The Weiser signal. [volume] (Weiser, Idaho) 1890-1904, 1901-01-31
Bulldog Carney.
ByW. A. Fraser.

Copyright, 1900, by W. A. Fraser.

and wound around the butt of big
FIR stump.
Behind the stump man was kneel-
ing that gladstone September day
all among the tawny gold and crimson
Of the dead rose leaves and the soft
gray and cream of the bleached bunch
grass.
He might have been praying, so
quietly was he kneeling there, but he
wasn't He was disappearing softly
to himself as his impatient eye wan
dered in and out among the powders
and trees that fringed the trail.
The morning sun picked out little
bright jewellike spots on the instru-
ment he had leveled across the top of
the big stump. He seemed to be sur
veyor taking levels.
Just as three men riding bronchos
came in sight at a sudden turn in the
trail he bowed his head to the level OF
the instrument and looked carefully
along it's smooth length.
The bronchos were coming along at
swinging walk, their heads on level
with their withers and their bride
reins hanging loosely in the hands of
the riders
Suddenly there was nervous tight
ening Of the right hand grasping the
instrument, sharp click close to 1t,
puff of smoke, followed by sharp
crack, and the man riding the second
broncho tumbled from the saddle, shot
through the heart. He rolled over rs
he fell, and the bright blots of blood
splashed over the rose leaves by the
side Of the trail.
The first cayuse, startled out of his
sleepy lope by the report and flash,
reared and plunged madly forward.
AS he took the first bound in the air
a bullet glanced from the high horn
In front of the man and went tearing
its corkscrew way through the leather
flaps of the big Mexican saddle.
The rider yelled and dug the spurs in
the trembling TANKS of the horse as he
felt the hot lead scorching it's way
close to his skin.
BLAMED bad shot!' the man behind
the stump jerked out between his
square jaws as he pumped the lever Of
his repeater forward and back.
Evidently he had meant well, but
the cayuse rearing had diverted the
bullet from It's intended way.
The third broncho and it's rider were
making good time in the other direc-
ton. The shot he sent after them did
not increase their speed any, for they
were doing their level best
The animal the dead man had ridden
did not move. He stood beside the fall
en- figure waiting with dumb patience
for his master to rise and mount again.
Throwing the empty shell from the
breech of his rife, the man who had
fired the shots walked leisurely over to
the figure lying on the ground.
"Well, Jack, old man." he said, ad-
dressing the horse, you're blamed
sight honester than your master. If
he'd stuck to his pals as close as you're
doing, he'd be ready for grub pile at
noon instead Of bleaching out here.
= "And l guess he cached the STUFF in
Y this big apperajos, too, he added, SHOW
ing his hand down in the ample, bag
like affair.
Yes, it was there right enough, q
whole bagful of it. Forty-four hun
dred dollars, as was found out after
ward.
Then he turned his attention to the
man lying on his back, with the great
NJ ragged red cash in his chest where the
encircling bullet had plunged through
well. pard, you've thrown down
your mate for the last time. Whisky
drinking is bad business, but whisky
trading is away up in 'G' to judge by
this wad" And he handled the bag Of
d. money lovingly
You might "a known better than tt
: throw me down." he added reproach
fully, as though he were trying t
throw the blame Of the murder upoI
the man himself.
v Come on now, Jack. I'll use yol
for a little" And he leisurely threw
his leg over the cayuse and disappear
ed down the Missoula end of the trail.
He had not gone far before he turn
ed short to the left up dry waite
course.
Here he stopped and, dismounting
proceeded to wrap some old bags h
v pulled out from behind rock abou
the feet Of the cayuse.
You're a tenderfoot, Jack. You'v
ID sore in the toes" he remarked in
dry monotone as he worked at the bags
Then he mounted again and wen
across country for about three mile
until he struck the big cedar SWAMI
which runs for miles and miles fror
4 Golden.
They'll think that the prospecto
who laid your old man out has hit tn
trail for Mssoula and lit out.
ce They'll pick up tracks there, a
right enough, but they amt YOUR
Jack.
Let me see," he asked, pulling
watch from his pocket whisky SauI
ders took that bad spell about
o'clock. The jay on the cayuse wi
9 strike Golden about noon. Old Stet
and his Jim Dandies will pull out I
half an hour and pick up your track