Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-06-17

gone was apparent on every side as th'
shoddy old coach numbered along.
But that It was making its last pa
thetic stand was equally plain In the
dotttng 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
dizziness 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 travelled 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 n.y.
bird, taking the worst strains OF both
parents. He was neither cowboy. a
miner nor a rancher; neither farmer,
a promoter nor a business man, and
yet he partook a 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, a light fan
mel shirt exaggeratedly open necked,
trousers, patent leather
shoes and a cartridge belt from whose
two holsters gIowered the black butts
Of a couple Of guns.
He monopolized the conversation and
cast bold glances at the young woman.
YES" he said loudly, 1.-The west
hain't what it usta be. It's ben over
run with these here d Easterns."
i've met q few of 'em," said the
rancher quietly. IAN I've noticed that
most of 'em make it pint not to cuss |
before ladies-specially when that same |
Is shet up In q stage with the cusser |
an can't help themselves"
The woman shot the tnterrupter a |
grateful glance which struggled with |
| smile for mastery.
Hey" said the bully, "meanfn'
ne?"
The rancher looked calmly out at the
lropping hills, clad in their noble vest
nents of constantly frightening pines.
"Shoe pinch?" he asked of the seen
ry.
The other studied him a moment in
uspicious perplexity.
"Old man." he said largely, ga few
ears back you'd "a got plugged fer
hat"
Maybe But the west has changed
ALSO its men"
The woman could not repress the
mile that twitched her handsome
Mouth, and she gazed out of the win
ow at the beautiful road winding and
limbing among the lodges.
The dapper travelling man fldgeted
neasily, edging away from the blatant
lack guns.
The owner saw the signs of the ten
erfoot and mistook the woman's abb
orbed study of the landscape for the
ear of himself he loved to fnstill.
Therefore he talked with heightened
igor.
Yes, sir, the west hain't what 1t
as. Why, they's been a horse thief
lstlin' up on Sleepy Fork fer months,
a. they hain't men enough in the
,untry to ketch him-an' string him
D."
He glanced at the woman, expecting
SILVER of horror. He thought he saw
and pressed his line of talk.
Five. yes, three years back he'd "a
IN in hin heaven by now. An
'teen-why, eff he'd "a ben tryin' his
inns in Big Bill DaiIy's time he'd
furnished sport fer the countryside.
DIV, there was a man! l know the i
ne he rode into Circle and shot three
the Burgess gang all by his lone
me. He was gun man rightp'
The trim shoulders in the 1blue trav-
ng suit shivered percepibly. and the
d lips OF the woman dropped from S
cir amused smile. q
The bully went on delightedly:
'Hain't many of US left of the old ! p
n handlers. 1 know when Big Bill q
mined a Johnny Eastern's new SOM
ero into a lacework fringe on his &
adj Gee! Them was days! Hain't Il
t few of us leftl'' a
Che travelling man was gnawing his b
all mustache. and the fingers of his
maculate hands were gripped tight 81
,ether. n
rhe rancheris kindly eyes took in the n
In in the woman's face. b
No." he said. they hain't any left" ia
oh. 1 don't know" said the other b
exaggerated offhandsdness. hitch b.
his holsters bit to the fore. "No. III
ont know. I'm goin' up on Sleepy ID
TX right now" Oh
The men Of the old days shot," he
i with contemptuous sarca sm. they So
mt talk. It's the mark of the new
st-these takers like
he sentence was never finished. L
here was a startled "Whoar' from 70
old timer on the boot. gathering
taut lines, q creaktng grind of fha |