The Holbrook news., 1922-06-30

duSWcTcu CdiIllly, uuCH ulnuScu ut thc amazement of her father. ''WOn't you come in and see him? He doesn't seem very desperate"
 Clay arose, pinpoints of laughter dancing in his eyes. He liked the gay audacity of this young woman.
 A moment later he was offering brown hand to Colin Whitford. Glad to meet you, MT. Whitford. Tore daughter has just saved my life from the police," the westerner said, and his friendly smile was very much in evidence.
 You make yourself at home," an- swered the owner of a large per cent of the stock of the famous Bird Cage mine.
 My guests do, dad It's proof that Pm perfect hostess" retorted Beatrice, her dainty, provocative face flashing to mirth.
 "Hmp!" grunted her father dryly. "Pd like to know, young man, why the police are shadowing this house?"
 q expect they're loOkin' for me-"
 T expect they are, and I'm not sure I won't help them find you. You'll have to show cause if don't"
 His bark Is much worse than his bite" the girl explained to Clay, just as though her father were not present.
 limp" exploded the mining mag nate second time. Get busy, young fellow"
 Clay told the story of the fifty-five- dollar suit that l. Bernstein had wished on him with near-tears of re- gret at parting from it. The cow puncher dramatiZed the situation with some native talent for mimicry. His arms gestured like the lifted wings of startled cOckerel "A man gets a chance at a garment like that only once in a while occasionally. Which you can take it from me that when l. Bernstein sells a suit of clothes it is shust like he is dealing with his own brother. Quality, my friendts, qvality! Why, l got anyhow a suit which l might be married in without shame, un'erstan' me-"
 Colin Whitford was of the West him. self. He had lived its rough-and-tumble life sfOr years before he made h.s lucky strike ir the Bird Cage. He had moved from Colorado to New York only ten years before. The sound of Clay's drawling voice was like mes sage from home. He began to grin In spite of himself. This man was too good to be true. It wasn't possible that anybody could come to the big town and import into 1t so naively such genuine touch of the outdoor West. It was not possible, but it had happened just the same. Long before the COW puncher had finished his story of hog-tying the Swede to hitching post with his own hose, the mining man was sealed of the large tribe of Clay Lindsay's admirers. He was ready to hide him from all the police in New York.
 Whitford told Stevens to bring in the fifty-five-dollar suit so that he could gloat over 1t. He let out whOop of delight at sight of it's still sodden appearance. He examined its sickly hue with chuckles of mirth.
 Guaranteed not to fade or shrink" murmured Clay sadly.
 He managed to get the coat on with difficulty. The sleeves reached just be- low the elbows.
 "You look like a lifer from Sing Sing" pronounced Whitford joyously. "Get haircut, and you won't have a chance on earth to fool the police"
 "The color did run and fade some," admitted Clay.
 Worth every cent of nine ninety eight at a bargain sale before the Swede got busy with it-and he let you have it at sacrifice for fifty-five dollarsr The millionaire wept happy tears as a climax of his rapture. He swallowed his cigar smoke and had to be pounded on the back by his daugh ter.
 Jenkins came to the door and an- nounced MT. BrOmfeld." Almost on his heels young man in immaculate riding clothes sauntered into the room. He had the assured ease of one who has the run of the house. Miss Whitford introduced the two young men and Bromfield looked the westerner over with suave in- science in his dark, handsome eyes. Clay recognized him immediately. He had shaken hands once before with this well-satisfied young man, and on that occasion fifty-dOllar bill had