White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1931-07-16
CHAPTER III-Continued
D.

IN chairs tilted up against the wall or
standing about in high-heeled boots
and sombreros greeted Yancey now
with a familiarity that astonished
Sabra. "Howdy, Gin! Hello, Yam
cey!"
"He called you CHM"
He ignored her surprised remark.
Narrowly he was watching them as
he passed. "Boys are up to something
If they try to get funny while you're
here with me"
Sabra, glancing at the group from
beneath her shielding hat brim, did
see that they were behaving much
like a lot Of snickering schoolboys
who are preparing to let fly bonn
bardment of snowballs, an air of
secret mischief afoot.
"Why are they-what do you think
makes them" Sabra began, trifle
nervously.
II can't say for sure. But I sus-
dirt"
"Pegler? Who is-oh, isn't that the
mantle editor-the one who was
found dead-shot dead on the banks
of the Yancey! Do you mean they
did itP'
II don't say they did it-exactly.
They know more than Is comfortable,
even for these parts. was inquiring
around last night, and everybody shut
up like clam. I'm going to find out
who killed Pegler and print it in the
first number Of the Oklahoma Wig
wam."
"Oh, Yancey! Yancey, I'm fright
ened" She chung tighter to his arm.
The grinning mirthless faces of the
men on the saloon porch seemed to
her like the fanged and snarling muz-
zles Of wolves in pack.
Nothing to be frightened of, honey.
They know me. I'm no Pegler they
can scare. They don't like my white
hat, that's the truth Of it. Dared me
last night down at the Sunny South
west saloon to wear 1t this morning
Just to try me out. They won't have
the CUTS to come out in the open"
The sentence never was finished.
Sabra heard a curious buzzing sound
past her ear. Something sang-zing!
Yancey's white sombrero went spin
ming into the dust Of the road.
Sabra's mouth opened as though
she were screaming, but the sounds
she would have made emerged, feebly,
as croak.
"Stay where you are" Yancey or
hfu unino tEChn
dirty dogs" She stood transixed.
She could not have run If she had
wanted to. Yancey strolled leisurely
over to where the white hat lay in
the dust. He stopped carelessly, his
back to the crowd on the saloon
porch, picked up the hat, surveyed
it. and reached toward his pocket for
his handkerchief. At that movement
there was rush and scramble on
the porch. Tilted chairs leaped for
ward, heels clattered, door slammed.
OF the group only three men remained.
One of these leaned insolently against
q porch post, second stood warily
behind him, and a third was edging
prudently toward the closed door.
4ACAS was AOLAiAuS W AhulSolC WIZ
had fired the shot that had sent Yam.
cey's hat spinning.
Yancey, now half turned toward
them, had taken his fine white hand
kerchief from his pocket had shaken
out it's ample folds with gesture Of
elegant leisure and, hat in hand was
Ticking the dust from his headgear.
~ %ho Lo%
ically, seemed to find it little the worse
for it's experience unless, perhaps, one
excerpts the two neat round holes that
were drilled, back and front, through
the peak Of it's crown. He now placed
1t on his head again with gesture al
most languid, tossed the fine handker-
chief into the road, and with almost
the same gesture, or with another so
lightning quick that Sabra's eye never
followed it, his hand went to his hip.
There was the crack Of shot. The
man who was edging toward the door
clapped his hand to his ear and
brought his hand away and looked
at it, and it was darkly smeared.
Yancey still stood in the road his
hand at his thigh, one slim foot, in it's
fine high-heeled Texas star boot, ad-
vanced carelessly. His great head
was lowered menacingly. His eyes,
steel gray beneath the brim Of the
white sombrero, looked as Sabra had
never seen them look. They were ter
rible eyes, merciless, cold, hypnotic.
"a three-cornered piece, you'll find
It, Lon. The Cravat sheep brand"
"Can't you take joke, Yancey?"
whined one of the three, his eyes on
Yancey's gun hand.
"Joke-h-l!" snarled the man who
had been nicked. His hand was