Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 78, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 March 1909 — The Round=Up [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Round=Up

A 'Romance of Arizona Novelised from Edmund Day** Melodrama

By JOHN MURRAY and MILLS MILLER

SYNOPSIS.

Chapter I—Returning with gold from the mines to an Arizona ranch to claim Echo Allen, his promised hride, Dick Lane is attacked by Apaches led by Buck McKee, a renegade. After spending six monthß 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 -93,000 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. Holly 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 to 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. 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 VII —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 IX.

DICK LANE on leaving the hospitaf at Chihuahua went straight to the fortified ledge where he had made his heroic defense. As he conjectured, the renegade McKee had got there first and found and made off with the buried treasure. So Dick manfully set to work to replace his lost fortune. It seemed too slow work to go to his mine and dig the gold he Immediately required out of the ground, so he struck out for civilization to sell some of his smaller claims. In the course of a month, at the end of which his wanderings brought him to Tucson, he had sold enough of his holdings to give film $3,000 in ready cash. As he was near the Sweetwater, he resolved not to express the money to Payson, but to take it himself.

, He entered the courtyard of Allen Hacienda while the wedding was taking place within. None of his friends would have recognized him. His frame was emaciated from sickness; his head was drawn back by the torture which he had suffered; he limped upon feet that had been distorted by the firebrands in McKee’s hands, and his face was overgrown by an uhkempt beard. Sounds of laughter fell upon his ears as he mounted the steps. He heard Fresno shout to Slim to hurry up, as he was telling the story about a fellow that was so tanked up he could not say “sasaparella.” Dich halted. “There must be some sort of a party going on here,” he thought to himself. “It won’t do to take Echo too much by surprise. If Jack got my letter and told her, it’s all right, but If It miscarried the shock might kill her. I’ll see Jack first." Dick had ridden first to Sweetwater ranch, but found the place deserted. The party, he mused, accounted for this. While he was planning a way to attract the attention of some one in the house and to get Payson to the garden without letting Echo know of his presence Sagebrush Charley, who had espied the stranger through the window, sauntered out on the porch to Investigate. Every visitor to the territory needed looking over, especially after the trouble with Buck McKee. Sagebrush was bound that there should be no hitch at the wedding of his boss. “Howdy?” greeted Lane pleasantly. “Pm looking for Jack Payson.” “That so?” answered Sagebrush. “Who may you be?” “I’m a friend of his.” The foreman could see no danger to come from this weak, sickly min. “Then walk right in,” he invited. “He’s Inside." Sagebrush was about to re-enter the house when Dick halted him with the request, “I want to see him out here—privately.” “What’s the name?" asked Sagebrush, bis suspicions returning. “Tell him an old friend from Mexico.” Sagebrush did not like the actions of the stranger and his secrecy. He was there to fight his boss’ battles, if he had any. This was not in the contract, but It was a part read into the paper by Sagebrush. “Say, my name’s Sagebrush Charley,” he cried, with a show of importance. “I’m ranch boss for Payson. If you want to settle any old claim agin Jack, I’m actin’ as his substitoot for him this evenin’." “On the contrary,” said Lane, with a smile at Sagebrush’s outbreak, “be has a claim against me.” It was such a pleasant, kindly look ha gave Sagebrush that the foreman was disarmed completely. •Til tell him,” he said over his shoul-

der. ' v Dick mused over the changes that had occurred since he had left the region. Two years’ absence from a growing country means new faces, new ranches and the wiping out of old landmarks with the advance of population and the invasion of the railroad. He wondered if Jack would know him with his beard. He knew—his mirror told him—that his appearance had changed greatly, and he looked twenty years older than on the day he left the old home ranch.

His trend of thought was interrupted by the entrance of Jack on the porch from the house. “My name's Payson,” Jack began hurriedly, casting a hasty glance backward into the hallway, for the ceremony was about to begin. “You want to see me?” “Jack," cried Dick, holding out his hand eagerly—“ Jack, old man, don’t you know me?” he continued falterlngly, seeing no sign of recognition in his friend’s eyes. Payson gasped, shocked and startled. The man before him was a stranger in looks, but the voice—the voice was that of Dick Lane, the last man in the wqrld he wanted to see that moment. Frightened, almost betraying himself, he glanced at the half open door. If Dick entered he knew Echo would be lost to him. She might love him truly and her love for Dick might have passed away, but he knew that Echo would never forgive him for the deception that he had practiced upon her.

