Hammond Times, Volume 2, Number 38, Hammond, Lake County, 1 August 1907 — Page 3

Thursday, -August 1, 1907.

THE LAKE COUNTY TIMES.

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PLACEI

By SMDPMmsirAumorh

C FT,' (CorUirnjc-a.) lie drove in his .spurs, and was ou 1'ke the wind. A number of men were in the street, all hurrying forward in the same direction, but he dashed past them. These were minors mostly, eager to have a hand in the man-hunt. Here and there a rider skurried along vand joined in the chase. Just beyond the hotel, half-way up the hill, rifles were Bpeaking irregularly, the white puffs of smoke blown quickly away by the stiff breeze. Near the center of thi3 line of skirmishers a denser cloud was beginning to rfse in spirals. Brant, perceiving the largest group of men gathered just before him, rode straight toward them. The crowd scattered slightly at his approach, but promptly closed in again as he drew up his horse with taut rein, lie looked down into rou::;h, bearded faces. Clearly enough these men were in no fit spirit for peace making. "You damn fool!" roared one, hoarsely, his gun poised as if in threat, "what do you mean by riding us down like that? Do you own this country?" Brant flung himself frorp the saddle and strode in front of the fellow. "I mean business. You see this uniform? Strike that, my man, and you strike the United States. Who is leading this outfit?" "I don't know as it's your affair," the man returned, sullenly. "We ain't takin' no army orders at present, mister. We're fiee-born American citizens, an' ye bTtter let us alone." "That is not what I asked you," and Brant squared his shoulders, his hands clinched. "My question was. Who is at the head of this outfit? and I want an answer." The spokesman looked around upon the others near him with a grin of derision. "Oh, ye do, hey? Well, I reckon we are, if you must know. Since Big Jim Larson got it in the shoulder this outfit right yere hes bin doin' most of the brain work. So if ye've got anythin' ter say, mister officer man, I reckon ye better spit it out yere ter me, an' sorter relievo yer mind." "Who are you?" The fellow expectorated vigorously intothd leaves under foot, and draw ing one hairy hand across his lips, flushed angrily to the unexpected laouiry. "Oh. tell Mm, Ben. What's the blame odds? He can't do ye no hurt." The man's look became dogged. "I'm Ben Colton, if it'll do ye any good to know." "I thought I had seen you somewhere before," said Brant, contemptuously, an-d then Ewept his glance about the circle. "A nice leader of vigilantes you are, a fine representative of law and order, a lovely specimen of the free - born American citizen! Men, do you happen to know what sort of a cur you are following in this affair?" "Oh. Ben's all right." "What ye got against him, young feller?" "Just this." and Brant squarely fronted the man. his voice ringing like steel. "I've seen mobs before to-day, and I've dealt with them. I'm not afraid of you or your whole outfit, and I've got fighting men to back me up. I never yet saw any mob which wasn't led and incited by some cowardly, revengeful rascal. Honest men get mixed up in such affairs, but they are invariably inflamed by some lowdown sneak with an ax to grind. I confess I don't know all about this Colton, but I know enough to say ho is an army deserter, a liar, a divekeeper, a gambler, and, to my certain knowledge, the direct cause of the death of three men, one a soldier of my troop. Now isn't he a sweet spedmen to lead In the avenging of a supposed crime?" Whatever else Colton might have failed in, he was a man of action. Like a flash his gun flew to the level, but was Instantly knocked aside by the grizzled old miner standing next him. "None o' that, Ben," he growled, warningly. "I don't never pay to shoot holes in Uncle Sam." Brant smiled. He was not there Just then to fight, but to secure delay until his own men could arrive, and to turn aside the fierce mob spirit if such a result was found possible. "I really would enjoy accommodating you. Colton," he said, coolly, feeling much more at ease, "but I never fight personal battles with such fellows as you. And now, you other men. It is about time you woke up to the facts of this matter. A couple of hundred of you chasing after two men, one an officer of the law doing his sworn duty, and the other innocent of any crime. I should Imagine you would feel proud of your job." "Innocent? Hell!" "That is what I said. You fellows have gone off half-cocked a mob generally does. Both Miss Spencer and Mr. Wynkoop state positively that they saw the real murderer of Red Slavin, and it was not Bob Hampton." The men were impressed by his evident earnestness, his unquestioned courage. Several voices spoke almost .t once.

