VERNONIA EAGLE, VERNONIA, OREGON
PAGE EIGHT
i—BOOKS IN BRIEF--------------
No One Knows
Fate of This
Brave Lover
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE’S
Zo ïlidz &&
CHAPTER XIV
The barking of Ransom’s dog up
set the plans of Morgan Norris for
a surprise. He had forgotten about
Laddie, though everybody in Tail
Holt knew the great affection of the
blacksmith and the collie for each
other. Since the loud and angry
protest of Laddie at his presence
annoyed him, Norris followed his
impulse and killed the animal.
Mile High did not like it. To kill
a man was one thing, but to kill a
faithful dog quite another.
“What’s the idea in that?” he
asked resentfully.
The killer snarled something.
What he said was not important.
Gray had come out of the cabin
and was standing in the moonlight,
his open hand raised in the old
peace sign.
Norris gave a derisive yell and
fired. Others in his crowd followed
the example set. Hank Ransom
was beside the marshal now. He
blazed away with a rifle. A mo
ment later he went down and Gray
had snatched up the Winchester.
The wounded man crawled back
into the cabin. His companion re
treated, still answering the fire of
the attackers, and slammed the
door after him. One of the outlaws
sat on the ground. He was nursing
a shattered elbow and cursing vio
lently.
“Find cover, boys,” Norris or
dered. “We don’t want to get killed
while we’re smoking these birds
out.”
He could have saved his breath.
The others were already on their
way to get out of sight.
Norris sent two men to make a
wide circle and get to the rear of
the cabin. "If they try to make a
break, crack at them. We’ll be
there on the jump.”
For some minutes there was des
ultory firing. The attackers moved
closer, but gave that up when a
second man was wounded.
Mile High got an idea. “Let’s
dynamite the rocks above and send
them down on the cabin. They'll
come scuttling out like rabbits if
the avalanche doesn't kill them.”
A man was sent to get dynamite
from Sanger's store When he re
turned, Mile High led a party to
th* rimrock. Before he succeeded
in sending a big boulder crashing
down on the adobe cabin he was
driven away by a surprise attack.
As they retreated to join their com
panions below, he noticed that one
of them was missing.
“Anybody seen Clint Doke?” he
asked.
"They must have got him up
there,” someone said. “Where did
all those fellows come from?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Mile High
said bitterly. "We start out to round
up one red-headed guy and we
bump into a whole passel of them.”
The gunfire below became more
rapid. They could see the flashes
of the exploding shots in the dark
ness.
"There’s a heap of shooting from
that cabin,” a black-browed outlaw
grumbled. “Looks to me like there
are more than two men there.”
They found Norris and the man
with him backing away from the
battle. He was in a vile humor. At
the last moment victory had been
snatched from him. What had oc
curred he did not yet know, but it
was clear that an irruption of al
lies had poured in on the defend
ants.
“Thought you were going to wipe
out the cabin with boulders from
above,” he snarled.
“Before we got started, a bunch
of men attacked us, killed Clint
Doke, and drove us away,” Mile
High explained. “I’m askin’ you
“Rats leave a sinking ship,
don’t they?”
where all these warriors came
from.”
“I aim to find that out right damn
now,” Norris said savagely. “I’ll
give you my guess. That double
crossing son-of-a-gun Sherm How
ard threw down on us and sent
word to Chiswick and his friends to
come collect us. The rat figures
we’re sunk and he’s trying to suck
up to the law to save his own hide.
When I see him ...”
He did not finish his sentence.
The malevolence of his voice was
threat enough.
“Maybe not, Morg. Don’t go off
half-cocked. Find out for sure be
fore you go too far. Sherm’s a wily
old bird. He may wiggle us out
of this jam yet. We don’t even
know yet who these men are who
jumped us.”
"Outside of Chiswick and his cat
tle friends this country is filled with
absentees when it comes to gun
men ready to tackle me and my
crowd,” Norris retorted angrily.
“Get the boys together, Mile High,
and don't let them separate. By
morning we may have the worst
bear-fight on our hands you ever
saw. Meet you at the Golden Nug
get in half an hour.”
“Where you going now?”
