Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1920-04-27


counted, but Lasts daughter obeyed
him to the letter.
She stepped clear by the table, stood
at attention second. and, with a pecui-
lar outward whirl. lightning like. Of her
two wrists, had him covered with the
big blue guns.
He nodded.
make II better"
,I will," promised Tharon swiftly.
The man closed his eyes, swayed, re-
covered as Conoford caught him, and
Now tn under sling"
Again she obeyed, replacing the wen
pons, standing that second at attention.
and fipping them from the holsters.
30 quickly that the eye could scarcely
eaten the motion. Both draws were
pecnliar,-and peculiarly Lasts own.
Good GIRL" he said with n husk
grown suddenly in his voice, take
three hours--a day. / want T. leave
you the best gun handler in Lost Val
toCtonle, tLtoecause, my sirl-you'll-have-
He ceased, whiting forward in Con.
tord, arms. Then he opened his eyes
asain for one last smile at the daughter
ne ioved above all things on earth.
woman who had given her to him.
Tor once in her life Tharon did not
wait his finished speech. She saw tbc
Hand reach out of the shadows and
tiung herself upon his breast where the
niood still seeped and fairly forced the
,Hst nutter OF life to brighten in him.
She Kissed his rugged cheek.
WHO, Dad" she called into his
dulling senses, tell me who? I'u yet
him., so help me God" and she loosed
one nand to cross herself, as old Anita
had taught her.
But the promise was late. None
knew whether or not Jim Last heard
IT, ior before the last word was done
'he breath had ceased in his throat.
Another twilight came down upon
Lost valley. The wide ranges lay dim
ana mysterious, gray and pink and Law
snder, as II the hand of a Master
| Painter had colored them, as indeed il
had. The Rockface at the west was
black with shadow for all it's rugged
miles, the eastern uplands were bathed
and aglow with purplish crimson light.
In Corvan lights twinkled all up and
down the one main street. Horses were
tied at the hitchracks and among them
were the Ironwoods from Courtrcy's
STRONGHOLD, beautiful big creatures,
blood bay, black. pointed, noticeable in
any bunch. There were no finger
marks, however. the blue roans. red
roans and buckskins with the four black
stripes on the outside Of the knee. as IL
one had slapped them with tarred
hand, which hailed from Lasts. There
were horses from all up and down the
valley. Cow ponies and half breds of
the ironwood stock which Courtrey
| NJ hn IL t,,N
was too close to kill. shouldered pintos
from the Indian settlements, big, half
wild horses from over the mountains at
the north. Inside the brightly lighted
saloons men passed back and forth,
drank neat liquor at the worn bars,
played at the green felt and canvas
covered tables. At one. the Golden
Cloud, more pretentious than the rest.
there foregathered the leading spirits
of the valley. Here Courtrey came and
played and drank, his henchmen with
him. lie was in high mette this night.
Always contained man, slow to
laughter and to speech, he seemed to
have unbent more than usual. to re-
spond to the human nature about him.
He was not playing steadily as was his
wont. He took a turn at poker with
three men from the south of the Valley
where the river ran out of the Bottle
Neck. won a hand or two. threw down
the cards and swung away to talk a
moment with this one, listen a mo =
ment where those two spoke of hushed
matters. Always when he came near
he was accorded difference. There was
nothing sacred from Courtrey of the
Stronghold, seated like feudal place at
the north head of Lost Valley, no con =
versation so private that he would not
come in on it IL he chose.
For Courtrey was the king Of the
country, undisputed sovereign, the best
gun man north Of the Rio Grande and
Last. With him tonight were Black
Bart, tall, swarthy, gimlet eyed, a half
breed Mexican, and Wylackie Bob. his
right hand man. Without these two he
seldom moved. They were both able
lieutenants, experts with firearms. A
formidable trio, the three went where
and when they listed, and few disputed
their right of way.
Courtrey. smile in his dark eyes,
the wide black hat at an angle on his
iron gray hair, leaned against the high
bar and scanned the crowded room where
the riders played and laughed and
swore with abandon.
Heard anything more about Canyon
JimY he asked Bullard. the proprietor
of the The Golden Cloud, "ain't come
in yet?"
Bullard shook his head.
"No--not he won't, according to my
notion. III ink he mistook tn False
Ridge DROP Amt no man could make
it up again without tn hammer spike
"II'm-don't know. Don't know"
unused Com trey. I've always thought