The Holbrook news., 1921-04-22
CHAPTER |.
Return of the Wanderer.

hCIuTn OI LnC W
 Shelby, alone in the blackboard drove to the summit of the ridge, halt ing the broncs, as his eyes swept over the scene outspread below. The ami mals, their dusty sides streaked with sweat, stopped willingly after their sixty-mile trip from the Cottonwood.
 Below was a deep, narrow valley, in the midst of which Ponca spread out along the bank of the creek that gave the town it's name. To Shelby, wearied with the dull plains, here was a scene of beauty.
 Just beyond there was life, fresh luxuriant, sweet; running water, lusci- ous green grass, and above all, that which he craved most, human com panionship. To be sure, he knew Ponca of old, and possessed no illu- sions. Ugly, dirty, unkempt, Ponca made no pretense to either cleanli- ness, or responsibility; it possessed no pride, no hope of a future. It seemed to recognize it's destiny, and be content, a mere mushroom town Of the frontier, an adjunct of the cattle trade, permitted to flourish today, but as certainly doomed to perish tomor- row.
 The man who sat there on the ridge gazing down, the reins held idly in his hand, his eyes following the wind ing of the valley, was perfectly nat ural part of the picture-he belonged. Beneath the tan and dust was a smoothly shaven face, a face of twenty-five, or twenty-six, the features strong, nose somewhat prominent, lips firm and full, with dark-gray eyes shadowed by heavy lashes. In truth, he appeared all man, a certain reck- less gayety about him not to be mis- taken, yet as evidently not to be light ly taken advantage of.
 'It certainly beats h-l," he nut tered, unconsciously aloud, that a man should dream about visiting a dump like this. Shows what sort O place Cottonwood is to make fellow homesick for Ponca. Town looks kinder dead; no cattle in the corrals. HI, what's the difference? There'll be some of the old bunch hangin' round an we'll make things hum for awhile Come, broncs, jog along! Let's show Ponca we're a live outfitw
 It was a rough, curving descent, the trail in places barely wide enough for the wheels, but the driver never lost control, guiding the broncos with ex- pert hand, until they finally swung about the edge of a great rock at the bottom. and went charging at full gallop into the main street. To better express the exuberance of his feelings at this return to civilization, and an- nounce his arrival, Shelby whipped out his gun and began shattering the at mosphere, driving the animals frantic as the sharp reports rang out over their backs.
 But if any sensation was expected, 1t signally failed to materialize. Ponca remained deserted, and unimpressed. Long experience had either rendered the inhabitants indifferent to such a display, or else the town had gone utterly dead. The silence and desola- ton caused Shelby to utter an oath, and suddenly swing his team up to hitching rack in front of McCarthy's saloon, the door of which stood in- OPCAs All ASldAl lAC per plexed driver sat there, staring grim .ly about from end to end of the de serted street.
 "What the h-ll" he calculated at last, "is up anyhow? Is this a grave yard I've got into? Lord, 1t can't be all the boys have got out; but some thing is sure dead wrong. We'll, Macs open anyhow. I'll go in and find out"
 He sprang out over the wheel, stiff fened from the long ride, yet standing erect nevertheless, and strode up the saloon steps and in through the open door. He had expected a welcome and this strange lack of interest on the part of the citizens of Ponca had already considerably chilled his en- thusiasm. Once inside, he stopped, staring about in even deeper perplex- ity. The big saloon was absolutely empty of patrons-the tables were un- occupied; no one was lined up in front of the long bar, and no sound of voices or of poker chips came down from the room above. The place seemed like a huge grave, and, for a brief mo- ment, he even failed to perceive its only occupant-a red-mustached bar