoked? But If you want to
■-TrlworW
r
Igk j ' il|||
be SURE all your meat will keep
perfectly right through the summer
months, wash It thoroughly after
it comes out of the cure and brush
FIGARO Condensed Smoke over
every square Inch. FIGARO pene
trates. It keeps meat from drying
out. It positively PREVENTS skip
pers, green mold, or rancidness.
Flavor? You’ll say the meat is the
finest you ever ate. And the cost is
less than one-third cent per pound I
HAS SMOKED OVER TWO
BILLION POUNDS OF MEAT
More than 30 years ago, S. Eu
gene Colgin, Texas farmer boy, dis
covered how to condense smoke t 4
liquid form. With addition of a sets
ingredients to improve the flavor,
etc., it is called FIGARO Condensed
Smoke. Since then, FIGARO has
been used to smoke more than two
billion pounds of meat! Your dealer
lias it, or can get it; in 32-oz. size
(enough for 500 lbs.), $1.50; or the
16-oz. size, (enough for 250 lbs.),
SI.OO. But DON’T TAKE CHANCES t
Use FIGARO on every pound this
year.—Adv.