The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1902-11-25
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Observation-Disclosures

NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
United States Marshal Simpson was
standing just back of the judges desk
In Topeka during the trial of Bill Covil
when a boy brought him a telegram
He read it thoughtfully and then beck
Oned to Jim Thraile
When Thraile came up, the marshal
gave him the message, which read:
Casper Flugel in camp with seven
men, not friends, at Willow Springs.
near Guadaloupe peak"
"Thraile," said the marshal, you're
the man to take him in. 1t will be an
easy five hundred for you"
Casper Flugel was big German iron
molder wanted in Pittsburg for the
murder of a companion His first years
career in the territory had so added to
his crimes that his description was
well known to all the deputy marshals.
Jim Thraile accepted his task, and In
due time he rode into the camp at Will
low Springs, playing the role of fugi-
tive from justice. Since all renegades
regard it as their prime duty to protect
any one threatened with arrest his first
task consisted of getting the man he
wanted away from the company. He
soon found that this could not be done,
because the iron molder would not I'M
der any circumstances go ten feet out
of camp unless accompanied by several
of the men.
Flugel was thoroughly disliked. He
did not know how to be companionable
to the other renegades. He lacked their
style of courage. His silent. sulen ma
ture was decidedly distasteful, and it
was apparent that they would gladly
be rid of him. AS Flugel could not be
persuaded to leave the company, and
as Thraile knew how to be popular
with the men, the latter decided that
the quickest way to get his man was to
pick quarrel with him and have him
driven from the camp as an uncongen-
ial character. But Casper Flugel would
not quarrel. He stoically took all abuse
without any sign of resentment further
than revengeful look out of his
heavy, brutal eyes 1t was a dangerous
game since even the renegades might
become suspicious. Suspicion was some
times as bad as conviction.
Say. partner" said one of them,
''Dutchy thinks you are marshal and
that you are after him. We've got a
notion to fire you BOTH
Jim Thraile laughed good naturally.
''I've got out of good many worse
places than this where | wasn't want
ed" he answered. when do | go?"
"Oh. guess you're all right" was
the reply, 'but Dutchys afraid. and he
wants US to promise that you don't get
out of camp until he's had at least
days start
That's dead easy" answered Thraile.
Tell Dutchy to git at once. He's no
body's pard Let him 60"
Casper Flugel rode away at noon
with a grunt that was meant to be
friendly farewell. but his late compan-
ions took no notice of him except to ex-
claim. Good riddancer' Thraile no
ticed. however, that the rustlers kept
close watch on him all day. That night
he slipped out of camp. mounted his
horse and rode away.
He had no difficulty next morning in
finding Casper Flugefs trail. To his
establishment it led straight northeast
to the Pecos river. Thraile thought
that nothing but the ignorance of the
iron molder could lead him to take the
chances of making his way across the
Great Staked plain. The man hunter
knew that 1t was fully three days
Journey to the Pec0s river, during
which time not drop of water could
be found. Then, possibly, even the
Pecos river would be dry as a sand hill.
The hunter filled his two rubber air
pillows with water and stuck like Il fox
hound to the trail of the fugitive lead
ing into the great oven of the plains.
AS the day progressed scorching and
oppressive vapor made it impossible
for him to see any object beyond few
yards. Sparingly he doled out the wa
ter to himself and horse Most of the
time he held bulbs of the sand cactus
In his mouth as preventive of thirst,
and he fed them literally to his horse.
The night was inexpressibly silent.
Neither whir of insect nor howl of
coyote came to break the monotony Of
the weary hours.
AT the end of the second day his wa
ter supply was exhausted and nothing
remained but a handful of coffee and
small bag of bran. Not spear of
grass was to be found, and as the
horse struggled along after his master
through the deep white sand he groaned
with almost human Representatives,.
When the sun arose on the third day.
1t appeared like redhot stove lid that
had been showed up above the horizon
in the night.
The trail was less than an hour old
when the exhausted pursuer reached
the banks Of the Pecos river. He found
the bed of the stream as dry as the
shores. Thraile unsaddled his horse
and helped the poor creature gather
the sparsely growing blades of soft
salt grass. At spot in the bed of the
river where this grass was usually
thrifty he spent an hour digging with
his hunting knife and was rewarded
with enough water to quencb their
thirst and to fill one of his rubber bags.
The next morning. be started again