The Lamar register., 1917-12-19

watched n lazy thread OF smoke weave
upward from his rusty stovepipe. but
he slept out under the stars rolled in
his heavy blanket. and he never cross
ed a ridge If he could make his way
through a hollow. 1t is not always
cowardice which makes a man ex-
tremely careful not to fall into the
hands of his enemy. There is a small
matter of pride involved Ward would
have died almost any death rather
than give Buck Olney the satisfaction
of getting him. For few days he
was cautious as an Indian on the war
trail, and then his patience frazzled
out under the strain.
At sunrise one morning. after a night
of shivering in his blanket, he hunched
his shoulders in disgust of his caution.
If Buck Olney wanted anything of
him he was certainly taking his time
about coming after it. Ward rubbed
his fingers over his stubbly jaw, and
the uncomfortable prickling was the
last small detail of discomfort that de-
cided him. He was going to have a
shave and a decent cup of coffee and
eat off his own table or know the rea-
son why, he promised himself while
he slapped the saddle on Rattler
He was camped in sheltered little
hollow in the hills, where the grass
was good and there was IL spring. II
was mile and more to his claim
straight across the upland, and it was
his habit to leave Rather there and
walk over to the ridge, where lie could
watch his claim Frequently, as have
said. he stole down before daylight ard
lighted a fire in the stove just to make
II look as II he lived there There was
a risk in that, of course, granting that
the stock inspector was the kind to lie
in wait for him.
Ward rode to the ridge with his blan-
ket rolled and tied behind the cantle.
His frying pan hung behind his leg,
and his rifle lay across the saddle in
front of him. He was going home
| boldly enough and recklessly enough.
but he was by no means disposed to
walk deliberately into a trap. He kept
his eye peeled, as he would have ex-
pressed it. Also he left Rattler just
under the crest of the ridge. took or
his spurs and with his rifle in his
hands went forward afoot, as he had
done every time he had approached his
cabin since the day he found the cor
raj and the cattle in the canyon.
In this wise he looked down the steep
slope with the sun throwing the shad-
ow of his head and shoulders before
him. The cabin window blinked cheer
fully in the sunlight. His span OF
mares were coming up from the mead
OWN the faint hope OF getting a
breakfast of oats. perhaps. The place
looked peaceful enough and cozily de-
sirable to a man who has slept out for
four nights late in the fall, but a glance
was all Ward gave to ii.
His eyes searched the blum below him
and upon either side. or sudden they
sharpened. He brought his rifle for
ward with an involuntary motion OF
the arms. He stood so for n breath or
two. looking down the hill Then he
went forward stenlthily on his toes:
swiftly. too. so that presently he was
close enough to see the carbuncle scar
on the neck OF the man crouched be-
hind rock and watching the cabin
as a cat watches a mouse hole. A rifle
lay across the rock before the man,
the muzzle pointing downward. At
that distance and from dead rest
II would be strange If he should miss
any object he shot at. lie had what
gamblers call cinch. or he would have
had IL the man he watched for had
not been standing directly behind him
with rifle sights in line with the scar
on the back of his thick neck.
Throw up your hands, Ward called
sharply when his first fare OF rage
had cooled to steady purpose.
Buck Olney jumped as though a yell
low jacket had stung him. He turned
a startled face oveg his shoulder and