The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1917-09-14


His rifle was repeater of the Older
model, made to take the same "A
caiber cartridge that his revolver
carried. Thrusting his thumb into the
magazine slide to make sure the CUR
was unloaded, he ierked the cartridge
belt from the horn of the saddle where
he had hung it. Then he pulled his
pony back on his launches with ar
oath OF dismay. In his haste he had
taken Pitts belt instead of his own
Although of the same width and
of the same russell leather as his belt
it contained only 80 caliber cartridges
MS useless to him, since he had thrown
away the saloon keepers weapon, as
SO much dirt.
Slipping to the ground he anxiously
searched his pockets. Beyond a small
roll Of bills, some matches, his tobacco
and cigarette papers, they were empty
Almost without knowing what he did
he put his revolver at half-cock and
rolled the cylinder around. Like many
of his kind, who carried the single action
revolver, he usually kept one empty
chamber in the six shooter, onto which
he lowered the hammer, thus leaving
five cartridges in the weapon. He had
fired one at Father Brady So he
was adrift in the wilds with but four
cartridges and tired pony. Even the
sandwiches he had placed in his pocket
had been worked out by the canter OF
where along the back trail.
1t was too dark now to see whether
pursuit had started. But in an instant
he realized why, There had been a
temporary lull as he reached the sum
nit Of the hills. Now the wind blew
again and it was not the chill blasts
against which he had been riding. 1t
was colder still, and even as he stood a
snowflake struck him on the cheek.
He shrank from it as if it had been a
piece of red-hot metal. Cold as il
was, it did not compare to the deadly
chill he felt around his heart. Fol
one look at the clouds beyond the range
told him the stOry-winter was there
before its time and a passage through
the mountains, when snow blocked
the passes, was an impossibility Even
if possible, it meant leaving a trail
his pursuers could follow at leisure.
He staggered to boulder and sat
down. Doubtless, he reflected bitterly,
the sheep men had heard of his deed
and his flight long before this. But
from their post on the opposite side
of the depression they could see over
the ridge and must have known and
laughed at the thought of what he was
riding into. He shook his fist and
cursed them savagely.
Gulps from the whiskey bottle did
no good. Heretofore he had never
been superstitious. But he now be-
heved and believed wholly that curse
was upon him. And he let his head
fall on his chest He lifted his revolver
and looked at it idly. But the priest S
words chung to him How could he
hurry unbidden into that awful pres
ence which he now felt would lie be-
yond the grave? Better wait and die
by cold and hunger or at the hands Of
the grim posse he knew would soon
follow behind
Suddenly, as he lifted the bottle
once more, he gave a wild start Of
terror--fOr something moaned in hollow
fashion only few yards away. Almost
Immediately came a sound like that OF
little child whimpering. His heart
again seemed to freeze. Surely it must
be some hideous creature from another
world sent to torment him-but his
glance which Just then fell upon his
pony showed that the tired animal had
also heard the sound and was gazing
at spot about twenty yards away
The mere possibility Of the presence
of something human made Welleston