“I told you I was aimin' to have
a li’l talk with Sherm Howard,”
the killer said out of the corner of
his thin-lipped mouth. "I'll say he'd
better have a good story to tell me,
too.”
"I’ll go with you,” Mile High said
hurriedly.
Norris swung round on him,
standing on the balls of his feet,
angry eyes glaring through slitted
lids. “By God, you won’t."
Mile High looked at him for a
long moment, then gave way with
a shrug. There was no doing any
thing with Norris when he was in a
rage. Clearly he was working him
self up into one now. The issue
was not important enough to justify
a quarrel. Trust Sherm Howard to
talk some sense into his head. The
old fox would know how to handle
Morg.
The outlaw did not find Sherman
Howard at home. After pounding
on the door for some time, he
roused Lou, who demanded sleepily
what he wanted.
"I want the old man," Norris
cried with an oath. “Where is he?”
"That you. Morg? I dunno where
he is. I been asleep. Last time
I saw him was at the Golden Nug
get.”
"Get up and dress," the badman
ordered harshly. “There’s a heluva
war on and you can't duck it. Get
yore gun and come out here.”
“What you mean, a war?"
“Chiswick’s warriors are in town.
They've done killed Doke and
wounded two-three more. You’re in
this, fellow, and don’t you forget
it.”
Lou protested, in vain. Reluc
tantly he dressed and joined the
other.
“Scoot down to the cottonwood
grove and report to Mile High,”
the bandit told him. “See you show
up pronto. If you don’t, I’ll take
care of you personal. Understand?”
Norris turned on his heel and
swaggered away, fury still burning
within him.
He walked into the back door of
the Golden Nugget. Day would
break in another hour or two, but
the place hummed with life.
No gambling was taking place,
but there was plenty of drinking.
Men stood around in groups, all of
them armed, though in some cases
the weapons were concealed. For
by this time all Tail Holt knew that
a showdown was at hand. The bat
tle lines were drawn between the
outlaws and the cattlemen, between
Gray and Chiswick on the one side
and Howard and Norris on the
other.
Morg Norris was a marked man
as he walked to the bar. The talk
suspended, and all eyes rested on
him. He was the fighting spearhead
of the lawless forces, just as Sherm
Howard was the directing brain.
Men watched him, to get a clue to
future action. They meant to play
safe. If the outlaws were going to
win, they wanted to be with them
at the finish. But if law was com
ing into the mesquite, if the day of
the killer and the thief was at an
end, they wanted to make over
tures to Chiswick, or, in case they
had gone too far for that, to slap a
saddle on a bronc and leave swiftly
for parts unknown.
Norris ordered a drink and asked
curtly where Sherm Howard was.
The bartender Pete nodded a
head toward the office.
“How are cases, Morg?” some
one asked with what indifference he
could assume.
The killer showed his teeth in a
snarl. “Fine. How would they
be going?”
“I hear Chiswick is in town with
a bunch of his men,” another said
casually.
Morg took the drink at a gulp.
"You hear correctly.” He slanted
insolent eyes at the man. "You
pullin’ on the bit to get a crack at
them, Slim?”
Without waiting for an answer he
turned his back on them and walked
into the office, closing the door be
hind him. In the room were three
men, Sherman Howard, Curt Dubbs,
and a man named Yorky who usual
ly hovered close to the stout man.
It was generally understood he was
a guard.
The three men looked up. None
of them spoke for a moment. How
ard felt a premonition of disaster.
He said, "Any news, Morg?”
Norris moved a little closer, car
rying his body with a lithe, catlike
grace. His shallow eyes were nar
rowed to shining slits. A light
played on the surface as it does on
agate marbles, 'The face of the
man was venomous.
"Plenty,” he snarled.
The heart of the big man died.
He wanted to call out a warning to
Yorky, but he dared not. His
glance darted here and there, seek
ing help, then came back to the
dark agates fixed on him. The
muscles of his fat face twitched as
he fought to control himself. The
man had come to kill him. He did
not doubt that.
“Did you get Gray?” Yorky
asked, his chair tilted back against
the wall and his hands thrust into
trouser pockets. He knew Norris
was in a sullen rage, but he had no
guess that an explosion was im
minent.
