Jasper County Democrat, Volume 23, Number 69, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 November 1920 — COMRADES OF PERILS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

COMRADES OF PERILS

By RANDALL PARRISH

, x SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I.—Tom Shelby, a rancher, ridea In to the frontier town of Ponca looking for a good time after a long spell pf bard work and loneliness on the panch. Instead, he runs into a funeral—that of Dad Calkins, a retired army man of whom little Is known. A girl, still In tier teens, survives Calkins. CHAPTER n.—McCarthy, a saloonkeeper and Ponca's leading citizen, decides that the girl, now alone in the World, should marry. Shelby starts a bunt for eligible husbands and the minister goes to confer with the girt CHAPTER lll.—She agrees to pick a busband from a score of men lined up In her home. To his consternation, she selects Shelby, who had gone along merely Ka spectator. He Reclines the honor. dlgnant, the girl dismisses the assemblage. Later, Shelby goes back to make kn explanation. She receives him good baturedly. CHAPTER IV. The Proposal. He stared back at the closed door, still dazed but capable of swearing at himself for being such a blame fool. He felt a vague suspicion that he had acted foolishly and that the girl was -amused at his awkward embarrassment. The interview had proven altogther different from what he had anticipated; the tears he had come to wipe away were conspicuous by their absence, and instead of bringing comfort and courage to an extremely mortified young lady, he had found her filled with merriment over the affair and quite Indifferent as to its outcome. She was different from anything he had previously conceived. He had confidently expected to encounter a rather ordinary young woman of the commonplace frontier type—the kind he had known for years. She had proven herself nothing like what he had conceived. She had been

smiling and self-possessed, mocking him with her good humor and treating ' the whole affair as a joke. He was the victim, rather than she, evidently, in her estimation ; and he had actually felt like a raw boy in her presence, unable to think of a word to say or what to do with either hands or feet. How immaculately clean she was and ready of speech. He saw again the picture of her, sitting there facing him, her eyes meeting him frankly. Yes, she had made a fool of him, all right, and he turned and strode up the path, oblivious to all else but his gloomy thoughts. _ , There were numerous people on the main street, although the principal groups were before the dance hall and McCarthy’s saloon. Shelby stopped in the glare of the former to consider what he had better do, his mind vibrating between joining the others at the bar or seeking his bed at the hotel. He was still undecided when two men suddenly bumped into him and he recognized Cowan and “Red” Kelly, both drunk enough to be ugly and insulting. The first stared into his face with a sneer. “H—l, ‘Red,’ if here ain’t the bridegroom,” he exclaimed Insolently. “Say, where you been all this time?” Shelby drew back slightly, but held bls temper, his brain instantly clearing. “I don’t hold that to be any of your business,” he replied coldly. “Well, by thunder, it is, just the same. You butted into this game without no warrant, an’ yer* playin’ us fer a parcel of fools. Fer one, I don’t stand fer it. It was a put-up job. You an’ her are in cahoots for that money. She didn’t never look at one o’ us. Your pretendin’ to be surprised was too darn thin. H —l! I bet yer just come over from bein’ with her an’ laughin’ at us—yer d—n skunk!” Shelby’s face hardened and his teeth set grimly. “Don’t go too far, Cowan,” he warn-

ed sternly. got some reputation as a fightin’ man myself an' I don’t take everything peaceably. Now, listen to me, you drunken brute, and keep a civil tongue in your head. I have seen the girl, but we didn’t talk none about marriage and, what’s more, I wouldn’t touch that money, not a cent of it, even if I was to marry her —she ain’t that kind, ner I ain’t.’ “Gosh, you must think I’m a sucker, Tom Shelby. What the h—l you got to git married on? I’ll bet yer never seed two thousand before in all your life. Tell that to the marines—there ain’t nobody goln’ to marry her except for the cash.” “What do you mean?” “Why, she’s homely as a hedge fence. •Red’ was just sayin’ that if she’d a picked him, he’d have jumped the reservation, money or no money. Yer can’t string me!” “You say she’s homely?” “I sure do, an’ as damn mean as she looks, I reckon.” i Shelby’s face was like flint and his tight fist crashed square Into Gowan’s sneering Ups. The fellow went toppling over £nd before he even knew E*hat had happened the ranchman was pon him, holding him flat to the

earth and pommeling with both bands. Jt was soon over with, Shelby giving his opponent no chance to break away, Interspersing his bl#ws with a frank expression of feeling. “You measly hound ! Goin’ to marry her for money, am I? Maybe you'd like to say that ag’in, d —n you 1 That’s 'bout the size o’ your soul, Cowan. Take that, you whelp! You won't be so d —n beautiful yourself when I get through. There now I Perhaps you’ll lay quiet awhile!” He got to his feet and glared about into the ring of interested faces defiantly. “Any more of yer want to say what he did?” he demanded. “Here, you, Kelly; you laughed when that dirty pup said she was homely as a hedge fence! Come here, you red-headed terrier,” and he gripped him by the throat shaking the fellow helplessly

back and forth in his mad rage. “I’m goln’ ter marry that girl, if she’ll have me, an’ there ain’t nobody goln’ to slam the looks o’ my wife, either. You get that, you coyote? What do yer think of it now—hey? Spit it out; what do you think of her now?” Kelly had to spit It out; it was all he could do with those fingers gripping him. “Let go—d—n It—let go I H—l! She’s —she’s the handsomest woman I ever saw; you—you let go o’ me!” Shelby flung him to one side in utter disgust, hurling an oath after him as he reeled dizzily into the protection of the crowd. He cast his eyes once in contempt about the circle, seeking some other antagonist and finding none.

