The Adair County news., 1922-02-07
CHAPTER I.
Return of the Manderer.

the scene outspread below. The ami
mails, 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 its 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-
GUS 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 respectability; it possessed
no pride, no hope of a future. 1t
seemed to recognize its 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 a 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 HI" 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.
H, what's the difference? ThereIl
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 outfitr'
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 shatter'ng the at
mosphere, driving the animals frantic
as the sharp reports rang out over
their backs.
But if any sensation was expected,
It signally failed to materialiZe. POnca
remained deserted, and unimpressed.
Long experience had either rendered
the inhabitants Indifferent to such
display, or else the town had gone
utterly dead. The silence and desCla-
tiOn caused Shelby to utter an oath,
and suddenly swing his team up to a
hitching rack in front of McCarthy's
saloon, the door Of which stood in
Yltinglyl open. An instant the per-
picked driver sat there, staring grim
ly about from end to end of the de-
serted street.
"What the h-l!" he calculated at
last, sis up anyhow? Is this a grave
yard I've got into? Lord, it can't be
all the boys have got out; but some.
thing is sure dead wrong. Well, 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 i'm through the open
door. Ec had C--ncc1ed 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
Va VI BOhNA CHIPS NSilllc NOMH
room above. The place seemed like
a huge grave, and, for a brief mo-
ment, he even failed to perceive it's
only occupant-a red-mustached bar
tender in front of the mirror, indus
triously rubbing the immaculate glass.
angered by this time, Shell
by advanced, his footsteps muf1ed by
the sawdust on the floor.
''What the HI is the matter with
this dump?" he demanded savagely, his
fist humping the bar "Oh, so it's
you, is it, Moran?, Well. are you all
that's left in PoncaT
The red-mustached one turned In
differently, vet managed to extekd a
rather limp hand-in fraternal greeting.
''That's bout the size of it, TOm,'
he admitted gravely. "NVhere yer been
the last six months?"
"OVer on the Cottonwood, ranching.