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3 "Is that right?" "Oh, say, I saw the fellow with Lis hand on the knife." "After we git the chap, we'll give them people a chance to tell what they know." Brant's keenly attentive ears heard the far-off chug of numerous horses' feet. "I rather think you will," he said, confidently, his voice ringing out with sudden authority. He stepped back, lifted a silver whistle to his lips, and sounded one sharp, clear note. There was a growing thunder of hoofs, a quick, manly cheer, a crashing through the underbrush, and a squad of eager troopers, half-dressed but with faces glowing in anticipation of trouble, came galloping up the slope, swinging out into line as thev advanced, their carbines gleaming in the sunlight. It was prettily, sharply performed, and their officer's face brightened. "Very nicely done, Watson," he i said to the expectant sergeant. "De-j ploy your men to left and right, and j clear out those shooters. Make a good job of it, but no firing unless you have to." The troopers went at it as if they enjoyed the task, forcing their restive horses through the thickets, and roughly handling more than one who ventured to question their authority. Yet the work was over in less time than it takes to tell, the discomfited regulators driven pell-mell down the hill and back into the town, the eager cavalrymen halting only at the command of the bugle. Brant, confident of his first sergeant In such emergency, merely paused long enough to watch the men deploy, and then pressed straight up the hill, alone and on foot. That danger to the besieged was yet imminent was very evident. The black spiral of smoke had become an enveloping cloud, spreading rapidly in both directions from Its original starting-point. He arrived finally where the ground was charred black and covered with wood ashes, still hot under foot and smoking, but he pressed upward, sheltering his eyes with uplifted arm, and seeking passage where the scarcity of underbrush rendered the zone of fire less impassable. He could see scarcely three yards in advance, but to the rear the narrow lane of retreat remained open. Standing there, as though in the mouth of a furnace, the red flames scorching his face, Brant hollowed his hands for a call. "Hampton!" The word rang out over the infernal crackling and roaring like the note of a trumpet. "Ay! What Is It?" The returning voice was plainly not Hampton's yet it came from directly in front, and not far away. "Who are you? Ts that you, Marshal?" "Thet's the ticket," answered the voice, gruffly, "an just as full o' fight es ever." Brant lifted his jacket to protect his face from the scorching heat. There was certainly no .time to lose In any exchange of compliments. "I'm Brant, lieutenant Seventh cavalry," he cried, choking with the thickening smoke. "My troop has scattered those fellows who were hunting you. I'll protect you and your prisoner, but you'll have to get out of there at once. Can you locate me and make a dash for it? Wrap your coats around your heads, and leave your guns behind." An instant he waited for the answer, fairly writhing in the Intense heat, then Mason shouted, "Hampton's been shot, and I'm winged a little; I can't carry him." Brant ripped off his jacket, wrapped it about his face, jammed a handkerchief into his mouth and with a prayer in his heart, leaped forward into the seemingly narrow fringe of fire in his front. Head down, he ran blindly, I stumbling forward as he struck the ore-dump, and beating out with his hands the sparks that scorched his clothing. The smoke appeared to roll higher from the ground here, and the coughing soldier crept up beneath it, breathing the hot air. and feeling as though his entire body were afire. Mason, his countenance black and unrecognizable, his shiit soaked with blood, peered into his face. "Hell, ain't it!" he sputtered, "but you're a dandy, all right." "Is Hampton dead?" "I reckon not. Got hit bad, though."

Brant cast one glance into the I climbed out of the back window of white, unconscious face of his rival. ! the Occidental here, and got away, and acted with the promptness of mil-! while you were chasing the wrong itary training. i roam Mr. Wynkoop saw him, and so "Whip off your shirt, Mason, and tie j iid your school teacher, Miss Spenit around your face," he commanded. ! cer-" "Lively now!" j Then Wynkoop stepped gamely to He bound his silk neckerchief the front. "All that is true, men. I across Hampton's mouth, and lifted ve been trying ever since to tell

the limp form partially from the ground. "Help me to get him up. There, that will do. Now keep as close as you can so as to steady him if I trip. Straight ahead run for it!" They sprang directly into the lurid flames, bending low. Brant's hands grasping the inert form lying across hli shoulder. They dashed stumbling

through the black, Emouldering lane beyond. HaJfway down this, the ground yet hot beneath their feet, the vapor stifling, but with clearer breaths of air blowing in their faces. Brant tripped and fell. Mason beat out the smouldering sparks in hi3 clothing, and assisted him to stagger to his feet once more. Then together they bore him slowly down below the first lire-line.

