Jasper County Democrat, Volume 12, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 May 1909 — The Round=Up [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Round=Up

A Romance of Arizona** Novelized From 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 ancr^popular Eheriff. 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 wedding. Mckee ?aises 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. X—The cowpunchers send for a piano as a surprise for Echo, now married to Jack. XI Jack keeps his business affairs secret from his wife, not daring to tell her where he got the $3,000 to pay the mortgage. Polly flirts with Slim, although she loves bud The boys give the piano to Echo. Buck McKee comes to Payson’s at the head of his followers, the Lazy K outfit, to accuse Payson of killing Terrill. Xll—Buck accuses Jack, and the young man refuses to clear himself by telling where he got the money. Slim puts McKee and his men off the Payson place. Jack confesses to his wife his deception to her regarding Dick, and she sends him to the desert to find Dick and bring him back to hear from her own lips that she believed him dead when she promised to marry Jack. Forgetting he is under suspicion of killing Terrill, Jack goes. Echo tries to call him back, but is prevented by Bud. Slim, as sheriff, pursues Jack. XIII—In the desert are Dick, sought by Jack, the latter pursued by Slim and a posse, and a band of Apaches hunted by a troop of soldiers. XlV—Jack finds Dick to send him back to Echo xyith his own supply of water and food, he himself staying in the desert to expiate his unfaithfulness to his friend. The two are attacked by the Apaches. Dick is killed and Jack is wounded. He is rescued by Slim and the troops.

CHAPTER XlV.—Continued. Jack arose in his misery. His task was harder than he expected. Dick !WM forcing him to tell all without concealing even the smallest trifle of his shame “She thought—you were dead. 1 never told her otherwise. I lied to her—l lied to her.” “She never knew?” asked Dick joyfully. “The letter”— “I never gave It to her,” answered Jack simply. Dick leaped to his feet, pulling his revolver from his holster. “And I thought her false to her trust!” He aimed his gun at Payson’s heart “I ought to kill you for this!” Jack spread out his arms and calmly replied, “I’m ready.” Dick dropped bls gun and slipped It Into the holster, with a gesture of despair. “But It’s too late now—too late!" In his eagerness to tell Dick the way he had solved the problem Jack spoke (nervously and quickly. “No, it isn’t 100 Ikte. There’s one way out of this—one way In which I can atone for the wrong I’ve done you both, and I stand ready to make that atonement. It is your right to kill me, but it is better that you go back to her without my blood on your hands.” “Go—back—to her?” questioned Dick as the meaning of the phrase slowly idawned upon him. “Yes," said Jack, bolding out his hands. “Go back with clean bands to ,Echo Allen. It is you she loves. There's my horse up yonder. Beyond there’s the pack mule loaded with water and grub—plenty of water. We'll Just change places, that's ail. You take them and go back to her, and I’ll stay here." Dick walked toward the spring, but ■ spell of weakness came over him, and be almost sank to the ground. Jack caught him and held him up. “It would be Justice,” muttered Dick, ■a if apologizing for his acceptance of Jack's renunciation. Leaning over his shoulder, Jack said: “Sura, that's It, Justice. Just tell her I tried to work it out according to my lights. Ask her to—forgive—to forgive, that's all"

Jack took off his canteen and threw the strap about Dick’s neck. As Lane weakly staggered toward the mouth of the canyon, where the horse had been staked out. Jack halted him with a request: “There’s another thing:’ I left home under a cloud. Buck McKee charged me with holding up and killing ‘Ole Man’ Terrill for $3,000. Tell Slim Hoover how you paid me just that sum of money.” “I will, and I’ll fix the murder where it belongs and then fix the real murderer.” Jack stepped to Lane’s side and,

holding out his band, said: “Thank you. I don’t allow you can forgive me?” **l don’t know that I could,” coldly answered Dick. "You’d better be going.” Again Dick started for the horse, but a new thought came to him. Pausing, he said, “She can’t marry again until’’— "Well?” asked Jack. His voice was full of sinister meaning, and he fingered bls gun as he spoke. Dick realized at once that Jack’s plan was to end his life In the desert with a revolver shot. "You mean to”— He shuddered. Jack drew bls gun. “Do you want me to do it here and now?” he cried. Staggering over to him, the weakened man grappled with his old friend, trying to disarm him. “No, no! You shan’t!” he shouted as Jack shook him free. “Why not?” demanded Jack. “Go! There’s my horse—he’s yours—go! When you get to the head of the canyon you’ll hear and know—know that she Is free and I have made atonement” Dick slowly moved toward the mouth of the canyon, still hesitating. From the hillside a rifle shot rang out The ball struck Dick In the leg. He fell and lay motionless. Pulling his revolver. Jack stooped and ran under the overhanging ledge, ipeerlng about to see where the shot had come from. He raised his gun to fire when a volley of rifle shots rang through the canyon, the bullets kicking up little spurts of dust about him and chipping edges off the rocks. Jack dropped on his knees and crept to his rifle, clipping bls revolver back Into bls holster. Crouching behind a rock, with bls rifle to his shoulder, he waited for the attackers to show themselves

