The Julesburg grit-advocate., 1908-01-24
|LANGFORD'
Of the (
i THREE 7
| BARS@ |
CHAPTER l.
The laland With a Mxaterx.
BY
KATE AND VIRGIL D. BOYLES
Copyright by A. C. NcCIurx q Co.. l0o7.)

He said positively to Battle AK, his
scraggy buckskin cow pony, that they
would ride to the summit of this one
bluff. and that it should be the last.
But he had said the same thing many
times since striking the barren hill re-
gion flanking both sides of the river.
Hump after hump had been surmount.
ed since the sound of the first prom
Use had tickled the ears of the tired
broncho, humps as alike as the two
humps Of Bactrian camel, the monot-
onous continuity of which might very
well have confused the mind of one
less at home on these ranges than
George Williston. Even he, riding a
blind trail since sun-up, sitting his
saddle with heavy Indifference born
of heat and fatigue. began to think it
might be that they were describing
circle and the sun was playing them
strange tricks. Still, he urged his pony
to one more effort; just SO much
farther and they would retrace their
steps. giving up for this day at least
the locating of small bunch of cat
tie, branded a lazy S, missing these
three days.
Had not untoward circumstances
intervened, he might still have gone
blindly on; for, laying aside the gam
bling fever that was on him, he could
i'll afford to lose the ten or twelve
steers somewhere wandering the wide
range or huddled into some safe place,
there to abide the time when a daring
rustler might conveniently play at
witchcraft with the brand or other
wise dispose of them with profit to
himself and with credit to his craft.
Moreover, what might possibly never
have been missed from the vast herds
of Langford, his neighbor of the plains
country, was of most serious import
to Williston
Devil take you, Battle AK, but
you're slow" muttered Williston. 'Id
give good deal to sit down this min
ute to some of my little girls flap
jacks and coffee. But nothing for us,
lazy-bones. till midnight-or morning,
more likely. Do walk up as if you had
some little standing in the Eorld Of
cow ponies. You haven't, OF q surety.
but you might make an effort. All
things are possible to him who tries,
you know, which is a tremendous lie,
of course. But perhaps it doesn't aD-
ply to poor devils like US who are
has beens.' Here we are. Ah!"
There we're no more hills. Almost
directly at his feet was one of those
precipitous cut-aways that character
ize the border bluffs of the Missouri
river. A few more steps, in the dark,
and horse and rider would have plung
ed over a sheer wall of nearly 200
feet AS it was, Williston gave gasp
of involuntary horror which almost
simultaneously gave place to one of
wonder and establishment. He had
struck the river at point absolutely
new to him. It was the time of low
water, and the river in most of its
phases muddy and sullen-looking,
cleaned silver and gold with the gilt
ter of the setting sun, making royal
highway to the dwelling-place of
Phoebus. A little to the north of this
sparkling highroad lay what would
have been an island in high water.
thickly wooded with willows and cot
..
reached between bluff and island.
Dismounting, with the quick thought
that yonder island might hold the Sc
cret Of his lost cattle, he crept as
close to the edge as he dared. The
cut was sheer and tawny, entirely de-
void of shrubbery by means of which
one might hazard descent. The sand
bed began Immediately at the foot OF
the yellow wall. Even though one
managed to gain the bottom. one
would hardly dare risk the deceitful
sands, ever shifting, fair and treach-
erous. Baffled, he was on the point OF
remounting to retrace his steps when
he dropped his foot from the stirrup
amazed. Was the day of miracles not
yet passed?
1t was the sun, or course Twelve
hours of sun in the eyes could play
strange tricks and might even cause
a dancing black speck to assume the
semblance OF a man on horseback.
picking his way easily, though may
hap bit warily. across the waste Of
sand. He seemed to have sprung from
the very bowels of the bluff. Whence
else? Many rod beyond and above
the ghostly figure frowned the tawny,
wicked cut-away. Path for neither
horse nor man appeared so far as eye
could reach. 1t must be the sun. But
1t was not the sun.
Motionless, intent, figure cast in
bronze as the sun went down, the lean
ranchman gazed steadfastly down
,n0n tho miniature man and hnrSa
creeping along SO far below. Not un
til the object of his fixed gaze had
been swallowed by the trees and un-
derbrush did his muscles relax. This
man had ridden as II unafraid.