Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1918-01-23
CHAPTER TX.

TINE trouble with a man like Buck
Olney is that you can never be
sure Of his method, except that
It will be underhand and calculated to
eliminate as much as possible any risk
to himself. Ward, casting back into
his memory-he had known Buck o.
ney very we'll once upon time and in
his unsuspecting youth had counted
him friend-tried to guess how Buck
would proceed when he went down to
that corral and found how those brands
had been retouched. :
Hell be running around in circles
for awhile, all right" he deduced, with
an air OF certainty. "Blotched brands
he'd know was my work, and he could
have put it. on me, too, with a good
yarn about trailing me so close I got
cold feet. As it is Ward smoked
two cigarettes and scowled at the seem
cry. AS it was, he did not know just
what Buck Olney would do, except
"If he makes guess did that he'll
know I'm wise to the whole plant.
And he'll get me sure, providing 1
stand with my back to him long
enough Ward had his back to a high
ledge at that moment, so that he did
not experience any impulse to look be
hind him.
Buck don't want to drag me up be-
fore a jury" he reasoned further. He'd
q heap rather pack me in all wrapped
up in c tarp and say how he'd caught
me with the goods and I resisted ar
rest"
The assurance he felt as to what
Buck Olney would do did not particu-
larly brighten Ward even If he did neg
lect to 90 to bed in his cabin during the
next few days. That was common
sense born Of his knowledge of the
man he was dealing with. He went to
the cabin war1ly, just often enough to
give it an air Of occupancy. He fire.
quently sat upon some hilltop and
watched 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 q ridge IL he could make his way
through a hollow. It Is not always
cowardice which makes 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 night
of shivering In his blanket, he hunched
his shoulders In disgust Of his caution.
If Buck Oldey 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 decent cup Of coffee and
eat OF Lis own table or know the rea-
son why, he promised himself while
he slapped the saddle on Rather.
He was camped in q sheltered little
hollow in the hills, where the grass
was good and there was aspiring. It
was q 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 he could
watch his claim. Frequently, as have
said, he stole down before daylight and
lighted q fire In the stove just to make
1t look % II he lived there. There was
q 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 rife 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 trap. He kept
his eye peeled, as he would have ex-
pressed It. Also he left Rather just
under the crest Of the ridge, took of
his spurs and with his rife in his
hands went forward afoot, as he had
done every time he had approached his
cabin since the day he found the cor
ral and the cattle In the canyon.
In this wise he looked down the steeI
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
VI