Decatur Daily Democrat, Volume 25, Number 47, Decatur, Adams County, 24 February 1927 — Page 6

SIX

The Understanding Heart ■> By PETER B. KYNE ••Perlshin' for a drink!" the old prospector snapped, with a pathetic attempt to lie ferocious and facetious. "Sc’m I Where’d that Dale girl hide her liquor, Charley?" "It's somewhere in that mess o’ stuff. 1 helped her carry her chattels down here." "Well, if you’re perishin’ for a drink, how come you don't lift your dead tail up off this wet ground and help yourself?" "Heinz my tail's dead, sheriff. I’m a mite peaked. It's been a hell of a day. First off |'m baked most to death an' then the rain comes on an' I cheer. Then it keeps up an' I'm mos' froze to death. Reckon you’d oughter carry me up to the lookout station, sheriff." “And when you've tucked Uncle Charley away comfortably, come back atuf dig me out," a voice spoke behind the sheriff. "I'm a mite peaked myself." “Who are you?" The sheriff turned and flashed his lantern in the face of the second speaker. “Your face is familiar, but I can't; remember your name," he decided. "Face is more or less singed, or you'd recognize it. I'm Bob Mason, and be damned to you. For once in your life you happen to be where you're wanted. I'm scorched and blistered and battered, and Uncle Charley buried me naked in mud to ease me; then he covered me with these hunks of sod grass to protect me from the heat when we thought the fire would sweep over Bogus. I’m just too weak to throw ’em off and I'm numb with the cold.” "Well, Bob, old son," Bentley replied with extraordinary unexpected friendliness, "there's sure worse places than San Quentin, ain't there?, Where's my horse an' outfit?" "Monica Dale has them. She's ridden down to Tantrum. You didn’t suppose I'd steal, did "No. but you’re right handy at borrowin' without the owner’s permission. I suppose my outfit's ruined.” "Well, I boiled all the saddle soap out of it, and Baldy will never look the salhe. He'll be as gay as ever after a test and some good feed, but I reckon he'll come out speckled when the scabs fall off his burns.” "I've heerd a lot o’ talk from your political enemies to the effect that you're more or less half witted, Bentley," Uncle Charley piped very feebly, “an' now I'm beginnin' to believe that talk. Quit gabbin,’ you infernal chatterbox. an' git us out o’ this." The sheriff picked the frau little Uncle Charley’ up in his arms, carried him up to the house and laid him on the floor. Then he ran out to the barn and brought in a huge armful of hay, to which he removed Uncle Charley. In a few minutes he had a fire roaring in the open fireplace and. leaving the old man to his own devices. ho returned to the field for Bob Mason. With the latter on his back he arrived ten minutes later, and laid the convict beside Uncle Charley on the hay. <A n his third trip he returned with the two-gallon demijohn and some wet bedding; also the clothing <>f his patient” "No rest for tae wicked.” Uncle Charley almost mewed. "Go down ag'in an' bring up a few chairs to hang them clothes on so's they’ll dry.” “We'll all have a nip first, Uncle Charley.” Bentley gave each of the chattering men a large glass of the moonshine and helped himself to one. Uncle Charley smacked his blue lips. “Cast thy moonshine upon the waters, and it wijl return to thee after many days,” he quoted. “Yow! My heart’s commenced beatin’ again.” He essayed a brave smile. “Life’s full o' compensations,” he declared. “It’s just the mercy o’ hell my derned laigs went dead on me before you laid me out on this hay, sheriff, or I'd be tickled into high-sterics by now.” Bentley went to the barn and returned with his more or less dry saddle-blanket, which he spread over both men. "You two’d be a cute sight if comp’ny should walk in unexpected.” he growled. "Now lay quiet and make the best of it until I cook us some supper. In ten minutes it'll be second-drink time." Thereafter silence, save for the sounds emanating from the kitchen. ] When supper was ready, however, [ Uncle Charley declined to eat and s

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| asked for another drink. "Reckon Bob'll scoff my share o’ the grub," be replied to the sheriff’s urging. "All I I require is a whole lot o' let tin' alone. I I'm warmin' up now an' feelin' better; seems as If I might last till mornin'.” Having fed his prisoner, the sheriff heated water and wash<d the mud from Hob .Mason’s body. Then lie applied olive-oil and flour to his ■ burns. The habitual reticence of the I mountaineer induced Mason to mainc tain silence; the hysterical mood of t. the earlier evening, a hysteria due to i exhaustion and despair, bad given I way to stoicism. His brave plans had gone astray, J and now naught remained for him to I do save live and suffer through long II years <rf desolatiou. All his good r conduct credits at the penitentiary, all 1! his vague hopes for a parole on his sentence of life imprisonment, were 1 gone now, and he would be sent to c the dungeon for thirty days upon his j return to San Quentin. I CHAPTER 30. 1 t Bentley, silently sympathetic, undressed and stood holding his trous- > ers before the fireplace; the roar of t the rain on the cabin root and the - 'splash- of t.he run-off from the eaves, II Uncle Charley’s heavy breathing and an occasional deep sigh from Bob Mall son all hud conspired to induce a f mournful attitude of mind in the sher- « iff. r “Bob.” he said presently, "my job ain't so dog-gone joyous as some r might think. I wasn't lookin’ for you , when I run into you. Os course I I was out to get you and I wasn’t • shirkin' my duty one-half o’ one per- - cent, but all the same 1 was hopin’ 1 ■ wouldn't have any luck. It' I could s' have got back my horse and outfit I'd ‘ ■ have felt relieved the minute you i crossed the county line into Modoc ' and out of my jurisdiction." 1 "Thanks, Bentley. I know you 1 mean it.” “I always did figger you got a raw • deal at your trial. You entered a plea I p' justifiable homicide, didn’t ybu—- ! self-defense, the unwritten law. and ’ | what not? You hadn't ought to have 1 been convicted o' murder in the first ’ degree. Manslaughter, second degree 1 and three years would have been too much. I’ve often thought you had the • wrong lawyer.” "It cost money to import spellbind-1 ers from the city — trained criminal, > lawyers who make a jury use their : hearts, instead of their heads, sheriff. - I used the local talent, and the im--1 ported talent the Hercules people hiri ed to help the district attorney certainly made a monkey out of my counsel.” The convict shook his head sorrow- ■ fully. "I knew the district attorney . was my lawyer’s meat, but that city lawyer kept thinking of new points

