The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1920-09-10

ago. wired my old partner for help.
but" He stopped. listening intently.
They were nearing a small bridge
over Bear creek, the sounds Of Has
kelTs jewellers growing nearer and
louder. Suddenly they heard an oath
and shot, and the next moment
wild rider, flashing a foaming horse
with singing quirt. was upon them.
Westcott barely had time to swing the
girl to safety as the tornado flew past.
"The drunken fooll" he muttered
quietly. "A puncher riding for camp.
There will be more up ahead prob
ably"
His little act Of heroism drew the
man strangely near to Miss Donovan.
and as they hurried along In the silent
night she felt that above all he was
dependable. as II, too, she had known
him months. aye years. instead Of
scant hour. And In this strange coun-
try she needed friend.
Nov that I've laid bare my past"
he was saying. "don't you think you
might tell me why you are here?"
The girl stiffened. To say that she
was from the New York Star would
close many avenues Of information to
her. No, the thing to do was to adopt
SOME stall" that would enable her to
idle about as much ms she chose Then
the mad horseman gave her the idea.
"Oh" she exclaimed. 81 forgot I
hadn't mentioned IL. I'm assigned by
Scrlbbler's Magazine to do an article
on The Old West, Is 1t Really GoneT
and. Mr.. Westcott, think have a
lovely start"
A few moments later she thanked
Providence for her precaution, for her
companion resumed the story of his
mining claim.
tits might funny I haven't heard
from that partner. 1t isn't like him
not to answer my wire. That's why
I've waited every night at the depot.
No. It's not like Pep even II he does
take his leisure at the College ciub."
Miss Donovan's spine tingled at the
mention Of the name. Pep" she MUIR
INJURED, trying to be calm. "What was
his other manner"
"Cavendish," Westcott replied.
Frederick Cavendlsh.'
gasp almost escaped the girls
lips. Here, within an hour, she had
linked the many eastern clues OF the
Cavendish affair with one In the West.
Was ever a girl so lucky2 And imme-
diately her brain began to work furi-
ously as she walked along.
A sudden turn about the base of a
large cliff brought them to Haskell,
single street running up the broaden
ing valley, lined mostly with shacks,
although few more pretentlous
buildings were scattered here and
there, while an occasional tent tapped
its dlscolored canvas In the night wind.
They went forward, Westcott watch
full and silent, the valise In one hand,
the other grasping her arm. The mar
row stretch Of sidewalk was jammed
with men, surging In and out through
the open door Of q saloon, and the
two held to the middle of the road,
which was lined with horses tied to
long poles. Men reeled out into the
street, and occasionally the sharp
punctuated the hoarse shouts and
bursts of drunken laughter. No other
woman was visible, yet, apparently, no
particular attention was paid to their
progress. But the stream of men
thickened perceptibly, until Westcott
was obliged to shoulder them aside
good-humoredly in order to open
passage. He released her arm and
suddenly gripped the shoulder of q
man passing. He was the town mar
shall.
Say. Dan, reckon this is your busy
night, but wish you'd help me run
this lady through as far as Timmons;
this bunch of longhorns appear to be
milling, and we're plum stalled"
The man turned and stared at them.
Short, stockily built. appearing at first
view almost grotesque under the broad
brim of his hat, Stella, recognizing the
marshal, was conscious only of clean
shaver face. square jaw and pair
OF stern blue eyes.
"Oh, Is that you, JimY" he asked.
briefly. lord, don't see why big
boob like you should need a guardian.
The lady? Pardon me. madam" and
he touched his hat. "Stand back there.
you fellows. Come on, folksi'
The little marshal knew his busi-
ness, and It was also evident that the
crowd knew the little marshal. Drunk
and quarrelsome as many of them
were, they made way--the more OBJ
streperous sullenly, but the majority
in a spirit of rough good humor. The
three passed straight through the
surging mass In the man-crowded lob
by Of the dlsreputable hotel.
At the desk, wide-eyed with excite
ment. Miss Donovan took service
worn pen proffered by landlord Pete
Timmons. whose gray whiskers were
as unkempt as his hote:, and regis
tered her name.
"a, telegram came today for you,
ma'am," Peter said In cracked voice.
and tossed II over.
Miss Donovan tore It open. It was
from Farriss. II reads.
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