Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 80, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 March 1909 — The Round Up A Romance of Arizona Novelised Prana Edmund Day's Melodrama [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Round Up A Romance of Arizona Novelised Prana Edmund Day'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, 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 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 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 popiflar 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. MiKee suggests to Bud that Dick fnay 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 wedding. Mckee raises a disturbance and is put out. VIII— All ready for the wedding. IX— Dick turns up at the Allens’ just as his sweetheart is married to Jack. Only Allen and Jack see him. Jack is tempted to shoot his friend, who pays the $3,000 to him and returns to the desert.

CHAPTER X.

FIVE weeks had passed since the marriage of Echo and Jack. On her return from the honeymoon in the little hunting cabin in the Tortilla range the young wife set to work, and already great changes had been made in the ranch house on the Sweetwater. Rooms were repapered and painted. The big center room was altered Into a cozy living room. On the long, low window, giving an outlook on fields of alfalfa, corn snd the silver ribbons of the irrigation ditches, dainty muslin curtains now hung. Potted geraniums filled the sill, apd in the unused fireplace Echo bad placed a jar of ferns. A clock ticking on the mantelpiece added to the cheerfulness and hominess of the house. On the walls horns of mountain sheep and antlers of antelope and deer alternated with the mounted heads of puma and buffalo. Through the open window one caught a glimpse of tbe arms of a windmill and the outbuildings of the home ranch. Navajo blankets were scattered over the floors and seats.

Echo had taken the souvenirs of the hunt and trail which Jack had collected and, with a woman’s touch of refinement, had used them for decorative effects. She had in truth made the room her very own. The grace and charm of her personality were stamped upon the environment. The men of the ranch fairly worshiped Echo. Sending to Kansas City, they purchased a piano for her as a birthday gift. On the morning when the wagon brought it over from Florence station little work was done about the place. The instrument had been unpacked and placed In the living room in Jfcho’s absence. Mrs. Allen, Polly and Jim rode over to be present at the presentation. The donors gathered in the living room to admire the gift, which shone bravely under the energetic polishing of Mrs. Allen. “That’s an elegant instrument,” was her observation as she flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the case. Polly opened the lid, saying, “Just what Echo wanted.” Jim cocked his head as if he were examining a now pinto pony.

“Sent all the way up to Kansas City fer It, eh?” “That’s right, Uncle Jim!” chorused the punchers. “Now the room’s complete,” announced Polly. r “Echo’s made a big change around here.” The group gravely followed Polly’s approving glances. “That she has,” assented Mrs. Allen. “Looked like a bam when Jack was a bachelor. This certainly is the finest kind of a birthday present you all could have thought of.” “Josephine ’ll cry In a minute, boys,” chuckled Allen. “You hesh up I” snapped his wife, glaring at the grinning ranchman. Sagebrush poured oil on the roughening waters by changing the conversation. Speaking as If making a dare, he challenged, “.What I want to know is, is there anybody here present as can rassle a tune out of that there box?” No one came forward. “Ain’t there none of you boys that can play on a planny?” he demanded. “I’ve played on the big square one down at the Lone Star,” gravely piped up Show Low. « "What did you play?” asked the Inquisitive Polly.

'"’’Poker,” answered Show Low seriously, his face showing no trace of humor. “Poker!” Poll£ repeated, in disgust. “That’s all they ever plays on it,” explained Show Low Indignantly. Polly grew impatient. This presentation was a serious affair and not to be turned into an audience for the exploitation of Show Low’s adventures. Moreover, she did not like to be used even Indirectly as a target for funmaking, although she delighted In making some one else a feeder for her Ideas of fun. Fresno modestly announced he was something of a musical artist. “I ’low I can shake a tune out of that,” he declared. "Let’s hear you,” cried Polly, rather doubtful of Fresno’s ability. “Step up, perfesser,” cried Allen heartily, slapping him on the back. Fresno grinned and solemnly rolled up his sleeves. His comrades eyed his every move closely. He spat on his hands, approached the piano and glared fiercely at the keyboard. “My ma had one of them there things when I was a yearlln’,” he observed. Fresno spun the seat of his piano stool until It almost twirled off the screw. His actions created the greatest Interest, especially to Parenthesis, who peered under the seat to see the wheels go round. Fresno threw his leg over the seat as If mounting a horse. "Well, boys, what’ll you have?” he asked, glancing from one to the other in Imitation of the manner of his friend, the pianist In the Tucson honkytonk, on a lively evening. “The usual poison,” absently answered Show Low. Sagebrush struck him In the breast with the back of his hand. “Shut up,” he growled. Turning to Fresno, he said, “Give us the—er—The Malden’s Prayer.’ ” Fresno whisked about so quickly that he almost lost his Gazing at the petitioner In blank amazement, he shouted, “The what?” Sagebrush blushed under his tan. In a most apologetic voice he said, “Well, that’s the first tune my sister learned to play, an’ she played It continuous—which is why I left home.” “I’d sure like to oblige you, but maidens’ prayers ain’t In my repetory,” explained the mollified musician. Fresno raised his finger uncertainly over the keyboard, searching for a key from which to make a start. The group watched him expectantly. As be struck a note each member of bis audience jumped back in surprise at the sound. Fresno scratched his head and gingerly fingered another key. After several false starts, backing and filling over the keyboard, he began te pick out with one finger the air “Th« Suwanee River.” ‘That’s It. Now we’re started,” he cried exultantly. His overconfidence led him to strike a false note. “Excuse me,” he apologized. “Got the copper on the wrong chip.” Once more he essayed playing the old melody, but became hopelessly confused. “Darn the tune!” he mumbled. Sagebrush, ever ready to cheer up the falling courage of a performer, chirruped, “Shuffle ’em up ag’ln an’ begin n new deal.” Fresno spat on his hands and ruffled his-hair like a musical genius. Again be sought the rhvthm among the keys.

