Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 67, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1909 — The Round-Up [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Round-Up

A Romance of Arizona Novelized From Edmund Day’s Melodrama . ' .1 ' .1 ... r ' rS .. A ■» . ■

By JOHN MURRAY and MILLS MILLER

SYXOI’HIH.

Chapter I—Returning with gold from the mines to an Arizona ranch to claim Echo Allen, his promised bride, Dick Lane is attacked by Apaches led by Buck McKee, a renegade. After spending six months in a hospital Lane writes to his friend Jack Payson, owner of the Sweetwater ranch, to tell Echo he is coming home. He tells Payson ke has $3,000 to pay a mortgage placed by Jack on his ranch to help him. Il—Colonel Jim Allen, owner of the Bar One ranch, is father of Echo and father by adoption of Pally Hope, Dick and Bud Lane. Polly and Bud are sweethearts. In Dick’s absence Echo falls in love with Jack, realizing that her love for Dick was merely friendship. Dick is believed to be dead, owing to the return of McKee with a lying story. Bud “chums” with McKee despite the warnings of Slim Hoover, the fat and popular sheriff. Echo and Jack become engaged. 111. Echo declares to Jack after the latter suppresses Dick’s letter, fearing te lose her, that she will be true to her promise to Dick if he returns. Bud quarrels with Jack about Echo, the boy championing his absent brother’s cause.

CHAPTER IV. RIDING hard into Florence from Sweetwater ranch. Bud Lane hunted up Buck McKee at his favorite gambling joint and in a white heat of indignation Informed him in detail of everything that had passed between Payson and himself. At once McKee Inferred that the writer of the letter was none other than Dick Lane. Realizing that Payson was already Informed of his villainy and that in a very short time Dick Lane himself would make his appearance on the Sweetwater, the half breed concluded to make a bold move while he yet retained the confidence of Bud. “Bud.” he said. “I know the man who is sendin’ the money to Payson. It’s Dick, yer brother.” "But.” stammered Bud, his brain whirling, “but if that's so you lied about the Apaches killing him—and you—why, you—must have been the renegade, the devil who tortured prospectors.” “Why, Bud, Dick never wrote all that dime novel nonsense about the man ’who stood by him to—well, not the -very last, fer Dick has managed somehow to pull through. Probably he wuz saved by the rurales that wuz chasin’ the band that rounded us up. No; it’s Payson, Jack Payson, that made up that pack uv lies jes’ to keep you away from me, the man that wuz last with Dick, an’ so may get on to Jack’s game an’ block it.” “Game! What game?” asked Bud. bewildered. “Why, you told me it yerself—to marry Dick's girl an* live on Dick’s hard earned money.” “But Dick borrowed the three thousand of Jack," objected Bud. “Well, the dollarsihe borrowed have all gone, haln’t they? And the money he’s sendin’ back Dick dug out uv the ground by hard work, didn't he? Leastaways, Payson hadn’t ort to use the money to rope in Dick’s girl. It ort to be kep’ from him, anyhow, till Dick comes on the ground his own self. That’d hold up the weddln’, all right, if I know Josephine. It’d be easy to steer her into refusin’ to let Echo go into a mortgiged home.” Simple minded Bud readily accepted the wily half breed's explanations and surmises and fell into the trap be was preparing. This was to hold up the express agent and rob him of the money Payson was expecting, on securing which It was McKee's intention to flee the country before Dick Lane returned to denounce him. To ascertain just when the money came into the agent’s hands and to act as a cover in the robbery itself an .accomplice was needed. For this purpose no man in all the Sweetwater region was better adapted than Bud l4tne. Frank and friendly with every one, he would be trusted by the most suspicious and cautious official in Pinal county. The fact that he bad chosen Buck McKee as an associate had already gone far to rehabilitate this former “bad man” in the good graces of the community. Under cover of this friendship McKee Jioped to escape suspicion of any kind in the homicide he contemplated. For it was murder—foul, unprovoked murder—that was In the black soul of the half breed. He Intended to Incriminate Bud’ so deeply as to put It beyond all thought that he would confess. Young Lane, passionately loyal to his brother, was ready for anything that would delay Payson’s marriage to Echo Allen. Together with the wild joy that sprang up in his heart at the thought that his brother was alive was Intwined a violent hatred against his former employer. In the fierce turbulence within bls soul, generated Ly the meeting of these great emotions, he was Impelled to enter upon a mad debauch, in which McKee abetted and joined him. Filling up on bad whisky, they rode through the streets of Florence yell-. Ing and shooting their guns like crazy men. It was while they were engaged tn this spectacular exhibition

