Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1899-12-22

merchants; and he was more than anxious
to get back to civilization once more. He
had been successful in his mission and had
RENTED several large sums by express; but
his collections had been heavy during the
last few days, and at least g, 200, in bills and
coin, were slowed away in his pockets and
in the buckskin bag at his feet. It was
large sum of money and he naturally felt
the responsibility Its possession involved.
John Wells was by no means coward, but
he was perfectly acquainted with the coun.
try and its people, and knew that the chance
Of acquiring one-tenth the amount he car
ried would be sufficient to prompt many of
the latter to murder. He had been particu-
larly struck with the villainous face and sus-
picious demeanor Of the goat herder, and the
uneasiness aroused by the little incident Of
the morning hung over him during the en-
tire day.
Without making his usual MONDAY halt,
he drove steadily on, occasionally glancing
back over the dim trail, In momentary ex-
pectation of finding himself pursued. How.
ever, evening came without anything hav.
ing transpired to increase his alarm, and an
hour before darkness closed down upon the
bleak plains he drew rein before the door
of lone ranch and, without the useless pre-
liminary of applying for accommodations,
began divesting his tired horses of the har.
ness.
AS he unlocked the tugs of the off horse,
towheaded urchin of eight or nine years
same strolling up from the nearby corral,
crept into the buggy seat and drew the
blankets over his head until only his boyish
| face and sparkling eyes were visible.
whats your name, mister?" he asked,
with childlike directness.
Jack Wells. What's yourss"
"Hank Grimm. I'm only Little Hank.
Old Hank is my gran'paw, and he owns this
ranch. The Mexicans call this Dos Botas
Ranch cause gran'paw gives the two.
boot brand. Say, mister, do you know who
I thought you mought be when you driv'
up2"
Couldn't guess"
II thought mebby 1t was Santa Claus, but
then 1 allow he's got more whiskers'n you
have. Still, he mought have shaved"
Wells admitted that Santa Claus might,
by way of change, conclude to make his
annual trip with beard of three weeks
growth, or even smoothly-shaven face.
Further than that he couldn't, under the
circumstances, blame Little Hank for look
ing upon all strangers with an eye of sus-
picion; but he thought the chances Of pop.
ping his gaze on Santa Claus by daylight
were extremely small. Several millions Of
been keeping their eyes open for years with
out avail, and there had come to be a popu-
lar belief that the jolly fellow with the rein
deers travelled principally in the dark.
That's the way he hit this ranch last
Christmas, and l reckon he left it till about
the last ranch on his rounds" remarked the
boy. "He didn't leave me a thing that I
wanted-nuthin' but little tin wagon and
a pound of candy. Say, mister, dye reckon
Santa Claus ever handles windchesters?"
The appearance of the elder Hank Grimm
spared Wells the necessity of answering
this difficult query. The owner of the 1.-TWO
Boot ranch" was man well advanced In
years, and possessed of sturdy, erect fig
ure, square-cut features and sky-blue eyes,
that told at once of German ancestry and of
past service in the armies of the old world or
the new. He welcomed the traveller heart
lily, directed him how to dispose of his
horses for the night, and then abruptly
turned away and entered the house. Little
Hank remained behind and, in his quaint,
boyish way, superintendent Wells every
movement.
A covey of quail that had been foraging in
the vicinity of the crib flushed at their ap.
proach and settled in the prairie grass a
short distance away. Little Hank clamored
to have one of them killed for his Christmas
breakfast, and to please him, on their re.
turn to the buggy, Wells slipped couple Of
bird loads in his Parker, and, when the
covey rose again, grassed three plump beau
ties with hasty double shot. The boy was
in perfect ecstases over his success.
"That's better'n you could do with 9
Winchester" he remarked, in a tone de
noting that he considered this the height o.
possible praise. "Gran'paw says shotgun
is no good; but reckon it depends heaI
on who shoots it. / never seed but one be
fore, and it wasn't with shucks. 1t be
longed to man from Arkansaw, and he
couldn't hit the broadside Of mule"
The travellers effects were soon trans
ferred to the living room of the ranch, wher,
, he was introduced to the ranchman's agee
wife, and found that the only occupants O
the place were themselves and their pre-
cocious grandson. Grimm was German o
the old school, with true Teutonic ideas o
! comfort, and it seemed that unusual prep
arations for the evening meal had been mad
in honor of his visitors. All in the way o
,, food that the ranch could offer was on tn
table, and, surmounting the array of snow.
biscuits, ham and eggs, juicy steak AM
canned fruit, stood group of ancient glas
decanters, their contents shining in grada
ton of colors from deep red to straw ye
low.
Little Hank seemed to look upon his shar
of the feast as an especial treat, and after
was disposed of his tongue ran more glib