The Tomahawk., 1916-09-21

form in front, and this did duty as
porch and sidewalk. Upon it, and
leaning against q hitching-rail, were
men Of varying ages, most Of them
slovenly in old jeans and slouehed
sombreros. Some were booted, belted,
and spurred. No man there wore
coat, but all wore vests. The guns
in that group would have outnumbered
the men.
It was a crowd seemingly too lazy
to be curious. These men were idlers;
what else, perhaps, was easy to con-
lecture. Certainly to this arriving
stranger, who flashed a keen eye over
them, they wore an atmosphere never
associated with work.
Presently a tall man, with droop-
ing, sandy mustache, leisurely detach-
ed himself from the crowd.
'Howdy, stranger" he said.
The stranger had bent over to
loosen the cinches; he Strengthened up
and nodded. Then: I'm thirsty"
That brought broad smile to faces.
It was characteristic greeting. one
and all trooped after the stranger into
the hotel. It was a dark, ill-smelling
barn of place, with bar as high as
a short mans head. A bartender with
a Scared face was serving drinks.
'Line up, gents" said the stranger.
They piled over one another to get
to the bar, with coarse jests and oaths
and laughter. None Of them noted
that the stranger did not appear SO
thirsty as he claimed to be. In fact,
though he went through the notions
he did not drink at all.
my names Jim Fletcher" said the
tall man with the dropping, sandy
mustache. He spoke laccnically, never
theless there was a tone that
showed he expected to be known.
Something went with that name. the
stranger did not appear to be I'M
pressed.
MY name might be Blazes, but 1t
ain't," he replied. "What do you call
this burg?'
"Stranger, this heah metropolis
bears the handle Ord. Is tibet new to
your
He leaned back against the bar, and
now his little yellow eyes. clear as
crystal, flawless as a hawks, fixed on
the stranger. Other men crowded
close, forming a circle, curious, ready
to be friendly or otherwise, according
to how the tall interrogation marked
the newcomer.
"Sure, Ord's little strange to me.
or the railroad some, amt it? Funny
trails hereabouts."
GLOW fur was you goin'?"
II reckon I was goin' as far as
could" replied the stranger, with
hard laugh.
His reply had subtle reaction on that
listening circle. Some Of the men ex-
changed glances. Fletcher stroked
his dropping mustache, seemed
thoughtful, but lost something Of that
piercing scrutiny.
oval, Ord's the jumpin'-off place."
he said, presently. "Sure you've heerd
of the Big Bend country?"
II sure have, an was maxim tracks
fer IT," replied the stranger.
Fletcher turned toward a man in
the outer edge Of the group. "Knell,
come in heah."
This individual elbowed his way in
and was seen to be scarcely more than
a boy, almost pale beside those bronx
ed men, with long, expressionless
face, thin and sharp.
"Knell, this heah's-" Fletcher
wheeled to the stranger. "What d you
call yourself?"
I'D hate to mention what I've been
CALM myself lately"
This sally fetched another laugh.
The stranger appeared cool, careless,
Indifferent.
Knell stepped up, and it was easy
to see, from the way Fletcher relin-
pushed his part in the situation, that
q man greater than he had appeared
upon the scene.
"Any business here?" he queried,
CURLY. When he spoke his expression
less face was in strange contrast with
the ring, the quality, the cruelty OF
his voice. This voice betrayed an abb
sence of humor, Of friendliness, OF
heart.
"Nope," replied the stranger.
"Know anybody hereabouts?"
"Nary one."
"Jest ridin' through"
"Yep."
"Slopin' fer back country, eh?'
There came a pause. The stranger
appeared to grow little resentful and
drew himself up disdainfully.
oval, considerin' you-all seem so
damn friendly an oncurious down here
in this Big Bend country, I don't mind
sayin' yes-I am in on the dodge" he
replied, with deliberate sarcasm.
"From west Of Ord-out Ell Paso
way, mebbe?"
"Sure."
"A-huh! Thet SOP" KnelIs words
cut the air, stilled the room. you're
from way down the river. Thet's what
they say down thereon the dodge
Stranper vo1l're q liari"