The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1922-02-23

dad-blame his old hide! J" he chittered.
'There amt nary mother man in the
Timanyonis at can cuss like that.
He's come with a posse, and they're
layin' out Charley Bullerton's crowd 7"
There was a fine little tableau
spreading itself out for us when we
had ~clambered owe the wreckage and
had withdrawn the wooden bar and
flung the door wide. Daddy Hiram
had called the turn and named the
trump. The large, desperadoish-look-
ing man who had once Interviewed me
at Angels, and a little later had
paused in his combing Of the noun
tains In search Of me to usurp my
place at the Twomblys' breakfast ia
BILE. this bewhiskered giant, with a
goodiSh bunch Of foIlowers-hard-
boiled to a man, they looked to be
had surrounded a fair half of the
would-be Jumpers and were hand
cutting them with q celebrity that was
truly admirable. And Beasley, him
self, square-jawed and peremptory,
was SlIONluB bullCI tOu uD dkdlIlSl Tie
side of the shaft-house, swapping the
irons upon his wrists and counseling
him, with choice epithets intermin-
gled, to save up his troubles and tell
them to the judge.
AS we emerged from our wrecked
fortress, other members Of the posse
were scattering to round up the out
lying bomb-throwers, who had appar-
emily taken to the tall timber In q
panic-stricken effort to escape. Down
on the bench below there were horses
and horse-holders; and among the
horses one whose boylsh-looking rider
was just slipping from the saddle.
While | "a wondering vaguely why
the Angels town marshal had let q
mere boy come along or such a battle
errand, the boyish figure ran up the
road and darted in among us to fling
itself into Daddy Eiram's arms. CUR
Cling and half crying and begging to
be told if he was hurt.
l didn't know at the time how much
or how little the big marshal knew Of
the various and muddled inducements
which were climaxing right there in
he early morning sunshine on the old
Cinnabar dump head but l do know
that he quickly turned his captures
owe to some of his deputies and had
them promptly hustled down stage
and off scene. While this was going
on l was merely waiting for my cue,
and l got it, or thought l got it when
the boy who wasn't a boy slipped
from Daddy's arms and faced me.
I'm not hurt, either" l ventured
TO say, hoping that the brain storm
had subsidized sufficiently to make me
visible. welcome home, Miss Twom-
bly-Or should l say Mrs. BullertonY"
The look she gave me was just plain
deadly; you wouldn't think that vio-
let-blue eyes could do it, but they can.
Then she drew a folded paper from
somewhere inside of her clothes and
held it out to me.
There Is the deed to your mine,
Mr.. Broughton," she said nippingly,
and with a fairly tragical emphasis on
the courtesy title. "You wouldn't
take the trouble to 60 to Copah and
get it recorded, SO l thought I'd better
do 1t. I hope you'll pardon me for be-
ing so forward and meddlesome."
1t was the super-climax Of the en-
tire Arabian-Nights business. and be-
cause my feelings would no longer be
denied their rightful fling, I sat down
on the shaft-house doorstep and
shouted and laughed like a fool. But
after all, it was Mr.. Isaac Beasley,
deputy sheriff and marshal Of Angels,
who put the weather-vane, so to
speak, upon the fantastic structure.
81 been lookin' round for you a
right smart WHILE" he told me gruffly.
when you get plum over your laugh
and feel hat you're needin' a little
sashay over the hills fr exercise, you
can come along with me and go to jail
r. stealin' that railroad car"
(To be continued)