The Coolidge examiner., 1931-09-04

mOcbluS, meI Cne DlacK eyes, ana
the darker ones shifted. "Are you
at all familiar with the works of
SOcrateS-'SOcrates whom
well inspird the oracle pro-
nounced wiseSt of men'?"
Again Estevan Miro shrugged.
This time the gesture was eX-
quisitely complicated in it's mean
ing, even for a lOw-class Spaniard.
Slight embarrassment was in it,
some bewilderment, and a grain
the merest tleck-of something as
nearly approaching contempt as
was possible in him for a man
whom he feared.
"Yancey." said Pete Pitchlyn, de-
Iiberately, stick to your lawy'n'."
"Why?"
"AnybOdy's got the gift of CAB
like yOu have is wastin' their time
doin' anything else"
"Oh, wouldn't say that" Yam
cey replied. all modesty. Run
ming a newspaper keeps me in
touch with folks. | like it. Be
sides, the law isn't very remunera-
tive 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
newspaper has saved the editor the
trouble of ever again having TO
earn a 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 strange
ly pinched The eyes were inky
Sits. He was summoning all his
little bravado, pulling it out of his
inmost depths.
Il 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 slits looked at Yancey. Yam
cey 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 something, 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 a shrug; and
sauntered off.
Miro leaped after him in one
nOiseless bound, like q 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 Spanish. 81
say only that which was told to
me. The words are not mine.
They say, Are you a friend of
Yancey Cravat? say, Yes
They say then, Tell your friend
Yancey Cravat that wisdom is bet
ter than wealth. If he does not
keep his d-n mouth shut he will
die The words are not mine"
Thanks" replied Vance
thoughtfully, 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
a threat. Tell them" Sudden
ly Yancey stopped. He opened his
mouth, and there issued from it a
sound so dreadful, so unearthly as
to freeze the blood of any within
hearing. 1t was a sound between
the gobble of an angry turkey
cock and the howl of a coyote.
Throughout the Southwest it was
known that this terrible sound.
famed as the gobble, was Cherokee
in origin and a death cry among
the Territory Indians. 1t was
known, too, that when an Indian
gobbled it meant sudden destruc-
ton to any or all in his path.
The Spaniard's face went a curl
Gus dough gray. With a whimper
he ran, streak of purple and scar
let and brown, round the corner of
the nearest shack, and vanished.
Unfortunately, Yancey could not
resist the temptation of dilating to
Sabra on this dramatic triumph
The story was. Furthermore, told in
the presence of Cim and Isaiah,
and Observation-Disclosures Sabra could
prevent it-with magnificent rem
dering of the blOod-curdling COB
BILE. They were seated at nOoday
dinner. Sabra's fork, halfway to
her mouth. fell gathering on her
plate. Her face blanched. Her
appetite was gone.
1t was all like a nightmarish
game, she thought. The shooting,
the carousing, the brawls and high
alterations; the sounds of laugh
ter and ribaldry and drinking and
song that issued from the flimsy
cardboard false-front shacks that
lined the prepOsterOus street.
Steadfastly she refused to believe
that this was to be the accepted
order of their existence. Yancey
was always talking of a new code,
a new day; live and let live.
Sabra refused to believe that
this business of the Pegler shoot
ing was as serious as Yancey made
it out to be. 1t was just one of his
whims. He would, she told herself,
publish something or other about it
in the first edition of the Oklahoma
Wigwam. Yancey stOutly main
tanned it was due off the press on
Thursday. Privately, Sabra thought
that this would have to be accom-
plished by a miracle. This was