“To h —l with all of you!” he declared. “Get out of the way therel” They fell back to give him safe passage and he strode straight on past the dance hall and turned down the dark path leading back to Calkins’ shack. He had but one thought now, one purpose; he had burned his bridges behind him. After what he had said and done only a single coursfe remained. Without a pause or a regret he went straight to the door and rapped. It was no timid touch of the knuckles this time; he was still too angry to either hesitate or doubt. And there was no sign of embarrassment in word or act when the door opened and she stood there looking at him in wonderment. * “I’ve come back to say another word to you,” he announced simply. “I’d like to come in.” “Something has happened?” “It has; I’ve just had to lick two pups who got too gay ’bout you. They said some things an’ I said some things. Now I’m aimin’ to make good. You said you’d marry me awhile ago; does that hold?” She was leaning against the table, staring at him; her face seemed to go white and her,hands toyed nervously with a knife she had picked up. “You —you had trouble , with two men, over me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “What men?” “‘Red’ Kelly and a gazabo named Cowan; they was both here.” “Oh; they were angry at you for that?” “Sure; not because you didn’t take no notice of them; then they got drunk an’ undertook to ride me; said it was a put-up job between us ter get away with that money.’’ “What money?’’ “The twenty-five hundred you was goln’ to get. The preacher told you about that, didn’t He?” She shook her head, evidently bewildered. _ _

“Where was 1 going to get all that money?" “Why, McCarthy was puttin’ It up; he and some other bucks, so as to give you a start after you was married.” She drew a deep breath, looking straight into his eyes. “You mean those men came here for that?” indignantly. “They were willing to marry me so as to get that money? Good God ! I was to be sold ! Is that actually true? Nobody ever hinted such a shameful thing to me.” “Well, I reckon they didn’t mean no harm by that,” he tried to explain. “You don’t just see it right. They figured that Old Calkins had died an' left you without a cent, sorter helpless out here, an’ that the town owed you a decent chance ter git married an’ settle down. That’s what the money was given for." “But those fellows all knew It. That was what made them agree F’ “I reckon maybe it was—mostly, at least." She twisted her hands together, a hot, red flush coming Into each cheek. “Well, I’m glad to know that. Now what was It those two men said, the men you had the trouble with?" “Well, you see, Cowan was drunk an’ naturally all worked up. He's a sort o’ good-lookin’ chap an think* he cuts quite a swale with women." “But what did he say?” “Well, he run into me up there on the street just now, him and ‘Red’ Kelly, an’ said I was after you for that money. I told him he was a liar an’ then sorter let loose a remark I didn’t take kindly.” “What remark?” “He —he sorter insinuated that I’d never marry you for any other reason.” “He did—why?” “Well," he blurted out desperately, finding no possible way of escape, “he sorter said you wasn't awful good lookin’ an’ then I pasted him. That’s all.” Her lips parted, her eyes opening wide in astonished amusement. “That I wasn’t good looking!” she laughed. “And you actually hit him for that?” “I sure did; the other pup laughed an’ he got his dose about the same time. I didn’t hurt ‘Red’ Kelly none; just shook a little sense into him, but I reckon It’ll be a week before Cowan gets out much. Then I come down here.” “To ask me to marry you?”

-—'“That’s the idea. I told ’em I’d do it ’Tain’t likely you’ll feel now the same way you did at first, but if you do, then I'm in the game. I ain’t got much; I told you all 'bout tl\at, but if you’re a mind to rough it up on the Cottonwood, I’m here to go shares with you.” . The girl gazed at him in silence, her breath coming quickly, almost in sobs, a strange, misty light in her eyes. “You —actually want me to marry you?” “Sure; that’s what I come back for.” “Are —are you after that twenty-five hundred dollars?” “H—l, no 1” emphatically. “I forgot to tell you 'bout that I won’t take a d —n cent of it That’s what I told them hounds an’ I’ll tell McCarthy the same thing. I ain’t that kind to marry no girl cause she’s got coin. The five hundred is yours, fair an’ square, but there don’t none o’ that two thousand go into my jeans. That’s got to be part o’ the bargain.” “But you don’t know anything about me?” He grinned good-humoredly. “I reckon there may be some things you’ll discover about me, fer the matter o’ that. Maybe it’s ’bout as fair one way as another.” “Yes, I suppose it is. You really mean what you have said?” “I sure do.” “When? How soon?”. “Tomorrow morning. I aim to get

out o’ here as soon as I can. How is it—will you take a chance?” His voice was strangely earnest, and his eyes, as she ventured to glance up, wek honest and kindly. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I will, Tom Shelby.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

The Fellow Went Toppling Over.

"Will You Take a Chance?"