Jasper County Democrat, Volume 23, Number 72, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 December 1920 — COMRADES of PERIL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

COMRADES of PERIL

By Randall Parrish

Copyrl*ht A. C. McClurg & Co. * - ‘ SYNOPSIS. * CHAPTER I—Tom Bb«lby. a rancher, rldea In to the frontier town of Ponca looking for a good time after a long apeU of hard work and loneliness on the raneh. Instead. ho rune into a funeralghat of Dad Calk Ine. a retired army man •f whom little Is known A girl, still in tier toons, survives Calkins. CHAPTER 11-—McCarthy, a saloonSeeper and Ponca's leading cl t lien, decides that the girl, now alone in the world, should marry, Shelby starts a hunt for eligible husbands and the minister goes to confer with the glrL CHAPTER lll.—Sho agrees to pick a husband from a score of men lined up in her home. To his consternation, she selects Shelby, who had gone along merely go a spectator. Ho declines the honor. Indignant, the girl dismisses the assemblage. Later, Shelby goes back to make gn explanation. Sho receives him good naturedly. CHAPTER IV.—Leaving her. Shelby guns Into two of the rejected suitors, and tn a fight worsts them both. Angered at their remarks, he returns to the girl. Jetermlned to marry her, if she will have him. After his explanation she agrees to marry him.

CHAPTER V. The Wedding. It was an exceedingly busy afternoon, so filled with details of preparation as to leave Shelby slight opportunity for reflection. He bad never contemplated marriage, or Imagined himself a benedict He knew practically nothing as to t|ie disposition and character of the girl or what she might require of himself. He had no conception that he loved her or that she felt any especial affection for him. His sudden action had been very largely Influenced by his controversy with Cowan and she had quite frankly confessed that her choice of him rested entirely on the fact that he was not e resident of Ponca. There had been no mention of love between them, merely a business-like arrangement, ifcnmarked by the slightest sentiment. Tie was dimly aware that this made a poor foundation on which to build for future happiness. This peculiar situation was driven home to him by a vivid recollection of what he was going to take her to—that desolate ranch out there on the Cottonwood. Could she be satisfied! Could she even bear with such conditions? He saw McCarthy and the preacher from Buffalo Gap, first telling them frankly the whole story and gravely pledging both to secrecy. Refusing firmly to receive a cent of the money which Mac promptly offered, he left these two to arrange all details for the wedding, confident of their discretion and good judgment There was no necessity for his seeing the girl again, and. Indeed, he felt no Inclination to do so. He even shrank from the thought of seeing her, and was profoundly thankful that everything was so completely understood between them as to make another conference entirely unnecessary. Satisfied upon this point, he devoted the time remaining at his disposal to purchasing the variety of articles made necessary by this sudden change In life. The buckboard was loaded until nothing remained unoccupied but the narrow seat, a huge box, packed full, occupying the rear portion, with bundles tied securely here and there about the vehicle, wherever they would ride safely. Over all these he stretched a tarpaulin to keep out the dust, strapping the latter firmly into place. The solemn injunction to secrecy had prevented Ponca from making this occasion one of special celebration, . but, nevertheless, rumor had been sufficiently busy so as to prevent any strictly private ceremony. The parlor of the hotel was already crowded with uninvited guests when he finally arrived and there was also an overflow meeting In the adjoining dining room. Shelby swore under his breath, but It was too late to protest outwardly, as the orlde-to-be was already waiting his arrival at the foot of the stairs. In spite of the doubts which had assailed him during the past few hours, the sight of her thus awaiting his coming, her eyes meeting his own frankly, sent a sudden thrill through his veins. She was chaperoned by the wife of the principal storekeeper and doubtless others among the few respectable women of Ponca had combined their taste and possessions to property fit her out for the occasion. Just how the transformation had been accomplished Shelby, being a man woefully lacking in experience, did not know, but he was vividly aware of the change in her appearance and She was dressed in gray, outer garment plainly fashioned ■ ? fitting well, while a most becoming ''Pat, rather coquettish in its shape, .Tested on Soft, shining hair, fluffed |mt attractively, forming a most agreeframe for the young face, the

