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About The Hermiston herald. (Hermiston, Or.) 19??-1984 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 5, 1936)
THE HERMISTON HERALD, HERMISTON, OREGON. Thursday, November 5, 1936 GUNLOCK RANCH CHAPTER IX—Continued —1 5 Egg Milady Red pimientos stuffed with three eggs beaten slightly; add * pint double cream. Season with ■cayenne and salt. Put pimiento into mold previously buttered. Pour this mixture into sound red pimiento and fill a pan with water three-quarters the height of mold. Bake in moderate oven for fifteen minutes. Unmold on crouton piece of round toast which is covered with pate de fois gras and serve with Newburgh sauce poured over this. Piece of black truffle on top. ©—WNU Service. Full House Instead of putting out a “stand ing room only” sign when there are capacity houses, Norwegian theaters turn on a red light at their entrance. In former days the light was a lantern, and even today when there are no seats available people say that “the red lantern is out.” Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets are the orig- inai little liver pills put up 60 years ago. 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Start GLOVERS MANGE MEDICINE ■ Sawdy pulled a moment at his mus tache. “No hurry,” he said reflective ly. “It’s early yet for him. If he’s our man, he’s got a pocketful of money to blow.” He thought a minute fur ther. “Look here, Scotch ! Tell our boys over there at the bar to string out quiet and meet back of the barn. Watch your chance. Speak around to the hitch rack and get the sorrel down to the barn on an old feed-bill claim. I’ll tackle Barney in the saloon and see what chance there is to gettin’ him down there. Got a rope ready?” "I have.” “Vamos !” McAlpin joined the men at the bar. Sawdy slipped out the back door and, half a block down the alley, walked out Into River street and down to the Red Front saloon. But from the moment the big adven turer stepped out of the back door of one saloon and in at the front door of the other, a curious change took place. He had left Spotts’ place sober— Sawdy was in fact a very moderate man. He strode into the Red Front reeling. The bar was well filled. Sawdy saw at a glance that among the men lined up there were a number of town loaf ers who never drank except at some body’s expense. When Sawdy caught sight of Redstock with the loafers around him. Inference was swift and correct. Barney had money. The saloonkeeper, Harry Boland, foxy-eyed and alert at the head of the bar, saw Sawdy stagger In through the green baize; lie watched the big fel low closely. Sawdy zigzagged back to wards the loafers among whom Barney was holding forth. Boland, a man of ripe experience in appraising all stages of Intoxication, was suspicious, since Henry Sawdy was no drunk ; Boland had never before seen him intoxicated. But Sawdy was an artist and did not make the mis take of the actor who plays the sober man trying to appear drunk. Sawdy was the drunken man trying to appear sober. He greeted Barney gravely, then or dered drinks for everybody In Barney Rebstock's honor. Having lingered over the round, Sawdy cast his eye approvingly upon the thirsty cowd. passed the forefinger of his right hand thoughtfully under each wing of his mustache in turn, drew from a vest pocket a gold double eagle, and made a general proposal, “I’ll match any man here for twenty dollar gold pieces.” It was a fairly safe offer, because he well knew all the loafers put together could not raise twenty dollars. But he had an object In view. Barney, after some shilly-shallying, accepted the challenge. He asked Bo land to lend him a gold piece. When Boland produced a twenty-dollar coin and tossed It out to Barney, it did not take Sawdy long to figure out that Barney had money and that It was In the keeping of the saloonkeeper. Sawdy, notoriously lucky at matching, lost out after several trials; he quit forty dollars to the bad. But he had Barney greatly inflated by his triumph, with the whole room crowding eagerly around the contestants. After a round of drinks at Barney's charge, Sawdy brought the talk around to a fine-looking sorrel outside at the hitch rack. Barney claimed it. Sawdy wanted to buy It. Barney demurred— it wasn’t for sale. Boland heard the talk. He drew Barney to the rear end of the bar. "Sell It to him, you fool,” whispered Boland. "Don't you see he’s drunk as a fiddler? You can get twice what the horse is worth.” Thus encouraged, Barney stepped out of doors with Sawdy, followed by a little circle of the curions. The horse was gone. This fact caused no great excitement; Sawdy suggested he had got loose and strayed up or down the street and that they take a look around to find him. The curiosity of the crowd weakened, and they re-entered the saloon, hoping for another chance to get a drink. Sawdy and Barney walked down the street to gether, wrangling as they went over the mischance and the merits of the