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Mountain man
A Vidian Serial
OH C. Vnr.-WNU Sarvtea By HAROLD CHANNING WIRE
SYNOPSIS
Jim Cotter, forest ranger, had been mys
teriously killed In the pursuit of his duties.
Gordon Breck, his best friend, takes over
Cotter’s-, job, hoping to avenge his mur
der. "Dad” Cook, forest superintendent,
warns Breck that the Tillson brothers,
mountain moonshiners, are apt to give
him trouble. Before leaving for his moun
tain station, Breck buys an outfit and de
'tides to attend the public dance run by
the Tlllsons in Lone Tree. Breck dances
with Louise Temple, pretty “cowgirl" for
whom he takes a liking. Unknown to
Breck, she is being courted by Art Till
son, youngest of the three Tillson brothers.
Angered by Breck’s attentions to the girl,
he picks a fight which ends indecisively
when someone sets fire to the hall. Breck
and his chief set out for the mountain
station. Halfway, they are met by Sierra
Slim, moss-back mountaineer who is also
in the forest service. Breck leams from
Sierra that tracking down Jim Cotter's
murderer must be done cautiously. Cook,
Breck and Sierra continue their ascent of
the mountains. They sight the Tlllsons,
returning to their hideaway. Next day.
Cook sends Breck and Sierra in one di
rection to repair the telephone line, while
he takes another. Sierra tells Breck more
about Louise Temple. "That kid’s a thor
oughbred," he says. He also believes that
Art Tillson is not essentially “bad,” but is
the victim of circumstances. Breck Is di
rected to go to Rock House Meadow, his
permanent base. On his way, he is the
target of a pistol shot from an unseen
assailant. The bullet misses, but his
frightened pack animals bolt and Breck
goes in pursuit. Finding a deserted cabin,
he takes shelter from the rain. A mo
ment later the three Tillson brothers ar
rive and Breck hides in the cabin loft.
Breck hears the three discuss a plot against
his life. Walting his chance, Breck sur
prises the brothers and holds them at the
point of his gun. Jud, the oldest brother,
offers a bribe if Breck will "make no
trouble." Breck pretends to take the offer
under consideration, lets the men go.
Breck’s duty is to take count at the annual
cattle drive at Rock House Meadow. There
he meets Louise Temple who is running
her own cattle. Trapped in a narrow canyon
before the onrushing steers. Breck's quick
action saves her from being trampled. He
takes her to his cabin over Art Tillson’s
protest.
CHAPTER X—Continued
She started at the sound of her
own name softly spoken. Her dark
eyes met his searchingly. “Why?”
At once Breck realized there was
no explainable reason for his as
surance. He hesitated and Louise
spoke first.
“No pity, thank you. I didn’t fish
for that. I’m a ranch woman now,
and I’m going to make money at it.
Sometimes I’m sure that’s the most
important thing anyway.”
Breck answered bluntly from the
depths of his own experience. “It
isn’t!”
“You seem to know.”
’ “I do.”
She leaned back from the table
and away from him. Color of ex
citement left her cheeks, her eyes
held Only their level gaze.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Why
are yflu here?”
With regret Breck felt their warm
contact of common interest slip
away. “I’m a forest ranger,” he
answered, “working at my job.”
I Outside a thunder of hoofs sound
ed over the meadow. He stood up
and opened the door. The drive was
coming through the opposite canyon
notch, spreading in a great dark
wedge into the bowl until, reaching
the drift fence, it halted.
Louise left the bunk and stood be
side Breck. “I guess your job has
come,” she said, “and mine too.”
“I’ll turn this cabin over to you
tonight,” Breck offered. “You'll rest
better.”
“Don’t you think it! I’ve learned
to rest with my back on a rock
pile, if only my face is to the stars.”
She smiled, adding, “Thanks just
the same. An Indian boy is bring
ing my camp pack. I always spread
it near the creek above this sta
tion. Cowhands camp on the mead
ow.”
The boy came before dark, lead
ing a mule and the girl’s blue horse.
Breck watched her ride up stream
until her small figure vanished in
a shelter of pine.
For two hours, while he moved
his possessions into his room, he
could hear a rumble of cattle en
tering the meadow. It was eight
o’clock before the last of them
poured in and cowboys’ fires be
gan to pierce the shadows.
By nine full dark had come. He
went to the telephone hung in its
Iron box on a post just outside the
cabin door, cranked four rings to
call headquarters, and when Cook
answered, gave his report. “The
drive is in, Dad. I’m going out now
and take a swing around.”
