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.
They regulate liver and bowels.—Adv.
Individuality
Individuality is everywhere to
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root of everything good.—Richter.
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Time to Weigh Words
Our deeper thoughts are best
when written; hardly ever as im
pressive when spoken.
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■
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
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Value of Persuasion
V IOLENCE ever defeats its
• own ends. Where you can
not drive you can always per
suade. A gentle word, a kind
look, a good-natured smile can
work wonders and accomplish
miracles. There is a secret
pride in every human heart
that revolts at tyranny. You
may order and drive an in
dividual, but you cannot make
him respect you.—Hazlitt.
The true past departs not.
Nothing that was worthy in
the past departs—no truth or
goodness realized by man ever
dies, or can die.—T. Carlyle.
CHECK THAT COUGH
BEFORE IT GETS
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Check it before it gets you down. Check it
before others, maybe the children, catch it.
Check it with FOLEY’S HONEY A TAIL
This double-acting compound gives quick relief
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Where He Wants to Be
A man generally shuns an invi
tation. Why? Simply because ac
cepting, knocks him out of the
dull, stupid rut he is always com
plaining of.
After opportunity has passed on
by, it looks three feet taller.
I slept, and dreamed that life
was Beauty; I awoke, and found
that life was Duty.
A word to the wise may be suf
ficient, but the wise frequently
ask for further enlightenment.
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Can't Fool 'Em
Don’t argue to young people
that the world is all wrong. They
know better.
A chronic knocker is angry
when everybody agrees with him
and he has to dry up.
Two great talkers will not
travel far together.
Little at a Time
Everything is to be accom-
plshed bit by bit.
The man who has affection for
you may be under an illusion,
but, oh, let it never be dispelled.
The dumb animals are the ones
that live as wisely as they know
how.
Two perfectly useless com
plaints are of the weather and the
fashions. Both are inexorable.
We all help make history ; there
fore we ought to read it. ,
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