missing horse. As the pair passed Mc Alpin's barn it occurred to Sawdy they had better look in and ask for infor mation. CHAPTER X A hanging lantern lighted the barn gangway dimly. Sawdy's call for a hostler was answered by McAlpin him- self, who, lantern In hand, ambled in bis peculiar gait briskly forward. “Hello, Mac,” exclaimed Sawdy, wav ing like a tall tree in a number four breeze. “We're looking for Barney's horse,” he continued gruffy—“got loose up the street Just now—seen anythin’ of a stray?” McAlpin, raising bis lantern looked at Rebstock. “Why, yes, I seen a stray,” be admited sulkily. “Was It a sorrel?” asked Sawdy with some hope. “It was a sorrel. Sawdy; saddled and bridled. What about it?” “It’s probably Barney's horse. Let's see It. Where Is it?" McAlpin jerked his head back over his shoulder. “In the box stall. Your horse, Barney?” “Sure, It’s my horse.” “Right this way, Barney," returned McAlpin. "Put out your cigars, boys, and come along with me," he added, lantern in hand. He sentile, down the by Frank H. Spearman Copyright Frank H. Spearman WNU Service gangway, Rebstock and Sawdy after him, stopped at the stall box, hung his lantern on a high gangway hook, un latched the stall door, and pointed within. “There's your horse. Barney. Maybe I better give him a bit of oats before you go. . . . No? Water then?’ Rebstock and Sawdy had stepped into the stall with McAlpin. The liv eryman led the horse out. Rebstock started to follow ; Sawdy laid a hand on his shoulder. “Just a minute. I want to talk to you, Barney. We’ll join you in a minute, Mac. Get out the black bottle. But leave the lan tern." “What’s up?” asked Rebstock, eyeing Sawdy closely, nnd always suspicious. Sawdy was standing backed against one side of the box stali. “Barney," he said In confidential fashion, “I’d like to have just a little horse-to-horse talk with you.” “What d’you menn, horse-to-horse talk?" snapped Barney. “Just this: Do you feel just exactly right, leavin’ your money with Harry Boland?” “What do you mean?” “Do you feel safe? I ask you as man to man, Barney, and an old friend, do you feel safe, leaving a roll with Boland?" Barney fumbled mentally. “Why shouldn’t I?” he countered bluntly. “I’d hate to see you, after this trou ble you’ve had. lose your money with Harry Boland,” persisted the cowman. “I'll tell you honest—and you can tell the critter himself if you like—I wouldn’t never leave five hundred of my money with Harry Boland.” “Never had it to leave, did you?” “Well, no foolin’, Barney, wouldn’t do it. So that’s what I say, as man to man—keep your money in the bank, not in a dive. Have you got a receipt for your money?" “No.” “How much money are you leavin’ with him?” “None of your damned business, that's how much. I’m headin’ up the street. Get out of the way.” “Don’t get sore, Barney. I’m meanin’ the best for you. Just wait a minute an’ I’ll walk up the street with you— gettin’ kind of thirsty myself. Did you He Could See Rebstock’* Eyes Flashing Green. and lighter, could strike and spring like a wildcat, but he faced a foe who, though larger and heavier, was es teemed among his fellows as one hard to corner. Sawdy held the door side of the stall with his hack to the light. He could see Rebstock's eyes flashing green. Rebstock wanted to get close enough to Sawdy to cut him and jump through the door ; but he feared the terrific grip of the cowman's fingers on his wrists before he should get the knife into play. Sawdy carried his gun—Rebstock had left his own with Boland—but he disdained to use It on a partly un armed man. It was no part of his pro gram to get himself embroiled with the law by shooting the criminal ; what he and his cronies wanted from Rebstock was information. It took only an Instant for Sawdy to perceive that he could not safely hold his stand in front of the stall door. The lantern light was too uncertain—he could not follow Rebstock's eyes—part of the time he could hardly follow his Jumpy steps. In a moment, both men, one big, the other small, were jumping about the stall like boxers stripped for the ring. But Sawdy, though big, was the fastest on his feet among the cowmen that rode the Gunlock ranges. He had lit tle alcohol aboard, was naturally as quick as a flash, and knew he was fac ing the most dangerous man with a knife along the Spanish Sinks. Ten youthful years spent among Mexican bandits, together with a lean and lumpy physical make-up, bad given Barney Rebstock the name of a mean man with a knife, and Sawdy had no Intention of adding to the outlaw’s rep utation as a killer, if he could help it. The fight was In the lap of the gods. A misstep or a foot slip might end It any second. Sawdy was hoping his comrades secreted out in the corral would hear the scuffle and come in. But he was just stubborn enough not to call for help. Barney, enraged at his plight, was breathing hard, and wind was too pre cious to waste in words. This silent struggle for the one slight advantage that would