“All right,” the ranger’s voice re
turned. “One circle ought to be
enough. Show yourself in a few
camps to let them know you’re at
it.”
> Breck hung up, mounted Kit and
sat scanning the meadow bowl.
Campfires were mostly at the fur
ther end, near where the black mass
of cattle lay against the drift fence.
His eyes swept those camps, the&.
continuing back of the station, feu
upon one alone and not far away.
Even as he watched, the light
blinked as one figure crossed in
front of the flames, then another.
He wheeled his horse, stopped.
None of his business who was up
there. He shouldn’t see the girl
again tonight. But that feeling of
dissatisfavtiwi was still upon him,
dully irritable. He moved ahead,
reasoning fee would on!} ride by on
At his side the stream talked nois
ily, human in its wide range of
tone, from low guttural voices to
silvery laughter. It covered the
sound of his horse’s hoofs and also
any words that might have come
from the camp, until abruptly a
man’s quick retort broke through.
There was anger in its suddenness,
and a threat in the silence that fol
lowed.
With no hesitation Breck pushed
past the thicket and into the girl’s
camp. He saw Louise sitting on her
'saddle, chin propped in both hands,
Art Tillson standing before her. Till
son whirled as he approached and
on his face was jealous rage.
Breck looked at the girl. “How
are you, Louise?”
“She’s all right!” Art cut in.
“Don’t need anything now.” With
scoffing sarcasm, he added,
“Thanks for cornin’ up!” Then he
turned his back.
■Louise lifted her face to Breck,
but he could not read through the
White faces swung in his direction.
shadows upon it. She might be tell
ing him to go.
Art wheeled. “Well?” he snapped.
Breck dismounted, dropped his
reins and cast a casual gaze about.
The girl had a comfortable camp;
bed roll laid on dry pine needles, a
small fire for cooking lighted be
tween two rocks, and a larger blaze
for warmth. When his eyes returned
to Art Tillson, he saw a set determi
nation tightening on the boy’s jaw.
“If you’ve been sneakin’ around,”
Art blurted, “I suppose you heard
what I said just now.”
Breck had heard only indistinct
words and the heated retort, but
replied, “If you don’t want the whole
meadow to know your business,
don’t yell so loud.”
Art took a step toward him with
fists doubled. “All right, I meant
what you heard. Suppose we settle
it here. Just take off your badge
and I’ll muss up that smooth face
of yours. There ain’t anyone to pull
the lights out on us like they did
down below. We’ll go through with
it!”
Breck guessed what he was sup
posed to have overheard. Some jeal
ous boast before Louise. He looked
at young Tillson, more amused than
angry. There was little enough to
be jealous about. What could be set
tled by a fist fight? Nothing; unless
Louise thought he was a coward.
She stood up. Breck shifted his
glance to her, met her eyes and
searched them, yet felt nothing in
their level gaze.
“Look here, Art,” he said at last,
“you and I have nothing to settle
with fists. One of us gets whipped
tonight—tomorrow things are back
where we started.”
“Yeah, but someone hereabouts
would know who’s the best man.”
Breck laughed. “She can proba
bly tell that without a battle. And
if you want to ask her, I’ll be on my
way.” He paused, one foot lifted to
his stirrup. “Just one thing. Don’t
say you backed me down. You’d
have to prove that later.”
Art shrugged indifferently. Argu
ment had cooled him somewhat and
had drawn the flush of rage from
his face. He rolled a cigarette, and
also went to his horse.
“You’re pretty good at talkin’,
mister,” he flung back. “I reckon
I’ll have to go packin’ a dictionary
instead of a six-gun!”
He mounted in a lithe spring,
doffed his hat to Louise, let his
horse rear once and dashed away,
proudly erect and showing his full
sense of victory.
As Breck swung to his saddle Lou
ise crossed the firelight to him.
"You did a fine thing just now, Gor
don Breck, and I thank you for it.
Don’t consider why I say so—you
might only make a wrong guess.”
With that she turned away and
Breck rode from her camp. She
had thanked him for keeping out of
trouble with Art. She had thanked
him for Art’s sake! In spite of her
asking him not to, he did consider
why she had said it; and guessed
the only thing possible. She was in
love with the boy.
He shook off a stab of jealousy.
Why shouldn’t she be? Art was
handsome. He was hot-headed and
looking for trouble most of the time,
but no fool. Probably would make
something of the cattle business if
he had the chance. He wondered
if Louise knew about the other busi
ness. Os course she did.