cheek* flushed with excitement Shrtby stood before her tongue-tied, unable to find words of greeting, painfully conscious of his own awkwardness. The embarrassment, however, was but for the Instant for the preacher had been waiting his entrance, eager to begin the ceremony. What occurred during the next few moments was never wholly clear in Shelby's mind. He did mechanically whatever be wss told, but without comprehension. He remembered walking between rows of curious faces, occasionally recognising a familiar countenance, clear across that crowded parlor to the further wall, which seemed to be decorated profusely with sprays of evergreen. He seemed to recall that the girl joined him, standing at his left, and that she had advanced to his side guided by Dan McCarthy. It w«» all vague, misty, uncertain, and the next moment all he saw was the fleshy figure of the Buffalo Gap preacher standing there Immediately before him. his hands uplifted and his sonorous voice uttering words that sounded like a prayer. Then Dan came forward again and he felt her hand resting in his, realising how soft and small It was. He remembered ■ question was asked him and be answered "yes” and then he seemed to hear her whisper a similar response. The preacher said something. using some strange words, and turning once to face the silent crowd pressing close In upon them; then he lifted his hands solemnly and Shelby caught the sentence, “I pronounce you husband and wife and whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.” There was an explosion of breath, a faint clapping of hands, an Instant buzz of tongues. He felt that he must have shaken hands with a thousand people; was pushed here and there by the efforts made to reach him and finally, bewildered, his mind in a whirl, found himself once more out In the hall, obsessed with a desire to escape. He possessed no Idea as to what had become of the girl; no doubt she was somewhere back there in the crush, but he, at least, was free, and would wait for her to join him outside. He stood there alone, staring down at the team of broncos and the heavily laden buckboard uncomprehendingly. Yet slowly it al! came back and his mind began to arouse from blank stupor. His attention was attracted by the approach of a horseman troting steadily up the deserted street toward the hotel. The rider was a cavalry soldier In uniform, powdered with dust, his horse showing evidences of hard travel. Shelby watched his coming curiously, his memory still lingering upon the scene within. The man drew up at the hotel, dropped his rein over the horse’s head, swung stiffly to the ground and advanced up the steps. He glanced aside at Shelby’s motionless figure, took a step toward the door and then wheeled suddenly. “Say, ain’t your name Shelby?" The dazed bridegroom turned and looked into the face confronting him, his mind snapping back into quick recognition. "Sure. Well, thunder, you’re Shaunessy of the Sixth. What’re you doing here?" The two clasped hands firmly. •Thought I knew you, Tom, when I first came up the steps, but wasn’t quite sure till I got a side view. Must be six years since you left us, ain’t it? What am I doing? Oh, they’ve shoved us up here from Arizona and I’ve been up at the Reservation watchin’ 'em ghost-dance an' aru headin’ now for Collins to tell the old man the news. Some. fun goin’ to be pulled off presently.” “You mean the Sioux are goin’ on rampage ag’in?” “Sure thing, unless I miss my guess, an’ I reckon I ought to know Injuns by this time. It’ll either come this fall or next spring. I figure they’ll never hold In over winter. Ol’ Sltun’ Bull has got the game In his hands an’ you know that ol’ devil, I reckon.” “I have reason to. Any troops up there?” “No; the Injun agent don’t believe there’s goin’ to be any trouble; says It’s just a few young bucks who are raisin’ h—l. He don’t know what is goin’ on. But I b«en among ’em an’ the whole outfit Is blood-mad. I seen two of their ghost-dances myself back In the hills an’ I tell you they mean business. You livin’ here now?” “No, out on the Cottonwood.” “What—north? Say, old man, that ain’t goin’ to be no healthy place fer a white, if those devils break loose; they’ll make that country sure. Got much of an outfit?” “A bunch of cattle an’ two herders.” “Not enough to put up a fight. Well, if I was you, Tom, I’d run those cows over Into the Bad Lands an’ lie out there awhile. We’ll get the Injuns, of course; but there is bound to be some killin’ first, unless I’m crazy. I've got to go in and get something to eat” He started to tuyn away, but Shelby halted him with a question. “How long you been in the army, Pete?” “Twenty-two years.” “And with the Sixth cavalry?” “Fifteen.” “Did you ever know a sergeant named Calkins?” “Jeff Calkins; he was my first ‘top* after I joined; he left the service *bqut ten years ago. _ There was a shootin* scrape or somethin' down at Harker. Sorter ugly story, though Tve forgotten just what it was all about now. Calkins got out o’ that all right, but when his enlistment was up he quit; he didn’t get on good with the zqen. Do you know whatever become of the ol’ duffer?” . . .

