The Chesterfield advertiser. [volume] (Chesterfield C.H., S.C.) 1884-1978, 1920-02-05
PART /
Curly.
CHAPTER I.
Following a Crooked Trail

Following a Crooked Trail.
Across Dry valley a dust cloud had
been moving for hours. It rolled into
I Saguache at the brisk heels Of a bunch
or horses just about the time the town
was settling itself to supper. From
out Of the heart Of 1t cantered a rider,
who swung his pony as on a half dol
| lar, and detected the remuda toward
Chunn's corral.
The rider was in the broad-rimmed
felt hat, the gray shirt, the plain leath-
er chaps Of vaquero. Under other
conditions he might have been a col
iege freshman for age, but the compe-
tent confidence OF manhood sat easily
ON his broad shoulders. Curly Flan-
| drau had more than once looked into
the chill eyes Of death.
The leaders Of the herd dribbled into
the corral through the open gate, and
the others crowded on their heels.
Three more riders followed Curly into
the Enclosure. One Of them, q red
haired young fellow Of about the same
age rs Curly. swung stifly from the
saddle.
Me for square meal first Off" he
gave out promptly.
mot till we've finished this business,
Mac. Wen put a deal right through If
Warren's here" decided q third MEM
Der OF the party. He was tough-look-
ing customer of nearly fifty. bad Bill'
Cranston he was called, and the man
looked as If he had earned his sobri-
quet.
M hof n, tv~sN
Lutte Blackwell. "Are you aiming to
sit down and wait for himT
We'll cross that bridge when we
come to It," Bad Bill answered. "Curly,
want to ride up to the hotel and ask
II Mr.. Dave Warren is there? Bring
him right down If he is."
The young man cantered up the
dusty street toward the hotel.
Thought you'd fixed it with this
Warren to be right on the spot SOS
We could unload on him prompt"
Blackwell grumbled at Cranston with
out looking toward the latter.
Il didn't promise he'd be hanging
round your neck soon as you hit town."
CranstOn rctorted coolly.
The owner of the corral sauntered
from the stable and glanced over the
bunch of horses milling around.
"Drive all the way from Bar Double
MI" asked the keeper, his eyes on the
brand stamped ION the flank Of pony
circling past.
"Yep."
Bad Bill turned away and began to
unsaddle.
"Looks like you been hitting the road
at right lively gait"
Mac cut In. shoulder Of my bronc's
chafed from the saddle. Got anything
thatIl heal lit"
"You bet I have" The man hurried
into the stable and the red-headed cow
puncher winked across the back Of his
horse at Bill.
The keeper of the stable and the
young man were still busy doctoring
the sore when Curly arrived with War
rem. The buyer was a round-bodied
man with black gimlet eyes that saw
much he never told. The bargain he
drove was a hard one, but 1t did not
take long to come to terms at about
one-third the value Of the string he
was purchasing. Very likely he had
his suspicious. but he did not voice
them. No doubt they cut figure in
the price. He let 1t be understood
that he was supply agent for the
rebels In Mexico. Before the bills were
warm in the pockets Of the sellers, his
vaquerOs were mounted and were
moving the remuda toward the border
Curly and Mac helped them get
started. AS they rode back to the cor
raj young man came out from the
stable. Flandrau forgot that there
were reasons why he wanted just now
to be stranger in the land with his
shout.
"Oh, you, Stats Davis !"
Hello. Curlyl How are things
a-comin'?"
"Fine. When did you blow In to
Saguachef Amt you off your run
some?"
They had ridden the range together
and had frolicked around on a dozen
boyish larks. To put 1t mildly the
meeting was likely to prove embarrass.
Ing.
"Came down to see about getting
some cows for the old man from the
Fiddleback outfit" Davis explained
"You riding for the Bar Double MI"
There was momentary silence
Curly's vigilant eyes met those Of his
old side partner. What did Stats
know? Were his suspicious already
activef
mo, I'm riding for the Map OF
Texas" Flandrau answered evenly.
"Come on. Curly. Let's 60 feed ouI