Truth came suddenly. She knew
and was trying to pull him out!
His hands clenched the saddle
horn. Savagely he asked, “What’s
all this to you? You didn’t come for
a girl!”
He had ridden preoccupied, with
sight dimmed by visions of a small
dark face, until now, abruptly,
something pulled him back to his
job. His horse, going for a time un
guided, had with keen instinct fol-
lowed fresh marks that would have
been undiscovered from the saddle.
Breck’s first warning was an odor
of dust and sweat that pierced the
fragrance of pine. He halted, peer
ing ahead. The ridge had come to
a short notch, with Rock House
Meadow down on the left and a
stringer of green running into brok
en, wooded country to the right.
Wind was blowing from the stringer,
bearing that unmistakable stench of
cows. Still there was no sound of
their movement. But vzhen he rode
out on the strip of grass, where
trees parted and starlight fell
through, tracks of many animals
were plain enough.
He followed in the direction they
had gone, saw the stringer begin to
widen, with pines sweeping away
and a stream forming itself from
boggy ground, then came suddenly
to the edge of a small pothole mead
ow. A black huddle of steers showed
against the floor.
Breck approached slowly, circling
to pick up the night rider. These
animals were too well quieted to be
alone. He shifted in his saddle, and
then like a trumpet-blare in the si
lence, an old cow bawled at him.
White faces swung in his direc
tion; horns tossed above the dark
mass. It began to move, suddenly,
like a great pool of water released.
He spurred Kit upward to pre
vent the'drive from going over the
Diver Takes Walk in Undersea Forest
While Searching for Long Lost Vessel
Have you ever wandered alone
through the green, silent depths of
a dim forest? It’s an eerie experi
ence. But it’s like walking down a
busy street compared with wander
ing through a nightmarish forest
discovered by John Childs—a for
est which no man but he has en
tered, save through the gates of
death, observes a writer in Pear
son’s London Weekly.
Peopled by fearsome monsters,
its green silence is enough to strike
awe into anyone’s heart. For this
forest lies 240 feet under water, on
the sea-bed off Green Cape, New
South Wales, where Childs, a deep
sea diver, was searching for the
sunken steamer Cumberland.
Childs found the submarine for
est when, losing his bearings, he
was dragged over the hard sand of
the sea bed. Suddenly he saw,
through the dark green water, just
ahead of him, what he describes
as “the black shape of a fantastic
forest,” made up of gently-swaying
deep-sea undergrowth about 12 feet
high.
As he walked into it, mutton-fish
and sharks swam around him, and
octopuses crawled about on the
sands. Then came the most star
tling spectacle of all In the heart
BAKER COUNT? NEWS
saddle. Simultaneously a rider
broke from the herd and dashed into
the nearest pines. Breck raced aft
er him. Blackness of the forest
closed in. He could hear the other
horse scramble over rock, tried to
follow, came to a granite barrier. A
game trail must be there, but it was
a blind thing, and he was blocked.
Behind him, a stampede had started
in the meadow.
Wheeling, he cut back across the
upper end as a wave of cattle
reached it, and plunging into them,
turned the rush downward. Once
on the move they were easily han
dled. As they quieted to a walk, he
flashed a light on the flanks of those
nearest. The brands were varied,
yet one appeared on more than half
the lot. JGJ. Satisfied, Breck fell
back, pushed the bunch rapidly
down the canyon and in an hour
shoved them into the main herd at
Rock House.
Campfires still glowed there.
Breck went to one close by, swung
off and squatted on the ground with
a half a dozen cowhands.
A gray-whisker offered greetings
for all. “Howdy, Ranger?” He
turned to a boy at his side. “Dud,
cut off a steak and stick it on the
fire.”
“I ate awhile ago,” Breck said.
“Thanks.” And to the boy. “Don’t
bother, son.” He traded news a mo
ment before asking, “Who’s outfit
is the JGJ?”
“JGJ?” the boss repeated.
“That’s Jackson, John G. Looking
for old John G., are you?”
“Yes,” Breck answered, “I’d like
to see him. Camped near here?”
A lean, worn finger pointed into
the night. “Yonder. See a fire next
that rock? That’s him.”
Breck did not rise at once. He
wanted the companionship of these
men and a share in their talk. But
none spoke; no one looked his way.
Presently, a cowboy stood up, went
to a bed roll and began to pull off
his boots. Another followed.
“Well,” said Breck, moving over
to his horse, “sorry I wasn’t hungry.
