The Holbrook news., 1921-06-03

rough, senor; yet there is no other way to get cattle in."
 "The man with you; who is he?"
 Juan emitted cloud of blue smoke in the air, smiling pleasantly.
 "Senor Laud."
 "Laud" in undisguised astonish- ment. "What Laud? Not Indian Joe'?"
 "Si, senor; they call heem that" know heem. what?''
 Shelby gripped himself tightly.
 i've heard of him, that's all. He's Sioux squawman, but I never knew what he looked like before."
 His pony. no longer urged, fell back, trailing at the rear of the others. Juan rode on, unconscious and indif- ferent, blowing spirals of smoke into the air, and humming the strain of some Spanish melody, but Shelby was staring beyond him at the red-bearded white man Slouched down in his sad dle. So that fellow was Indian Joe" LaudI As never before he realized to the full the danger into which he advanced.
 Indian Joe" Laudi When hadn't he heard of him? For years certainly, ever since he had been in this north country, yet in appearance the fellow was not at all what he previously had imagined that desperado to be. Laud was gross, bearded, dirty, coarse featured; to all appearances a mere barroom tough, yet no man on the frontier had a worse record or was more dreaded and despised. Why was he here stealing cattle on the very verge of Indian war? True, he was not Sioux in blood, yet it was well known that he had been adopted into the tribe and never failed to have a hand in their deviltry. Army officers claimed he possessed more influence over them for evil than any chief. and Shelby had heard him mentioned with Sitting Bull as leaders in the ghost dance. If true, then he must know how far to venture, and just when to draw aside so as to save himself. That must be tito him war meant only an opportunity to plunder. The final re- suit was clearly Indian defeat; he would keep out, but in the meanwhile profit all he could
 The trail led downward at a rather steep grade, in spite of continual curv- ing. The sure-footed horses moved faster than the cattle, and before the outfit reached the level of the valley the three riders had closed in on the Indian drivers. Shelby knew them at once as young Sioux warriors, and was again able to distinguish plainly the brand on the flank of the steers bring ing up the rear of the herd. They were unquestionably his own stock, and. in spite of his rage, he could not be entirely indifferent to the grim hu- nor of the situation-he was being guided into Wolves hole by the very men who had robbed him.
 Yet his thoughts did not dwell upon this so much just then, as on the mad chance he had assumed in this adven- ture. What could he accomplish? What hope was there that he would ever emerge again alive? He was going forward blindly, led by fate, with not even a plan of guidance. He must work alone, in the midst of enemies, desperate men to whom human life was valueless. and where any incau- tious word or act would instantly ex- pose him to discovery. In spite of the fact that he was believed dead, Macklin would recognize him at glance, and the very claim that he was a friend of Hanley's exposed him to discovery. In some way he must avoid 1 them both, and yet no plan presented | itself to promise escape. He could l only drift helplessly. becoming more Respondent of success with every step | of advance.
 It was already dusk when they at tained the level of the valley, and the | overshadowing bluffs rose high on |