“No, we didn’t get Gray,” the
outlaw answered with a sneer. “We
weren’t sent to get Gray, but for
him and his crowd to get us. You'll
be glad to know, Howard, you dou
ble - crossing coyote, that yore
friends Gray and Chiswick have
rubbed out Clint Doke and maybe
others. Tracy they have wounded.
Menger too.”
Howard raised a trembling, ham
like hand in protest. “Don’t talk
foolishness, Morg. Why would I
throw down on the boys and join
up with my enemies? You ought to
know me better than that. It doesn’t
make sense.”
“Rats leave a sinking ship, don’t
they? Sure I know you—clear
through. You tried to have me
bumped off before. Now you’ve sent
for Chiswick’s crowd. Trying to
play in with them and save yore
self.”
“Listen, Morg. Don’t get excited.
Listen to me.” Howard made a mo
tion to raise himself from the seat.
He did not get halfway up.
Norris whipped out a forty-five
and fired three times. Howard
caught at his stomach and sank
back into the chair. Any one of the
bullets would have been fatal.
The wolfish face of the killer
turned on the others. “Want any of
my game, either of you?” he de
manded.
Dubbs tried to speak and found
he could not. The big eyes in his
white face stared at the killer.
“We’re not in this, Morg,” Yorky
said. “If you and Sherm had a dif
ficulty, that wasn’t our business.”
“You bet it wasn’t.” Norris went
on exultantly: “I’ll take care of this
show, boys. That scoundrel was
playing both ends. We’ll sweep this
riffraff out of Tail Holt before twen- |
ty-four hours. I’m sending a call '
for the boys to come in from the !
hills.”
“Sure. Sure. That’s the way.” ;
Dubbs got his approval out hoarsely
from a dry throat.
"We’H go into the other room and
tell the boys,” Norris swaggered.
“And don’t throw me down if you’re
figuring on health.”
He herded them into an outer
room and explained to a dozen ex
cited men that he had killed How- I
ard because he was betraying them, j
While Norris still had the floor, 1
the door opened and a man stag
gered into the room. His face was |
blood-stained from a gash over the
temple. Apparently he had been
roughly handled. The man was Clint j
Doke.
Norris stared at him. "I heard
they had got you.”
“He left me for dead,” Doke ex
plained.
“Who did?”
“Jeff Gray.”
He told his story.
Jeff slipped around the corner of
the Presnall boarding-house to the
road. Nobody was in sight within
fifty yards, but as he looked he
heard the drumming of horses’
hoofs crossing the bridge at the end
of town. He drew back into the
shadow of the building to let the
riders pass. Before they reached
him he saw the glint of moonlight
on the barrels of rifles.
To the surprise of Gray the party
drew up at the Presnall house. A
young fellow swung from a saddle
and moved forward. He recognized
Bob Chiswick, and at once called
his name.
Bob pulled up short.
The marshal said, “Jeff Gray,”
and stepped out to meet the boy.
“By Jupiter, you’re alive!” Bob
cried.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Chemical Industry Is Putting Luster
in Textiles by Using Lobster Shells
Gourmets who have been troubled
about what to do with empty lobster
shells will be pleased to know that
the chemical industry is finding uses
for the material. The horny armor
of lobsters and other crustaceans
has been found to be a starting ma
terial for the manufacture of chem
icals which give a soft, lustrous fin
ish to textiles, reports a writer in
the Chicago Tribune.
The material which makes up the
protective coatings of crustaceans
and insects is known as chitin. It
differs profoundly from the hard
materials used in the skeletons or
armor of other forms of animal
life. The supporting matter of
sponges is calcium silicate. The
shells of oysters, clams, and snails
are built of calcium carbonate, or
limestone. The bones of vertebrates
consist of calcium phosphate. Each
of these three compounds is min
eral in nature. The chitin found
in crustaceans, on the other hand, is
an organic substance and one that
bears little chemical resemblance
to any other component of living
matter.
Perhaps its nearest chemical re
lation is the cellulose of plants. Cel
lulose is a complex combination of
PHOTOGRAPHY
ROLLS DEVELOPED
COPYRIGHT WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE—WNU SERVICE
CHAPTER XIII—Continued
—22—
“Morgan Norris killed Buck Con
rad and freed Lou.”