CHAPTER XXIII. The Door Closes. Totally exhausted, the two men. dropped their heavy burden on the earth. Mason swore as the blood be- j t'rn drirrirg again from his wound.! "I Read It in Your Face" He Insisted, "It Told of Love." which had been torn afresh in his ef forts to bear Hampton to safety. Just below them a mounted trooper caught sight of them and came forward. He failed to .recognize his officer in the begrimed person before him, until called to attention by the voice of command. "Sims, if there is any water in your canteen, hand it over. Good; here, Marshal, use this. Now, Sims, note what I say carefully, and don't waste a minute. Tell the first sergeant to send a file of men up here vith some sort of a litter, on the run. Then you ride to the Herndon house the yellow house where the roads fork, you remember and tell Miss Naida Gillis (don't forget the name) that M4. Hampton has been seriously wounded, and we are taking him to the hcieL Can you remember that?" "Yes, sir." "Then off with you, and don't spare the horse." He was gone instantly, and Brant began bathing the pallid, upturned face. "You'd better lie down, Marshal," he commanded. "You're pretty weak from loss of blood, and I can do all there is to be done until those fellows get here." In 15 minutes they appeared, and five minutes later they were toiling slowly down to the valley, Brant walking beside his still unconscious rival. Here and there down the street, but especially about the steps of the Occidental, were gathered the discomfited vigilantes, busily discussing the affaiT, and cursing the watchful, silent guard. As these caught sight of tho little party approaching there were shouts of derision. The sight and sound angered Brant. "Carry Hampton to his room and summon medical attendance at once," he ordered. "I have a word to say to those fellows." Seeing Mr. Wynkoop on the hotel porch, Brant said to him: "Miss Spencer informed me that you saw a man leap from the back window of tho Occidental. Is that true?" The missionary nodded. "Good; then come along with me. I intend breaking the back of this lynching business right here and now." He strode directly across the street to the steps of the Occidental, hia clothing scarcely more than smoldering rags. The crowd stared at him sullenly; then' suddenly a reaction came, and the American spirit of fair play, the frontier appreciation of bulldog courage, burst forth into a confused murmur, that became half a cheer. Brant did not mince his words. "Now, look here, men! If you want any more trouble, we're here to accommodate you. Fighting is our trade, and we don't mind working at it. But I wish to tell you right now, and straight off the handle, that you are simply making a parcel of fools of yourselves. Slavin has been killed. and nine out of ten among you are secretly glad of it. He was a curse to this camp, but because some of hi3 friends and cronies thugs, gamblers and dive keepers accuse Bob Hampton of having killed him, you start in blindly to lynch Hampton, never even waiting to find out whether the charge is the truth or a lie. You act like sheep, not American citizens. Now that we have pounded a little sense Into some of you, perhaps you'll listen to the facts, and if you must hang some one, put your rope on the right man. Bob Hampton did not kill Red Slavin. The fellow who did kill him you. but no one would listen. Miss Spencer and I both saw the man jump from the window; there was blood on

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his right arm and hand. He was a mis-; lce oouatuess piains, reviver swing, shapen creature whom neither of us at thigh, his wide sombrero shadever saw before, and he disappeared owin his dare-devil eyes, the front of on a run up that ravine. I have no' gay Occidental blazed with lights doubt he was Slavin's murderer." I and became crowded to the doors with

"Now, you fellows, think that over,"

said Brant. "I intend to post a guard until I find out whether you are going to prove yourselves fools or men, but if we sail in again those of you who start the trouble can expect to get hurt, and pay for the piper. That's all." In front of the hotel porch he met his first sergeant coming cut. "What does the doctor say about

