White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1926-07-30
Continued from Last Week.

thought again or that Satan hllcnen
mission. 1t could use that money; 1t
needed that money. Besides, when 1t
came down to a hard pinch, he could
never refuse any dying man favor
The angel in him had struggled to the
ascendancy, having once more van
pushed the devil.
"I'll do it," he said, and he reached
for the others clammy hand. tits all
right. 1 fo'give we, pardner. It's all
right"
Much obleeged to we. Look under
this here hearth-they's heap. Still
hate to 60 Could ye pray TO me
little, do we reckon?"
PRAY! Me?" Buckmaster slowly
shok his head. II amt never prayed
none Leastwise, not sence l was
bitsy kid. Mebbe it wouldn't do no
good, nohow, me a-prayin' TO you.
Mebbe yed better pray TO- ye'self,
pardner l sp'ect it'd go a lot higher"
"Mebbe it would. Tell me what to
say, Buckmaster. You know the-the
circumstances"
The white sheep had softened all
through. He had forgotten entirely
his wrongs at the hands of that I'M
known man; ne was deeply sorry for
him now AS for prayers, there was
but one that he knew and that was
the one that 'Lis'beth Elderidge had
saying, with additions, at bedtime.
"All right" he agreed, and it was
with difficulty that he kept his voice
steady Say after me, pardner-
Now l lay me down to Sleep"
Nov lay midtown to Sleep
"Pray the Lord"
They went through it very solemnly.
almost on the last syllable of his
"Aymen"
"Buckmaster! he cried, his sick
eyes shining.
"Yeuh?" gently.
"Why didn't we think of it afore?
Take me to witnesses an II clear vel"
The Bear Creekers strong face
showed interest Immediately. Why,
indeed, hadn't they thought of it be-
fore? He didn't know why, but they
hadn't But that wouldn't clear him
of everything. STILL it would help; it
would show people that their conclu-
sions had been wrong in the begin
ming.
He shook his head.
"It's awful cold, pardner. You
couldn't never stand it. The clostest
witnesses would be at the Satan
Kitchen mission"
But l can stand it! Buckmaster,
please help me to do-this one good
thing afore l go. The's blankets
two blankets-over there in cawner.
Wrap 'em around me. Pm not heavy;
we could tote me easy. Eff l die with
out clearin ye, Buckmaster-I won't
die right. I've lived low-down life,
but / want to die right"
Buckmaster lifted a stone from the
hearth, took out a canvas bag nearly
full of money and thrust it inside his
blue shirt. A few minutes later he
strobe into the cold and dark and
wind-swept mountain wilderness with
a gray bundle in his arms.
He doesn't remember great deal
of the journey now, though the years
have been few since that night. 1t
was sort of nightmare to him.
Twice he fell-he has hardly forgot
ten that-and each time he saved the
limp form in the gray bundle from
further injury And he hoped that life
and consciousness would stay with the
little man until they reached Profess
sor Harlin's home at the mission.
About the middle of that bright and
sparkling Sunday morning Buckmas-
ter half dragged himself and his bur
den to the top of a low spur that al
most overhung the settlement and
there, painting for breath. He was
weak now; his wonderful strength was
nearly spent; the average man never
could have done what he had already
done in the six hours just gone. His
tired eyes roamed over the icicle-
eaved houses of the mission, finally
coming to rest on the chapel, the front
of which was surmounted by a
weather-worn wooden cross.
Under that cross by the doorstep
were two men in officer-blue, and with
them was Rubens, the lowland cattle
buyer. Buckmaster's Unborn fear of
the law gripped him now harder than
ever. II he went on down there he
would be arrested.
"Pardner!" he muttered. "Pardner!"
| A muffled voice answered from the
gray bundle. The highwayman was