The Spanish Fork press. [volume] (Spanish Fork, Utah) 1902-current, 1910-12-15

The prisoner realized that he must
launch a thunderbolt II he would dis.
turb a self-possession so complete-a
tranquility as sweet as the fading
afternoon.
Mr.. Ardmore, dislike to do II, but
your amazing conduct makes it nee
essary for me to disclose my identity"
and the mans manner showed real
embarrassment.
Il knew it; knew IT." nodded Ard.
more, folding his arms across his
chest. You're either the king of Siam
or the prince of Petosky. AS either,
salute yon!"
MOI" roared the captive, beating
impotently against the door of the
cage with his hands. mo! I'm the
governor of South Cardinal"
This statement failed, however, to
produce the slightest effect on Mr..
Ardmore, who only smiled slightly,
smile less incredulous than disdainful.
ooh, pshaw; that's nothing" he re-
piled I'm the governor of North Caro-
lina!" and mounting his horse he
gravely lifted his hat to the prisoner
and galloped away.
While Mr.. Ardmore was securing
his prisoner in the corn-crib 1t may be
interesting to return for moment to
the haunted log cabin on Raccoon
creek, the interior of which was
roughly but comfortably furnished.
Above were two small sleeping-rooms,
and beside the bed in each stood
suitcase and a hand-satchel. In each
room hung, on convenient hooks,
long, black frock-coat, pair of trou
sers of light cloth, and broad-hrim
black felt hat. Coat, trousers and hat
were exactly alike.
In the room below sat man in his
| shirt-sleeves, his feet on a cheap deal
| table, blowing rings from a cigar. He
| presented picture of the greatest
ease and contentment, as he occasion
| ally stroked his short brown beard,
or threw up his arms and clasped his
| hands about his head or caught lazily
an array of playing cards and poker
| chips.
IT'S too good to last forever" the
| lone occupant reflected aloud, Sitting
| yawn, and he reached out, with
! careless Indifference, toward a bun
| die of newspapers tied together with
| piece of Irvine and drew one out
and spread it across his knees He
| yawned again as though the thought
| of world whose affairs were
stamped in printers ink bored him i'm.
mensely; and then the bold headlines
| that shouted at him across half a
| quarter of the sheet caused him to
| gasp, and his feet struck the bare
| floor of the cabin resoundingly. He
now bent over the paper with the
| greatest eagerness, muttering as he
read, and some of his mutterings
were, it must be confessed, not with
out profane establishment.
TWO COWARDLY GOVERNORS
MISSING.
Scandal Affecting Two State Execu.
tives-Is the Appleweight Case Re-
sponsible ?-Rumors of Fatal Duel
on State Line
He read breathlessly the startling
story that followed the headlines,
then rose and glanced anxiously at his
watch.
Am / drunk or mad? | must find
| Osborne and get out of this
He leaped to the open door, and
gazed into the forest from little
platform that commanded all sides of
l.,
amazement, he saw men in khaki
emerging cautiously from the woods
They were Enthusiastically soldiers OF
some sort, for an officer was giving
sharp commands, and the line opened
out like a fan along the creek The
observer of this maneuver mopped his
head with his handkerchief as he
watched the alert movements of the
| figures in khaki.
He was so absorbed that he failed
to hear stealthy steps at the rear OF
the platform, but he was now rudely
aroused by two uniformed youngsters
with S. c. N. G. on their caps, who
sprang upon him and bore him with
crash to the puncheon floor.
You're our prisoner" shouted one
of them, rising when he found that
the prisoner yielded without resist
ance.
What for?" blurted the captive
sitting up and rubbing his elbow.
For being Bill Appleweight, alias
Poteet Get up, now, and come with
us to headquarters, or my instructions
| are to break your head"
who in the devil are your" painted
the prisoner.
We'll, if it's anything to you, we're
the South Carolina militia, so you'd
better get up and climb"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
al Iatn La