The Huttig news., 1910-01-22

| | ppalling.
 | Remained but to purchase the ticket. And this at first was dfi- eulty, for neither Don Carlos rancho, nor "a lonely log cabin gilded by the rays. of the declining sun. nor-alas-- Dead Mans gulch, are to he found | uron tha folders of any railroad Yet | here Karl showed himself to be man 1 of resource and worthy of great enter | prise He bought a ticket clear to he coast, and set out with the grave determination 10 choose his place of | debarkation from the car window Thus it happened that on windy day in March Don Quixote of the Mar ket, squireless and clad incredibly rode out of the picturesque little New Mexican town of Medilia upon a rock ing old Rosinante for which he had paid four prices. bearing across his saddle bow the long lIr7ssmounted rifle of the Schutzenverein lnon his brow was the black frown of d d's comfort and of high purpose, hai in his heart welled up the all pervaGing l joy of attainment Would but the Fates be kind,
 A road was their instruments = kindly. devious road that avoided alike the baseball park iusi outside of town. the farmhouses along the river. and the nearby grove. where at that very moment an unmistakable Sunday school picnic WAS rioting in in finite ice cream. Out over rocky. snn-scorched hills. and through dusty, barren valleys. the road led him. and Fancy peopled their desolate soltudes with all the puppets of our latter day romance. The up-tossed dust of the road was redolent of blood and battle; the lowing of distant cat le was clamorous of midnight raid and deadly stampede; gold glistened in each crystalline pebble. And when a string of steers passed over the brow of neighboring bill. the heart of Karl Engel was uplifted as at sight of uncovered treasure, and he fingered his 'lasso'' with longing and-doubt.
 A roadside cross. carved on boulder 50 years before, by devout Mexicans. who thought thereby to commemorate some soon-forgotten scalp-lifting. then caught Karls eye Instantly he dismounied, and after pious prayer for the repose of these unshriyen souls, spent a rapturous hour in lingering the time-worn in. scription and speculating upon the tu- multuous day it recorded To him that bit of rock pictured whole troops of swarthy villains in velvet, a dark eyed maiden radiant with all allure ments, and heroic cavalier whose plunging steed bore a double burden from out the smoke of battle
 The road beckoned Just over the crest of a rock-strewn ridge, it brought him suddenly upon a wind mill, solitary. gigantic, mysterious. The cattle. for whom it's office was to pump ter. were far abroad in the hills; no human habitation was in sight; the murnaur of the faint noon day wind in the motionless sails whis- pered dark tales of murder-er of mas sacre. Unguided. Rosinante sought the water-trough; Karl dismounted stiffly. and after slaking his own thirst, fell to munching crackers and sardines that he had respectfully sub stituted for the unpurchasable glories of pemmican and jerked buffalo tongue. Then strolling warily about, he came suddenly upon a thing which brought him mp short, open-mou: he'd and saucer-eyed A small thing, too. Fact would have described it as the ashes of campfire built about a dead yucca. the bones of calf that had been roasted thereon, the empty shell of the cartridge that had been expended to slaughter the beast and a pair of cast-off boots Fancy told another tale: of the lonely home of an adventurous pioneer; of demoniac war-whoops at dead of night; of yell ing savages leaping in glee around the flames that fiared about their victim at the stake. Fascinated, Don Quixote tip-toed gingerly closer; furtively he slipped in his pocket as a memento, the empty shell; furiously he vowed vengeance on the first misguided red skin that ventured to cross his path
 Alluring the road led on, over hill and dale ridge and arroyo. A mile or so beyond the enchanted windmill Don Quixote pulled in his Rosinante with jerk for unmistakably he heard the sound of footsteps approaching on horseback" A moment and then a sol itary horseman appeared trotting down the road toward him. and his heart beat fast for joy. It might have been Alkali Ike; it might have been Chick asaw Charlie, perhaps even Billy the Kid; but, after all Karl decided for Deadwood Dick Fact, indeed. knew the rider for old man Johnstcn's ten derfoot nephew. garbed in the remark able attire affected by his kind-harm- ful and unnecessary ehaparejos. the widest of wide sombreros, and the | pearl-handled nickel-plai ed revolver, whose very shadow is tabooed. Per haps he too, in his small-souled way was Don Quixote-further exemplify- ing the truth of MT Oscar Wilde's par adox that literature is not the criti- cism of life so much as life is the criticism of literature
 Good evening. partner,' remarked