The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1935-08-01
CHAPTER VIII-Continued

The murmur Of jeans voice within
the house had ceased; he heard the
faint stir of the door as she came into
the room. He stood up, overwhelmed
with such pity for this ill-situated girl
that he was the victim of an unac-
customed timidity. She came close to
him and her hand touched his arm.
THAT shadow was a misdeal," he
whispered. There isn't anybody in
that shadow. l don't believe there's
anybody out there any more" She
said, "Oh."
He felt infinitely gentle toward her,
and compassionate. Presently he
knew that he would have TO ask her
why that gun was concealed in her
mattress. He was unable to ask her
yet. what was the phone call?' he
asked.
THAT was for you," she told him.
1t was Mark Ferris, that gunsmith at
Waterman. He's still trying to trace
lack Sanders gun for you"
Eyes? Quick! What did he say?"
ale said" Jean was shivering so
the chattering of her teeth.
''Wait q minute" Kentucky picked
her up, sweeping her off her feet with
an arm under her knees, and laid her
on the open bed; then pulled the blan-
kets over her, and pressed the edges
close about her throat. Now go on"
he said.
He said that he has a record of
such a gun. He sold it secondhand
about year ago."
in G-d's name, woman, who did
he sell it to-"
ITO Joe st. Marie"
For perhaps half a moment Ken
lucky Jones was completely still. Then
he sucked in a deep breath and began
to swear through his teeth with the
vicious information of a man who puts
his whole heart into it. He had sud.
denly become aware that he had per-
haps put off the formation of one
theory for a little bit too long.
Suddenly he whirled to the window,
crOuched low to avoid the sash, and
vaulted the sill. He heard Jean speak
his name behind him, but he was racing
for the bunk house. A match was al
ready in his hand as he thrust open
the door; he struck it on the logs and
with quick efficient motions lighted one
of the hanging lamps.
"St. Marie" he said aloud.
Joe st. Marie's bunk was empty.
Kentucky swore again, blew out the
light, and left the bunk house on the
dead run. He headed now for the cor
raj nearest the pump house, and sprang
half way up the corral fence.
The half dozen horses in the corral
were huddled together near the empty
feed box. The ponies moved and shift
ed, but by the time he had counted them
Kentucky knew which horse was gone.
This information only verified, how
ever, what Kentucky had already
guessed. Joe st. Marie, leaving stealth
lily, as Kentucky now knew Jean had
seen him leave, was certain to take the
best-conditioned horse upon the place,
in this case raw-boned claybank.
Kentucky leaned against the fence and
pressed the palms Of his hands against
his eyes. He was picturing to himself
the lay of the country, and the probable
intricacies of Joe ST. Marie's mind.
Immediately he came to a conclusion
which he had not reason to be certain
was sound, but which was the best he
could form from what information he
had.
Once more he drove through the clog
ging snow at the run, this time to the
house; here he got his hat and his coat,
his gloves and his spurs. After that
he went to the stable, and put loop
upon the pony which he believed would
come the nearest to matching the clay
banks performance tonight-a why,
almost understood steel-dust pony,
strong with the markings of Indian
blood. Kentucky had the blanket on
and was swinging his fifty-pound sad
die aboard by the horn as Jean, COM
ing out from the house, reached his
side.
"What-where are you going? What's
happened"
A sudden crazy anger came into Ken
lucky, like stroke of white lightning
At its impact all the compassion, all
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