of horsemanship, gun play and voca> zatlon that Bud’s sweetheart rode into town to execute some commissions in preparation for Echo Allen’s wedding. Already “blue” over the thought that her own wedding was far in the dim future, poor Polly was cast into the depths of despair and disgust by the drunken riot in which her prospective

husband was indulging with her particular aversion, the cruel, calf torturing half breed, McKee. Thoroughly mortified, she slipped out of town by a side street and moodily rode back to Allen Hacienda. After the debauch was over and the merry, mad devil of nervous excitement was succeeded by the brooding demon of nervous depression McKee broached to Bud the idea of robbing the express agent of the money coming to Payson. This fell in readily with the young man’s revengeful mood, and he unreservedly placed himself under the half breed’s orders. In accordance with these. Bud hung about the railroad station a great deal, cultivating the friendship of Terrill, the agent. “Ole Man" Terrill, as he was called, although he was a vigorous specimen of manhood on the underside of sixty, was ticket and freight agent, express messenger and telegraph operator—in fact, the entire bureau of transportation and communication—at Florence station. Bud frankly told him he was out of a job and had indeed decided, in view of his coming marriage, to give up horse wrangling for some vocation of a more elevating character. So Terrill let him help about the station, chiefly In the clerical work. While so engaged Bud learned that a package valued at $3,000 was expected upon a certain train. Although no consignee was mentioned, the fact that the amount tallied exactly with the sum Payson wa/ expecting caused him to conclude it was Dick’s repayment of his loan. Accordingly he Informed McKee that the time they were awaiting had arrived. Florence had grown up as a settlement* about a spring of water some time before the advent of the railroad. Builders of the line got into trouble with the inhabitants and in revenge located the station half a mile away from the spring, thinking new settlers would come to them. In this they were disappointed. The point was an Isolated one and th'* station a deserted spot between trains. Eastward and westward the single track of failroad drifted to shimmering points on the horizon. To the south dreary wastes of sand glistening white under the burnished sun and crowned with clumps of grayish green sagebrush stretched to an encircling rim of hills. Cacti and yucca palms broke the monotony of the roll of the plains to the uplands. Sabuaros towered over the low station, which was built in the style of the old Spanish missions. Its red roof flared above the purple shadows cast by its walls. In the fathomless blue above a buzzard sailed majestically down an air current and hovered motionless over the lonely outpost of civilization. - Within the station a telegraph sounder chattered and chirruped. ’Die Man” Terrill was at the instrument. His duties were over for the forenoon, the eastbound express, which, with the westbound, composed the only trains that traversed that section of the road each day. having arrived and departed a half hour before, and be had cut in on the liuerio regale himself with the news of the world. But there was a dearth of thrilling events such as his rude soul delighted in., The Apache uprising that was feared had not taken place. Colonel Hardie of Fort Grant had the situation well in hand. The nihilists were giving their latest czar a breathing spell. No new prizefighter had arisen to wrest the championship of the world from John L. Sullivan, who

had put all his old rivals “to sleep.” “Ole Man” Terrill proceeded to follow their example. He had been up late the night before at a .poker game. His head fell forward with a Jerk. Aroused by the shock, he glanced drowsily about him. Heat waves danced before the open window. Deep silence hung over his little world. Again his eyelids closed, his bead dropped, and slowly he slipped into sleep. Tragedy was approaching him now, but not along the wire. Down an arroyo, or “draw” (the«dry bed of a water course), that wound irj a detour around the town of Florence and debouched into the open plain near the station, crept two men in single file, each leading a horse. They were Buck McKee yid Bud Lane, who had ridden north from the town that morning with the declared purpose of going to Buck’s old ranch, the Lazy K. They had circled about the town, timing their arrival at the station a little after the departure of the train which was expected to bring Dick Lane’s money. Mcfcee emerged first from the mouth of the draw. He wore a coarse flannel shirt, loosened at the throat. About his neck was a handkerchief. His riding overalls were tucked into high boots with Spanish heels and long spurs. A Mexican hat with a bead band topped a head covered with coarse black hair, which he inherited from his Cherokee mother.

