Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1896-01-15

over together, Dick ambling along in
the rear with his usual meekness.
When they returned for the bear, Mrs.
Harlan mounted a horse, and nothing
daunted rode back to the scene of her
scare, despite the protestations OF Mrs.
Wheatley, who had been worrying about
her ever since she had failed to appear
at the luncheon hour. If she was charm
ing on foot, she was doubly SO on horse
back, Boston thought, as he compared
this tenderfoot with the ella girls, who
all rode splendidly in their way, but
were not, as a rule, particularly grace
full in the saddle, or out of it, for that
matter.
Fred Bendixon was still thinking of
the charming tenderfoot as, after taking
dinner with the Wheatley's, he rode
slowly homeward through the gathering
darkness. He had been in New Mexico
three years now, and she was the only
civilized being, as ne told himself, that
he had talked with in all that time.
She was really delightful, he decided.
Were it not for her vivacity, she would
be much like
"Bahr' said Bendixon, SO viciously
that Dick gave little jump. II wish
she weren't.
For the last year he had given less
thought to her-tbat proud, stately girl
who had ruined his life; that creature
with the Madonna face and the deep,
serious eyes that gazed steadily into his
and protested passionate devotion while
their owners lips lied straightforwardly
and solemnly declared her love for him.
That was before his fathers failure and
the loss of most of his fortune. Then
"Bahl DIN her I" said her self ex-
lied victim as he dug a spur into poor
Dick and turned the unwilling little
beast off the home trail and on to the
one that led to the little mining camp,
three miles away well forget her,
Dick" he added gently, feeling a pang
of remorse for hurting his pet.
He entered the camp saloon quietly,
merely nodding to two or three miners
and couple of his own cowboys who
spoke to him. Fred Bendixon was not a
"sociable" chap, according to the south
western acceptance of the term, until he
had had a few drinks and forgot what
had brought him where he was.
One of the Three Line outfits men
was talking to the bartender, and Boston
listened to him, carelessly at first, but
presently with interest.
"Seen that tendahfoot heifer tn It's
stayin ovah t Wheatley's t'day, Dan
an say, boy, she's q sho' rampageous
beaut, she is was ridin through Wind
canyon, an jes' comm out intuh tn val
ley, wen all of a suddint I meets up
with 'er, an her afoot. She says, Good
mornin, sirl' by CAD, an smiled g sweet
s eff 1 was tn Dock O. Bilgewater, an
was that ratified most f'rgot l had m
hat ON an cd badly say 'Mornin!' an,
say, my heart beat fast FIR hour. "
"Who is she, Peter" asked the bar
boy, with languid interest.
"Cousin r somethin O. Mis- Wheat
ley. Come out yere FIR t. git de-vorce
firm 'er ole man. Wheatley tole Pei
Hynes, an Pei tole me. Guess Mis-
Wheatley d ruin Wheat's face eff she
knowed he piped it."
So this fresh faced girl, hardly more
than 30, had had her sorrows tool From
that moment Fred Bendixon felt drawn
to her. She was Drawer than he, he re-
flected, for she concealed her griefs I'M
der the cloak of we'll assumed cheerful
ness, while newell, every one knew
that, as one citizen phrased it, Boston
had sho' nough kick comm, eff 'enevah
does le' go of it-likely some heifer done
kicked him."
Bendixon called upon his new ac-
quaintance the next day, and they had
long ride together on the Silver City
trail, Boston showing her the points of
interest-that is, where this or that per-
son had been murdered by Indians or
Mexicans, or where Jones or Smith had
been held up once upon time. There
was little else, beyond an occasional
view at a distance Of some spot made
historical by the Jesuits, with whom the
history of the country began. 1t was
late when they returned to the ranch.
"Let me thank you for very, very
pleasant day." said Mrs. Harlan softly,
as Bendixon, declining her invitation
to join the group in the gallery. babe
her "good night" at the gate. sit is SO
pleasant to meet some one-that isl
'The obligation is ON my side, Mrs.
Harlan" answered Bendixon, with the
glamour of the southern moon, if he had
only known it, lowering about his I'M
covered head. "Do you know what three
years without the pale of civilization
mean to one who-good night, Mrs
Harlan.
GOOD night " And she stood watch
ing his retreating figure, noting how
superbly he sat his horse, but forgetful
of the abruptness of his departure.
"Divinely handsome" she thought
complacently, "and delightful company.
Since he has SO little to do, I don't
think it will be such dull time, after
all
"Harlan must be BRUTE" thought
the one time unsusceptible Bendixon as
Dick galloped up the trail, ''or else he's
fool. Probably he's both, for an intel
hgent brute couldn' t fail to come under