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DECATUR DAILY DEMOCRAT THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 24. 192/.

♦ | to bring up, always putting notions in th,' district attorney’s head, and wheti| the district attorney put witnesses on tbo stand this assistant prosecutor got a lot of hearsay evidence ami personal conclusions out of them. Os course, my lawyer got It struck out of the record, but the other side got it out of tin- witnesses' mouths, ami no power on earth could striko the record out of the minds of the jury.” "You can't tell nothin' about a jury, Hob. I reckon some of ’em was fixed. IT the Hercules crowd hadn't been interested in seein' you convicted, seems to me that jury would have been more sympathetic ’ "1 didn't cfave sympathy.” Bob Mason replied doggedly. "All 1 asked | was justice. I'd warned that skunk to keep away from my ranch. I told him If he didn't and 1 caught him on my property again I'd tunnel him. Fhat’s man talk, I reckon. 1 warned him, didn't I? Most men would have gone down to the mining company’s office and arrived a-foggin', but 1 wasn't seeking trouble, sheriff. I’m not the kind that invites trouble, but if trouble I must have and it seems there's no honor in dodging it, I'll meet it. "1 figured I had to meet my domestic troubles some day. so what was the use beating about the bush? The sooner I got a good excuse to find out whether Kelcey and 1 were going to make the grade or not. the sooner I'd quit worrying. So I talked for a week about going over into Modoc to buy some feeder steers —and finally I got into my car and started. You remember I'd strung tnree miles of telephone wire through the timber to connect my ranch with the Forest Service line? "Well, I'd cut in an extension telephone on that line about a quarter of a mile from the house, so 1 turned my ear into the clump of sycamores where this telephone was hidden and

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Lnt there for half a day with the I receiver to my ear before I heard Kelcey speaking to that man. "Well, sheriff. I drove on down the road to the boundary line of my property and I sat in the car there and w ined. Presently he cant''. Hi' was mounted, and ns he leaned down to dose the gate, I stepped out and said, •Walt a minute. You're on my prop erty.' He looked around, suw me, and sat his horse, trembling!" "The ornery skunk," Sheti.T Bentley growled. "He sure wanted killin'." "Well, there wouldn't hilve been anv particular profit in killing him He'd ruined my happiness, but as God is my judge 1 wasn't thinking of my own happiness, but Kelcey's. A woman marries a man lor reasons she thinks are sufficient. Then perhaps she discovers they're insufficient ami she's so unhappy life is scarcely worth the living. I was good and kind to Kelcey. 1 knew more about her thoughts than she did herself, but 1 just wasn't her man. 1 don't think 1 ever was —and 1 knew 1 wasn't after she'd meet that mining superintendent. He was one of these talking men; had a lot of cute ways about him; played the piano ” The sheriff growled deep in his throat. All of the piano-playing males he had ever seen had practiced their art in places frequented by males who despised piano-players! "And sung funny songs mighty

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. well. 1 enjoyed bin vIsIIh myself nnI ill 1 couldn't help weeing Keicny enjoveil them more. Then the gossip commenced, and 1 got an anonymous letter advising me to stay to home ’ more and hire some waddy to look after my cattle. * “Os course I didn't pay anv alien | ’ tion to that, but 1 handed the letter ’ to my wife and explained to her us i kind as I could that she was the cußtodian of my honor and It was up to her whether she made a laughin- ;; stock of her husband or not. i "I asked her if Grant Bardwell, i had been in the habit of visiting the I house-ttnrtirie-nvy-ftbsemw- She gave' s me a sort of wild little look, and 1 f saw she was on the point of crying and claiming an insult, instead of an-1 P sweting my question, until she * thought 1 might know more than she , gave me credit for, and it would be | 1 best to tell the truth. So she said he, ' had, and 1 asked her how many times. 1 and she said he’d been in the habit of riding up a couple of times a week j without pausing to inquire whether 1; r was home or not. (To he covrni r-:i»» K Copyright 1926 Peter B Kyne t by arrangement with King Features Syndicate, Inc 0 s Marion —A new speed record was beS leived hung up here by a local auto I dealer returning to thts city from y Anderson, 31,9 miles distant. Free use of the accelerator enabled him to make y the trip in 28 minutes and 27 seconds.

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