The Pioche record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1908-1925, 1911-02-25

| HOh belieVue Delore daylight, and
would do their best to avoid. broi
or parley along the way.
The car was now almost upon him
and the horn beloved franticaliy
he dropped the lantern and flung the
gun to his shoulder. When the car
was barely five yards away he fired
al the tire nearest him and jumped
aside. The car rushed by; he emp.
tied the other barrel into the rear
Tire. broke open the gun and reloaded
swiftly.
And then sound. flung back to
MIN by the wind. struck him into
immobility. The sound was a scream
such as never issued from the lungs
of man.
Good Lord!" he groaned; the
wrong car! It's a woman!"
AS he started after the car with
staring eyeballs, he saw that his
shots had taken effect Both tires
on the right side of the car were use
less The rushing speed slackened
The car plowed along the edge OF
deep ditch until Porterfeld's soul
died within him. Then 1t came back
INTO the track again, rushed through
drift, and bounced over a smooth
space. Another drift reduced its
speed to crawl; a third stopped it
dead, the fiattening tires spinning
around impotently.
AS Porterfield approached, the en-
CINE was stopped. A young woman
stepped out of the car. She did not
seem frightened despite that scream
but the poise of her head, as re-
vealed by the moonlight, somehow
caused Porterfield a dim foreboding.
His uneasy feeling was promptly
justified. The wind was not more
cutting than the accents Of the girl
as she greeted him:
Well, Mr., Porterfleld, you seem
TO have added highway robbery and
automobile wrecking to your other
accomplishments"
"Elsie!" gasped the unhappy Por.
terrified.
Miss Corning to you," she cor
rected, with a manner coldly merci
less. Have you any explanation to
make Tor rendering this road as un
safe as a western Indian trail, and
Tor destroying two tires?"
They had once been engaged; and
1t was not through the desire OF
Porterfield that the engagement had
been broken.
You see. Elsie" he began earn
estly.
Miss Corning" Interrupted the
girl.
He bowed and continued: THE
bank at Bellevue has been robbed
The sheriff telephoned me to look
out for the burglars, who are in a
white car, equipped with top, wind
shield and four lights. Your car
answered the description"
And you wrecked it without In
vestigating."
There was no time. And you
would not stop"
Il recognized you," acknowledged
the girl; but | didn't think your
message was important And | was
AMIN hurry. My maid is very
sick. The telephone lines are down;
SO | started to drive to Doctor
Brant's at Lebanon"
My runabout only needs crank.
Ing. said Porterfield, taking an i'm.
pulsive step forward. II would be
only too glad to drive you over there.
That would atone in part for my
Il could not think of discommod.
ng you." returned the girl, icily.
Besides. you must stay here and
shoot up the burglars car"
In case Of sickness or distress f"
'eplied Porterfield loftily, my duty
S clear. The burglars can go hang,
I they were coming, they'd have been
lere long ago. I'll have that car out
n jiffy"
They made the journey to Lebanon
n constrained silence. Porterfield
oused the physician. secured his
'romise to follow Immediately in his
'wn car, and then started back for
he Corning home
When the car whirled into the
'orning driveway, the moon had hid.
len itself behind a film of snow
LIQUIDS. There were lights in the fine
Id house, but nobody was In sight.
Diseased by a purpose, the wildness
I which made his teeth chatter,
shut of. As the car came
a stop by the wide porch he turned
eliberately. took Elsie Corning in
Is arms and kissed her.
There followed silence that stun.
ed-a silence so profound that
Kings seemed to rock with 1t. Por
srfield did not dare to break II.
Under the circumstances. Miss
orning had to speak first. And she ,
Id. finally. In a soft, little voice |
ON which all the chill of their first /
ncounter had melted: How cold
our nose is, Toni"
The telephone was ringing as por.
,rfield stepped into his own home
)me time later. 1t was the sheriff
J rapid. precise and unruffied an
yer
That you, Tom? Well. it's ali ~