The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1914-12-12
CHAPTER II.

Sally clambered lightly over the
fence and started on the last stage Of
her journey, the climb across the
young corn rows. 1t was field stood
on end, and the hoed ground was IN
even; but with no seeming of weari-
ness her red dress flashed steadfastly
across the green spears, and her voice
was raised to shout: Hello, Samson!"
The young man looked up and waved
languid greeting. He did not remove
his hat or descend from his place CT
rest, and Sally, who expected no such
attention, came smilingly on. Samson
was her hero. Slow of utterance and
diff1dent with the stranger, words now
came fast and f1uently as she told her
story of the man who lay hurt at the
foot of the rock.
''Hit hain't long now tell shutdown"
she urged. Hurry, Samson, an git
yore mule. I've done give him my
promise ter fotch ye right straight
back"
Samson took OF his hat, and tossed
the heavy lock upward from his fore
head. His brow wrinkIed with doubts.
what sort Of lookin' Teller air he?"
While Sally sketched a description,
the young mans doubt grew graver.
This hain't no fit time ter be takin'
in folks what we hain't acquainted
with" he objected In the mountains
any time is the time to take in strang
ers unless there are secrets to be
guarded from outside eyes.
why hain't it?" demanded the girl
Hes hurt. We KANT leave him layin'
thar, kin we?"
Suddenly her eyes caught sight of
the rife leaning near by. and straight
way they filled with apprehension.
Her militant love would have turned
to hate for Samson, should he have
proved recreant to the mission of re-
prisal in which he was biding his time,
yet the coming of the day when the
truce must end haunted her thoughts.
She came close. and her voice sank
| with her sinking heart
What air hit?'' she tensely demand
ed. What air hit, Samson? What
fer hev ye fetched yer gun ter the
feId?"
The boy laughed. ooh, hit amt
nothin' perticTer." he treasured. "Hit
| hain't nothin' fer a gal ter fret herself
erbout, only 1 kinder suspicious
strangers jest now"
Air the truce busted ?" She put the
question in a tense, deep-breathed
whisper, and the boy replied casually,
almost indifferently.
mo, Sally, hit hain't jest ter say
busted, but pears like hits right
smart cracked. reckon, though" he
added in half-disgust, "nothin' won't
come of hit"
Somewhat treasured, she bethought
herself again Of her mission.
This here furriner hain't got no
harm in him, Samson" she pleaded.
HE pears ter be more like a gal than
a man. He's real puny. He's got
white skin and a bow Of ribbon on
his neck-an' he paints pictchers."
The boys face had been hardening
with contempt as the description ad-
vanced, but at the last words a glow
came to his eyes, and he demanded
almost breathIessly:
Paints pitchers? How do ye know
that?"
81 seen 'em. He was paintin' one
when he fell often the rock and busted
| his arm. It's shore es beautiful es-''
she broke OF, then added with sud
den peal of iaughter--es er FLETCHER %
The young man slipped down from
the fence, and reached for the rife.
The hoe he left where it stood
"I1I git the nag" he announced
briefly, and swung OF without further
parIey toward the curling spiral OF
smoke that marked a cabin a quarter
| OF a mile below. Ten minutes later
his bare feet swung against the ribs
OF a gray mule and his rife lag bal
anced eevcss the uBsaddled withers