The Tupelo journal., 1909-11-05

than anything but sheer recklessness
would have prompted, fastened across
the waste. His rife lay in his hand,
and he had pushed his horse to a run.
A single fearful instinct crowded now
upon the long strain of the week. A
savage fascination burned like a fever
in his veins, and he meant that they
should not get away. Taking chances
that would have shamed him in cooler
moments, he forced his horse at the
end of the long ride to within 100
PAGES of the river, threw his lines,
slipped like a lizard from the saddle,
and, darling with incredible swiftness
from rock to rock, gained the waters
edge.
From up the long shadows of the
wash there came the wall of an owl.
From it he knew that Wickwire had
seen them and was warning him, but
he had anticipated the warning and
stood below where the hunted men
must ride. He strained his eyes over
the waste of rock above. For one half
hour of daylight he would have sold.
in that moment, ten years Of his life.
What could he do If they should be
able to secrete themselves until dark
between him and Wickwire? Gliding
under owe of huge rocks up the dry
watercourse, he reached a spot where
the foods had scooped a long, hollow
curve out of a soft ledge in the bank.
leaving a stretch of smooth sand on
the bed of the stream. At the upper
point great powders pushed out OF
the river. He could not inspect the
curve from the spot he had gained
without reckless exposure, but he
must force the little daylight left to
him. Climbing completely over the
lower point, he advanced cautiously.
and from behind a sheltering spur
stepped out upon an ~overhanging table
of rock and looked across the river
bottom. Three men had halted on the
sand within the curve. Two lay on
their rifles under the upper point, 100
PAGES from Whispering Smith. The
third man, Seagrue, less than so yards
away, had got off his horse and was
laying down his rifle, when the boot
owl screeched again and he looked I'M
easily back. They had chosen for
their halt a spot easily defended, and
needed only darkness to make them
safe, when Smith, stepping out into
plain sight, threw forward his hand.
They heard his sharp call to pitch up,
and the men under the point jumped.
Seagrue had not yet taken his hand
from his rifle. He threw it to his
shoulder. AS closely together as two
fingers of the right hand can be struck
twice in the palm of the left, two rifle
shots cracked across the wash. Two
bullets passed SO close in fight they
might have struck. One cut the
dusty hair from Smiths temple and
slit the brim of his hat above his ear;
the other struck Seagrue under the
left eye, plowed through the roof OF
his mouth, and, coming out below his
ear, splintered the rock at his back.
The shock alone would have stag.
gered a bullock, but Seagrue, laughing,
came forward pumping his gun. Sim
clair, at 120 yards, cut instantly into
the fight, and the ball from his rife
creased the alkali that crusted Whis-
pering Smiths unshaven cheek. AS
he fired he sprang to cover.
For Seagrue and Smith there was
no cover; for one or both it was death
in the open and Seagrue, with his rifle
at his cheek, walked straight into it.
Taking for a moment the fire of the
three guns, Whispering Smith stood,
a perfect target, outlined against the
sky. They whipped the dust from his
coat, tore the sleeve from his wrist
and ripped the blouse collar from his
neck; but he felt no bullet shock. He
saw before him only the buckle Of
Seagrue's belt 40 PAGES away, and sent
bullet after bullet at the CLEAN OF
brass between the sights. Both men
were using hig%h-pressure guns, and
the deadly shocks of the slugs made
Seagrue twitch and stagger. The man
was dying as he walked. Smiths
hand was racing with the lever, and
had a cartridge jammed, the steel
would have snapped like a match.
CTO BE CONCLUDED.)