Grasping his friend’s hand weakly, he faltered, “Dick—Dick Lane!” Jack realized he must act quickly. Some way or somehow Dick must be kept out of the house until after the marriage. Then he, Jack, must take the consequences. Dick saw his hesitation. It was not what he had expected. But something dreadful might have happened while he was away, there had been so many changes. “Why, what’s the matter?” he asked anxiously. “You got my letter? You knew I was coming?” “Yes, yes, I know',” lamely answered Jaqk. “But I expected notice. You know you said”— “I couldn’t wait. Jack, I’m a rich man, thanks to you”— “Yes, yes; that’s all right,” said Payson, disclaiming the praise the man he had so grievously wronged with a hurried acknowledgment of his gratitude. “And I hurried back for fear Echo’*— “Oh, yes. I’ll tell her about it when she’s ready to hear It.”

“What Is the matter, Jack? Are you keeping something from me? Where is she?" ‘‘ln there," said Payson feebly, pointing to the door. Dick eagerly started toward the house, but Jack halted him, saying: “No, you mustn’t go In now. There’s ft party—you see, she hasn’t been well; doesn’t expect you tonight. The shock might be too much for her.” Jack grasped at the lame excuse. It was the first to come to his mind. He must think quickly. This experience was tearing the heart out of him. He could not save himself from betrayftl much longer. “You’re right,” acquiesced Dick. “You tell her when you get a chance. Jack, as I was saying, I’ve made quite a bit of money out of my Blsbee holdings. I can pay back my stake to you now.” “Not now,” said Jack nervously. Would this torture never end? Here was his friend, whom he had betrayed, come back in the very hour of his marriage to the woman who had promised first to marry him. Now he was offering him money, which Jack needed badly, for his prospective mother-in-law was complaining about bis taking her daughter to a mortgaged home. “Sure, now,” continued Dick, pulling a roll of bills from his pocket. “It’s $3,0d0. Here it is, all in one bundle.” “Not now. Let that wait* «nid Jack

pushing the money aside. “It's waited long enough,’' cried Dick doggedly. “You put the mortgage on your ranch to let me have the money, and it must be about due now.” “Yes, it will be due, but let it wait*’ “What’S the use? I’m all right now. I brought the cash with me on purpose. I wanted to square it with you on sight” Dick pressed the money into Jack's hand, closing his fingers over the roll of bills. With a sigh of relief, as if a disagreeable task was completed, he questioned, “How’s Bud?" Jack replied shortly, “All right; he’s inside.” *T didn’t write to him,” cheerfully resumed Dick. “I didn’t want the kid to know. He is excitable he would have blabbed it right out. I’ll sure be glad to see the boy again. He’s impulsive, but his heart’s all right. I know you’ve kept a lookout over him.” This trust in him was getting too much for Jack to bear, so the voice of Polly crying to him to hurry up was music to his ears. “I’m coming,” he shouted. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he told Dick. “I’ve something to tell you. I can’t tell you now.” “Go in, then,” answered Dick. “I’ll wait yonder in the garden. Don’t keep me waiting any longer than you can help.” Dick turned and walked slowly toward the gate which led to the kitchen garden, a pnrt of every ranch home in Arizona. It was cut off from the house by a straggling hedge, on which Echo had spent many hours trying to keep it in shape. * Jack hesitated about going into the house. Even if Echo married him he knew that she would never forgive him when she learned of his dastardly -conduct from Dick Lane’s own mouth. It was better to sacrifice the life of one to save three lives from being ruined. Jack followed Lane up, partly drawing his gun. It would be so easy to shoot him. No one would recognize Dick Lane in that crippled figure. Jack’s friends would believe him if he told them the stranger had drawn on him and he had to shoot him in self defense. Then the thought of how dastardly was the act of shooting a man in the back, and he his trusting friend, smote

