Evening star., 1921-12-18
CHRISTMAS EVE AT
PILOT BUTTE
Continued from Fourth Page)

almost forgotten in the temporary Joy
OF being again in the saddle. 1t had
been a dream: his free days were
over. He was hunted thing now.
his own objective gone, the money
which he had combated the dangers
Of a RAILROADS every fighting resource
to procure, useless mere weight
in his pockets. For he knew that
sooner or later the man he had left
behind in the cabin would fight his
way back to his companions. There
would be a fresh horse and a new
trail-and pursuit again.
Quickly. almost spasmodically, Bart
Carson dug his heels into the fanks
Of his mount and veered its course to-
ward the dim distant shadows which
marked the widest, most desolate
section of Pilot Butte. There in the
ravines, and among rocky hills and
close-grown underbrush might lie a
chance. There, too. Bart Carson
smiled grimly. with the knowledge
that the slopes Of Pilot Butte. where
one victim of the dead Walker still
struggled against enveloping adver-
sity, soon would shelter another-and
that other himself! He pressed the
horse to greater speed.
1 Dawn broke, to reveal slouched
figure nodding over the back of a
swaying horse. By noon the bleak
! outline Of Pilot Butte was nearer
Sunset-horse and rider were in the
shadow now. Then, without warning,
the horse coughed, stumbled and fell,
the rider sprawling at one side and
groaning pitifully with the pain OF
the impact against an arm swollen to
| such proportions that it stretched the
coat sleeve which bound it. Hazily,
dizzily. the man crawled to his feet
and foundered toward the struggling
| beast.
up boy" he begged. Then gasp
ing sigh. His legs broke. can't"
Hesitating, almost fearful, he
looked about him and drew the re-
| voiver. He aimed, turned away his
head. A booming report. thrown
back in hollow, mocking reverbera-
tions from the hills and gulches. Then
a figure staggered on-alone.
Miles it seemed-furlongs in reality
A stumbling exit from clump OF
underbrush. and Bart Carson drew
himself up in surprise. He had fioun-
dered onto a roadway. Not fifty feet
away a man was plodding toward him
on horseback.
Merry Christmas" 1t was the
star route" mail carrier. Carson
pulled the sharp. cold air cutting into
his lungs.
christmas eve," he muttered. Then
louder. Merry Christmas
But the other man said nothing
more. His eyes were centered on that
bandaged, tell-tale hand; the rowels
Of his spurs had cut deep into his
brush again-the first telephone would
carry the news. and horses could
travel swiftly on that road! More
he knew that by now every ranchel
had been made deputy. every cow.
puncher man appointed in the serv.
!
tised reward! He ran. aimlessly. how
far he never knew, to stop at last
painting and gasping. the pull of blood
pounding through his swollen arm
and wrist. His head ached-but no,
as much as that arm. But not ever
the arm itself ached half as much a.
something else which Bart Carson
never had felt before-his heart.
A LONE on the top Of a knoll, ht
- stood looking down into littlt
valley and at the ramshackle hous,
it held. He recognized 1.-THE hom,
had been, deserted for another. her
self now a kindred spirit in a worlt
of enemies. Smoke feathered from
the chimney. In the window a ligh
cleaned family against the dull glow
Of the fading winter sunset. Ther'
was warmth and
Water! Hot water in which t.
bathe the blackening wrist and angry
swollen arm. Hot water and poultice!
and temporary surcease from pain
And there was no telephone-to sent
warning.
But Bart Carson shook his head.
l shes a woman. It might scare
A start! Something had moved in
the underbrush at his right. A hand
} went to the gun. halted there. ther
dropped. A great, dark object was
moving through the snow, hea6
stretched forward, natural timidity
forgotten in the call of preservation
J starving elk, following the scent
of hay even into a ranchyard. AND
Bart Carson watched. watched while
the emaoiated beast clattered through
the stream at the foot of the hill
) edged through the half-open gate ant
to the haymow; watched as a woman
came forth. patted the hunger-tamee
beast, pulled forth fresh hay for i,
and returned to the house. Bart Car.
! son waited no longer. Like starved
elk, he, too, went forward.
Timidly. almost haltingly, he passed
through the gate and approached th'
door. He knocked-then stood hest
tant as the woman faced him in th'
lamplight. At last:
IL guess you know who I amp
She held the lamp closer.
I've seen you somewhere. But
can't"
A child, a girl of perhaps seven. hat
come to the door and was peekint
from behind her mothers skirts. TIL