Arizona republican., 1922-04-25

+, town and jail him for the stagecoach
| robbery. 1t was bold plan, but Bill
| ly always rather favored the bold
plan. With Craft in Jail and wearing
| the clothing worn by the robber, to
which clothing the complaisant Jerry
Fern and his passenger would un-
| doubtedIy be prepared to swear. it
would be hard indeed. if Bill could
not fasten the robbery on him, Craft
It must have been his good angel
who caused him to look through the
front window. He looked and saw a
cloud of horsemen securing toward
| the ranch house. He Immediately
recognized, to his great disgust. halt
a dozen of San Larder's punehers.
He abandoned the plan of taking
Felix Craft to town. He would be
| hard put to escape himself.
Billy topped his mount, struck in
| the spurs and fled. The other horse
he perforce left standing.
CHAPTER XII
Nate Samson. weighing sugar for
Hazel Walton, looked at her sidewise.
Heard the news, Hazel?"
Red Herring, the town marshal,
slouching against a showcase. COW
ertly watched the girl.
Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in
his own house last night" said Nate.
Hazel wondered why Mates eyes
never left her face. Tip O'Gorman!
He was one of Uncle Toms friends.
Who did it?"
''They found Bill wingo's quirt on
the floor beside the body and right
inside the door a snakeskin hatband
the whole town knows belongs to
Bill"
Hazel's cheeks began to glow.
THAT doesn't prove anything" she
declared in a level voice.
Hazel's black eyes were glittering
through slitted eyelids. Really. Nate
Samson should have been warned.
You think Bill did it?" asked
Hazel Walton.
Nate nodded. $50 does everybody
else"
AT any rate" Nate pursued with
relish, there's q warrant out for
Bill"
Another warrant" Hazers hand
moved imperceptibly nearer a cheese
knife that lay on the counter.
another warrant. That makes
three counts he's wanted on-stage
robbery, rustling that chestnut horse
Of Sam Larder's and now this mur-
der l always said Bill Wingo was
too good to be true
Hazel Walton made no further re-
mark She reached for the cheese
knife. Nate Samson ducked under the
counter. The cheeseknife whirred
within an ich of his prickling scalp
and stuck quivering in the edge of a
shelf.
''Liar!' announced Hazel in loud,
unsympathetic tone. "Pm only sorry
haven't a gun with me. Talking
like that about man you're not fit
to say hello to. Here, / don't want
any of this stuff You can keep it.
So saying, she toppled over her
marched out of the store. The mar
shall followed her to the door.
Its all right, Nate" he said. shes s
gone over to the other store"
Arrived home. Hazel unhitched and
embarrassed, turned the team into
the corral and carried her purchases
into the kitchen and dumped them on
the table. She hung up her mans
hat and fluffed her hair by the aid OF
the mirror that hung below the Terry
clock her uncle had brought west
with him. She had always liked the
Terry clock-from the cheerful paint
ed pumpkins and grapes that graced
| the patterned top to the peculiar
| throbbing ring it gave on striking
| the hour. she liked it.
And on a day the old clock was
| destined to repay that liking full
measure. pressed down and running
| over.
"Lo, Hazel"
"Hello. Sally Jane" she said smil-