Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1915-12-12
SUNDAY MAGAZINE for December IL, 1915

All she's got to shoot with is little %"
| thought ! heard suspicious sound
over toward the right edge of the coulee.
Lets strike back to camp" | said.
Ericsson took up the bucket of water,
and we moved briskly down to the cabin.
Neither Whiskey Flynn nor young Billy
Doak seemed anywhere about, when we
got there. We made quick round of the
corrals and all possible nearby loafing-
places Not a sign. | looked for Doak's
rifle in the shack. Nowhere to be found.
Then we spurted out to where ID picketed
old Grow for the night. Gone 1t was
his Looping hoof-beats had heard.
For an instant Ericsson and stood
peering at each other through the night
This careless communicating of my horse
it did something to me- Evidently
they thought me a milksop. Also, very
likely, they thought Ericsson fool. He
was so easy-going, so good-tempered.
And they didn't dream he had seen the
girl! could hear the squat, yellow-haired
cook breathing hard now, in the forty-five
or so packed seconds we stood confront
ing each other. He was snorting just like
a little bay shorthorn bull he often
reminded me of.
But you haven't got any gum" | OBJ
jected
"Yah!" he spat. Excitement always
brought out theunderlying Swede in him.
yah! Gun? | don't want any gun! A
club-that's all l want! That pair of
buns? Skunks, mister! Polecats!7
1t seemed to me that skunks were pre-
cisely the game you most needed firearms
for | had only little Smith & Wesson
pocket revolver myself "a laughable nick
eled toy, in Western eyes-.32 caliber.
Ericsson could muster absolutely not
thing. Against us, young Doak carried
his Winchester repeating rifle, and Whis-
key Flynn never made a move without
his big blue Colts A
| said: ats your idea, then, we take
hand in all this?"
He stopped and grabbed up old Crows
loose picket-rope off the ground, united it
from the steel pin, and began feverishly
to coil it as he broke for the shack. Just
wait! Wait till get hatchet!"
But | dashed alongside. You're sure
you can lead the way over in the dark"
He grunted, continuing to coil the rope.
A LOVELY late May night it was,
moonless, yet full-starred. We struck
the wide lower reaches of the big rocky
gulch, and swung up into it at a trot AS
we drew near the real timber, Ericsson,
far from slackening his pace, quickened it,
We hadn't once heard hoof-beats ahead.
The walls of the gulch narrowed in
sharply, and our cool overhead glimmer
of stars all but went out. Then we were
among the evergreen chiefly, very
black and STILL But the piny night smell
how unutterably keen and delicious!
Ericsson charged silently on, strange
mixture of Viking and Indian Presently
our ears caught slight shiver and sigh,
our stretched eyes made out pallid spot
beside the trail. 1t was old Crow The
roustabouts had ridden him bareback,
with only hackamore on his head |
ran my hand lightly over him. already
the strong sweat had begun to cake and
dry on his white pelt. We hurried on.
If we had needed any squirting, the yell
that now came ricochetting down the
mountainside would have supplied it. A
mans yell, it was; and it betokened pain
and chagrin. Ericsson leaped ahead
through the trees. Jove, how black!