Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-09-27

six feet, the pistol fire cutting from the
gloom with vivid touch his face. Like
the coils of python, sinewy arms looped
the mans frame A hand found his pistol
wrist and drew it back over his lo1ns till
the shoulder cracked, and from the
writhing fingers a pistol clattered to the
floor They rolled in clinch. Once the
mans teeth snapped at tie Sergeant S
throat as he sought to turn his Captor
Give up or I'll break your shoulder
Kinnaird painted, his mouth at the
others ear
It's you, you Gospel slingin' skunk!
the man grunted; followed by groan
as his arm was wrenched.
Writing away from the pain he half
turned, and with quick twist the Ser
geant had him on his face, pinioned fiat
by the clutched arm across his back, and
another beneath the captor's knee.
Then kinnaird struck a match A bot
tie, rolling groggily within reach, was
corked with a candle Lighting this, he
slipped the others revolver in his pocket
Then he released his hold, and rising
stepped back, the candle IN one hand,
and six-shooter in the other.
Hello, Cayuse!' he exclaimed, grim
smile lighting up his face as the man
twisted to a seat on a gray blanket that
had lately held him in sleep.
Cayuse rubbed his shoulder and looked
at the speaker reproachfully; then he
cursed softly, as though, even in a case of
assault, the calling of his assailant exer-
cised restraint on his vocabulary.
Sorry if l hurt you, kinnalrd said
apologetically; but you were sure care
less in your gun play. You might have
shot one of your own men
HE'LL d'you s'pose they'd stampede
|
it was some sneakin' spy in the corral.
He sat for second blinking his eyes, and
then added, Say, Matt was right, Ell?
The fellers was right all the time when
they measured your tracks for spy, eh!
God! but you'll get wuss' n what s comm
to Matt for boss stealth when l call Off
this fool play of yourn to the men"
When you do, Cayuse, that'll be in
barracks at Fort Nelson; for you re going
to hit the trail with me-
I'll see you in hell first, sky pilot
brand and whole outfit"
The Sergeant ignored Cayuse while he
ran his eye over the shack's interior.
There was large copper still, a worm.
tubs, in corner several bags of grain;
one wall was entirely hidden by square
tins Then he recovered his hat, which
now carried a bullet puncture, saying,
Stand up with your face to the wall,
Cayuse! Quick! If you don't, I'll club
YOU into submission!' he continued
angrily, as the whisky man glared at him
without moving.
Reluctantly Cayuse obeyed; and Kin
naird, taking leather lump line that lay
beside the tins, fastened it round his
prisoners waist, made a loop in the loose
ends, and passed it over his left wrist
"Sabe, Cayuse?" he queried It's
pretty tough trail over Little Divide, and
I'm going to give you lease of your
arms If you buck up, III put a bullet
through you. Now hit the traill''
III see you in" But the prisoner
was cut short by being thrust bodily from
the shack and hustled along the path
AS they cleared the growth of trees
Kinnaird said, closing up on his prisoner,
See this gun. Cayuse? If you SO much
as speak, I'll lift your thatch!
In silence the driver and the driven
crept up the trail which was like bracket
on the gray cliff of Little Divide, their
moccasined feet falling with dull thud
on the smooth worn rock.
nUPRE, crouched in waiting like pan
- Their, heard sucking breath and the
crunch of heavy feet Then a mans
shadow blurred the path around the