“How many men has your fa
ther?” Jeff asked Ruth.
“Four besides himself. Others
will be here after a while.”
He flung another question at her,
his voice harsh and swift. Nothing
in manner or speech betrayed the
swift awareness of her, passionate
and fierce, that sent a heat running
through his strong body.
“How many more?”
“I don’t know. Six or seven. And
the word is being passed to other
cattlemen. They will send men too.”
She broke down, with a sob. After
so many hours of desperate fear it
was too much to find him not dead
but alive and full of the energy
that seemed in him so much more
vital than in others.
Ruth cried, in explanation, “We
heard firing as we came into town.”
Jeff flung out a hand, to push the
memory from him. “They . . .
killed Hank Ransom, my friend,
who was hiding me.”
“How did you escape?” she mur
mured.
"I wasn’t there. I left him . . .
alone . . . after he was wounded.”
"No!" she denied. "It isn’t true."
“I thought I had to go, to save
us. Before I got back they had
him.”
She moved closer, filled with pity
for him. "He would understand—
if he were alive,” she said gently.
The faint, tender smile on her
lips, the wistful eagerness to com
fort him, were too much for his
self-restraint.
He caught her to him—held her
warm, breathing body close and
looked down into the face that held
for him the lovely youth of the
world incarnate.
Again guns sounded.
“I’ve got to go," he said.
"Go where?"
Ruth asked the question, though
she knew the answer.
“I must join your father. There
is still fighting.”
“How can you get to him? If
you’re seen on the street—”
"I'll get to him."
Her brown arms, soft and warm,
were about his neck, fingers inter
laced. Jeff broke the hold, gen
tly, but with irresistible strength.
Without a word, with no good-by,
abruptly he turned and walked out
of the room.
Nelly was still sleeping peaceful
ly, an arm flung across her eyes to
shield them from the light.
CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
a great number of sugar molecules.
When subjected to the prolonged
destructive action of dilute acids
it is eventually broken down into
sugar. Chitin is an analogous com
plex, not of sugar, but of a sub
stance called acetyl glucosamine.
This last substance is as compli
cated as its name. It is a com
pound of acetic acid and glucosa
mine. The latter, the essential
building stone of the chitin mole
cule, is in turn a compound of sugar
and ammonia. Glucosamine pos
sesses most of the properties of the
sugars. In addition it has the alka
line action of ammonia.
Black Docks Are Wise
Black ducks know how to avrfa
enemies. Their nests, well camou
flaged with weeds and hidden in
swamps or brush, can be found on
ly by accident. Parent ducks keep
their young huddled close on reedy
swamps, rarely venture on open wa
ter. They fly at night, feed gen
erally at dawn and dusk. When
danger nears, they fly to the middl*
of a river or lake, or leave the vi
cinity entirely. The black duck is thus
seldom brought down by gunners. I
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By ELIZABETH C. JAMES
“•“T he lady or the tiger ,"
* by Frank R. Stockton, is a
story of olden days, when a semi-
barbaric king in a far land held ab
solute power over his subjects. This
monarch had devised a system of
justice that pleased him mightily.
Instead of all the bother of trials
that the modern world struggles un
der, he had an arena where all
trials took place.
The defendant was put into the
arena facing two doors. At a signal
he opened one of the doors. Each
door led into a chamber, heavily
padded with skins and furs so that
no sound issued forth. Behind one
door was a fero
cious tiger; behind
the other was a
beautiful maiden. If
the defendant
opened the
door
with the tiger, jus
tice declared him
guilty and his pun
ishment was instant.
There was no delay
ing of justice. If he
opened the door
with the lady, he
Elizabeth
was innocent and
James
his reward was im
mediate. He was married to the
fair lady instantly, for the king had
a minister and chorus all ready for
the wedding ceremony. If the de
fendant already had a wife and
family, that made no difference in
the proceedings, for the king was
too fond of this method of justice
to change it for individual cases.
enlargements 26c coin. Reprint« 8c ea.
horthwut eHOTO^sravtes
Parge
£ BeU Syndicate—WNU Service.
