THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, MAY 7, 1916.
Whenever he uttered protest they held him stretched over a oil of blankets
and thrashed him woefully with a pair of leather leggings.
The tobacco- brought one end of the Truesdell-Curtls the mesqutt flat wound the ranch road
less punchers ar- family feud. And when a Curtis bought that, five miles away, flowed Into the old
ranged them- the Rancho de los CHmos. sixteen miles government trail to San Antonlp. The sun
selves comfort- from the Cibolo, there were lively" times was so low that the gentlest elevation cast
ably 011 the steps on the pear flats and in the chaparral Its gray shadow miles Into the green-gold
of the store. In- thickets of the Southwest. In those days sea of sunshine.
side Sam opened Truesdell cleaned the brush of many a That evening ears were quicker than
with a hatchet wolf and tiger cat and Mexican lion; and eyes.
, tr.ru of the one or two Curtises fell heirs to notches The Mexican held up a tawny finger to
. . . , t, ,,i -minrhera never on his rifle stock. Also he buried a broth- still the scraping of tin against tin.
nis pocKeis ior a mw cruuius ui mo uhu n u- --- i
clous weed failed to treat themselves to a change er with a Curtis bullet in him on the bank
"One waggeen," said he, "cross dthe
Ah Don Samuel." he said reproach- from the beans and bacon of camp when- of the lake at Cibolo. And then the Kiowa Arroyo Hondo. Ah hear dthe wheel. Yer-
fully, but with his touch of Castilian man- ever they rode in to the store. mcitans maae xneir . rm up , .
, , ... . Hn,-in- ranches between the Frio and the Rio "You've got good ears, Gregorto," said
ners, "escuse me. Dtlhey say dthe Jack- The store, a big, white wooden buildins
, . . ... . , . , ... ,,o - m tv,- Grande, and Truesdell at the head of his Mustang Taylor. "I never heard nothln
rabbeet and dthe sheep have dthe most nke a barn, stood fifty yards from the --". ... , . , , , , . ,
leetlesesos-how you call dthem-brain-es? ranchhouse. Beyond it were the horse rangers rid the earth of them to the last but the n bird In the bush and th
Ah don' believe dthat, Don Samuelscuse corrals; and still farther the wool sheds brave, earning his sobriquet. Then came zephyr skallyhootin across the peaceful
me. Ah dthtnk people Wat don' keep and the brush-topped shearing pens-for Prosperity in the form of waxing herds dell.
esmokln' tobacco, dthey-bot you weel the Rancho Cibolo raised both cattle and and broadening lands. And then old age In ton minutes Taylor remarked: "1
and bitterness, when lie sat, wltn nis great see ine ausx or a wagon risin ngnt anove
cscuso me, Don Samuel."
sheep. Behind the store, at a littie dia
. . , x. ' .ui.i iooio r mane of hair as white as the Spanish-dag- the fur end of the flat."
Now. what's the use of chewin' the tance, were the grass-thatched jacals of
rae boys." said the untroubled Sam, the Mexicans
stooping over to rub the toes of his shoes giance upon the Cibolo.
with a red-and-yeilow handkerchief.
who bestowed their aUe-
eyes, .senor
eer blossoms. and his fierce, pale-blue eyes, "You have verree good
on the shaded gallery at Cibolo, growling said Gregorio, smiling.
like the pumas that he had slain. He Two miles away they saw a faint cloud
snapped his fingers at old age; the bitter dimming the green ripples of the mesqults.
taste to life did not come from that The Tn twenty minutes they heard the clatter
cup that Stuck at his lips was that his 0f the horses' hoofs; in Ave minutes mora
only son Ransom'wanted to marry a Cur- the gray plugs dashed out of the thicket,
tis, the last youthful survivor of the other whickering for oats and drawing the light
m.
The ranchhouse was composed of four
"Ranse took the ordjr-r for some more large rooms with plastered adobe walls,
smokin' to San Antone with him Tuesday. and a two-room wooden ell. A twenty -Pancho
rode. Ranse's boss back yesterday; Jeet-wide "gallery" clrcximvented the
and Ranse is goin' to drive the wagon structure. It was set in a grove of im
back himself. There wa'n't much of a mense live oaks and water elms near a
load just some woolsacks and blankets iake a ion's:, not very wide and tremend
and nails and canned peaches and a few 0usly deep lake in which, at nightfall,
things we was out of. I look for Ranso to great gars leaped to the surface and
roll in today sure. He's an early starter plunged with the noise of hippopotamuses
onrl a hell-to-split driver, and he ought to frolickine at their bath. From the trees
be here not far from sundown." hung garlands and massive pendants of tin spoons and the gurgling Intake of the s '
-what riiirs i he drivin'? asked Mus- the melancholv crav moss of the South, iiiirv frtifts bv the cowDunchera, the Ranse Truesdell, driving, threw
tang Taylor, with a smack of hope in his Indeed, the Cibolo ranchhouse seemed stamping of the grazing ponies, and the reins to the ground and laughed,
tones. more of the South than of the, West. It singing of a doleful song by Sam as he "It's under the wagon sheet, boys," he
"The buckboard grays." said Sam. looked as if old "Kiowa" Truesdell might contentedly brushed his stiff auburn hair said. "I know what you're waiting for. IX
"I'll wait a spell, tlhen," said the wran- have brought -it with him from the low- for the twentieth time that day before a Sam lets It run out again we'll use them
gler. "Them plugs eat up a trail like a lands of Mississippi when he came to crinkly mirror. yellow shoes of his for a target. There's
road runner swallowin' a whip snake. And Texas with his rifle in the hollow of his From the door of the store could be two cases. Pull 'em out and light up. X
you may bust me open a can of green- arm in '55. seen the Irregular, sloping stretch of pral- know you all want a smoke."
gage plums, Sam, while Tm waitln' for But. though he did not bring the family rie to the south, with Its reaches of light After striking dry country Ranse had
somethin better." mansion, Truesdell did bring something In green, billowy mesquit flats In the lower removed the wagon sheet from the bows0
"Open me some yellow clings," ordered the way of a family inheritance that was places, and Its rises crowned with nearly and thrown It over the goods In the wagon.
Poky Rodgers. "Til wait, too." more lasting than brick or stone. Ha black masses of snort chaparral. Through Six pair of hasty hands dragged It off and
end of the feud. ' wagon behind them like a toy.
From the jacals came a cry of: "El
Amo! El Amo!" Four Mexican youths
OR a while the only sounds to be heard raced to --- grays. The cow-
at the store were the rattling of the r " "
the