He tried to whistle the air. That device failed him. “Will you all whistle that tune? I’m forgettln’ it,” was his plaintive request. “Sure! Let her go, boys!” cried Sag» brush. ~f Palterlngly, with many stops and sudden starts, they tried to accompany Fresno’s halting pursuit over the keyboard after the tune that was dodging about In his mind. All at once the player struck his gait and Introduced a variation on the bass notes.

•That ain’t In ft!” shouted Show Low Indignantly. “Shut up!” bellowed Sagebrush. With both hands hammering the keys Indiscriminately, Fresno made a noisy If not artistic finish and whirled about on the stool, to be greeted by hearty applause. “Well, I reckon that’s goin’ some!” he boasted when the hand clapping subsided, bowing low to Polly and Mrs. Allen. v “Goin’?” laughed Polly. “Limpin’ Is what I call it. If you don’t learn to ■witch off you’ll get a callous on that one finger of yourn.” Fresno looked at that member dubiously. “Ain’t music civilizin’?” suggested Show Low to Jim Allen. “You bet!” the ranchman agreed. “Take a planny an’ enough Winchesters an’ you can civilize the hull of China.” "Fresno could kill more with his planny play than his gun play,” suggested Show Low. Mrs. Allen bethought herself that there was a lot of work to be done In preparation for the party. Even If everything was ready the dear old soul would find something to do or worry about. “Come, now, clear out of here, the hull kit an’ b’ilin’ of you!” she ordered. The men hastily crowded out on the piazza. ‘Take that packin’ case out of sight If you mean this planny to be a surprise to Echo. She’ll be trottin’ back here in no time,” she added. Fresno had lingered to assure Jim: ‘This here birthday’s goin’ to be a success. Would you like another selection?” he eagerly asked. “Not unless you wash your finger!” snapped Mrs. Allen, busy polishing the keys Fresno had struck. “You left a grease spot on every key you’ve touched,” she explained. Fresno held up his finger for Allen’s Inspection. “I’ve been greasin’ the wagon,” was his explanation. “Get out with the rest of them!” she commanded. “I’ve got enough to do to look after that cake.” Mrs. Allen darted Into the kitchen. Jim slowly filled his pipe and hunted up the most comfortable chair. After two or three trials he found one to suit him and sank back, with a sign of content. “Jack ain’t back yet?” Polly put the question. “No; he rode over for the mail.” Polly rearranged the chairs In the room, picking up and replacing the articles on the table to suit her own artistic conceptions. She straightened out a war bonnet on the wall. She was flicking off a spot of dust on the gilt chair that Jack had got as a wedding present for Echo on the day of the station agent’s murder, and, being reminded of the tragedy, she asked, ‘That posse didn’t catch the parties that killed Terrill, did they?’ “Not that I hear on. Slim Hoover he took the boys that night an’ tried to pick up the trail after it entered the river, but they couldn’t find where It come out.” “One of them fellers, the man that left the station alone and probably done the Job, rode a pacin’ horse,” answered Jim between puffs of bis pipe. “Then he’s a stranger to these parts. Jack’s pinto paces. It’s his regular gait. It’s the only pacin’ hoss around here.” “That’s so,” he assented, but made no further comment. The full force of the observation did not strike him at the time. / Polly began to pump Colonel Jim. There were several recent happenings which she did not fully comprehend. At the Inquisitive age and a girl, she wanted to know all that was going on. “Jack’s been actin’ mighty queer of late,” she ventured, “like he’s got somethin’ on his mind.” Jim smiled at her simplicity and jokingly replied, “Well, he’s married.” The retort exasperated Polly. She was not meeting with the success she desired. “Do hush!” she cried in her annoyance. ‘That’s enough on any man’s mind,” Jim laughed as he sauntered out of the door. “Somethin' queer about Jack,” oblerved Polly, seating herself at the table. “He ain’t been the same man Blnce the weddln’., He’s all right when Echo’s around, but when he thinks no one Is watchin’ him he sits around an’ sighs.” Jack entered the room at this moment. Absentmlndedly he hung his hat and spurs on a rack and leaned his rifle against the wall, sighing deeply as he did so. So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice Polly until he reached the table. ’He started in surprise when he saw her. “Hello, Polly!” was his greeting. “Where is Echo?” Polly rose hastily at the sound of his voice. “Didn’t you meet her?” she asked. “We got her to ride over toward Tucson this morhin’ to get her out of the way so’s to snake the planny in without her 6eein’ it.” Polly glided over to the Instrument and touched the keys softly. With admiration Jack gazed at the instrument.