Hampton?" ; "A very bad wound, sir; but notnecI essarily fatal; he has regained coai sciousness." 1 "Has Miss Gillis arrived?" "I don't know, sir; there's a young woman cryin' in the parlor." The lieutenant leaped up the steps and entered tne nouse. isnt is was Miss Spencer, not Naida, who sprang to her feet. "Oh, Lieut. Brant; can it be truly you! How perfectly awful you look! Ho you know if Mr. Hampton is really going to die? I came here just to find out about him, and tell Naida. She is almost frantic, poor thing." Though Brant doubted Mis Spencer's honesty of statement, hiB reply was direct and unhesitating. "I am informed that he has a good chance to live, and I have already dispatched t word to Miss Gillis regarding his conj dition. I expect her at any moment.' ! "How very nice it was of you! Oh, ! I trembled so when you first went to : face those angry men! I don't see , how you ever dared do It. I did wish ! that either Mr. Moffat or Mr. McNeil could have been here to go with you. Before Brant could reply his attentive ear caught the sound of a light footstep in the hallway. He met Naida Just without, pale and tearless. Both her hands were extended to him unreservedly. "Tell me, will he liye?" "The doctor thinks yes." "Thank God! Oh, thank God!" She pressed one hand against her heart to control its throbbing. "You cannot know what this means to, me." Her eyes seemed now for the first time to mark his own deplorable condition. "And you? You have not been hurt, Lieut. Brant?" He smiled back into her anxious eyes. "Nothing that soap and water and a few days' retirement will not wholly remedy. My wounds are entirely upon the surface. Shall I conduct you to him?" She bowed, apparently forgetful that one of her hands yet remained imprisoned in his grasp. "If I may go, yes. Itold Mrs. Herndon I should remain here if I could be of the slightest assistance." They passed up the staircase side by side, exchanging no further speech. Once she glanced furtively at his face, but its very calmness kept the words upon her lips unuttered. At the door they encountered Mrs. Guffy, her hon est eyes red from weeping. "This is Miss Gillis, Mrs. Guffy," ex plained Brant. "She wishes to see Mr, Hampton if it is possible." "Sure an' she can 'thet.' He's been askin' after her, an' thet pretty face would kape any man in gud spirits, I'm thlnkin'. Step roight in, miss." She held the door ajar, but Naida paused, glancing back at her motion less companion, a glint of unshed tears showing for the first time in her eyes. "Are you not coming also?" "No, Miss Naida. It is best for me to remain without, but my heart goes with you." Then the door closed between them CHAPTER XXIV. The Rescue of Miss Spencer. While Hampton lingered between life and death, assiduously waited upon by both Naida and Mrs. Guffy, Brant nursed hia burns, far more se rious than he had at first supposed, wlthm the sanctity of his tent. Glencaid meanwhile recovered from its mania of lynch law, and even began exhibiting some faint evidences of shame over what was so plainly a mistake. And the populace were also beginning to exhibit no small degree of interest in the weighty matters which concerned the fast-culminatin love affairs of Miss Spencer. Almost from her earliest arrival the extensive cattle and mining interests of the neighborhood became aggres sively arrayed against each other; and now, as the fierce personal rivalry be tween Messrs. Moffat , and McNeil grew more intense, the breach per ceptibly widened. While the infatua tion of Rev. Mr. Wynkoop for this eame fascinating young lady was plainly to be seen, hfs chances in the race were not seriously regarded by the more active partisans upon either side. The regular patrons of the Miners' Retreat were backing Mr. Moffat to a man, while those claiming headquarters at the Occidental were equally ardent in their support of the prospects of Mr. McNeil. It must be con fessed that Miss Spencer flirted out rageously and enjoyed life as she never had done in the effete east. ; The Rev. Mr. W'ynkoop always felt serenely confident of an uninterrupted welcome upon Sunday evenings after ! Bervice, while the other nights of the week were evenly apportioned be- ; tween the two more ardent aspirants. ; On Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings tne Miners Ketreat was a scene of wild hilarity, for it was then that Mr. Moffat was known to be com- ' fortably seated in the Herndon parlor, S relating gruesome tales of wild moun- ; tain adventure which paled the cheeks of his fair and entranced listener. Then on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights, when Mr. McNeil rode gallantly in on his yellow bronco, bedecked in all the picturesque paraphernalia of enthusiastic herders arlnk.lng deep to the success of. their representative.