Save for the vulture floating high in air not a living thing was in sight. With the caution of a coyote McKee crept to the station door and peered bllnkffigfy through the open door into the room. The change from the dazzling light without to the shaded interior blinded him for a moment. He heard the heavy breathing of the sleeper before he saw him. Returning to the mouth of the arroyo, McKee motioned to his companion to bring out the horses. When this was done the two men cinched the saddles and made every preparation for sudden flight. Lane and the horses remained outside the station behind a freight car on a siding, while McKee stole softly through the open door to “Ole Man” Terrill s side. Now, the agent used as a safe deposit vault his inside waistcoat pocket,’ the lock upon which was a huge safety pin. For further defense he' carried a revolver, loosely hung at his hip and easily reached. His quickness on the draw in the hour of need and his accuracy of alm made him a formidable antagonist. Some men are born into the world to become its watchdogs, others to become its wolves. The presence of a human wolf is, as it were, scented by the human watchdog even when the dog is asleep. McKee was known instinctively as a man-wolf to the born guardians of society. Slim Hoover, himself a high type of the man mastiff, used to say of the half breed: “I can smell that b’ar grease he slicks his hair with agin the wind. He may be out o’ sight an’ out o’ mind, when somethin’ tells me ‘McKee’s around.’ Then I smell b’ar grease, an’ the next thing Bucky shows up with bis Ingrasheatln’ grin. It’s alluz 'grease before meet,’ as the sky pilot would say.”

“Ole Man” Terrill was of the watchdog breed. Whether warned by the instinct of his kind or wakened by the scent of McKee's bear grease, he suddenly opened his eyes. Like all men accustomed to emergencies, he was Instantly in full possession of his

wits, yet he pretended to be slightly ron fused In order to get a grasp upou the situation before greeting his visitor. “Howdy. Buck?” he said, adjusting his revolver as he swung half round In his chair that he might reach his weapon more readily in an emergency. “Bustin’ or busted?” “Well. I’m about even with the game.” replied McKee, pulling from Ils pocket e bng of tobacco and papers and deftly rolling a butterfly cigarette. "Goin’ to shake It before 1 lose my pile. It’s me fer the Lazy K. Dropped in to say goodby.” Terrill, who had recently had an expensive seance with McKee at poker, remonstrated. “Ytu ought to give me another chance at you. Buck. Yer goin' away with too much o’ my money.” “Well, ole man. I’m likely to rob you uv a lot more es you haln’t keerful,” answered McKee. “You can’t jest yit awhile,” said Terrill. “Dead broke.” “AW, come off! Everybody knows

yer a walkin’ bank. Bet you got three thousan* in that inside pocket uv yourn this minute.” Terril) started at McKee’s naming the exact amount he was carrying. He forgot his customary caution Lk bja surprise. “Well, you did Jes’ it, shore enough. I believe yer.[i»alf gypsy instld o’ half InJun. Jes’ like yer knowln’ I stood pat on four o’ a kind when you had aces full an’ throwin’ down yer cyards ’fore I c’u’d git even with you. How do you do it, Huck?” McKee gave a smile of cunning, inscrutable superiority. “Oh, It's Jes’ a power I have. ‘Keen sabby,’ as the greasers say—l’m keen on the know how. Why, I kin tell you more about the money. It’s fer Jack Payson”— “Now, there’s whar yer way off as a cleervoyant, Buck,” said Terrill triumphantly. “You guessed oncet too often. The three thousan’ Is county money, consigned to Sheriff Hoover. Jack Payson has Jes’ lef with a package from K. C., but It wasn't money. It was a purty gilt chair—a weddln* present fee the gal he’s goln’ to marry.” z “At that moment the sounder of the telegraph began clicking the call of the station. Terrill whirled about In his swivel chair and faced the table. McKee stood close behind him. His Ups twitched nervously. His eyes narrowed as he watched every movement of the agent’s big shoulders as he operated the key. At the same time the half breed drew his revolver and covered the back of Terrill's head. The agent completed his message and turned to continue his Interrupted conversation. He found himself gazing Into muzzle of a 44—big, it seemed, as a thirteen Inch gun. “Why —what?” he stammered. “I’m actin’ jes’ now as Slim’s depplty.” said McKee. “Unbutton an’ han’ that money over.” Once having his victim in his power, all the innate cruelty of the Indian blood of his maternal ancestors flashed to the surface. Terrill was at his mercy. For one desperate moment he would play with him, even torture him as his forefathers had once made miserable the last moments of a captive. He knew that unless he silenced Terrill his life must pay the forfeit. Death was the penalty of detection. The arm of the express company was long. Ultimate capture was certain.

