The Holly chieftain., 1923-05-10
Author Of
"AMan to His Mate"


more definite shape. Sandy picked up
Grit's trail once again. The collie
wriggled, shot up Its muzzle, whined
licked Sandy's face.
"Nigh there" suggested Sam. Sandy
nodded and let the dog get down. Grit
raced off, nose high, streaking around
curve. When they reached it he
was out of sight. The road rose at Q
steep pitch. cliff to the right, preci
pice to the left, stretching on and up
to the summit of the pass.
Grit, unseen, ahead, was barking In
staccato volleys. There was another
sound. faint shout. Enthusiastically
human. The men looked at each other
with eyebrows raised.
"That amt no mans voice." said
Sam. THAT'S gal" He looked
quizzically at Sandy, knowing his
chum's inhibition.
Sandy was woman-shy. Men met
his level glance, fairly, with swift GER
tainty that here stood man, four
square; or shiftily, according to their
ease Of conscience. knowing his breed.
Sandy was two-gun man but he was
not killer. There were no notcheS
on the handles Of his Colts. In ear.
lier days he had shot with deadly aim
and purpose, but never save in self.
defense and upon the side of law and
right and order. Among men his
poise was secure, but, in woman's
presence. Sandy Bourke's tongue was
tied save in emergency his wits
tangled. Whatever he privately felt
of the attraction Of the opposite sex,
the proximity of girl produced an
embarrassment he hated but could not
help.
He gave Sam no chance for banter.
Action was forward and 1t always
Strengthened out the rt-circuitinga
Of Sandy's mental reflexes toward
womankind. He touched Pronto's
f1anks withsthe dulled rowels he wore,
and the pinto broke into lope. A
big bowlder was perched upon the
nigh side of the road. Grit came out
from behind 1t, barked, whirled, and
seemingly dIved Into the canyon.
Coming up with the mare. Sam found
Sandy dismounted, waiting for him.
What had. happened was plain to
both Of them. The rotten, hastily made
road collapsed under the lurch of a
wagon jolting over outcrop uncovered
by the rains. Scored dirt where fran.
tic hoofs had paved in vain, tire
marks that ended in side scrapes and
vanished were evidence.
Sam got off the roam, the tired
horses standing still, snuffing the
marks Of trouble. Far down the
slope Grit gave tongue. The cliff
shouldered out and they could see
nothing from the broken road. How
anyone could have hurtled over the
preclpice and be still able to call for
help without the aid Of some miracle
was an enigma. They listened for an.
other shout, but. save for the barking
Of the dog, there was silence in the
grim gorge. In the sky, two buzzards
wheeled.
Sandy united the package of food
and the leather medicine kit; Sam
slapped his hip to be sure Of his
whisky flask. Aided by their high
heels, digging them in the unstable
dirt, they worked down the cliff,
rounding the shoulder.
A wide edge of outcrop Jutted out
from the canyon wall Jagged into bat.
Elements. Piled there was a wagon.
on its side, the canvas tilt sagged in,
Its hoops broken. white horse, ema.
ciated, little more than buzzard meat
when alive, lay with Its legs stiff In
the air. neck flattened and head limp.
A broken pole, with splintered ends,
crossed the body of Its mate, bay,
gaunt-hipped, high Of ribs. 1t lay still,
but its fianks heaved, catching flash
Of sun on Its dull hide. ...
Between the wheels Of the wagon
knelt girl in gown Of faded blue,
head hidden behind a sunbonnet. She
leaned forward in the shadow of the
wagon. Sandy caught glimpse Of
huddled body beyond her. Grit sat
on his launches. head toward the
road, thrown back at each bark. Sandy
reached the ledge first. The girl did
not turn her head, though his descent
was noisy. He touched her gently on
the shoulder, telling himself that she
was "just kid"
She looked up, her face lined where
tears had laned down through the
mask of dust. Now she was past cry
ing. Her eyes met Sandy's pitifully,
holding neither surprise nor hope.
Hes dead" She seemed to be
stating fact long accepted. Hes
dead. An he made me jump. You
come too late, mister"
The man lay stretched out, head and
shoulders hidden, his gaunt body
dressed In Jeans, once blue, long since
washed and sun-faded to the green Of
turquoise matrix. The boots were rusty,
patched. The wagon-bed, topping
sidewise, had crashed down on his
chest. Rock partly supported the