The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1915-12-16

inspection, and discussed the days
work with him in the evening. These
tours We're not interrupted except by
the one day when Marcus and his raw.
alcade rode stoically into town and
gave bond to the examining court to
answer for the killing Of "Rat-Aukle''
Garley.
Weighborne had some temperature.
and was often restless on his mat
tress of corn shucks, though his ami.
ability held steady. One evening, sew
eral days after our ambuscade, I was
sitting alone and morose before the
open hearth while he slept. Since
our apartment had been a sick room
the evening gatherings had been III
pended, and I had companionship only
from my pipe and thoughts.
The thoughts were not CHEEKY com.
rades tonight. They went back with
a brutal sort Of insis: ence to the island
and the things which had there taken
root to grow with the rank and law
less swiftness of the tropics.
At length I slipped out and stood
for a while leaning against q post Of
the porch, although the air was sharp
with frost and the stars pierced cold!y
through the hard steel Of a winter
sky. My other skies had been softer.
The mountains, under a rising moon,
stood out black and forbidding; frost
mists hung like frozen smoke on the
lowlands. From somewhere about the
house came the nasal singing of a
mountaineer to the accompaniment of
a banjo.
His voice rose and quavered and fell
with more care that his words be dis.
tinct than that his notes be true. He
had chosen a song composed by a To-
cal bard, and as l stood gazing of
across the sea of moonlight and mist
he alone tortured the silence.
Right down here in Adamson coun-tee,
Where they have no church of our
Lord,
Frank Smith sold Pate A1t'b'ry some
whisky,
And caused him to get sh, u in the
ford.
His fellows, in all solemnity, took
up the ludicrous chorus and trumpet
ed it through their noses.
Oh, whisky's the root of all evil,
It fills up a drunkard's hell;
So why not vote out this old evil
And say farewell, whisky, farewell!
I smiled as l thought how little they
in an old, oak raftered hall Of feudal
England. l felt as remote from civili-
cation as though 1 were living behind
the moat and draw bridge of some nj
thing might happen
And then, as the singers fell silent
again l became aware of a faint and
distant sound of voices. The hound
VII idy lSA ttjo.l liz up oLTp ~
tie porch rose and shifted the keen
air, MS br:stles riSii:s. In J moment
h. was off iowa. =. the road, barking
b%latantly.
The voices became fore distinct,
and l roved from my position il the
moonlight to the corner of the house
where the shadow fell back enough to
swallow me. AS I die SO a shutting
men in there had also caught the
sound. The approaching party must
be coming to this house, since we had
no neiehbor within three-quarters Of
ed at u gate.
Shortly a group Of horsemen came
into view, climbing he hill a quarter
of 4 lille away. They seemed to be
and except when they crossed the in
tervals of the moons spotlight one
could see them only in massed effect.
They came to a halt in the shadow
dI a lIItlC ulSlCtII| lIohf IL sue.
The noiseless opening OF a door and
a momentary glimpse of a stealthy,
rifle armed figure Slipping out into the
shadow of the kitchen assured me of
the preparedness Of the ~impecunious
clansmen who played the watch dogs
for their keep.
Then a loud and affable voice from
the road gave greeting:
"Hello, Cal Marcus!"
There was no immediate reply.
Those inside were waiting a more con-
elusive guarantee of pacific intent.
Seemingly amicable .ialutations shout
ed from the night had before now
brought householders into the excel
lent target of a lighted door where
they had lain down and died.
"Hello, Cal Marcus!" called the
voice again; "we're comm In"
"Who be ye?" challenged a voice
from the interior. Don't come till
we know who We be-"
In the next moment I started vio-
lently and found myself in a tremOr