Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 75, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1909 — The Round=Up [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Round=Up

A 'Romance of Arizona Novelised From Edmund Dey’s Melodrama

By JOHN MURRAY and MILLS MILLER

SYNOPSIS. Chapter I— Returning with gold from the mines to an Arizona ranch to claim Echo Allen, hia 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 he has $3,000 to pay a mortgage placed by Jack on his ranch to help him. ll—Colonel Jim Allen, owner of the Bar One ranch, is father of Echo and father by adoption of Polly Hope, Dick and Bud Lane. Polly and Bud are sweethearts. In Dick’s absence Echo falls in love with !lack, 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. lILEcho declares to JacK after the latter suppresses Dick’s letter, fearing to lose her, that she will be true to her promise to Dick if he returns. Bud quarrels with Jack about Echo, the boy chftnpionlng his absent brother’s cause. IV—Aided by Bud, McKee murders Terrill, the station agent, stealing from him $3,000 of county money. McKee suggests to Bud that Dick may still be living. V—The boys gather at the Allen ranch for the wedding of Echo and Jack. VI and Vll—McKee plans to to throw suspicion of Terrill’s murder on Jack, and he and Bud go to the Allens’ for the weding. McKee raises a disturbance and is put out.

CHAPTER VII. ENTERING the living room, Bud found Echo surrounded by several girls from Florence and the neighboring ranches, who were driving her almost distracted with their admiring attentions, for she was greatly disturbed about her lover’s inexplicable absence. Had she been free from the duties of hospitality she would have leaped on her horse and gone In search of him. Echo’s wedding attire would seem as Incongruous as Jack’s to the eyes of an easterner, yet it was entirely suited to the circumstances, for the couple intended as soon as they were married to ride to a little hunting cabin of Jack’s In the Tortilla mountains, where they would spend their honeymoon. She was dressed In an olive green riding habit which she had brought from the east. The skirt was dividfed and reached just below the knees. Her blouse, of light material and brown in color, was loose, allowing free play for her arms and shoulders. High riding boots were laced to the knees. A sombrero and riding gloves lay on the table ready to complete her costume. Bud coldly acknowledged Echo’s affectionate and happy greeting And curtly Informed her that Jack had arrived. She rushed out of doors, with a cry of joy. Running across the courtyard toward her lover, who awaited her with outstretched arms, she began: “Well, this is a nice time, you outrageous”— Then Polly stopped her with a mock serious look. “Walt a minute—wait a minute,” the girl drawled as if reining In a too eager horse. “Don’t commence callin’ love names before you get the hitch. Time enough after. He has been 'actin’ up somethin’ scandalous with me.” Jack threw up his hands In protest, hastily denying any probable charge that the tease might make. “Why, I haven’t been saying a word!” he cried. Polly laughed as she ran to the door. “No, you haven’t,” she answered mockingly, as one agrees with a child whose feelings have been hurt. “He’s only been tellln’ me he loved”— Pausing an instant, she pointed at Echo, ending her sentence with a shouted “you.” With her hand on Jack’s shoulder Echo said: “Polly, you are a flirt. You’ve too many strings to your bow.” “You mean I’ve too mony beaus to my strings!” laughingly answered the girl. “You’ll have Slim Hoover and Bud Lane shooting each other up all on your account,” chided Echo. "Nothin’ of the kind.” pouted Polly. “Can’t a girl have friends? But I know what you two are waitin’ for.” “What?” asked Jack. “You want me to vamose. I’m hep. I’ll vam.” And Polly ran Into the kitchen to tell the men that the bridegroom had arrived, but couldn’t be seen until the bride was through with an Important Interview with him. So she hustled them all Into the living room, where the girls were. This room was a long and low apartment, roughly plastered. The heavy celling beams, hewn with axes, were uncovered, giving an old English effect, although this was not striven for, but made under the stress of necessity. The broad windows were trelllsed with vines, through which filtered the sunshine. A cooling evening breeze stirred the leaves lazily. The chairs were broad and comfortable, the workmanship of the monks of the neighboring mission. In the corners stood squat earthen water jars of Mexican molding. On the adobe walls were hung trophies of.the hunt; war