"l came around by Florence,” answered Jack, with a smile. Eagerly Polly turned toward him. “See anything of Bud Lane?” she queried. “No.” Again Jack smiled, this time at the girl's Impetuosity. “He’ll lose his job with me If he don’t - call more regular,” she said. “Say, Jack, you ain’t fergettln’ what you promised—to help Bud with the money that you said was cornin’ In soon as Dick’s share of a speculation you and him was pardnera in? I’m powerful anxious to get him away from McKee.” Jack had not forgotten the promise; but, alas, under the goading of Mrs. Allen that he should clear off the mortgage on hls home, he had used Dick

Lane's money for this purpose, in what a mesh of lies and broken promises he was entangling himself! Now he was forced further to deceive trusting little Polly In the matter that was dearest to her heart. “No, Polly, but the fact Is—that speculation Isn’t turning out so well, after all.” The disappointed girl turned sadly away and went out to Mrs. Allen in the kitchen. Jack removed his belt and gun and hung them on the rack by the door. | Spying Echo’s father at the corral, he called to him to come Into the house. “Hello, Jack!” was Allen’s greeting as lie entered, shaking the younger man’s hand. “When did you come over?” “This mornln’,” Allen -told him. •‘Echo’s birthday, you know, an’ the | o’d lady allowed we’d have to be here. Ain’t seen you since the weddln’. Got thlnra looking fine here.” Allen slowly .’ eyed the room. ’ k agreed with him with a gesof a- rent. A more Important ■k to him than the furnishing of a m wan what had become of Dick I.;u:c. After the wedding ceremony r.o chance had come to him to speak privately to Allen. The festivities of the wedding had been shortened. Slim had gathered a posse and taken up the trail of the slayers. Jim Allen had joined them. The hazing of Jack and the hasty departure of the bridal pair on horseback in a shower of corn, shelled and on the cob, prevented the two men from meeting. The older man had volunteered no explanation. Jack knew that In his heart Allen did not approve of his actions, but was keeping silent because of his daughter. Jack could restrain himself no longer. “Jim, what happened that night?” he asked brokenly. Allen showed his embarrassment. Meanln’ ” Then he hesitated. “Dick,” was all Jack could say. “I seed him. If I hadn’t he busted up the weddln’ some,” was his laconic answer. “Where is he?” Allen relighted his pipe. When he got the smoke drawing freely be gazed at Jack thoughtfully and answered, “He’s gone, back where the come from—into the desert” Jim puffed slowly and then added, “Looks like you didn’t give Dick a square deal.’’ Allen liked his son-in-law and was going to stand by him, but in Arizona the saying “All’s fair in love and war” is not accepted at its face value. “I didn’t,” acknowledged Jnck. “I was desperate at the thought of losing her. She loved me and had forgotten him. She’s happy with me now.” “I reckon that’s right,” was Jim’s consoling reply. , To clinch his argument and soothe his troublesome conscience Jack continued, “She never would have been happy with him.” ‘That’s what I told him,” declared Allen. “He knew it, an’ that’s why he went away, an’ Echo, no matter what comes, she must never know. She’d never forgive you—an’, fer that matter, me neither.” Jack looked long out of the window toward the distant mountains, the barrier behind which Dick was wandering In the great desert, cut off from the woman he loved by a false friend. “How I have euffered for that lie!’’ uttered Jack in tones full of anguish. ‘That’s what hurts me most —the thought that I l:'ed to her. I might have killed him that night,” pondered Jack. He shude ered at the thought that he had been on the point of adding murder to the lie. He had faced the same temptation which Dick had yet to overcome. “Mebbe you did. There’s more’n one way of killin’ a man,” suggested Allen. Jack swung around and faced him. The observation had struck home. He realized how poignantly Dick must have endured the ioss of Echo and the thought of his betrayal by Jack. As he had suffered rrenfnllv so Dick must be suffering in the desert. In self justification he returned to his old argument “I waited until I was sure he was dead. Six months I waited after we beard the news. After I had told Echo I loved her and found that I was loved In return—then came this letter. God. what a fight I had with myself when J found that he still lived—was think-

ing of returntng home to claim her for his own! I rode out into the hills and fought it out all alone, like an Indian. Then I resolved to harry the wedding—to lie to her—and I have been living that lie every minute, every hour.” Jack leaned heavily on the table. His head sank. Hls voice dropped almost to a whisper. Allen slapped him on the back to cheer him up. Philosophically he announced: “Well, It’s got to be as it Is. You’ll mebbe never hear from him again. You mustn’t never tell her. I ain’t a-goin’ to say nothin’ about it Her happiness means everything to me.” Jack grasped his hand In silent thankfulness. The two men walked slowly out of the room to the corral. (To be Continued)

“That'S it. Now we're started," cried exultantly.