Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-12-12

| y
Blanchard in his arms; Emory with
passion paling his face and Grace
Blanchard in the beauty of disturb
ing humility.
"He cursed as he watched them cling
to each other, and he cursed his way
back to the saloons and his Mariposa
mining.
"The next day he turned up again in
the settlement, with liquor enough
aboard to put wheel in his head, and.
after losing fling at the tables, he
started to find Emory.
"After little Intellectual riding, he
leaped from the back of his vicious-eyed
| piebald at the corner that bulged thick
est with saloons. and stood close to the
stirrup with his hand on his hip. Some
one who noticed him said his face had
the steely intensity of razor edge.
'Ihen out of the crowd, unconscious,
swung Ned Emory His hat was pushed
back on his fair hair. and he was whist
ling the overflow out of his veins.
"In one instant bullet rang through
the air, followed by another. Emory
| fell in his own blood, and horseman
was riding off wildly and safe through
| the shower of bullets that rained around
him. Every man with n cayuse tore in
pursuit, but they only brought back
eight half-dead horses. Stokes had
staked relay boasts at different points
along the road, and was then safe in the
chaparral canyons toward the north.
"The gambling dens choked up with
the crowds; gold dust was heaped on
| gold dust for the reward of the coward
| lv hounds capture. Murders weren't
rare then, but there was only one Ned
Emory, remember.
-Four of us wouldn't drop the search.
We let the blood-money men get out of
the way, and then we worked as we'd
toll for only our own.
"There was scarcely no scent to fol-
low, for Stokes had bribed the greasers
who furnished his horses; but we
forced our way along on nothing. Day
and night we rode with our eyes open,
sometimes bullying and sometimes beg
ging. 1t began to seem hopeless. The
days were running into summer again.
"One afternoon, toward twilight, we
rested on the crest of mount tain where
the path took sudden turn away from
two-hundred-foot precipice.
"We were torn with the swapping
branches of the greasewood, and full
of EXTREMIST dirt and disgust. Sudden
ly we heard the rustic of a step on the
fallen leaves. Under live oak, not
thirty yards away, on the very edge of
the cliff, stood Shorty Stokes. He had
not heard us, and he stood looking at
the moon which hung a sickle in the hot
sky. The evening star was showing.
1.-THE four of us were like stones. He
could have got to Guinea before mo-
tion'd have come to us. Then, stimuli
taneously with our steps forward, he
turned and looked into our faces.
SIT was moment to test the nerve
of any man. He stood it as we were
used to seeing him face all things.
4 suppose I'm the man you're after
he said.
"He said it with the dignity of
parson.
SIN second he had thrown down his
pistols. He unsheathed his knives and
dropped them to the ground.
"'Take me- he said.
-Four of us looked into the unf1inch-
ing clearness of his eyes. AS we hesi-
tated, he spoke again.
Listen. 1t is not in excuse that
speak, nor in weakening. 1t is to tell
you that those among you who are
men will follow my steps under like
circumstances.
Emory gave me his hand and his
oath, in the manner of his frankness,
TO stand by an arranged agreement.
"'We were to meet at eight o'clock
on that Sunday night. "A beautifully
good woman was to decide on our ar
gument which man she would marry.
In riding to meet my engagement
happened on an accident. Within half
mile of the settlement, close onto
time, my piebald went back on his
launches and the groan of n man came
up from the roadside. found an over
loaded miner, hurt in the leg, and the
hope in my own heart aroused my sym
pathy. | mounted the man on my beast
anu INN DtCh boNdGu camp.
"'Walk as / never walk, l reached
the meeting place three minutes late.
Ah-God-out in the darkness l saw
Emory taking advantage of the delay.
None of you is SO much cur as to
let the life run in man who, under his
honor, couldn't yield rival three min
utes' grace.
But, with the camp against me and
Emory the friend of the sorriest, !
couldn't face the music when the JUS
tice was done.
1T is not mercy I ask. 1t is life
hereafter. Come
"'With q common impulse we started
forward, only to halt in a frozen horror
as Stokes broncho threw up his head
in alarm to watch with us the back
ward somersaulting of his masters
body over the prccipice.
Though there was but one verdict,