White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1931-07-23

whom well inSp1r'd the oracle pro-
nounced wisest Of men'?"
Again Estevan Miro shrugged. This
time the gesture was exquisitely COM
plicated in it's meaning, even for a
low-class Spaniard. Slight embarrass-
ment was in it, some bewilderment,
and grain-the merest fleck-of
something as nearly approaching con-
tempt as was possible in him for a
man whom he feared.
"Yancey," said Pete Pitchlyn, de-
liberately, "stick to your lawy'in'."
"Why?"
"Anybody's got the gift of CAB like
you have is wastin' their time doin'
anything else"
ooh, I wouldn't say that" Yancey
replied, all modesty. Running news
paper keeps me in touch with folks.
like it. Besides, the law isn't very
remunerative in these parts. Running
a newspapers my way of earning a
living. OF course" he continued
brightly, as an afterthought, there
have been times when running a news
paper has saved the editor the trouble
of ever again having to earn living"
The faces Of the two were blank as a
sponged slate. Suddenly-"Come on,
boys. Who killed Pegler?"
Pete Pitchlyn vanished. Yancey
and the Spaniard were left alone on
the sunny street corner. The face
of Miro now became strangely pinched.
The eyes were inky Sits. He was
summoning all his little bravado, pull
ing it out of his inmost depths.
II know something. have that to
tell you," he said in Spanish, his lips
barely moving.
Yancey replied in the same tongue,
"Out with it."
The Spaniard did not speak. The
Sits looked at Yancey. Yancey knew
that already he must have been well
paid by some one to show such
temerity when his very vitals were
gripped with fear. "You know some
thing, HIM? Well, Miro, mas vale
saber que haber." With which bit Of
philosophy he showed Miro what a
westerner can do in the way Of q
shrug; and sauntered off.
Miro leaped after him in one noise
less bound, like cat. He seemed now
to be more afraid Of not revealing that
which he had been paid to say than OF
saying it. He spoke rapidly, In Span.
ish. II say only that which was told
to me. The words are not mine. They
say, Are you, friend Of Yancey era
vatY I say, Yes They say then,
Tell your friend Yancey Cravat that
wisdom is better than wealth. If he
does not keep his On mouth shut he
will de- The words are not NINE"
Thanks" replied Yancey, thought
fully; speaking in English now. Then
with one fine white hand he reached
out swiftly and gave Miro's scarlet
neckerchief quick strong jerk and
twist. The gesture was at once an
insult and threat. Tell them
Suddenly Yancey stopped. He opened
his mouth, and there issued from it 8
sound so dreadful, so unearthly as tc
freeze the blood Of any within hearing
It was sound between the gobble Of
an angry turkey cock and the howl Of
| coyote. Throughout the Southwest
it was known that this terrible sound
famed as the gobble, was Cherokee II
origin and death cry among the Ter
ritory Indians. 1t was known, too
that when an Indian gobbled it meant
sudden destruction to any or all in his
| path.
The Spaniard's face went a curious
dough gray. With whimper he ran
streak of purple and scarlet and
brown, round the corner of the near
| est shack, and vanished.
| Unfortunately, Yancey could not re
sist the temptation Of dilating t.
Sabra on this dramatic triumph. The
story was, furthermore, told in the
presence of Gin and Isaiah, and illus
trated- before Sabra could prevent i
with magnificent rendering Of thu
blood-curdling gobble. They wer'
seated at MONDAY dinner. Sabra'
fork, halfway to her mouth, fell clat
tering on her plate. Her face blanched
Her appetite was gone.
{To BE CoNTINUED.)
|