Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-01-25

promised to write. He got a magazine
and tore out the frontispiece-which,
oddly enough, was a somber picture Of
Death lowering with outstretched
wings ever a battlefield-and wrote
several lines in pencil on the back of it,
where the paper was smooth and
white.
Flows that?" he asked, holding up
the paper SO that Buck could read
what he had writtens 81 amt in the
mood to sit down and write a whole
book, so I had to boil down your pedi-
gree. But that will do the business all
right, don't you thinkY'
Buck read with staring eyes, looked
into Wards face and opened his lips
for protest or pleading. Then he fol-
lowed Wards glance to the knife on
the table and shut his mouth, with a
snap. Ward laughed grimly, picked
up the knife and ran his thumb lightly
over the edge to test its keenness.
Put a fresh edge on it for me, huhT'
he commented. "Well, we may as well
get started, 1 reckon. I'm getting al
mighty sick of seeing you around"
He loosened the rope that bound
Buck to the chair and stood scowling
down at him, drawing in a corner of
his lip and biting it thoughtfully. Then
he took his revolver and held it in his
left hand, while with his right he un-
did the rope which bound Bucks
hands.
"Stick your hands out in front of
you," he commanded. you'll have to
ride a ways. There isn't any gallows
tree in walking distance"
For Gods sake, Wardr' Bucks
voice was hoarse. The plea came out
of it's own accord. He held his hands
before him, however, and he made no
attempt to get out of the chair. He
knew Ward could shoot all right with
his left hand, you see. He had watch
when the two were friends.
you know what I told you," Ward
reminded him grimly and took up the
knife with a deadly air that made the
other suck in his breath. Hold still!
I'm liable to cut your throat if 1 make
q mislick."
Really, it was the way he did it that
made it terrible. The thing itself was
nothing. He merely drew the back of
the blade down alongside Bucks ear
and permitted the point to scratch
through the skin barely enough to let
out a thin trickle of blood. A pin
would have hurt worse. But Buck
eraonnd on6 holinund hn hod Lost ON
ear. He breathed in gasps, but did not
say a word.
go ahead. Talk all you want to,
Buck" Ward invited, and wiped the
knife blade on Bucks shoulder Before
he returned the weapon to its sheath
in his inside coat pocket.
Buck finched from the touch and set
his teeth.
Ward tied his hands before him and
told him to get up and go out to his
horse. Buck obeyed with AFFECT sub
m~issiveness, and Wards lip curled
again as he walked behind him to the
door. He had not the slightest twinge
of pity for the mar He was gloating-
ly glad that he could make him suffer,
and he inwardly cursed his W hui
manity for being so merciful. He
o-ght to have cut Bucks ear off slick
and clean instead of making a bluff at
it, he told himself disgustedly. Buck
deserved it and more.
He helped Buck into the saddle, took
the short rope in his hands and hobbled
Bucks feet under the horse, grasped
the bride reins and mounted Rather.
Without a word he set off up the rough
trail toward Hardup, leading Bucks
horse behind him.
Before you go, Buck, 1 want to tell
you that you needn't jolly yourself into
thinking your death will be avenged.
1t won't. You noticed what l wrote,
and there isn't a scrap of my writing
anywhere in the country to catch me
up" Wards thoughts went to Billy
Louise, who had some very good sam
pies, and he stopped suddenly. He
was trying not to think of Billy Louise
today. "Also when somebody happens
to ride this way and sees you / won't
be anywhere around"
''This is the tree" he added, stopping
under a cottonwood that flung a big
branch out over the narrow COW trail
they were travelling. 1.-THE chances are
friend Floyd will be ambling around
this way in a day or two" he said
hearteningly. "He can tend to the last
sad rites and take charge of your
horse. He's liable to be sore when he
reads your pedigree, but 1 don't reckon
that will make a great deal of differ
ence. You'll get buried, all right,
Ward dismounted with a most bust
nesslike manner and united Buck Oh
ney's rope from the saddle. 81 can't
spare mine," he explained laconically.
He had some trouble i'll fashioning a
moose. He had not had
much practice, he remarked to Buck
after the first attempt.
"HOW do you do 1t, Buck? You know