Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1924-04-17
The Red Lock
By DAVID ANDERSON
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| "T'night," he muttered-"at mid
night"
He swore merrily.
81 knowed e hadn't reneged-1
knowed e hadn't"
"Hold STILL" growled the other.
"Huh!" he went on-'st'night-mid-
highland clean sweep-expects t.
be with US 'imself." He glanced at
the envelope. "W'y, he's in town
what the
Belden took the envelope, stuffed
/ the letter clumsily back in it and PIT
| it in his pocket.
wonder what e meant" he NUT
tered, 'by cautionin' us s. dern p'inted
pitcher not t hurt the gal-if she's
thar. If she's thar-Where else would
she be? Says we mustn't hurt 'er, even
If we hat t. cut out an leave the
swag." He glanced away in the direc-
ton of the squalid cabin up at the
head of the hollow; a black look
crossed his face, and the man at the
chink wondered If he was thinking Of
that scene at the pallet under the win
dow the night before. wonder what
e thinks we air." he went on. Don't
hurt 'er-if she's thar-h-lW
The two outlaws hunted their pipes,
lounged down on the two boxes and
smoked for some moments in thought
full silence. Belden suddenly straight
ened; slapped his hand down on his
knee.
'Must take some nerve," he chuckleA,
ST murder a man, an then preach ~
funeral"
Black Bogus drew hard on his pipe;
pulled out the smoke slowly; shrugged
his heavy shoulders.
"Nerve-huh-he don't give up the
spoon t. nobody when it comes t.
nerve, he DON'T
Nearly an hour the two sat smoking
and internationally discussing their
plans, no detail Of which escaped the
listener.
Belden was the first to leave. Black
Bogus waited several minutes before
following; finally slipped out, with far
greater caution than Belden had
shown; stopped low through the weeds
and only came out into the road when
some distance above the yard, at
point where the bushes grew dense
along both sides.
The woodsman waited till he was
well out of sight and sound before
creeping from under the wild cucum-
Der vines and stealing through the
bushes up the hill. He had found out
what he wanted to know.
The landscape lay before him in all
its midday splendor. Mrs. Curry had
doubtless just. mended the fire in the
kitchen stove at the red-roofed cot
tage, for white wood smoke curled up
from the chimney. But the air was
evidently too light and stih to bear
it up, for it drifted laziIy away, to set
tie In a long bank of airy fluffiness
that draped itself above the orchard
trees like the veil of a goddess lost
out of the skies. Above the homestead,
and farther away over the bottoms,
swift-winged swallows skinned the
air; q dozen or so blackbirds loped
4
long enough in the big elm for short
concert.
Down by the road gate Graylock lift
ed his head, whinnied, came trottingI
up the barn-lot and the man set his
feet to the rough path that wound
down among the rocks.
He had let the horses into the barn
and fed them, and was on the way to
his cabin, with the intention of carry
ing the hidden bundles of money to
Texie and taking her into his full con-
/ fidence, when he saw Mrs. Curry, fat
and portly, hurrying across the
orchard at her pudgy best.
Here's a note Texie left FIR y'u."
I She held up an envelope, sealed.
cleft FIR me?"-he was in at the
gate in three strides and hurrying
across the yard-"where's she gone?"
"She got letter this mornin'," Mrs.
Curry pulled, "and she said she'd hat
t. go t. town. She writ you this note,
mounted Brownie and rode away lick
ety-split. She said if she didn't come
back this evenin' wuz t. git you t.
sleep at our house, and WuS t. stay
| with Aunt Liza"
The woodsman had snatched the
note and was eagerly glancing 1t
through:
Dear Jack:
"I've had such wonderful news. Ken
amt dead, after all. He is In the city
at woman's house named Doll Baker
on Brickbat alley. He is sick and
wants me to come. Mr.. Hopkins got
a letter from him askin' him to come,
befn his old classmate, so he went last
night and wrote back to me this morn
ing. Pore Ken, I guess he is awful
proud, and he is so sick. Mr.. Hopkins
thought he better not tell him nothing
about father. He don't want me to tell
nobody, and to come alone. But
would of told you, for know you wont
tell, but / saw you going up in the
woods this morning, so wrote you this
note o, Jack, amt you glad.
"CEXIE."
| CTO BE CONTINUED.)