Connecticut western news., 1920-02-05
SYNOPSIS. Part |.

Part |.
 CHAPTER I.-Adventurous and reck- less rather than criminal. and excited by Mquor, Curly F1andrau and his chum, Mac, both practically mere boys, become evolved in horse-stealing adventure of saguache. Ariz., the band separates. Curly and his partner staying in town. They are awakened and told posse Is their pursuers. 1overtaken next day, Mac killed by the posse and Curly made R Seen @oundea me aIs TSs msn shot % is Luck Cullison.
 "There's a picture in his pocket, ana eOme letters, reckon. Send them to Miss Myra Anderson, Tombstone, care ef one of the restaurants. don't Know which one"
 "Send nothin'," sneered Dutch, and coupled it with remark no decent nan makes of a woman on a guess with the little hole in. his temple Curly Rolled over. With jerk his right arm twas free It shot out like pile Ariver all his weight behind the blow. Dutch went down as if charging bull had flung him.
 Almost simultaneously Curly hit the Rand hard. Before he could stir three men were straddled over his anatomy. t0ne of them ground his head into the lust
 s.sYou would, eh? We'll see about that. Jake, bring yore rope"
 They tied the hands of the boy, hauled him to his feet, and set him nstride horse. In the distance a windmill of the Circle c ranch was nhining in the morning sun. Toward the group of buildings clustered around this two of his captors started with Eiandrau.
 As they rode along fenced lane which led to the house girl came fly ang down the steps. At sight of those coming toward her she called out quickly:
 "How is dadY' The quiver of fear Broke in her voice. t
 Don't know yet, Miss Kate," an swered one of the men. He's right peart, though. Says for to tell you hot to worry. We've got here the Mangy, son of a gun that did it."
 Before he had finished she was off Nike an arrow shot from a bow, but not until her eyes had fallen on the youth sitting bareheaded and bloody Aetween the guns of his guard. Curly noticed that she had given a shudder, ms sone might at sight of mahgled mad dog which had just bit a dear friend. Long after the pounding of her ponys hoofs had died away the l A., 4IoI <DQ fear and horror that had rested on Aim
 His guards put Flandrau in the bunk mouse and one of them sat at the door with rife across his knees. The cook, me stable boy, and red-headed Bob &3ullison, nephew of the owner of the manch, peered past the vaquero at tho captive with the same awe they would have yielded to a caged panther.
 '1'Why, he's only kid Buck" the sOok whispered.
 Buck chewed tobacco impassively. ~Old enough to be a rustler and a ksller."
 Bob's blue eyes were wide with in- Fterest. ''Pll bet he's a regular Billy Fthe Kid" murmured the half-grown boy to the other lad.
 Sure. Course he is. He's got bad eyes all right" ''I'll bet he's got notches on his gun. Bay, if Uncle Luck dies-'' Bob left khe result to the imagination.
 The excitement at the Circle c in tereased Horses cantered up. Men shOuted to each other the news. Oc- easionalIy some one came in to have Book at the ''bad man" who had shot kuck Cullison. Young Flandrau lay lon cot and stared at the ceiling, paying no more attention to them than M they had been blocks of wood.
 The crunch of wagon wheels over fislntegrated granite drifted to the bunkhouse.
 'Theyre bringing the boss back" Buck announced from the door to one ef his visitors
 The man joined him and looked over Ais shoulder. Miss Kate there too?"
 Yep. Say, if the old man don't pull through it will break her all up."
 The boy on the bed turned his face 60 the wall. He had not cried for ten years, but now he would have liked the Eelief of tears A big lump rose in his throat and would not stay down. The lzrOny of it was that he was staged for the part of gray wolf on the howl, while he felt more like a little child that has lost it's last friend.
 After time there came again the crisp roll of wheels.
 'Doc Brown" announced Buck cas- ,ually to the other men in the bunk Rouse.
 There was more than one anxious IAeart at the Circle c waiting for the verdict of the bowlegged baldheaded Attle man with tho satchel. but not sone of them-no, not even Kate Gull