bonnets and the crudely made adornments of the Apaches. Navajo blankets covered the window seats and were used as screens for sets of shelves built Into the spaces between the windows. Polly carried in on a tray a large bowl of punch surrounded by glasses and gourds. This was received with riotous demonstrations. She placed it in the center of a table made of planks laid on trestles and, assisted by the other girls, served the men liberally from the bowl. The guests showed the effects of outdoor life and training. Their gestures were full and free.. The tones of their voices w’ere high pitched, but they spoke more slowly than their eastern cousins, as if feeling the necessity, even when confined, of making every w’ord carry. No one lolled in his .seat, but sat upright, as if still having the feel of the saddle under him. Toward women in all social gatherings the cowboys act with exaggerated chivalry; but, as Sagebrush would describe it, they “herd by their lonesome.” There is none of the commingling of sexes seen in the east. At a dance the girls sit at one end of the room, while the men group themselves about the doorway until the music strikes up. Then each will seize his partner after the boldest has made the first move. When the dance measure ends, the cowboy will rarely escort his partner to her seat, but will leave her to find fier way to her chum, while he moves sheepishly back to the doorway, to be received by his fellows with slaps on the back and loud jests. At table cowboys carry on little conversation with the girls. They talk among themselves, but at the women. The presence of the girls leads them to play many pranks on one another. The ice is long in breaking, for their habitual reserve is not easily worn off. Later in the evening this shyness is less marked. As Jack and Echo entered the doorway Parenthesis had arisen from his seat at the head of the table and was beginning, “Fellow citizens”— Confused cries of “Sit down,” “Let him talk.” greeted him. Sagebrush held up his hand for silence. “Go ahead. Parenthesis," he cried encouragingly. Parenthesis climbed on a chair and put a foot on the table. This was too much for the orderly soul of Mrs. Allen. “Take your dirty feet off my tablecloth!” she commanded, making a threatening move toward the offender. Allen restrained her, and Fresno caused Parenthesis to subside by yelling: “Get down offen that table, you idiot! There’s the bride an’ groom cornin’ in behind you. We can see ’em through your legs, but we don’t like that kin’ of a frame.” Jack had slipped his arm about Echo’s waist. She was holding his hand, smiling at the exuberance of their guests. Buck McKee, who had been drinking freely, staggered to his feet and hiccoughed: “Here, now, this here don’t go—this spoonin’ business. There hain’t goln’ to be no mush an’ milk served c#it before theyweddln’ ” “Will you shut up?” admonished Slim Hoover. “No, slree!” cried the belligerent McKee. “There hain’t no man here can shut me up. I’m Buck McKee, I am, an’ when I starts in on weddln’ festivities I deal”— “This is one game you are not in on,” answered Jack quietly, feeling that he would have to take the lead in the settlement of the unfortunate interruption of the fun. “That's all right, Jack,” McKee began, holding out his hand. “Let bygones"— Jack was in no mood to parley with the offender. McKee had not been invited to the wedding. The young bridegroom knew that if the first offense was overlooked it would only encourage him and he would make trouble alj the evening. Moreover, he disliked Buck because of his evil habits and ugly record. , “You came to this wedding without an Invite!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m here,” he growled. “You’re not wanted.” “What!” shouted McKee, paling with anger. Turning to his friends, speaking calmly and paying no attention to the aroused desperado, Jack said: “Boys, you all know my objection to this man. Dick Lane caught him spring before last slitting the tongue of one of Uncle Jim’s calves/’ “It’s a lie!” shouted McKee, pulling his revolver and attempting to level it at his accuser. Hoover was too quick for him. Catching him by the wrist, he deftly forced him to drop the muzzle toward the floor. With frightened cries the girls huddled in a corner. The other cowboys upset chairs, springing to their feet, drawing revolvers halfway from holsters as they did so. Hoover had pressed his thumb into the back of McKee’s hand, forcing him to open his fingers and drop his gun on the table. Picking it up. Hoover snapped the weapon open and emptied the cylinders of the cartridges. sns-la no rr.ove. tn defend

