Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-07-18

thing in figure, unsubstantial appar
emily as powder-puff But her face
| Well, it will be about enough to say
of her face that it was one that could
have married her to every last man II
camp, without so much as opening Its
lips.
! Only that was not her lay, as we
soon found out.
The rush to win the privilege Of
helping her down from the box-seat
and the contention for the honor OF
packing her grip from the stage to the
Grand Central Hotel, came near bring
ing on several killings.
1t would have been certain to, bu'
for the fact that where all we're con
tending. one got crouch against sc
many it was hard to fix responsibility
for disappointment on any one.
At the hotel she registered as Miss
Winifred-. I remember her name
as well as the day read it on the reg
lister, but I'll not give it away, for
have always had bunch that the big
run she got for her money around
Deadwood may have let all the worst
mischief out of her. and that once
back in whatever Humanyville she
came from, she may have settled
down, plumb tame.
What her game was, for few days
remained a mystery The only OBJ
vious facts were that none of us won
from her the encouragement Of a
smile, much less word. and that she
was holding repeated conferences with
leading lawyer. at his office. That
circumstance made him as popular and
as persistently cOurted as is a new
president by the flock of hungry Office
seekers.
Meantime the attentions of the
camp annoyed her so that she left the
hote! and took shelter under the wing
of the parsons wife. For two Sun
days. still under the influence of home
traditions, she took the class in the
feeble stagger at Sunday school the
parson. by tireless labor, had man
aged to assemble.
But her life in the log-cabin that
served as the parsonage did not last
long. Andr when she did leave she
performed a lightning-change act that
knocked the camp speeches.
Incredible as it may seem, the truth
her business with the lawyer was con-
Guided, she flew the parsonage coop.
Once out. she never quit fluttering
until shifted to mans rig. blue flannel
shirt trousers tucked in long boots and
full-grown As six-shooter. buckled
round her toy waist, she had perched
herself in front of a faro layout and
bought a stack of blue chips that took
the dealers breath away.
Before long she had shifted from his
rack to her side of the table so many
Of his chips. and had done it so per-
sistently and easily that the game
seemed to lose interest for her.
Anyway, she cashed in, staggered
up to the bar and ordered drinks for
the house-just the proper thing to do
after her heavy touch of it's faro bank.
That was the one thing needful to
convince us her early innocence play
was no other than mask, and that she
was a thoroughbred, trained amazing
ly for one so young on the highest
etiquette of the most exacting frontier
society.
To say the house was full don't give
an idea Of the crowd that actually
packed it, and overflowed the neigh
borhood as we'll, the outsiders craning
their necks for a glimpse. and pricking
ears for phrase, Of the astounding
doings inside.
No one ventured any lbertieis, or
even familarities, with her. For by
the time she had tossed down at gulp
her first glass of neat whisky, lights
were ablaze in those steely eyes that
no one could mistake for an invitation
to get gay with her.
Another round of drinks she or.
dered served. and they were cham
bered with appreciation and appro-
pirate formalities. Scarcely we're the
drinks placed where they would do the
most harm when, quietly remarking
that a certain bottle behind the bar
was wearing a disgracefully long neck,
she out with the big IS and nipped it
off with as quick and neat a snapshot
as I could have made.
ITO be COntinued.)