him suddenly, and he replaced the pistol In Its holster. “It Is worse than the murder of ‘Old Man’ Terrill,” he muttered. Dick walked on, entirely unconscious of how close he had been to death, with his friend as his murderer. So Interested had the two men been In their conversation that neither had noticed Buck McKee hiding behind the hedge, listening to their talk and covering Jack Payson when he was following Dick with his hand on his revolver. McKee heard Payson’s ejaculation and smiled grimly. Jack's absence had aroused Jim Allen, who hurried out on the porch, storming. “Say, Jack, what do you mean by puttin’ the brakes on this here weddin’?” “Jim—say, Jim, I—l want you to do something for me:” cried Jack as he rushed toward his future father-in-law, greatly excited. “Sure,” answered Allen heartily.

, “Stand here at this door during the ceremony and, no matter what happens, don’t let any one In.” “But”— Interrupted Allen. “Don’t ask me to explain,” blurted Jack. “Echo’s happiness is at stake.” “That settles It. I’ve not let any one spile her happiness yet, an’ I won’t in the few minutes that are left while I’m still her main protector. Nobody gets in.” “Remember, no one, no matter who it is,” emphasized Jack as he darted into the house. Jim Allen lighted hig pipe. “Now, what’s eatln’ him?” he muttered to himself; then, “They’re off!” he cried, looking through the window. * The Rev. Samuel Price began to drone the marriage service. It Is the little things of life that count, after all. Men wlllwork themselves Into hysteria over the buzzing of a fly and yet plan a battleship In a boiler shop. A city full of people will at one time become panic stricken over the burning of a rubbish heap and at another camp out in the ruins of fire swept homes, treating their miseries as a huge Joke. Philosophers write learnedly of cause and effect. In chemistry certain combinations give certain results. But no man can say, “I will do thus and so; ♦hi* and that will follow.” AH th»no»

are possible, tor rew miugs are yruliable. Dick Lane had planned tt> shield Echo by Writing to Jack Payson, letting him break the news of his return. Pate would have It that she would not know until too late of his escape. A letter sent directly to her might have prevented much unhappiness and many heartaches. Not till months later, when happiness had returned, did Jack realize that his one great mistake was made by not telling Echo of Dick’s rescue. Both Dick and Echo might have had a change of heart when they met again. Echo was young. Dick had wandered far. Both had lost touch with common Interests. Jack Payson had entered her life as a factor. He was eager and impetuous. Dick was settled and world worn by hardship and. much physical suffering. Now .1 was at the altar racked with mentorture, while Dick waited in the 'tj for his traitorous friend. Thq ■o :m e cf the tragedy was •tiy; and calmly replying to the , :of of the marriage ritual, while . v, . ; looking, as Allen said to If. “darned squeamish.” ' \ < rding to these words, it is the will of Gad that nothing shall sever to - marriage bond,” were the words that fell upon Allen’s ears as he stooped to look In the window at the wedding party. “The sky pilot’s takln’ a long time to make the hitch. Darned If I couldn't hitch up a twenty mule team in the time that he’s takin’ to get them two to the pole,” said Allen, speaking to himself. Dick had grown impatient at Jack’s absence and wandered back from the garden to the front of the house. Spying Allen, he greeted him with, “Hello, Uncle Jim.” “That’s my name,” answered Allen suspiciously, “but I ain’t uncle to every stranger that comes along.” “I’m no stranger," laughed Dick. “You know me.” “Do I?” replied Allen unconvinced. “Who are you?” “The poor orphan you took from an asylum and made a man of—Dick Lane.”

“Dick Lane!” repeated the astonished ranchman. “Come back from the dead!” “No; I’m not dead yet,” answered Dick, holding out his hand, which Allen gingerly grasped as if he expected to find It thin air. “I wasn’t killed. I have been In the hospital for a long time. I wrote Jack. He knows.” “My God!” Allen cried. “Jack knows—you wrote to him—he knows!” Over and over he repeated the astonishing news which had been broken to him so suddenly. Here was a man, as If bagk from the dead, standing in his own dooryard, telling him that Jack knew he was alive. No word had been told him. What would Echo Bay? This, then, explained Jack’s strange request and his distress. “And Echo?” Dick questioned, glancing toward the house. “Echo!” The name aroused Allen. He saw at once that he must act definitely and quickly. Echo must not see Dick now. It was too late. The secret of his return on the wedding day must be known only to the three men.

