The Irish standard., 1905-08-12
GAMBLING
WITH FATE
By WILLIAM WALLACE COOK
Author OF "Thc Gold Cleaners: A Story OF
the Cyanide Tanks "Wilby's Dan,"
"His Friend the Enemy" Rogers
of Butte" Etc., Etc.
Copyright. 1908, by william wallace cook)
CHAPTER Vl.-CoNrISuED.

glasses 10 Lne success or lne Sandy
Bar men that it was necessary 10 help
him out and boost him to his seat on
the mountain wagon.
With wild whoop he rolled out of
sight along the cross trail that led to-
ward the War Eagle, Dynamite and
Terror on the keen jump.
Shouldn't wonder if Uncle Alb set
off that load O. his" remarked Ben
Chickworthy, his eyes following the
vanishing cloud of dust 1T was GRIM
inal carelessness fer the super at the
War Eagle ter send such a man after
blastin' material"
Another cloud Of dust had appeared
along the south trail and presently
dozen mounted men broke out of it,
plying their lathered mounts with
quirt and spur 1t was the Sandy Bar
contingent and they reined in their
horses at the door Of the tavern.
We're hot after the fellow" said
one of the pursuers in response to a
question from Cliff. "Hes been seen
twice; once by Kasper, between here
and the Bar, and later by Neb Haw-
ley, a mill-hand at the Eagle. When
HaWiey seen him he was footing it
west along the Eagle trail Well over
haul him, Cliff. Get your horse if you
want to be in at the finish"
Cliff hurried to get his mount under
saddle and take his place in the ranks
OF the pursuers. The horsemen there
upon darted away at the same stirring
pace.
Meanwhile the under foreman had
been trying clumsily to get his flying
team under control. Gryce was not so
far gone in drink that he failed to es-
innate the dangers of such killing
pace with such load, but his awkward
work with the reins would have proved
unsuccessful had not man stepped
into the road in front of the horses.
A thick tangle of brush bordered the
trail and the appearance of the man
was as surprising and unexpected to
the bronchos as it was to Gryce The
team halted abruptly thrown far back
in the harness.
The under foreman got fresh grip
on the lines and brought up the
bronchos we'll in hand
Good afternoon" said the stranger,
courteously.
'Howdy," said Gryce.
The stranger wore clothes of good
quality, but they showed evidence of
recent hard usage. He was on foot.
also. and a vague suspicion worked
sluggishly into Gryce's brain.
Have you come from the Half Way
house?" queried the stranger.
That's me-" hiccoughed Uncle Alb,
wondering how he could go to work
and capture the man. Handicapped
with fractions team and 500 pounds
of freight that was still more unre-
liable, as we'll as possessing a head
that was far from we'll balanced, the
old man yet thought it possible that he
might be able to do something.
"Have you seen anything Of a
smooth-faced man in corduroys?" was
the strangers next question.
Uncle Alb pricked up his ears. Pos
sibly he was mistaken in the smooth
voiced stranger, after all.
"Ridin' calico cayuse?" demanded
the under foreman.
eyes" replied the other, with bright
ening eye.
Thunder! So that's the yap that's
wanted over Sandy Bar way. seen
him, sure; and he was lopin' Off this
piece of War Eagle trail about three
this mornin', when l was pikin' fer
Anacondy ter git this load O. high ex-
plosive. An ter think that | was as
clost ter him as me an you is, an
didn't know he was wanted an never
raised hand. Shucks!"
Uncle Alb was morbidly disappointed.
(Which way was he going?" asked
the stranger.
West" was the answer "Say,
friend, jump up here with me an III
take We along as fur as the Eagle, any
how"
The stranger thanked Gryce for his
offer and climbed up on the seat. At
a word from the driver the bronchos
neck speed.
The War Eagle trail, west of the
Half Way house, threaded very rough
section of country. With clear head,
hrm nerves and steady drivers the way
was sufficiently dangerous, but with
Gryce in his half-tipsy condition, the
bronchos charging pell-meIl and the
boxes of giant powder leaping around
in the rear of The wagon, the risk
might nave been denominated extra
hazardous.
whoa, consarn YET" yelled Gryce,
saving at the reins. Dynamite, ye're
the wust internal trCuble-maker ever
hitched ter pole! An ye're sawed
off'n the same piece. Terror Drat
'em! They'll have us sky-rocketin' be-
fore we know what's struck u.s.
A lurch of the mountain wagon all
but hurled Gryce from his seat. The
lines slackened AMI would have
dropped had the stranger not grabbed
them as they rippled over the dash
board.
"Bear down on 'em, friend!" shouted
the old man, making frantic attempts
to keep himself ia the wagon.
They've taken the bits in their teeth
an we'll go up like couple O. shootin'
stars If ye can't hold 'em in."
A clatter of galloping hoofs could be |
heard behind, broken now and again
by a distant shout. The stranger threw
a look over his shoulders and, instead
Of holding the horses in, leaned for
ward with loosened reins and urged