Thanks again.”
After he had ridden a short dis
tance from camp, he looked back.
The two cowboys had left their bed
rolls and were returning to the fire.
He found J. G. Jackson sitting
with his back against a granite boul
der, alone, a gray-haired veteran of
the cow country, hard-faced in the
flicker of firelight. But when he dis
mounted and came close to the man,
that hardness was gone.
Jackson’s greeting was the usual,
“Howdy, Ranger. Have you et?”
Breck sat down across the fire
from him, laughing, “This sure is a
well-fed country. I’ve just turned
down one meal.”
“Ain’t no call for a man to go
hungry up here,” Jackson asserted.
He paused over lighting his pipe,
then added, “No matter who he
might be.”
For a moment Breck hated the
thought of duty. Here was friendli
ness; a time for listening to an old
timer’s yarns. Devil take the cows!
Yet the job drove him.
“Jackson,” he said, “I have just
brought down more than a hundred
h^ad from the saddle.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled over
his pipe bowl. “That so? Hell! You
oughtn’t to have took the trouble.”
“I guess they’re strays,” said
Breck. •
“Yeah, I reckon so.”
“With a night rider behind them.”
Jackson put down his pipe.
“Meanin’ which.”
“They were being shoved out of
Rock House before the count.”
“Any of my stuff among ’em?”
“More than half the bunch.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
of the under-sea forest he found a
portion of the superstructure of a
steamer. It is not, he is convinced,
part of the Cumberland, and al
though he brought up portions to the
surface they could not be identified.
Another puzzling feature is the
whereabouts of the rest of the sunk
en steamer. “The sand was too
hard to have buried her,” says
Diver Childs.
At Capetown harbor another mys
tery wreck has been discovered by
dredgers—this time that of a shij
believed to be centuries old.
Trousers Were Scarce
In the pioneer days, most men
had only one pair of trousers at a
time, having a new pair made by
the missus when the old pair wore
out. If through an accident or some
odd happening a man lost his trous
ers all of a sudden, notes a writer
in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, he
usually had to stay in bed until his
wife made him a new pair. There
are cases in which trousers were de
stroyed by fire or water or be
came unwearable because of an as
sault by a skunk, whereupon a
man went into hiding while his wife
went to work on new pants. The two
pant suit was never dreamed of.
REMEMBER . ..
“It’s AU In The Examination”
Dr. L. N. Huff, 54 Broad Street,
Healey Bldg., Atlanta — A Spe
cialist tn Eye Refractions tor
over 30 years, and a State Board
Examiner for Optometrist since
1923, leads the South in eye ex
aminations.
Let Dr. Huff take care of the
only pair of eyes you will ever
have.
DR. L N HUFF
Use of Word ‘Moron*
“The American Language” says:
“Moron was proposed by Dr. Henry
H. Goddard in 1910 to designate a
feeble-minded person of a mental
age of from 8 to 12 years. It was
formally adopted by the American
Association for the Study of the
Feeble-Minded in May of that year
and immediately came into wida
use."
Glass ‘Wears Down’ Iron
In the grinding and polishing line
a large plate glass plant, 350
tons of sand are used daily, rang
ing from coarse sand to powder al
most fine enough to be used for
brushing your teeth. A cast iron
grinding head, wearing 24 hours a
day on the plate glass surface, must
be replaced after six days.
Native Hawaiian Dance
To most persons the native Ha
waiian dance, the hula, is but a sin
gle step accompanied by undulations
of hips and arms. There are a doz
en hulas, varied mostly by the ges
tures of the hands. The most popu
lar are the gound dance, the rock
dance, the moon dance and the
hymn to the sun.
Mammoth Shown as Found
A mammoth in a Leningrad mu
seum is mounted in the exact posi
tion in which it was unearthed. The
carcass remained in this sitting po
sition for 150 centuries and food
from its last meal was still in itr
mouth when it was found.
Size of a Drop
The size of a drop varies accord
ing to the nature of the fluid and
the container; there may be from
50 to 150 drops in a fluid drachm.
A standard dropper is designed to
deliver exactly 20 drops per cubic
centimeter of water.
Baby Buggy Rules
In Edmonton, England, it is illegal
to wheel baby buggies on paths or
sidewalks two or more abreast, or
to use them for any other purpose
than for carrying children or inva
lids.
