The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1922-08-24
CHAPTER ~

The sherif's car returned before Fair
child reached the bottom of the grade,
and again stopped to survey the scene
Of defeat.
dangerous c%haracter?" Fairchild
hardly knew why he asked the ques"
ton. The sheriff smiled grimly.
IF it was the fellow we were after,
he was plenty dangerous. We were
trailing him on word from Denver
described the car and said he'd pulled
a daylight hold-up IN a pay-wagon
for the Smelter company-so when
the car went through Golden, we took
up the trail a couple of blocks behind.
He kept the same speed for a little
while until n of my deputies got a
little anxious and took a shot at a
tire. Man, how he turned on the juice!
I thought that thing was a jack rabbit,
the way it went up the hill! I guess
it's us back to the Office"
The automobile went it's way then,
and Fairchild his, still wondering
And so thoroughly did the incident en-
gross him that 1t was not until a truck
AAO JAIL " q LIZA SlOp UC1lAO ulk1,
and a driver mingled a shout with the
footing of his horn, that he turned to
allow its passage.
Didn't hear you, old man." he apol-
ogized. could you give q fellow a
lift?'
Guess So" 1t was friendly, even
though a bit disgruntled; "hop on"
And Fairchild hoped, once more to
sit on the tailboard, swinging his legs,
but this time his eyes saw the v
changing scenery without noticing it.
In spite of himself, Fairchild found
himself constantly staring at a vision
of a pretty girl in a riding habit, with
dark-brown hair straying about
sequally dark-brown eyes, almost fren-
zied In her efforts to change a tire In
time to elude a pursuing sheriff. Some
way, it all didn't blend. If she hadn't
committed some sort of depreciation
against the law, why on earth was she
willing to part with ten dollars, mere
ly to save a few moments in changing
a tire and thus elude a sheriff? If
there had been nothing wrong, could
not q moment Of explanation have sat-
is1ed anyone of the fact?
1t was too much for anyone and
Fairchild knew it. Yet he chung GRIM
ly/to the mystery as the truck clat-
tered on, mile after mile. A small
town gradually was coming into view.
A mile more, then the truck stopped
with a jerk.
"Where you bound for, pardner"
"Ohadi."
"That's 1t, straight ahead. I turn
off here. Miner?"
Fairchild shrugged his shoulders
and nodded n~oncommittally
"Just thought I'd ask. Plenty of
work around here for single and
double jackers. Things are beginning
to look up a bit-at least in silver"
Thanks. Do you know a good place
to stop?"
"Yeh. Mother Towards boarding
, house. Everybody goes there, sooner
l or later. You'll see it on the left-hand
! side Of the street before you get to
the main block. Good old girl; knows
: how to treat anybody in the mining
game from operators on down. She
was here when mining was mining !"
Fairchild lifted his bag from the
rear Of the vehicle, waved a farewell
to the driver and started into the vii.
lage. And then the vision Of the gir]
departed, ~momentarily, to give place
to other thoughts, other pictures, of 9
day long gone:
The u was slanting low, throwing
deep shadows from the hills into the
little valley with its chattering, milk
white stream, softening the scars O.
the mountains with their great refuse
dumps; reminders Of hopes of twenty
| years before and al bare Of yegeta
ton as in the days when the pick and
CAD and drill of the prospector tore
the rock loose from its hiding place
under the surface Of the ground. The
scrub pines of the almost barren
mountains took on a fufier, softer
tone; the jutting rocks melted away
into their own shadows; it was a pic
ture of peace and Of memories.
And it had been here that Thornton
Fairchild, back in The nineties, had
dreamed his dreams and fought biz
fight. A sudden cramping caught the
sons heart, and 1t pounded with some
thing akin to fear. The old forebod.
r ing of his fathers letter had come
upon him.. the mysterious thread OF
that elusive, intangible Thing great
enough to break the will and resist.
q ance of a strong man and turn him
e into a weakling-silent, white-haired
, Sitting by a window, waiting fol
death. What had 1t been? Why had
1t come upon his father? How could
it be fought? He brushed away the
e beady perspiration with a gesture al
; most OF anger, then wit a look Of re.
lief, turned In ct a small white gate
toward a big, rambling building which
proclaimed itself, by the sign on the
door. to be Mother Towards boarding
house.
a moment Of waiting, then he faced
q gray-haired kinulE faced woman,
III who stared III him with wide-oper
eyes ~ she STOOD, hands n hips, be.
fore hin1 Ss
Don't you teil No / donr know