The Lamar register., 1913-06-25
CHAPTER L

vtding line between the Cen
~ tipede Ranch and their own,
4fVA staring mournfully into a
summer night such as only
AX the far southwestern o0un-
90 try knows. And as the four
inclined their bodies. they
inclined also their ears. after the
strained manner of listeners who
feel anguish at what they hear. A
voice. shrill and human, pierced the
aight like a needle. then. with a
wall Of a tortured soul. died away
amid discordant raspings: the voice
Of q photograph. 1t was their own.
or had been until one overconfdent
day, when the Flying Heart Ranch
had staked It as wager in q foot
race with the neighboring Cent?
psde, and their own man had been too
slow. As It had been their pride. It
remained their disgrace. Dearly had
they loved. and dearly lost It 1t
meant something that looked like
honor, and though there were ten
thousand thousand Photographs. in all
The world there was not one that could
tAko ito place.
The sound ceased. there was an ap-
growing distant murmur Of mems
voices. and then the song began:
Jerusalem. Jerusalem.
Lift up your voice and sing"
Higher and higher the voice mount
"a until It reached again Its first thin.
sarsplitting pitch.
00Ssn ntus dt.-.- sttr~aA ,,~.. .tvxr
n ehs darkness.
"Whyn'ell don't they keep her
wound upf' be complained. Gala
yAsrs got the soul of . wart-hog. It's
9lmf1al the way he massaores that
hymn"
From q rod farther down the wire
ssncs Willie answered him. in q boy's
eAlsstto:
Il wonder II he does It TO spite met"
He don't know you're here" said
Slower.
The other came out OF the gloom.
. little stoopshouidered man with
speotacles.
Il amt noways sure" he piped.
psering up at his lanky foreman.
why do you reckon he allus let's
Mrs. Melby peter out on my favorite
sscordf He done the same thing last
uight II looks like an insult
ITS nothing but his Ignorance"
Slower replied. He don't want no
trouble with you None OF 'em do"
I'D like to know for certain" The
small man seemed torn by doubt. III
I only knew he done It a-purpose. I'd
git him. l bet could do It from
here"
stover's voice was grufr as he com
mandsd:
Forget i'll Amt It bad enough for
us fellers to hang around like this
svery night without advertising our
tdiocy by a gun-play?'
They amt got no right to that
phonograph." Willie averred darkly.
'Oh yes. they have: they won It
fair and square"
Fair and square! Do you mean to
say Hump Joe run that foot-race on
the squaref'
81 never said nothin' like that what
ever. l mean we bet 1t. and We lost
1t. Listen! There goes Carara's
piece!"
Out past the corral noated the an
oouncement In a mans metallic syl
tables:
1.-The Baggage Coach Ahead as
sung by Helena Mora for the Echo
Photograph. of New York and Para
ris!"
From the dusk to the right Of the
two listeners now issued soft Spanish
phrases.
"Madre de Dios! The Baggage Car
In 'FRONT.' Tadora Mora! God bless
'sri"
During the rendition of this affect
ing ballad the two cow-men remained
draped uncomfortably over the barbed-
wire barrier. lost in rapturous enjoy
ment. When the last note had died
away, Slower reused himself reluc-
family.
ITS time we was turnin' In" He
called softly, Hey. Mex!"
"Si. Senori"
Come on, you and Cloudy. Vamos!
IT'S ton o'clock"
He turned his back on the Cent?
oede Ranch that housed the treasure.
and In company with Willie, made his
way to the ponies. Two other figures
ioined them one humminx In must