White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1926-07-23
GODFATHER TO SATAN'S KITCHEN
BY HAPsBURG LIEBE

/, held in one hand. His revolver he had
thrust into one of the pockets Of his
clay-colored corduroy coat; Buckmas.
ter could see four inches of the barrel
sticking out.
| Buckmaster crept closer to the rob-
Der, Strengthened and called
Drop it,"
The highwayman let the wallet fall
to the frozen leaves, raised both arms
and turned pale, thin face to him
who was the white sheep Of his peo-
pie.
'"I'll be blamed TO- this" said Buck
master with sidewise mental glance
at his resolve to figure in no more
hold-ups. "And so I'm a-goin' to be
paid TO- it. Keep We paws as nigh to
the blue sky as We can and walk off
down the trail, pardner. Hear me?
Walk! I'm a'takin' no chances now"
The little man kept his hands up
and walked. His footsteps were un-
steady, like those of one who is more
or less intoxicated. The other paid no
especial attention to this at the time
Of it, but he had cause to remember
| it before another day had come.
Lon Buckmaster slipped to the mis-
sion settlement in Satan's Kitchen
that night. He soundlessly lifted the
lower sash of Professor Hardin's bed
room window and left eleven hundred
dollars in bank-notes, together with a
scrawled> and unsigned message, on
the cheap pine dresser; then he HE'D
himself away through the bitter cold
and to the old cabin on the eastern
slope of the Big Bald.
1t was past midnight when he
reached the widowed loghouse, which
stood in deep cash of cove filled
with hemlock trees. He strobe up to
the weatherbeaten door-and found it
fastened on the inside.
Buckmaster had made no noise. It
had long been habit of his to make
no noise. He went to the one pane
less window and peered cautiously
through. The embers of fire, he
saw, glowed softly in the blackened
stone fireplace On the nodded stone
hearth lay the motionless figure of a
man.
It was at least five miles to another
shelter that was as goodas that old
cabin and Buckmaster was weary; be-
sides, the wind that was sweeping the
hills was like the edge of razor.
Then, too, Buckmaster was curious to
find out who it was that had beaten
him to that snug little haven Of
refuge. He slipped the blade of his
knife carefully between the door and
its casing, as carefully lifted the latch,
eased the door open and tiptoed in.
With his revolver at ready he
stopped over the still form on the
hearth. -
"The fires purity near out, pard-
ner," he said, "and ye're apt to freeze.
Ye ought to make it O. bigger stuff.
There was no reply. Neither was
there the slightest movement on the
part Of the unknown. In the soft glow
Of the dying Goals, Buckmaster spied
an armload Of brushwood lying close
by; he snatched up a handful and
threw it into the fireplace. A flicker
of flame rose, then another and an
other, and there was light. Buck
master stopped over the inert figure
again.
It was the little man who had held
up Rubens, the cattle-buyer. Lon
Buckmaster bit down on an exclama-
ton of surprise and bent lower.
AS the flames in the fireplace grew
brighter he saw that the face of the
stranger was almost waxen-white. The
little fellow was in bad way, surely.
Buckmaster shook him and his eyes
snapped open feverishly; in them
eA1OAO W 90 IA0 A01A I0dL 0AdhO6 lduh
towards 70 men.
Whore you?" he half gasped.
He struggled to sit up and failed
"Me? I'm Lon Buckmaster, o. Bear
Creek. Who're you, pardner, and
what's the matter VII ye?"
"Buckmaster!" The fear in the
smaller mans yes became even great
er. "Buckmaster!
"Yeuh. Bear Creek Lon Buckmas-
ter. What's the matter wi ye?"
The unknown turned slightly and
with evident pain. His blue shirt was
already unbuttoned; he drew it open
over his thin chest and revealed a
purple-edged bullet-hole not far from
his heart.
Through and through" he mum
bles. "Rubens-he got me-"
"Rubens! thought it was you shot
at Rubens."
IL Ii