It is no more than simple justice to the fair Phoebe to state that she was, as her aunt expressed it, "in a dreadful state cf mind." Between these two picturesque and typical knights of plain and mountain eh vibrated, unable to make deliberate choice. While laboring in thl3 state of indecision late one Wednesday night Moffat tramped heavily into the Miners Retreat and called Long Pete Lumley over into a deserted corner of the barroom. "Well, Jack," the latter began expectantly, "hev ye railly got the cinch on that cowboy at last, hey?"

"Dern it all. Pete, I'm blamed if I ! know; leastwise, I ain't got no sure prove-up. 1 tell ye met gin s just ; about the toughest piece o' rock I ever had any special call to assay. Ye see J It's this way. She's got some durn ! down east notion that she's got ter be ! rescued, an' borne away in the arms j of her hero like they do in tliem pesky novels the Kid's allers readin', and so I reckon I've got ter rescue her!" "Rescue her from whut, Jack?" "Well, ye see, Pete, maybe I'm part ly to blame. I've sorter been entertainin' her nights with some stories regardin' road agents an' things o' thet sort, while, tso fur, as I kin larn. thet blame chump of a McNeil hes been fillin' her up scandalous with Injuns, until she's plam got 'em on the brain. And now, I reckon as how it's got ter be Injuns." "Whut's got ter be Injuns?" "Why thet outfit whut runs Of? with ter, cf course. I reckon you fellers will stand in all right ter help pull me out o' this hole?" Long Pete nodded. "Well, Pete, this is 'bout whut's got ter be done, es near es I kin figger It out. You pick out maybe half a dozen good fellers who kin keep their mouths shet an' make Injuns out of 'em. Then you lay fer her, say 'bout next Wednes day, out in them Carter woods, when she's comin' home from school. I'll kinder naturally happen 'long by acci dent 'bout the head o' the gulch, an' jump in an' rescue her. Sabe?" Lumley gazed at his companion with eyes expressive of admiration. "By thunder, if you haven't got a cocoanut on ye, Jack! Lord, but thet ought to get her a fiyin'! Any shootin'?" "Sure!" Moffat's face exhibited a faint smile at these words of praise. "It wouldn't be no great shuckB of a rescue without, an' this hes got ter be the real thing. Only. I reckon, ye bet ter shoot high, so thar' won't be no hurt done." When the two gentlemen parted a few moments later the conspiracy was fully hatched, all preliminaries perfected and the gallant rescue of Miss Spencer assured. Indeed, there is some reason now to believe that this "Miss Spencer Phoebe It s Only 1, "Mis Spencer Phoebe It Is Only I Mr. Wynkoop' desirable result was rendered doubly certain, for as Moffat moved slowly p?st the Occidental on his way home a person attired in chaps and sombrero, and greatly resembling McNeil, was in the back room, breathing some final instructions to a few bosom friends. "Now don't eh any o' you fellers eh go an' ferget the place. Jump in eh- lively, just afore she eh gits tar thet thick bunch eh underbrush, whar' the trail sorter eh drops down inter the ravine. An' you chumps wanter eh git yerselves up so she can't pipe any of ye off eh in this yere eh road,-agent act. I tell ye, after what thet eh Moffat's bin a-pumpin' inter her, she's just got ter be eh resetted, an' in blame good style, er eh it ain't no go." "Oh, you rest easy 'bout all thet. Bill," chimed in Sandy Winn , his black eyes dancing in anticipation of coming fun. "We'll git up the ornariest outfit whut ever hit the pike." The long shadows of the late afternoon were already falling across the gloomy Carter woods, while the red sun sank lower behind old Bull mountain. Rev. Howard Wynkoop, who for more than an hour past had been vainly dangling a fishing line above the dancing waters cf Clear creeks, now reclined dreamily on the soft turf of the high bank, his eyes fixed upon the distant sky line. His thoughts were on the ficssy hair and animated face of the fair Miss Spencer, who he momentarily expected would round the edge of the hill, and so deeply did he become sunk in blissful reflection as to be totally oblivious to everything but her approach. Jut above his secret resting place, where the great woods deepen, and the gloomy shadows lie darkly all through the long afternoons, a small party of hideously painted savages skulked silently in ambush. Suddenly to their strained ears was borne the Bound of horses' hoofs; and then, all at once, a woman's voice rang out in a single shrill, startled cry. "Whut i3 up?" questioned the leading savage, hoarsely. "Is he a-doin this little job all by hisself?" (To be continued.) Try tkree time vraut ad.

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