North Dakota
Smart Dresses for
Now and Later On
LJ ERE are two perfectly charm-
-*• ing fashions that will fill a
definite place in your life if you
make them up immediately in
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ture fashions that you should by
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detailed sew chart included in each
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Tailored Dress of Pique.
If your daytime wardrobe needs
replenishing for the remaining
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fortable you’ll feel. Later on,
wear it for fall in challis, jersey,
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give it finish enough so that it is
appropriate for street wear, too.
Tiny-Waisted Afternoon Dress.
Here’s the type of dress th^t all
important fashion sources show
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square neckline, the short sleeves,
puffed at the top, the gathers that
give you flattering bust fullness
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these are all new notes. Just five
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The Patterns.
No. 1462 is designed for sizes 34,
36, 38, 40, 42, 44 and 46. Size 36 re
quires 4*4 yards of 39-inch ma
terial.
No. 1561 is designed for sizes 12,
14, 16, 18 and 20. Size 14 requires
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yards ribbon for belt.
Send your order to The Sewing
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Calif. Patterns 15 cents (in coins)
each.
AN EDITOR-AUTHOR
Frank R. Stockton was attract
ed by stories of adventure. Pi
rates appeared in some of his
longer stories, and the action of
“The Lady or the Tiger” speaks
for itself.
He was born in Philadelphia
in 1834. His writing career in
cluded work as editor and origi
nal writer. As assistant editor
he worked on the staffs of St.
Nicholas Magazine, the Century,
and Hearth and Home. His own
writings were designed to amuse
the public, not to espouse any
cause; nor was he influenced by
sectional traits in style. He died
in 1902.
Stockton was famous in his day
as a humorist, this spirit first be
ing evidenced in “The Ting-a-
Ling Stories” which showed his
nimble, elf-like fancies. Never
did he exceed the natural humor
of “Rudder Range,” a collection
of short sketches on rural life
first published in Scribner’s
Monthly. He was a keen observer
of the feminine temperament, de
riving humor from this source.
Of course, the populace loved this
method of trial. They always went
to court in the utmost excitement,
because they never knew whether
they were to witness fierce death
or overwhelming happiness.
Lover Brought to “Trial.”
Now this king had a daughter who
was the apple of her father’s eye.
But the princess had in eye for the
youths of the court. One of them
was especially handsome, and the
princess and this commoner had a
love affair. All went along well un
til the king heard of it. Then the
youth was brought to trial, to de
termine whether he was guilty or
not in daring to love a princess of
royal blood.
The day came. The tiers of seats
were filled to the top row of the
arena. The whole city knew of
the royal love affair and every one
had come to see the trial.
Presently the door opened into the
arena and the youth walked into the
vast circle. All the spectators
sighed, for he was indeed a hand
some young man and worthy of a
princess’ affection. He looked quick
ly toward the royal box, caught the
eye of the princess and knew in the
flash of an eye that she knew which
door led to the tiger and which to
the lady. He waited for some sign.
With an impatient gesture, imper
ceptible except to the eyes of her
lover, the princess brushed her right
hand toward the right.
What Happened?
With no faltering, the youth
walked toward the right door and
opened it. The decision of the prin-
cess was given to her lover swiftly
and with no indecision.
But it had not been reached so
easily. Night after night she had
awakened hearing the sounds of his
shrieks when the tiger hurled him
self through the air upon his victim.
But night after night she had been
agonized with jealousy and despair
when she thought of her lover wed
to another woman. Anger and rage
would descend to tear her very soul.
So the princess had endured great
agony of mind to reach her decision.
Frank Stockton, author of this
story, finishes his narrative thus:
"The question of her decision is one
not to be lightly considered, and it
is not for me to presume to set up
myself as the one person able to an
swer it. So I leave it with all of you:
Which came out of the opened door—
the lady or the tiger?”
And he leaves the reader in this
suspended excitement!
Dept- K
© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
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]
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WNU—13_________________ 34-38
Excess Greater Evil
Surfeit has killed more than
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HELP KIDNEYS
To Get Rid of Acid
and Poisonous Waste
Your kidney, help to keep you wW!
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Iron th, blood. It your kidney, ret
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E^^.dLX’“01* ,nUm “4
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Burning, eeanty or too frequent urt-
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You may auffer nagging barkaeha,
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