Cavalier County farmers press. (Langdon, N.D.) 1920-1921, 1920-12-09
CHAPTER l..
Return Of the Wanderer.

drove to the summit of the ridge, halt
ing the broncs, as his eyes swept over
the scene OutSpread below. The ami
mails, their dusty sides streaked with
sweat, stopped willingly after their
sixty-mile trip from the Cottonwood.
Below was a deep, narrow valley,
in the midst of which Ponca spread
out along the bank Of the creek that
gave the town it's lame. To Shelby,
wearied with the dull plains, here was
a scene of beauty.
Just beyond there was life, fresh,
luxuriant, sweet; running water, lusci-
GUS green grass, and above all, that
which he 'craved most, human COM
panfonship. To be sure, he knew
Ponca of old, and possessed no illu-
sions. Ugly, dirty, unkempt, Ponca
made no pretense to either cleanli-
ness, or responsibility; it possessed
no pride, no hope of a future. 1t
seemed to recognize it's destiny, and
the frontier, an adjunct Of the cattle
trade, permitted to flourish today, but
as certainly doomed to perish tomor-
row.
The man who sat there on the ridge
gazing down, the reins held idly in
his hand, his eyes following the wind
ing of the valley, was a perfectly nat
ural part of the picture-he belonged.
Beneath the tan and dust was a
smoothly shaver face, a face Of
twenty-five, or t~wenty-six, the features
strong, nose somewhat prominent, lips
firm and full, with dark-gray eyes
Swallowed by heavy lashes. In truth,
he appeared all man, a certain reck-
less gayety about him not to be mis-
taken, yet as evidently not to be light
~ taken advantage of.
TIT certainly beats HI" he NUT
tered, unconsciously aloud, that a
man should dream about visiting a
dump like this. Shows what sort O.
place Cottonwood is to make a fellow
homesick for Ponca. Town looks
kinder dead; no cattle in the corrals.
HI, what's the difference? Therell
be some Of the old bunch hangin'
round, an we'll make things hum for
awhile. Come, broncs, jog along Let's
show Ponca we're a live outfit"
1t was a rough, curving descent, the
trail in places barely wide enough for
the wheels, but the driver never lost
control, guiding the sbroncos with eX-
pert hand, until they finally swung
about the edge Of a great rock at the
bottom. and went charging at full
gallOp into the main street. To better
express the eIuberance of his feelings
at this return to civilization, and an
nounce his arrival, Shelby whipped out
his gun and began shattering the at
mosphere, driving the animals frantic
as the sharp reports rang out over
their backs. .
But if any sensation was expected,
it signally failed to materialize. POnca
remained deserted, and unimpressed.
Long experience had either rendered
the inhabitants Indifferent to such a
display, or else the town had gone
utterly dead. The silence and descla-
ton caused Shelby to utter an oath,
and suddenly swing his team up to a
hitching rack in front of McCarthy's
saloon, the door Of which stood in
willingly open. An instant the per-
picked driver sat there, staring grim
ly about from end to end of the de-
serted street.
"What the HI" he calculated at
last, sis up anyhow? Is this a grave
yard I've got into? Lord. it can't be
all the boys have got out; but some
thing is sure dead wrong. Well, Macs
open anyhow. I'll go in and find out"
He sprang out over the wheel, stiff
fened from the long ride, yet standing
erect nevertheless, and strobe up the.
saloon steps and in through the open
door. He had expected a welcome
and this strange lack of interest on
the part of the citizens Of Ponca had
already considerably chilled his en-
thusiasm. Once inside, he stopped,
staring about in even deeper perplex-
ity. The big saloon was absolutely
empty of patrOnS-the tables were I'M
occupied nc mi vas lined up in front
of the long bar, and no sound of voices
or of poker chips came down from the
room above. The place seemed like
a huge grave, and, for a brief mo-
ment, he even failed to perceive its
OIlIy OCSuidit-H bttl
tender in front Of the mirror, indus
triously rubbing the immaculate glass,
Thoroughly angered hv this time. Shell
by advanced. his footsteps mufIled by
the sawdust on the floor.
"What the HI is the matter with
this Dump" he demanded savageiy, mis-
fist humping the bar. "Oh, so it's
you, is it, Moran? Well, are you all
that's left in Ponca?"
The red-mustached one turned In
differently, yet managed to extend n
rather limp hand in fraternnl greeting
"That's bout The size of 1t. Tom,
ne admitted grayelN. where yer beer
the last SIX monthsf"
"Over on the Cottonwood, ranchIng