The Columbus courier. [volume] (Columbus, Luna County, N.M.) 1911-1920, 1915-03-19

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through which he could trace the trail
OF William Farblsh, and now. when
Farbish saw Horton, he eyed him with
an enigmatical expression, half-quiz.
Eieal and half.malevolent
After Adrienne and Samson had dis
appeared, he rejoined his companion,
4 stout, middle-aged gentleman OF
horid complexion. whose cheviot cut.
away and reposeful waistcoat covered
a liberal embonpoint Farbish took
his cigar from his lips, and studied
Its ascending smoke through lids half
closed and thoughtful.
Singular" he unused; very singu-
lari"
What's singular7" lmpatiently de-
manded his companion. Finish. or
don't start"
That mountaineer came up here
as George Lescott's protege," went
on Farbish. rehectively. "He came
fresh from the feud belt, and landed
promptly in the police court. Now,
In less than a year, he's pairing on
with Adrienne Lescott-who, every
one supposed, meant to marry Wilfred
Horton. This little party tonight 10,
to put II quite mildly. a bit uncon-
ventional."
The stout gentleman said nothing,
and the other questioned. musingly:
by the way. Bradburn, has the
Kenmore Shooting club requested VIII.
fred Horizons resignation YETI"
Not yet, We are going to. He's
not congenial. since his hand is raised
against every man who owns more
than two dollars" The Speaker owned
several million times that sum. This
meeting at an out-of.the-way place
had been arranged for the purpose
of discussing ways and a Of curb
ing Wilfred's crusades.
We'll don't do t."
why the devil shouldn't we? We
don't want anarchists In the Ken
more"
After awhile, they sat silent, Farbish
smiling over the plot he had Just de.
vised, and the other man putting with
. puzzled expression at his cigar
That's all there is to IT," summar
ICED Mr.. Farbish, succlnctly. If we
can get these two men, South and
Horton, together down there at the
shooting lodge, under the proper condi.
tons, they'll do tbs rest themselves, !
think. III take care OF South. Now,
it's up to you to have Horton there
at the same time"
How do you know these men have
not already met-and amicably?" de-
manded Mr.. Bradburn.
IL happen to know IL, quite by
chance. 1t is my business to know
things-quite by chancel"
Indian summer came again to
Misery. Haunting woodland banners OF
crimson and scarlet range but to
Sally the season brought only heart.
achy membranes Of last autumn,
when Samson had softened his stoi.
cism as the haze had softened the hori.
ron He had sent her a few brief let
ters-not written, but plainly printed.
He selected short words-as much
like the primer as possible, for no
other messages could she read There
were times In plenty when he wished
to pour out 10 her torrents OF feeling,
and IL was such feeling as would have
carried comfort TO her lonely little
heart. He wished to tell frankly OF
what a good friend he had made, and
how this friendship made him more
able to realize that other feeling
his love for Sally. There was in his
mind no suspicion-as yet-that these
two girls might ever stand in conflict
as to the right-of-way. But the letters
he wished to write were not the sort
he AIRED TO have read to the girl by
the eyangelist-doctor or the district
school teacher, and alone she could
have made nothing Of them. However.
Il love you" are easy words-and those
he always included.
The Widow Miller had been ailing
for months, and. though the local
physician diagnosed the condition as
being right porely," he knew that the
specter OF tuberculosis which stalks
AAAbAbh AANhN bhAAg AhhANh anu Ngu-
tilated houses vas stretching out its
fingers to touch her shrunken chest.
This had meant that Sally had to fore
go the evening hours to study. be.
cause Of the WEAKNESS that followed
the day OF nursing and household
drudgery. Autumn seemed to bring
to her mother a slight improvement,
and Sally could again sometimes
steal away witt her slate and book,
to sit alone on the big powder, and
study.
She would not be able % write that
Christmas letter. There had been TOO
many Interruptions in the seli-impbrted
education, but some day she would
write. There would probably be
time enough. It would take even Sam.
son a long while % become an artist.
One day. as she was walking home
ward from her lonely trysting place.
ehe met the battered-loOkinr man who