Middletown transcript., 1921-02-05


ton seemed to be whiting piece of
dead pine into fine shavings. NOW
he was gathering pine needles and
small twigs, making a little pile OF
them. And then. just as Cranston
drew his match. Dan saw his purpose.
Cranston was at his old trade-set-
ting q forest fire.
For two very good reasons, Dan
didn't call to him at once. The two
reasons were that Cranston had r1fle
and that Dan was unarmed. 1t might
be extremely likely that Cranston
would choose the most plausible ana
effective means of preventing an inter-
ruption of his crime, and by the same
token. prevent word Of the crime ever
reaching the authorities. The rifle
contained five cartridges. and only one
was needed. 80
But the idea Of backing out. unseen,
never even occurred to. Dan. The ire
would have a tremendous headway be-
fore he could summon help. Although
it was near the lookout station, every
condition pointed to disastrous IRE.
The brush was dry as tinder, not SO
heavy as to choke the wind. but yet
tall enough to carry the flame into
the tree tops. The stiff breeze up the
ridge would certainly carry the flame
for miles through the parched Divide
before help could come. In the mean
time stock and lives and homes would
be endangered, besides the irreparaDle
loss of timber. There were many
things that Dan might do, but giving
up was not one of them.
After all, he did the wisest thing Of
all. He simply came out in plain slght
and unconcernedly walked down the
trail toward Cranston. At the same
instant, the latter struck his match.
! AS Dan was no longer stalking,
Cranston Immediately heard his step.
He whirled, recognized Dan, and for
one long instant in which the world
seemed to have time in plenty to make
a complete revolution, he stood per-
fectly mOtiOnless. The match flared In
his dark fingers, his eyes-full Of sim
| gular conjecturing-rested on Dams
| face. No instant Of the latter's life
had ever been 'fraught with greater
peril. He understood perfectly what
was going on in Cranston's mind. The
fire-fiend was calmly deciding whether
to shoot or whether to bluff 1t out.
One required no more moral courage
than the other. It really didn't make
a great deal Of difference to Cranston.
But he decided that the killing was
not worth the cartridge. The other
course was too easy. He did not even
dream that Dan had been ShadOwing
him and had seen his intention. He
would have laughed at the idea that
"tenderfoot" could thus walk behind
him, unheard. Without concern, he
scattered with his foot the little heap
of kindling, and slipping his pipe into
his mouth, he touched the faring
match to it, It was wholly admir-
able little piece of acting, and would
have deceived any one who had not
seen his previous preparations. Then
he walked on down the trail toward
Dan.
Dan stopped and lighted his own
pipe. 1t was curious little truce.
And then he leaned back against the
great gray trunk Of fallen tree.
"Well, Cranston," he said civiliy.
The men had met on previous oc-
casiOns, and always there had been
the same invisible war between them.
"How do you do, Falling" Cranston
replied. No perceptions could be SO
blunt as to miss the premeditated in
suit ifl the tone. He didn't speak in
his own tongue at all, the short, gut
tural "Howdy" that is the greeting
of the mountain men. He pronounced
all the words with an exaggerated pre-
cision, an unmistakable mockery of
Dams own tone. In his accent he
threw tone of sickly sweetness. and
his inference was all too plain. He
was simply calling Failing milksop
and a white-liver; just as plainly as
if he had used the words.
The eyes Of the two men met.
Cranston's lips were slightly curled in
an unmistakable leer. Dams were
very straight. And in one thing at
least, their eyes looked just the same.
The pupils Of both pairs had contracted
to steel points, bright in the dark gray
of the irises. Cranstcn's looked some
what red; and Dams were only hard
and bright.