end the fight went on to the music of Jerky breaths and nimble footing. It was soon a question as to whose wind would give out first— Sawdy, heavier, was at a disadvantage In enduran s. While they feinted and jumped about, his foot slipped. Barney saw the opening. He lunged forward. Sawdy instinctively whirled sidewise and threw up his knee to save his stomach. The savage thrust of Barney’s knife caught the calf of his leg. As the cowman went down, his fingers gripped Barney’s wrist. With a mere twist of the deadly grip learned long ago in Panhandle knife fights, he snapped like matches the two bones of Barney's forearm. The wiry outlaw screamed. He was through ; the rear gangway doors were flung open, and the confederates came running In from the corral. From the darkness of the box stall came only the swish of hard breathing and the oaths and cries of Barney. Lefever grasped the bail of the lan tern and threw the light rays within. “Henry !” he yelled in alarm. “What’s a-matter, pard? What’s wrong?” He unlatched the gate of the stall as he called and hastened Inside with Scott and Page at his heels. Mc Alpin ran down from the office. It was a moment before Lefever could make out just what was happening on the floor, as Barney, half choked, writhed under the remorseless grip that closed his windpipe. Sawdy, spread out on his stomach, lay, a huge bulk, with one arm over his antagonist. Only his heavy breathing Indicated life. "Hen ry !" exclaimed Lefever. “What the hell’s happened?" “Nothing's happened yet, John. Look at my leg. Where’s his knife?" “God a’mlghty! It's In your leg, Henry.” Lefever started to draw it out. “Hold on, John ! Don’t touch that till you get a tourniquet on. Who’s here?” His heavy bloodshot eyes turned on Scott. “Bob ! Look-see whether he's slit an artery or a vein. Hold the lan tern there, John.” Scott found blood spurting from the wound. He fashioned a tourniquet from a thong of rawhide. “Get up and get Carpy, quick !” mut tered McAlpin to Page. "What you moonin' about? Henry Is bad cut. Run, Ben !” “All right. You hold Barney," growled Page, turning over his writh ing prisoner. Turning to the prostrate cowman while Scott twisted the tourniquet, Mc Alpin, gripping Rebstock, gave orders to Sawdy; the liveryman always took the stage. "Henry !" he shouted, In his excitement "Lay right where you are. Don’t stir till Carpy comes. Why didn't you call for help?” he thundered at Sawdy. “Ain’t never learned how yet," re torted the wounded man majestically. hear, Barney, about Bill Denison’s place gettin’ burned down?” “I heard about a fire out that way— what about It?” demanded Rebstock. “Why, nothin'—nothin’ at all. But, Barney, this is why I wanted to talk to you: There's folks here In town that don’t know you as well as I do, are mean enough to say you know a lot more about that fire than you want to tell. I claim they're wrong—what’ll I tell ’em?” “Tell 'em to go to hell." “Suppose they won't do It, Barney?" asked Sawdy calmly. Rebstock shuffled angrily. “Look here, Sawdy. You can't bunk me any more. If they don't want to go to hell, you go for ’em.” With this suggestion, Rebstock start ed again for the stall door. Sawdy’s hand came down a bit heavier on Bar ney’s shoulder. The slippery fellow tried to Jerk away when Sawdy's fin gers sank deep Into the coat and shirt of his victim. “Barney,” he protested solemnly, "I don't like to see an old friendship broken up by thoughtless words.” “A hell of a friendship,” snorted Rebstock. “Barney, I want to be friends with you. What’s the facts about that fire?” With a volley of oaths, Rebstock tore Carpy reached the box stall ten min loose from Sawdy's grasp, backed hur riedly away, and tried to spring over utes later. The doctor held up the lantern. the side wall. Sawdy was too quick. He jumped to him, caught him by the “Hell’s bell»!" he exclaimed to McAl arm, and slammed him halfway across pin and the hostler. “Don't leave the the stall. Barney landed on his hands man lying in this dirt. Henry,"—be and knees, sprang to hl* feet, and knelt at Sawdy's head—“what have faced his old time acquaintance with they been doing? Who stuck you?” “Doc,” declared the notorious bach wicked eye*. In the dim light of the lantern, high in the gangway. Sawdy elor, “you might say I stuck myself. caught the flash of the blade of a knife Sew me up and send the bill to my fa- —lying. Mexican fashion. In Barney'* ther-in-law after I get married, will you?" right hand. (TO BE CONTINUED) Both were quick. Rebstock, smaller Three Certain Winners 20 ale 1966 187— taoo ‘THREE candidates for your ap- - provai, good on any ticket. Put your “machine” to work and you will win the vote of any group, however critical, with these fetch ing frocks especially designed for women who sew at home. Cor rectly styled, accurately designed and cut, they combine smartness with utility and offer the solution to many wardrobe problems. 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