The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1920-12-02

I Of a Winchester. Brennan leaped past
the boy ahead, and rounded the cor
ner. A Mexican stood directly In front
Of the shattered door peering In, a RI
de yet smoking in his hands. with
one swift blow Of a revolver butt the
marshal dropped him in his tracks, the
| fellow rolling Off the steps onto the
ground. With outstretched hands he
| stopped the others, holding them back
out Of any possible view from within
"Quick now, before that bunch In
side gets wise to what's up. We've got
'em cornered. You, Matt, strip the
Jacket off that Mex. an get his hat
bunch 'em up together, and set a match
to 'em. That's the stuff! Now, the
minute they blaze throw 'em In through
that doorway. Come on, Westcotr, be
ready to jump"
The hat was straw, and the bundle
Of blazing material landed almost In
the center Of the floor, lighting up the
whole interior. Almost before II
struck, the three men, revolvers gleam-
ing in their hands, had leaped across
the shattered door, and confronted the
startled band huddled In one corner.
Brennan wasted no time, his eyes
sweeping over the array Of faces, re-
vealed by the blaze Of fire on the floor.
Hands up, my beauties-every
mothers o Of yer. Yes, I mean you,
yer human catapiller. Don't waste any
time about 1t; I'm the caller fer this
dance. Put EN- up higher, less yer
want ter commit suicide. Now drop
them rifles on the floOr-gently,
friends, gently. Matt, frisk 'em and
see what other weapons they carry.
Ever see nicer bunch o. lambs, Jim?'
his lips smiling, but with an ugly look
to his cleaning teeth, and steady eyes.
"Why, they'd eat outer yer hand.
Which one Of yer Is Mendez"
"He dead, s%enor," me fellow man.
aged to answer in broken English.
"That heem lie dar."
swell, that's some comfort" but
without glancing about. "Now kick
the guns over this way, Matt, and
touch a match to the lamp on that
shelf yonder: and, Jim, perhaps you
better stamp out tho Ere; Wen not
need II any more. Great Scott! What's
this?"
1t was Miss Donovan, her dress torn,
her hair ~dlsheveled, a revolver still
clasped In her hand, half leveled as
though she yet doubted her realization
of what had occurred. She emerged
from the b~lackness Of the rear room,
advanced a step and stood there hesi-
tatlng, her wide-open eyes gazing about
In bewilderment on the strange scene
revealed by the glow Of the lamp. That
searching, pathetic glance swept from
face to face about the motionless cir
cle-the cOwed Mexican prisoners with
uplifted hands backed against the
wall the three dead bodies huddled on
the floor; Moore, with the slowly ex-
piring match yet smoking In his fin
gers; the little marshal, erect, a re-
volver poised in either hand, his face
set and stern. Then she saw West
colt, and her whole expression changed.
An instant their eyes met; then the
revolver fell to the floor unnoticed, and
the girl sprang toward him, both hands
outstretched.
"Youl" she cried, utterly giving way,
~forgetful of all else except the sense of
relief the recognition brought her.
you! Oh! Now l know it is all right!
I was so sure you would come"
He caught the extended hands eager
ly, drawing her close, and looking
straight down into the depths of her
uplifted eyes. To him, at that moment,
there was no one else In the room, no
n else in the wide, wide world.