The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1924-01-31
CONTINUED from last week.
p xix
The sprawled Figure on the Broken
Floor.

morning came TO the cottage; and
Texie still lived.
On the heels of the dawn Uncle
Nick poked his head in at the kitchen
door and motioned with his finger.
The woodsman lifted his face from his
hands, rose and went out.
Without a word the old man turned
and, with another very positive motion
of his hand, led the way across the
corner of the yard, into the little park.
out through the fallow pasture lot and
to the Eagle Hollow road.
Well within the dim gray jaws of
the hollow he paused.
when 1 p'inted m nose up the crick
this mornin', as you said, l noticed the
door O. that oil cabin whar Hen Spen-
Ger raised the devil that night wus
part way open. knowed it hadn't
ben open fr years. SO I snuck up and
peeked in. Come on"
With the long, lanky, half running
stride that he had probably copied
scout, closely followed by the young
man, trotted away up the gulch,
climbed the fence in front of the cabin
of the dead woodchopper, ran up
through the dew-wet weeds to the
h~alf-opened door, pushed it wider and
entered.
There on the dusty floor boards,
partly twisted on his side, his face
staring up, one arm %crumpled under
him, with q dirk knife buried to the
hilt In his breast, sprawled the man
that called himself Caleb Hopkins
dead.
The woodsman stopped over the
body; looked up curiously at his aged
companion.
do y'u know linz"
"It's Hopkins"
Look close"
The old man glanced at his com
paniOn, caught the odd expression in
his eyes, stopped over the sprawled
figure and bent his eyes intently upon
the dead face, slowly shook his head.
course, 1 don't low lis names Hop
kins, n more'n mine is" he muttered,
'but it's the best 1 can do"
The woodsman stopped; raked the
mass of hair down; brought the red
lock into view; spread his hand owe
the lower part of the face to hide the
beard.
"By the lord-Ken Colin"
Jack took his hand away from over
the beard; scraped the hair carefully
back into place.
"They say that red lock ome down
from OF Red Colin, a sea pirate hun
dreds of years ago, that it shows up
every three r four generations, al
w'ys bringin' along with it a drop r
two of bad blood. 1t shore played the
devil with Ken"
Didn't it," was Uncle Nick's
thoughtful comment-'robbed and
murdered is OF man, an then
preached is funeral-Lord %
A short silence fell.
81 could "a killed i'm there at the
SAFE" the woodsman unused, half to
himself, "but didn't. 1 only shot
away is gun and fought i'm fair.
When he was down, with is hair all
mussed up and the red lock worked
out in sight, that was the first time /
knowed i'm. After that I tried t.
save i'm and let i'm git away not
KNOWN he had another pistol hid on
i'm. When he thought e had me off
guard, he turned around quick and
shot missed me-and hit-her."
He stood a long time silent, his head
half bent aside, his thoughts doubtless
back where a hapless sufferer lay
moaning turned at last gazed at the
knife, buried to a gruesome depth in
the blood-mussed shirt-front of the
fallen man; glanced up at his old
friend and found the deep-set eyes
studying him in thoughtful retrospect
lion.
Uncle Nick, what sort of a lock
have y'u got on y'ur jaw?'
flight as a clam shell, if you say
was the ready answer.
'I'm askin' y'u t. \ lock this words
we're serious and slow. ut amt no use
7 worry-her"-he jerked his head
the gulch-"by lettin' 'er find
it was-him-"
He gazed down at the sprawled body.
I'm askin' you t. tend t. layin' i'm
out and buryin' i'm and be p'inted
t. keep is hair combed SOS the
ed lock don't show. Nobody would
NOW i'm only by that. The way he
lad 'imself cobbled up-them clothes
md specs and whiskers, and the way
e talked, and is face puckered up the
way e KEEP it-he didn't look a bit
like Ken Colin than you do. Stay
ere, and I'll send Al up with Doctor
stretcher t. hep y carry i'm
He stooped to s~traighten the dead
ian 3n,i-g siIiscnQsci0ng art of coma