Oyster Filters Food
A young oyster feeds on micro
scopic plants and organic matter,
filtering as much as 26 quarts of
water an hour through its gills to
get its food. In two to five years if
is ready to eat
Shearer, Furniture Designer
Shearer collaborated with Hep.
piewhite and is credited with the
familiar sideboard design. His draw
ings appear in “Designs for House
hold Furniture” (1788).
Injury to Lend Man Money
“It is sometimes an injury to a
man to lend him money," said Hi
Ho, the sage of Chinatown, “but my
friends have a most Christian way
of forgiving injuries."
Silk Worth Weight in Gold
In the Third century A. D. silk
Was worth its weight in gold, and
Emperor Aurelianus refused his
wife even one silk mantle.
Gas Power From Waste
Gas from the sewage of a popula
tion of 480 will generate one horse
power continuously in a well run
sewage disposal plant.
Material for Plowshares
Among the swords that ought to
be beaten into plowshares is the
human tongue.
The Pastor’s Children
Evidently the world expects the
pastor’s children to practice what
their father preaches.
The ‘Blind Traveler*
James Holman (1786-1857) Was
Known as the “blind traveler." He
entered the British navy in 1798 and
was invalided out in 1810. Becom
ing totally blind, he refused to re
main at home and traveled widely
for a number of years.
Inscription on Grant’s Tomb
Cut into the marble of U. S.
Grant’s tomb in New York are these
words: “Let us have peace.” This
was the sentence he uttered at the
first convention which nominated
him for the presidency.
classified!
DEPARTMENT I
BUILDING PLANS
"PLANNING TO BUILD A HOME"
See our "HOME PLANS” of beautiful
NEW AMERICAN HOMES. 101 plans to
select from with photo of finished home.
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WILL SELL MT NEARLY NEW ELEO
TRIC FENCER costing $22.50 for $9.00.
Write Edgewood Farm, Whitewater, Wie.
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Hanging Draperies
Over French Doors
By RUTH WYETH SPEARS
“T NEED some help,” my
1 friend’s voice said over the
telephone. “The living room dra
peries are finished. lam bursting
with pride over them, but I don’t,
know how to hang the ones for the .
French doors.”
“Yes, I want to cover the door
frame at the sides, but I can’t cov-l
er much of the door because it.
must open and shut without inter-:
| USE A CURTAIN I
ROD THAT 11 i
EXTENDS BEYOND 111
THE SIDES OF THE ilHßra 111 1
DOOR FRAME- 111- 3 ® SM UH!
SEW CURTAINS ml LM iJC
TO RlNGS^^:||||l|-/-1 | 111
nJ K»I
—_ a L
sering with the draperies. I did
want the curtain rod for the door
to match the ones at the windows
too.”
Her voice trailed off in a dis
couraged tone as if there were
just too many difficulties ever to
be solved. But they all were
solved. The sketch shows exactly
how it was done. The curtain rod
was placed on hooks near the top
of the door frame and extended a
good 7 inches over the wall at
each side of the doors. The cur
tains were sewed to rings. When
they were in place, they covered
both the hooks and the sides of
the door frame, and allowed the
doors to be opened.
NOTE: These curtains were
lined and had a pleated heading^
They were made from the step-by-,
step sketches in Mrs. Spears’ Book
-1; SEWING, for the Home Decora
tor. Book 2—Gifts, Novelties and
Embroidery, is also full of practi
cal, money saving ideas that will
help you with your Spring and
Summer sewing. Books are 25
cents each; if you order both
books, leaflet on how to make Rag
Rugs is included FREE; Address
Mrs. Spears, 210 S. Desplaines St.,
Chicago, 111.
Wild Justice
Revenge is a kind of wild jus
tice, which the more man’s nature
runs to, the more ought law to
weed it out.—Bacon.
CONSTIPATED?
Don’t Let 89s, Nerve Pres*
sure Keep You Miserable
When you ar* constipated two things
happen. FIRST: Accumulated wastes swell
S? the bowels and press on nerves in the diges
ve tract. This nerve pressure causes head
aches, a dull, laxy feeling, bilious spells, loss
of appetite, and dizziness. SECOND: Partly
digested food starts to decay forming GAS;
bringing on sour stomach, acid indigestion,
and heartburn, bloating you up until you
sometimes gasp for breath. Then you can’t
eat. You can’t sleep. Your atomaoh is sour.
You feel tired out, grouchy, and miserable,
Adlerika gives you the DOUBLE ACTION
you need. This efficient carminative cathartic
relieves that awful GAS almost at once. It
usually clears the bowels in less than two
hours. No waiting for overnight relief.
Sold at all drug stores
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