Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1916-06-07


ers shortened 1t to 'Niquoia' and the
cowmen of the Buckskin foothills have
cut that to 'Nick-wire.'"
This bit of explanatory place lore
was entirely lost upon Mr.. ]. Wesley
Cartwright He was chewing the ends
of his short mustaches and scowling
thoughtfully out upon the possible site
Of the future industrial city of the
plain.
Say Brouillard." he cut in, you get
me the right to build that power dam,
and give me the contracts for what
material you'd rather buy than make,
and I'll be switched If I don't take a
shot at this drowning proposition my
self. I tell you, it looks pretty good
to me. What do you say?"
II say" laughed the young chief Of
construction, that I'm only a hired
man. You'll have to go good few
rounds higher up on the authority lad.
der to close a deal like that I'm not
sure it wouldn't require an act OF
congress-"
We'll, by George, we might get even
that if we had to-" was the optimistic
assertion. you think about it,"
II guess it isn't my think" said
Brouillard, inclined to take the retired
pork packers suggestion as the mere
rawlings of q money-mad promoter
LAS the government engineer in
charge of this work, couldn't afford
to be identified even as friendly in
termediary in any such scheme as the
one you are proposing
"Of course. suppose not" agreed
the would-be promoter, sucking his
under lip in way ominously familiar
to his antagonists in the wheat pit
Then he glanced at his watch and
changed the subject abruptly. We'll
have to be struggling back to the
chug-wagon. Much obliged to you,
Mr.. Brouillard. Will you come down
and see US Oft" "
At the final descent in the trail, with
the Buckskin blanknesses showing
hotly beyond the curtaining pines,
they passed at a step from romance to
the crude realities. ..
The realities were basing themselves
upon the advent of two newcome rs,
riding down the Chigringo trail to the
ford which had been the scene of the
| fish slaughtering; sunburnt young
man in goatskin chaps" flannel shirt
and Tapping Stetson, and a girl
whose face reminded Brouillard Of one
of the Madonnas, whose name and
painter he strove vainly to recall. Ten
seconds farther along the horses Of
the pair were shifting suspiciously at
the automobile, and the young man
under the Tapping hat was telling Van
Bruce Cartwright what he thought Of
cartridge fishermen in general, and
of this present cartridge fisherman in
particular.
(Which the same. being translated
into Buckskin English, hoIlers like
this" he concluded. Don't you tote
any more fish cartridges into this here,
reservation; not no more, whatsoever.
Who says SO? Well, if anybody should
ask, you might say it was Tig Smith,
foreman O. the Tri'-Circ' outfit No, I
amt no game warden, but what say
goes as she lays. S&vez?"
Brouillard walked his companion
down to the car and helped her to q
seat in the tonneau. She repaid him
with nod and a smile, and when he
saw that the crudities were not
troubling her he stepped aside and un-
consciously fell to comparing the two
the girl on horseback and his walk
ling mate of the canyon passage.
They had little enough in common.
apart from their descent from Eve, he
decided-and the decision itself was
subconscious. The millionaire's daugh-
ter was a warm blonde, beautiful,
queenly, finished product Of civiliza-
tioS and high-priced culture; a wom-
an Of the world. And the girl on horse
back? A rather slight figure, face
winsome, masses Of copper-brown hair,
eyes i. -. He caught himself won
dering il her cowboy lover-he had
already jumped to the sentimental
conclusion-had ever been able to look
into those steadfast eyes and trifle
with the truth.
When the fish.slaughtering matter
was finally settled-not by the tender
Of money that Mr.. Cartwright had
made-the man Smith and his pretty
riding mate galloped through the ford
and disappeared among the barren
hills.
"Au revoir, Mr.. Brouillard," said the
princess, the big Ger -:shs:caa .::ssi.::
for the southwark flight into the des-
ert. IF were you shouldn't fall in
loye with the calm-eyed goddess who
rides like a man Mr.. Tr-Circ' Smith
might object, you know"
There was something almost heart
warming in the bit Of parting badi-
mage; but the warmth might have
given place to q disconcerting chill II
he could have heard Mr.. ]. Wesley
! Cortwright's remark to his seat CON-
panion.
HE isn't going to be the dead easy
mark hoped to find in the son of the
old bankrupt hair-splitter, Genie. girl.
But he'll come down and hook himself
all right IL the bait is well covered
with his particular brand Of sugar.
Don't you forget It."
C'psnuI1uco ca oL)
The labor of handling hollow tile has
been ;essened by the invention of an