self. He was aware his friends could protect him. “That’ll do,” he said to the raging, disarmed puncher. “You can go, Buck. When I want you tn any festivities I’ll send a special invite to you." “I’m sure much obliged,” sneered McKe« making his way toward the door. “Here’ayour gun,” cried Slim, tossing the weapon toward him. McKee caught the, weapon, muttering “Thanks.” “It needs cleanin’,” sneered the sheriff. Turning at the doorway, McKee said, “I hain’t much stuck on weddln’s, anyway." Looking at Jack, he continued threateningly, “Next time we meet It’ll be at a little swaree uv my own.” “Get!” was Jack’s laconic and ominous command. With assumed carelessness McKee answered: “I’m a-gettln’. Well, gents, I hope you all ’ll enjoy this here pink ten. Say, Bud, put a piece uv weddln’ r.? ke In yer pocket fer me. I wants to dream on it.” brought him here?” asked Jn ? k, far ing his guests. "1 did." answered Bud defiantly, “You mis-ht have known better,” was Jack's Only comment. “I’m not saying who’s to come and go. This isn't any of my wedding.” Polly stopped further comment by laying her hand over his mouth and slipping into the seat beside him. “Well, let it go at that,” said Jack, closing the incident. He rejoined Echo as h(/ spoke. The guests reseated themselves. Mrs. Allen laid her hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Just the same, it ain’t right an’ proper for you to be together before the ceremony without a chaperonic.” “Nothin’ that’s right nice is ever right proper,” laughed Slim. “Well, it ain’t the way folks does back east,” replied Mrs. Allen tartly, glaring at the sheriff. “Blast the east!” growled Allen.l “We does things in our own way out here.” With a mischievous smile, Slim glanced at his comrades and then solemnly observed, “Still, I hear they does make the two contractin’ parties sit off alone by themselves”— “What for?” asked Jack. “Why, to give them the last bit of quiet enjoyment they’re goln’ to have for the rest of their lives,” chuckled Slim. The cowboys laughed hilariously at the sally, but Mrs. Allen, throwing her arms about Echo’s neck, burst into tears, crying, “My little girl!” “What's the use of openin’ up the sluices now, Josephine?” t “Let her alone, Jim,” drawled Slim. “Her feelin’s* is harrowed some, an’ irrigation is what they needs most.” The outburst of tears was incomprehensible to the bridegroom. Already irritated by the McKee incident, he took affront at the display of sentiment. He cried, “I don’t want any crying at my wedding!” “It’s half my wedding,” pouted Echo tearfully. “Ain’t I losin’ my daughter?” sobbed Mrs. Allen. “Ain’t you getting my mother’s son?” snapped Jack. The men howled with glee at the rude badinage, which only called forth a fresh burst of weeping on the part of Mrs. Allen, in which the girls began to show symptoms of joining. Polly sought to soothe the trouble by pushing Jack playfully to one side and

saying: “Oh, stop it all! Look here, Echo Allen; you know your hair ain’t fixed yet” “An’ the minister due here at any minute,” added Mrs. Allen. "Come along; we will take charge of you now,” ordered Polly. The girls gathered in a group about the bride, bustling and chatting, telling her all men were brutes at times ■and, looking at the fat sheriff, who blushed to the roots of his hair at the charge, that Slim Hoover was the worst of the lot. Mrs. Allen pushed them away and again fell weeping on Echo’s shoulder. “Hold on now. They ain’t a soul goln’ to no nothin* for her except her mother,” she whimpered. “There she goes again.” said Jack in disgust. “He’s goln’ to take my child away from me,” walled the mother. Tears were streaming down Echo’s cheek. “Don’t cry, mother,” she wept. “No. no, doh’t cry,” echoed the girls. “It’s all for the best,” began Polly. “It’s al’ for the best; it’s all for the best” chorused the group. “Well, ril be”— gasped Jack. “Jack Payson, you just ought to be aahamed of yourself.” said PoSw.

stamping her foot, nasty, mexx old thing!” she threw in for good measure. Mrs. Allen led Echo from the room. The girls followed, crying, “You nasty, mean old thing!” to the unfortunate bridegroom. The cowboys enjoyed the scene Im•niaely. It was a bit of human cometotally unexpected. First they d the weeping women and then ( d uproariously at Jack. i id you ever see such darned carryings on?” said the bridegroom in disgust. “What'have I done?” “Shucks! All mothers is just like that," remarked Allen sympathetically. “They fuss if their girls marry v they fuss if they don’t. Why, my ma carried on somethin’ scandalous when Josephine roped me.” All of the men chuckled except Jack. “I'm appointed a committee,” contined the old rancher, “to sit up with you till the fata] moment.” “I’m game,” responded Jack grimly. “I know what’s coming, but I won’t squeal.” “You’ll git all that’s a-comln’ to you,” grinned Allen. Slim had maneuvered until he reached the door, blocking Jack’s way. As the bridegroom started to leave the room he took his hand and with an assumption of deep dejection and sorrow bade him “Goodby.” "Oh, dry up!” laughed Jack, pushing the sheriff aside. Halting, he requested, “One thing I want to understand right now—if you’re going to fling any old boots after me remove the spurs.” “This here’s a sure enough event, an’ I’m goln’ to tap the barrel an’ throw’ away the bung. ’Wow!” shouted Sagebrush. (To be Continued)

Forcing Mm to open his fingers and drop his gun.