Experience on the plains taught them that the fight would be a slow one unless the Apaches sought only to divert attention for the time being to cover their flight southward. After the one shot which struck Dick and the volley directed at Jack not a rifle bad hmm fired. Peering over the

bowlder. Jack could see nothing. Dick had fallen near the spring. He struggled back to consciousness to find his left leg numb and useless. When the ball struck him he felt only a sharp pinch. His fainting was caused by a shock to his weakened body, but not from fear or pain. Wlfh the return to his senses came a horrible, burning thirst and a horrible sinking sensation in tne pit of his stomach. He lay breathing heavily until he got a grip on himself. Then he tore the bandanna handkerchief from his neck and bound up the wound, winding the bandage as tightly as his strength permitted to check the blood flow. “What is it?” asked Jack over his shoulder. “Indians. The Apaches are out. I’m hit!” gasped Dick. He crawled painfully and slowly to Jack’s side, dragging his leg after him. He pulled with him his rifle, which he picked up as he passed from the spot where it had fallen in his first wild rush for water. “The soldiers told me at Fort Grant about the Apaches being out.” Jack whispered hoarsely. .“I thought they’d cross the border into Mexico.” Seeing a spasm of pain over Dick’s face, he asked, “Are you hurt bad?” “I don’t know. My left leg is numb.” Both men spoke scarcely above a whisper, fearing to betray their positions by the sound of their voices. Dick lay on his back, gathering strength to ward off with rifle and revolver the rush which would come sooner or later. Jack caught the sound of a falling stone. Peering cautiously over the rock, he saw an Indian creeping up a draw toward them. Throwing his rifle to his shoulder, he took quick aim and fired. The Apache jumped to his feet, ran a few steps forward and fell sprawling. A convulsive shudder shook him, and he lay still. “1 got him!” cried Jack exultantly as he saw the result of the shot. But the exposure of his head and shoulders above their barricade had drawn forth more shots from other members of the band. ' The bullets struck near the two men, showing that the Apaches had the range.

Dick’s wound was bleeding freely, but the Shock of the blow had passed away, and his strength returned. Drawing his revolver, he crept closer to Jack, crying, “I can shoot some!” “I reckon you haven’t more than a flesh wound,” encouraged Jack. “Can you crawl to the horse?” “I think I can,” answered Dick. “Then go. Take the trail home. I’ll keep these fellows busy while you get away.” An Apache had crawled to the head of a draw and crossed the butte into a second ravine, which led to the trail down the cliff side. On his belly he had wormed his way up the pathway until he overlooked the rear of the defensive position the two men occupied. Screened by a ledge, he waited a favorable shot. Jack again cautiously raised his head and peered over the barricade. Still not an enemy was in sight. As the Apaches had ceased to fire, he knew they were gathering for another simultaneous rush. In the breathing space which the Apaches had given them Jack, who had resigned himself to die, took a new grip on life. His dream of atonement had worked out better than he had

planned. Selling his life by bravely fighting in a good cause was far, far better than ending it by his own hand. It was a man’s death. Fate had befriended him in the end. Reaching his hand out to Dick, he touched his shoulder, rousing him from a stupor into which he was sinking. “Quick, Dick. They’re coming closer. Go," he ordered. “Don’t be a fool. Only one of us can escape—one of us alone. Let it be you, Dick. Go back to her —back to home and happiness.” Dick struggled to a sitting posture, offering a fair target for the Indian hidden behind the ledge on the cliff trail. The Apache took full advantage and fired, but missed. Dick returned the shot with his revolver before the warrior could sink back behind the rock. The Apache lurched forward In hls death blindness with the last convulsive obedience of the muscles ere the will flees. Then his legs crumpled up beneath him, and he toppled forward off the ledge. Hls breechclout caught In a rocky projection, causing the body to hang headlong against the side of the cliff. Hls rifle fell from hls nerveless hands, clattering and breaking on the rocks below. The sight served as a tonic to Diok. His success braced hls strength and will. The old battle spirit surged over him. Only with an effort did he suppress the desire to laugh and shout., He would have left Jack to fight it out alone but a minute before, but the one shot drove all such ideas from hls mind.

