Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1913-07-11

and Truesdell at the head OF his ran
gers rid the earth of them to the last
brave. earning his sobriquet Then
came prosperity in the form of wax
ing herds and broadening lands. And
then old age and bitterness, when he
sat, with his great name of hair as
white as the Spanish dagger blossoms
and his fierce, pale blue eyes, on the
shaded gallery at Cibolo, growing like
the pumas that he had slain. He snap
ped his fingers at old age The bitter
taste to life did not come from that.
The cup that stuck at his lips was that
his only son Ransom wanted to mar
ry Curtis, the last youthful survivor
of the other end Of the feud.
For awhile the only sounds to be
heard at the store were the rafting
of the tin spoons and the gurgling
intake of the juicy fruits by the cow
punchers, the stamping of the graz
ing ponies. and the singing Of dole
full song by Sam as he contentedly
brushed his stiff auburn hair for the
twentieth time that day before a
CTlUklv llllTTOT.
From the door of the store could be
seen the irregular, slOping stretch of
prairie to the south, with its reaches Of
light green, billowy mesquite flats in
the lower places, and its rises crown
ed with nearly black masses of short
chaparral. Through the mesquite fat
wound the ranch road that five miles
away flowed into the old government
trail to San Antonio. The sun was so
low that the gentlest elevation cast it's
gray shadow miles into the green gold
sea of sunshine
That evening ears We're quicker than
eyes
The Mexican held up tawny finger
to still the scraping of tin against tin.
zone Waggeen." said he, "crOss dthe
Arroyo Hondo. All hear dthe wheel.
Verree rockee place, dthe Hondo."
you've got good ears. Gregorio.' -
said Mustang Taylor. Il never heard
nothin' but the song bird in the bush
and the zephyr skallyhootin' across
the peaceful dell
| In ten minutes Taylor remarked: 81
see the dust of wagon risin' right
above the fur end of the fiat"
'YOu have verree good eyes, senior"
said Gregorio smiling.
| Two miles away they saw faint
cloud dimming the green rtpples of
the mosquitoes In twenty minutes
they heard the clatter of the horses
hoofs; in five minutes more the gray
plugs dashed out of the thicket. whick
ering for oats and drawing the light
wagon behind them like toy.
From the jacals came a cry Of Gel
Amo. Ell Amo.' -Four Mexican
youths raced to unharness the grays
The cowpunchers gave yell of greet
ing and delight.
Ranse Truesdell driving, threw the
reins to the ground and laughed.
It's under the wagon sheet, boys" he
said Il know what you're waiting
for If Sam lets it run out again We'll
use them yellow shoes Of his for a
target. There's two cases. Pull 'em
out and light up. l know you all want
a smoke"
After striking dry country Ranse
had removed the wagon sheet from
the bows and thrown it over the goods
in the wagon Six pair of hasty hands
dragged it off and grabbed beneath
the sacks and blankets for the cases of
| tobacco
Long Collins, tobacco messenger
from the San Gabriel outfit, who rode
with the longest stirrups west of the
Mississippi. delved with an arm like
the tongue of wagon. He caught
something harder than a blanket and
pulled out fearful thing-a shapelpss,
muddy bunch of leather tied together
with wire and Irvine. From its ragged
end, like the head and claws of a dis
turbed turtle, protruded human toes.
"Who-ee!" yelled Long Collins.
"Ranse, are you a-packin' around of
corpuses? Here's a-howlin' grasshop-
pers.'
Up from his long slumber popped
Curly, like some vile worm from its
burrow. He clawed his way out and
sat blinking like disreputable, drunk
en- owl. His face was as blush red and
puffed and scanned and cross lined as
the cheapest round steak Of the butch
err. His eyes were swollen Sits his
nose a picked beet; his hair would
have made the widest thatch of a
Jack the-box look like the satin poll
of a Cleo de Merode The rest Of him
was scarecrow done to the life.
Ranse jumped down from his seat
and looked at his strange cargo with
wide open eyes.
Here, you maverick, what are you
doing in my wagon? How did you
get in there?"
The punchers gathered around in de-
light For the time they had forgotten
tobacco.
Curly looked around him slowly in
every direction He snarled like a
Scotch terrier through his ragged
beard.
"Where is this?' he rasped through
his parched throat. cts a - farm