“He was burled here yesterday—killed himself | left a daughter 'bout nineteen—” “The h—l he did! Jeff Calkins never was married; not before he left the nnny. anyhow. I know because I bunked with him nearly two years an' he told me a lot about himself. He wasn’t no lady's man at all. Say, what the devil Is goin' on here?" 'There's been a wedding.” Shelby started to explain, but the outflowing throng cut his sentence In two, and the startled soldlei, stepping back to get out of the way, was Instantly swept aside, while the gang poured forth between, separating the two completely. The bridegroom found himself once more the center of fervent congratulations and only escaped by pushing a passage down the steps to where his outfit waited for del arture. Some moments later she joined him, accompanied by her bodyguard, wearing a long duster which almost reached the ground and a close-fitting cap pulled down over her smooth hair. He silently helped her into the seat of the buckbpard, joining her grimly and gathering up the reins in "his fingers. "Now. then” he called, "a couple of you untie those brutes and jump. They’re bad starters." The broncos amply justified his prediction and the party went tearing down the main street, pursued by yells of enjoyment and cat-howls of derision, Shelby struggling with the reins in an endeavor to keep the maddened brutes off the sidewalks. However, the steep ascent of the bluff brought the plunging animals to their senses and by the time they had surmounted the ridge and struck the prairie trail leading across the upland they were willing enough to slow down to the swift trot they were accustomed to take on long journeys. Shelby loosened his grasp on the leather and rested back in the seat, venturing a side glance at his companion. She was still gripping the Iron rail for safety, but evidently felt no fear. “Mean devil, that bronco,” said Shelby, feeling the necessity of speech and flecking his whip lash at the buckskin. whose evil eye was peering maliciously backward, “worst horse I ever owned. The Kid back there seems to be soipe bronco ouster and I’ll let him try his luck wTien we get out to the ranch. I got some outlaws there.” She turned her head and glanced behind through the cloud of dust. “Who is he.? One of your men?" “Well, I Just hired him down at Ponca. Seems to be a mighty good rider. His name is Macklin, but everybody calls him ’Kid.’ ” “Somehow I don't Just like him.” “Oh, he’s harmless enough.” “Perhaps so, but I have that feeling about him just the same.” Shelby made no answer and they rode on in silence through the circling dust. He felt awkward and embar-. rassed, unable to think of anything to say to keep up conversation and intensely conscious of the peculiar situation in which they found themselves. Occasionally he stole a surreptitious glance aside at her, but her eyes were averted as though in avoidance, gazing out over the dull vista. To Shelby this quietness on her part, this half turning from him seemed particularly ominous. She was doubtless sorry already at her choice; this drear expanse which they rode was more than she expected to encounter —she was dreading already an approach to the Cottonwood. He had been a fool to even dream that he could ever satisfy her In such surroundings. Well, it was not too late to turn back. He would talk with her and learn the truth. He drove steadily forward, endeavoring to formulate some pleasant opening sentence, his mind inevitably drifting back to that late conversation with Shaunessy and the doubts it had awakened. Ought he to permit her to become exposed to a possible Indian attack? Was it not plainly his duty to explain fully the exact situation? And then that other mat-, ter relative to Old Calkins? Surely it was her place to make that clear? He straightened up, clearing ' his voice, and she glanced about, disturbed from revery by his action. “How dismal it all is,” she said, as he failed to speak, “and yet’the very silence and loneliness has a charm. Is it like this out on the Cottonwood?” “No, not exactly. It’s lonely enough, but that is broken country, with something to rest the eyes op. I am afraid, though, you’re goin* to be awfully sorTy.” “Really, I don’t,” honestly. “I don’t mind being alone at all. Tve always been alone, so that won’t hurt.” “But this is different,” he insisted stubbornly. “Besides, I heard something back there in Ponca that makes me think I had no business bringing you along at all.” “What was that?” “Why, just before we come away I ran into an old friend o’ mine in the army, named Shaunessy. He’d been up in the Sioux reservation, watchin’ ’em ghost-dance, and he says the bucks up there are goin’ to raise Ned before long, an’ there ain’t no

troops anywhere around sufficient to held ’em. It'* Ol' Slttin’ Bull who 1* atirrin’ 'em up." “But surely they could never get down here?"

