The Press., 1914-12-09
Greeting a Gun
 Handler
With a Surprise All Around
By VINCIE E. ROE
Copyright by Frank A. Munsey Go.

That the old west was not entirely gone was apparent on every side as the shoddy old coach numbered along.
 But that it was making its last pa thetic stand was equally plain in the dotting homesteads, in the telephone line that had timidly followed the bold old road of the stage line for many miles.
 A woman and three men rocked and bumped on the shabby seats inside and the driver. a weathered old timer, who handled his four lines with the deftness of lifelong habit, swayed on the boot, straight as an Indian, in his blue flannel shirt. The woman was slim and handsome, about thirty years of age, clad in the last word of urban taste-the east by every sign and token.
 And yet she bore one earmark of the west-she "traveled light"
 Only one small alligator bag was to her credit amid the luggage. Of the other passengers one was patiently a travelling man, a dapper young man of the new west; one was a rancher, middle aged and calm, and | one was that motley offspring or the old and the new, an irresponsible hy- brid. taking the worst strains Of both parents He was neither a cowboy, a miner nor rancher; neither farmer, a promoter nor business man, and yet he partOOk little of all.
 He was loud voiced. with the over drawn vocabulary of story book wild westerners. His clothes were as mot ley as himself-a sOmbrero, light fan nel shirt exaggeratedly open necked. brOadcIoth trousers. patent leather shoes and cartridge belt from whose two holsters glOwered the black butts of a couple of gulis.
 He monopoIized the conversation and cast bold glances at the young woman.
 "Yes." he said loudly. the west hain't what it usta be. It's ben over run with these here d-- Easterns."
 ''I've met a few of 'em," said the rancher quietly. 'an' I've noticed that most of 'em make it pint not to cuss before ladies-specially when that same is shet up in stage with the cusSer an cant help theirselves."
 The woman shot the interrupter a grateful glance which struggled with a smile for mastery.
 "Hey," said the bully, "meanin' me?"
 The rancher looked calmly out at the dropping hills. clad in their noble vest ments of constantly heightening pines.
 Shoe pinch?" he asked of the seen cry.
 The other studied him moment in suspicious perplexity.
 ''Old man." he said largely, "a few years back you'd "a got plugged fer that"
 Maybe. But the west has changed also it's men,"
 The woman could not repress the ! smile that twitched her handsome mouth, and she gazed out of the win dow at the beautiful road winding and climbing among the ledges.
 The dapper travelling man fidgeted uneasily. edging away from the blatant black guns.
 
 derfoot and mistook the wOman's ab- sorbed study of the landscape for the fear of himself be loved to instill.
 Therefore he talked with heightened vigor.
 Yes. sir, the west hain't what it was. Why. they's been horse thief rustlin' up on Sleepy Fork fer months,
 
 country to ketch him-an' string him up."
 He glanced at the woman, expecting a shiver of horror. He thought he saw it and pressed his line of talk.
 Five, yes, three years back he'd "a ben ill hin heaven by now. An | fifteen-why, eff he'd "a ben tryin' his doin's ill Big Bill Daily's time he'd "a furnished sport fer the countryside Now, there was man! l know the time he rode into Circle and shot three of the Burgess gang all by his lone some He was gun man right"
 The trim shoulders in the blue tray cling suit shivered perceptibly, and the red lips of the woman dropped from their amused smile. The bully went on delightedly:
 "Hain't many of us left of the old gun handlers. I know when Big Bill trimmed d Johnny Eastern's new som brero into lacewOrk fringe on his head. Gee! Them was days! Hain't | but few of us left!'
 The travelling man was gnawing his small mustache, and the fingers of his immaculate hands were gripped tight together.
 The ranchers kindly eyes took in the pain in the woman's face.
 'No," he said, they hain't any left
 "Oh. I don't know" said the other i'll exaggerated Offhandedness, hitch ing his holsters a bit to the fore. No I don't know. Pm goin' up on Sleepy Fork right now"
 "The rlen of the old days shot, he said with contemptuous sarcasm; ''they | didn't talk It's the mark of the new | weSt-thcSe takers like The sentence was never finished.
 There was a startled ''Whoar' from the old timer on the boot, a gathering of taut lines, d creaking grind of the brake. and the numbering old stage lurched to a stand in the presence of | grim tragedy.
 At the side of the road where 1t | turned around shoulder and spread | out in q wide ledge dozen men went about work so wild, so amazing in it's steadiness as to bring forward with a jerk that old west of which the little company in the stage were speaking.
 With their backs to ragged pine, their arms pinioned at their sides and their silver stars gleaming ridiculously on their khaki shirts, two officers of the law watched in white wrath the deliberations of the rest.
 These others, nine men in corduroys, wide hats and flannel shirts. were nnn man olOnn wac h0Pn-