Gazing into the muzzle of a 44Pursued out of Arizona by the sheriff, he would be trailed through every camp and town In the far west. With an oath, Terrill tried to rise and face his antagonist, reaching for his revolver as he did so. The butt of his weapon had caught in the arm of his chair, hampering his movements. McKee threw him roughly back into the chair.

“Throw up yer han’s!" he cried. “Don't try that!” Up went Terrill’s hands high over his head. He faced the open window. Not a sign of help was in sight. Quickly the agent turned over in his mind various schemes to foil McKee, who now stood behind him with the muzzle of his revolver pressing into the middle of his back. Each was rejected before half conceived. McKee laughed sneeringly, saying, “You oughtn’t to be so keerless to show' whar you cache yer roll.” Terrill made no reply. His hope of escape was slowly fading. McKee bad reached his left hand over his prisoner’s shoulder to disarm Terrill, who moved slightly away from him, drawing in his feet as he did so. One chance had come to him. He knew that ii’ he failed death was certain. yet 1 riuiued to take the risk in or.’.v; < . rieve the slip he had made in ; * that he bad money In bis, pc:. . . :to a gambling crony, and so to keep • lean his record for trustiness. <_t which he was so proud. This last desperate resource was an old wrestler's trick—one with which he had completed others in the rough games of the corral. Again Terrill moved to the right and farther under McKee, who had to extend his arm and body far beyond an upright position. Holding his revolver against Terrill handicapped the half breed in his movements.

With a quick turn Terrill grasped McKee’s left arm, jerking it down sharply on his shoulder. With his right hand he grasped the back of his antagonist’s neck, pulling bls bead downward and inward. Using his shoulder for a fulcrum, with a mighty heave of his legs and back he sought to toss McKee over his head. So surprised for an instant was the towboy by the suddenness of the attack that be tpade no effort to escape .’he clutches of the desperate expre i agent His ,feet had left the floor and was swinging tn the air before finger pressed the trigger. • There was n muffled report. The two men fell in a heap on the floor, McKee on top. Dazed and en, McKee scrambled to his feet. air was pungent with odor of powder smoke. Terrill rolled over on his side, trembled convulsively and died. He had paid the penalty for a moment’s Indiscretion with bls life. McKee quickly unfastened the pin and seized the roll of bills. Skimming through the package, be smiled with satisfaction to see that the most of it was In small bills and none of them stained. Carefully avoiding the fast forming pool of blood which was oozing from the hole In the dead man's head, he hurried to the door. ’anco showed him the coast wee

clear. Running across the tracks, he Joined Lane, who was impatiently waiting for him behind a freight car.

In silence they mounted their horses. For a short distance McKee led the way upon the railroad track in order to leave no hoofprints and then struck across the desert toward the hills in the south“Why did you shoot?” gasped Laue. “He drew on me,” snarled McKee. “It wasn't Dick’s money, but you 11 get half. Shut up." The burning sun rose higher and higher. The buzzard dropped lower in the sky. The silence of death brooded over the railroad station. (To be Concluded.)

Yelling and shooting their guns like crazy men.

Two men in single file, each leading a horse.

There was a muffled report.