“No, I’ll be hanged if I’ll go!” he shouted. “I’ll stay and fight with you,” and, seizing hls rifle, he joined Jack In stopping a rush of the Apaches. "We stopped them that time,” Jack cried, with satisfaction. In the lull he again urged his comrade to escape to the horse and return to Echo. “Take the horse,” he insisted. “Go while there’s a chance." “No!” shouted Dick determinedly. It was as much his fight as Jack’s now. Jack thought more for Echo in that moment than he did for himself. Here was the man she loved. He must go back to her. The woman’s happiness depended upon it. But Jack realized that while he was alive Dick would stay. Ono supreme sacrifice was necessary.

i “Go,” he cried, “or Hl stand up and let ’em get me.” “No; we can hold them off,” begged Dick, firing as he spoke. Swiftly Jack Payson arose and faced the Indians. i “Goodby!” he cried to his comrade. Dick struggled to his feet and threw himself on Jack to force him down behind the barricade. For a moment, both men were in full view of the

Apaches. A volley crashed up and across the canyon. Both men fell locked in each other’s arms, then lay still. The Indians awaited the result of the shots. The strange actions of the men might be only a ruse. Silence would mean they were victorious. Both Jack and Dick had been struck. Jack was the first to recover. Reviving, he struggled out of the clasp of his unconscious comrade. “He’s hit bad,” he said to himself, “and so am I. I’ll fight it out to the last, and if they charge they won’t get us alive." Dick groaned and opened his eyes. “I’m hit hard,” he whispered. “You’d better go.” Jack was on his hands and knees crawling toward his rifle when his comrade spoke. t “Listen,” he replied. “We’re both fixed to stay now, so lie close. I’ll hold ’em off as long as I can, but if they rush save one shot for yourself—you understand?” “Yes, not alive!” answered Dick weakly, his voice thin and his face ashen and white with pain. Jack reached the bowlder and, with an effort, raised himself and peered over the edge. “They’re getting ready. Will you take my hand now?’ he asked as he held it out to Dick. “I sure will!” his wounded comrade cried, grasping it with all the strength he possessed.

Jack smiled In hls happiness. He felt he had made hls peace with all men and at last was ready to meet death with a clear conscience. “It looks like the end, but we’ll fight for it.” The shrill warwhoops of the Indians, the first sound they had made in the fight, showed they felt confident of overcoming the men In the next rush. Jack and Dick had abandoned the rifles and were now fighting the Indians off with their revolvers as they closed In on them. Hardie had halted the night before at Clearwater spring. Finding it but mud and alkali, he had merely rested hls men and horses for a few hours and then pushed on for Apache spring, where he hoped to strike water. The troop rode through the early morning hours, full of grit and keen to overtake the Apaches, traces Of whose flight were becoming more evident every mile. All weariness had vanished. Even the horses felt there was something In the air and answered the bugle call with fresh vigor and go. A scout first heard the firing at the spring. He did not wait to investigate, knowing he could do nothing alone.

!Tbe volleys, the difference in the reports of the rifles, proved to him that a fight was on. He knew that the Apaches were being held off. Galloptpg back to the troop, he reported the

Egnt to its commander> The bugles sounded. The horses were forced into a gallop. With clashing accouterments and jingling spun and bits they dashed across the mesa to the head of the trail. Here they met Slim Hoover and his posse coming from an opposite direction. The firing in the canyon was more intermittent now. Dick and Jack were saving their revolver shots. The Indians Were closing in for the last rush. Hardie dismounted his men and threw his troop as groups of skirmishers down the draws leading into one side of the canyon. Slim and his posse were on the left hank, armed with revolvers. Hardie, with a section, dashed down the trail. They came upon the Apaches with the rush of a mountain torrent, striking them in the front and on the flank. The cavalrymen fired at will, each plunging from one cover to another as he picked; out his man. The Indians for a few moments replied shot for shot. Their stand was a short one, however, and they began to fall back. Slim entered the canyon at the head of the scouts, driving the Apaches before him. Both Jack and Dick had fallen. Across the bodies a wave of the battle flowed. Once the Indians rallied, but so sudden was the attack, so irresistible the forward dash of the cavalrymen, that they became discouraged and broke and fled toward their horses, with the soldiers in pursuit. Slim hurried to Dick’s side, seeing he was the worst hurt. As he knelt beside him the dying man opened his eyes and smiled. Leaning over him. Slim heard him gently whisper, “Tell her I know she was true and not to mind.” With a deep sigh, his eyelids fluttered, and all was still. The scouts had taken charge of Jack,

who was unconscious and bleeding freely. From the spring the fighting had drifted southward. Few of the Indians reached the horses, and fewer still got away. Scattering shots showed the hunt for those who fled on foot was still Jon. Then soft and mellow over canyon and mesa and butte floated the bugle call, recalling the cavalrymen to the guidon. Back they came, cheering and tumultuous, only to be silenced by the

presence of their dead. They buried Dick’s body near the spring and carved his name with a cavalry saber on a bowlder near by. At dawn the next day they began the long march back to Fort Grant. Slim took charge of Jack, nursing him back to life. (To be Continued)

“I ought to kill you for this!”

Crouching behind a rock, rifle to shoulder.

He waited a favorable shot.

Dick returned the shot.

They dashed across the mesa.

Carved his name on a bowlder.