“Not to Ponca —no; they wouldn't go in that direction. But they'd be mighty liable to come raidin' down the Cottonwood. That's what Shaunessy said; he told me I’d better run my stock over into the Baa Lands, and Me out for awhile, till the soldiers got the devils rounded up again. I been thinkin’ ever since I ought to tell you about It, bo. if you thought best we could turn around an' take you back to Ponca.” “And then what would you do?” “Me? Why go on o’ course an’ take care o’ the cattle. 'Tain’t the first time Tve seen Indians." “Then I am going with you," she said firmly. “I am not the least afraid. I wonder If you have an extra rifle out there?” “Sure." ha said. tzrinnlna. “I sorter

like that kind o’ talk, little girt. Can you shoot?" “Some; Til show you when we get out there. Anyway, please don’t turn back on my account. I heard In Ponca that the Sioux were ghost-dancing, but I didn’t think about their coming down the Cottonwood. Dad said they were getting ugly, but I don’t know where he heard it.” This unexpected mention of Calkins stirred Shelby to ask a further question. She was going on with him, that was evident, and the mystery between them must be cleared away. “What was your name?” he asked soberly. She glanced up Into his face, surprised at the abrupt question. “My name! Why, don’t you know?” "I never heard of it; seems sorter odd, maybe, but I never did.” “It is Olga.’’ “Olga—Olga what?” “Why, Shelby, I suppose.” “No, I didn’t mean that. Of course, it’s Shelby now, but what was it before today? ’Twasn’t Calkins.” The smile had deserted her Ups and her eyes were very serious. “Just what do you mean, please? Have you heard something?” "Well, yes. This here soldier Shaunessy has been in the army a long while; he was fifteen years In the Sixth cavalry. Now I happened to learn, accidentally from McCarthy, that Old Calkins was once a sergeant in that outfit, so naturally I asked Shaunessy if he ever knew him".”'’ “And did he?” "Sure; they were bunkies once an* he said Jeff Calkins never was married an’ didn’t have no daughter.” "Well, did I ever say I was his daughter?” “No, o’ course you didn’t. I never asked, but everybody thought you must be. What was the old man to you, anyhow? I reckon I got a right to know.” “You certainly have, but I cannot tell you very much. Frankly, I don’t know. I could not explain even how I came into his care. That sounds strange, perhaps, but it Is true. I wasn’t much of a girl when he got me first and I’ve scarcely been out of his sight since. »ve asked him a thousand times, but he never would explain. Once he wald it would come out all right after awhile. It seemed to anger him for me to ask questions, so, at last I stopped.” “That’s mighty queer. Did he ever tell you what your real name was?” “Oh, yes; there wasn’t any secret about that —It was Carlyn.” “Olga Carlyn,” he repeated the words slowly. “Sorter NorwegianIrish, ain’t It? That story soiihds rather funny to me.” "My idea is he was hiding me from someone; trying to kwep me from being found. I decided that was why he moved about from place to place and always lived in such poverty and alone. I believe he had money or could always get some when needed. Then he seemed to be afraid all the time and watching for something to happen.” “And you don’t have no recollection whatever of either your father or mother?” “Not of njy mother; she may have died when I was a baby, but I can remember my father, although I never saw him very often. He was a tall man with iron-gray hair and mustache; once I saw him in uniform.” “An officer, likely.” . “I thj.nk so. I was at school the©

and I am sure the lady principal called him colonel. I never lived with him, but always at some school, first one and therF another. I am sure I was tn St. Louis when Calkins came for me and took me away. That is actually everything I know about it; since then we’ve just moved around from place to place.’* They fell into silence and rode on thus for hours, seldom speaking, each engrossed in their own thoughts. Toward sundown they came into a more rolling country, with patches of green gruss, and the trail wound in and out among shallow depressions, yielding greater variety of scenery. Just before dark they toiled up over a high ridge and from the summit looked for some distance down the valley of the Cottonwood. The trail ran slantingly down the side of the bluff, zigzagging here and there In search of easier passage, and It was necessary to descend slowly. Consequently it was an hour after dark when they finally drove up to a small cabin surrounded by trees, a hundred feet back from the stream, and the driver announced their arrival. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Somehow I Don’t Just Like Him.”