The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1924-01-10


LET Y'u AIone-After Y'u Bunqles
1t the Way Y'u Did-With Fifty
Pistols in the fir-an' Y'u Drunkl'
practically eliminating the chances OF
detectiOn-it was a master thought.
Crouched in the ~shrubbery. the
woodsman pOndered the revelations OF
the night. But what to do? Proof
it was the one big word that con
frOnted him. Since they had printed
their supply Of counterfeit bills before
coming to the ~Flatwoods, there would
be no outft-nothing that fire could
not destroy.
A thought of the concealed house
boat. with the shapely heelprints on
its dusty after deck, crossed him; and
assumed a new significance. But one
false move and even that would dis
appear-and they had their eyes on
him.
But with all the caution of his wood
craft. Jack Warhope was not a man
to plan and scheme. He came of other
stock than that. A stroke to the core
when the ripe instant came-and
devil take the chips. was his way. A
bold thought took shape in his mus
ings-but the ripe instant had not yet
come. Another night would bring it,
with the banker warned and both of
them on guard.
With a grim look On his face he
arox.1al on Of tha Ch,urhharv ctnlo
back to the path winding along under
the dense shadows at the base of
Black rock and slipped through the
corner of the orchard to his own
small cabin.
Pausing in the fallow yard under
it's youth in the glory of full bloom,
he stood for d long time Sitting the
sounds of the night and frowning back
toward the red-roofed cottage.
The moon stole up under the edge
of the east and cast a glittering spear
that broke against the face of Black
Rock. A culver seemed to thrill owe
the sleepy world at the bold assault.
The geese in the barn-lot hOnked and
clapped their wings, a bullfrog down
in the bayou cleared his throat; a soft
breeze walked, rustled the leaves of the
old apple tree and showed the man
white with blossoms.
He had his hand on athe latch
when suddenly there rang out upon
the silence of the night, from the di-
rectiOn of the red-ro0fed cottage, a
woman's wild scream, repeated again
and again.
he whirled, rigid, striving to distin-
guish the cry-but all women scream
much alike. Next he was
dashing across the orchard toward the
sound-probably the most awesome on
earth-a woman's wild cry in the
night.
The sound had ceased when he
came u of the orchard and a candle
was fitting about the ~sitting-room.
He leaped the orchard fence and ran
around to the porch, To his surprise
the sitting-room door was partly open
and he dashed in.
There in his big armchair in the
room that served as office, half bent
back over the chair arm, his grizzled
head lolling down horribly, sprawled
the old money-lender-dead.
Texie was crying wildly in the arms
of the housekeeper. The preacher
had just come from the parlor bed
room and stood stopped and trembling,
peering through his huge spectacles in
awed silence. But great as his haste
in dressing must have been, he hao
found time to put on the frock coat
and high neck stock-demands of GUS
tom that he had probably found i'm
possible to deny.
Jack found the dead man still warm.
He noticed that his night shirt vas
torn to shreds at the neck and sleeves.
and that his face was scratched and
streaked with blood. but there was no
wound apparent that could have
caused his death.
The room presented every evidence
of 8 struggle. A chair was over
the cover on a small stand
had peer brushed away; the rug was
dragged back a foot or two from be-
fore the dead bankers writing desk,
where, for an instant the woodsman
bent a searching eye upon some faint