“Look here, Dick,” he commanded. “You mustn’t let her see you. She mustn’t know you are alive.” Dick was growing confused over the mystery which was being thrown about Echo Allen. First Jack had told him he must wait to see her, and now her father tells him he must never Bee her again or let her know that he is alive. His strength was being overtaxed by all this evasion and delay. “Dick,” said Allen, with deep sympathy, laying his hand upon the man’s shoulder, “she’s my daughter, an’ I want her life to be happy. Can’t you see? Don’t yon understand? She thinks you’re dead.” “What are you saying?” cried Dick, trying to fathom the riddle. “You’ve come back too late, Dick,” sadly; explained Allen. “Too late!” echoed Dick. “There’s something back of all this. I'll see her now.” He started to enter the door, but Allen restrained him. “You can’t go tn!” he shouted to the excited man and pushed him down the steps. It was an easy task for him, for Dick was too weak to offer much resistance. “No, you won’t,” he gently told him. nis heart bled for the poor fellow, whom he loved almost as a son, but Echo’s

nappiness was at staxe, ana explanations could come later. More to emphasize bis earnestness than to indicate intention to shoot, be laid hie hand dn the butt of his revolver. Baying, “Not if I have to kill you.” Dick began to realize that whatever was wrong was of the greatest consequence. It was a shock to him to have his oldest, his best friend in the west treat him in this fashion. “Jim!” he cried in his anguish. “You’ve got to go back where you come from, Dick,” sternly answered the ranchman. “If ever you loved my daughter, now’s your chance to prove It. She must never know you’re livin’ “But’’-k “It’s a whole lot I’m askin’ of you, Dick,” continued Allen. “But if you love her, as I think you do, it may be a drop of comfort in your heart to know that by doin’ this great thing fer her you’ll be makin’ her life better an' happier.” “I do love her,” cried Dick passionately, “but there must be some reason. Tell me.” Allen held up his hand to warn Dick to be silent. He beckoned him to follow him. Slowly he led him to the door and, partly opening it, motioned him to listen." “Forasmuch as John Payson and Echo Allen have consented together In holy wedlock,” were the words that fell upon his ears. As the doomed man stands motionless before his judges and hears his

death sentence read without a tremor, ofttimes thinking of some trifle, so Dick stood for a moment. At first he did not fully realize what it all meant. Then the full depth of his betrayal flooded him. “What?” he cried. “Payson!” Allen held him back. Again the minister’s voice fell upon their ears, repeating the solemn words: “And have declared the same before God and In the presence of these witnesses, I pronounce them husband and wife. What God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” Dick, shaken and hurt, slowly sank to his knees, covering his face with his hands. A dry sob shook his frame. Here was the end of all his hopes, here the sad reward for years of toil and waiting. , “Now you know why you can’t stay here,” said Allen, his tones full of Pity. , “Now I know.” Dick staggered to his feet and started bliqdly away from the house. “Dick,” cried Allen In a broken voice, “forgive me. She’s my child! She loves him now!” The betrayed friend took his hand without looking at him. In vain he tried to hide his deep emotion. “I know,” he faltered. “I’ll never trouble her. I’ll go away never to return." “Where’ll you go?” asked Allen. “Back where I came from—back Into the desert, into the laud of dead things. Goodby!” As he wrung the ranchman’s hand and turned to walk out of the life of his old comrades and the woman he loved he heard the mlnjster repeat: “The blessing of the Almighty Father rest upon and abide with you now and forevermore. Amen.” “Evermore. Amen!” faltered Dick, bidding a last mute farewell to Allen. The old ranchman watched him quietly as he mounted his horse and rode down the trail. Hi 3 reverie was Interrupted by the bursts of laughter of the weddin.a guests and the cries of Fresno:~“Klss the bride. Slim! Kiss the bride!” (To be Continued)

“Who may you. be ?”

Neither had noticed Buck McKee

“Not if I have to kill you ”