The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1920-11-18

waiting man below. Both stood Intent
and ready, revOlvers drawn, listening.
rhe heavy wheels grated in the sand,
the driver whistling to while away the
dreary pull and the horses breathing
heavily. Moore pulled them up with a
jerk as two figures leaped into view,
EiS whistle coming to an abrupt pause.
HIS fire." IA all he said, Staring
dumbly down into Brennan'S face over
the front wheel. Where in Sam Hill
did you come from?'
I'm the one to ask questions. son. -
returned the little marshal, the vicious
blue barrel shining in the sunlight,
land the Smartcr you answer the less
reason | shall have 20 hurt yer. Don't
reach for that gun! Are you traveling
alOnei"
Moore nodded, his hands up, but
still grasping the reins.
"Then climb down over the wheel.
jim, take a look under that canvas ;
Moore, here, Is generally a genial sort
o. liar and we'd better be sure. All
right-hey? Then dismount, Matt, and
be quick about it. Now unbuckle that
belt and hand the whole outfit over TO
Westcott; then we'll talk business to-
gether."
He showed his own weapon back into
its holster and faced the prisoner, who
had recovered from his first shock of
surprise and whose pugnaciOus temper
was beginning to assert itself. Bren-
nan read this in the mans Sulky, de-
fiant glance, and his lips smiled
grimly.
Getting bullish, are you. Matt?" he
said, rather softly. Coin ter keep a
close tongue in yer head; so that's the
game? Well, l wouldn't, son, if l was
you. Now, see here, Moore" and the
marshals eyes were like flints. You
know me, l reckon, an that l amt
much on boys play. You never heard
tell O. my hittin' anybody just fer fun,
did yer?"
There was no answer.
An yer never heard no one say"
went on Brennan, that I was afraid
ter hit when l needed TO. l reckon also
yer knows what sorter man Jim West
colt is. Now the two ov US amt out
here in this ID Shoshone desert
fer the fun of it-not by a jugful. Get
that fact into yer head, son, an maybe
it'll bring yer some sense. Do yer get
me?"
yes" sullenly and reluctantly.
but yer haven't got nuthin' on me-"
"Oh, haven't /? You drove a young
woman out here from Haskell night
afore last for Bill Lacy. Amt alb
duction no crime? An that's only one
count. I've had an eye on you for
more'n six months, an Lacy's been
making a cat'spaw out of you all that
time. Well, Lacy is playin' his last
hand right now, an I've got the
cards. The marshal paused, fully
aware that he had struck home, then
added quietly: 1T alters struck me,
Matt, that naturally you was a pretty
decent fellow, but had drifted in with
a bad crowd. I'm offering you now a
chance to get straight again" He
threw back his coat and exhibited his
star. Yer see, l amt just talkin' ter
yer as Dan Brennan-Im the law"
The boy, for he was scarcely more
than that in years, shuffled his feet
uneasily, and his eyes wandered from
Brennan to Westcott. The look of sui
len defiance had vanished.
"Wotcher wanter ask?"
"WhO was with you the out-trip,
along with Miss Donovanf"
Joe Skies"
And yer left him back there, guard
ing the girl?"
"He stayed; them was the orders,
while was to bring back the team /;
but ! reckon he won't need to do no
guardin' to speak of, fer we run inter
u bunch o. fellows"
How many are theyT'
Maybe a dozen /; / don't just know"
what was done with the young
ladyT"
Moore spat vindictively into the
sand, digging a hole with his heel. He
had talked already more than he in
tended, but what was the difference7
"Cateras took her." he admitted,
but l don't know whar. | tried ter find
out whar she was, but nobody'd tell
me. Then / had ter pull out"
WestcOtt interjected a question.
whats the valley like, an how do
you get into itT"
"Well, I'd say 1t was just a sort o
sink in the desert, a kinder freak.
Anyhow, l saw nuthin' like it
afore. The walls is solid rock, almost
straight up an down, but thar's a con
siderable stream flowin' down thar
that just bursts out a hole in the
rock, an plenty O. grass fer quite a
bunch of steers"
How do they get down into itT
"Long a windin' trail on the west
side. 1t used to be mighty rough, ]
reckon. an only good fer mixers, but
they fixed it up so they can drive cat.
tie down, an even a wagon II yer take
1t easy"
"And there is no other way to the
bottom except along this trailr"
That's bout ALL"
Brennan and Westcott looked al