White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1936-12-24
Patterns Of Wo|fpen g =: : *::::::
BY Harlan Hatcher
Copyright by the Bobbs- Merrill Co.
WNU Service


the sleet freezing enamel on the
pear tree, the sun cracking 1t and
dropping it to the ground, brought
in February.
In Dry Creek more and ever more
logs were piling up, and the rough
men were getting more FESTIVE In
the loins and irritable with one an
other in the long isolation from a
town with good drink and women.
Cynthia could know little about
them, but Spared was concerned.
He mentioned it to Shellenberger
who dismissed it with word. Spar
rel said no more, except to him
self. "a body hates to see that kind
Of life in here but it's just the men
he brought up from down the river.
I don't reckon little drinking will
hurt any man, except it's encourag-
ing some pretty bad characters to
make it. I'd hate like anything to
see Cannon Greek get a bad name
from it. Things are bad enough
down below where they come from,
killings and then more killings if
somebody witnesses against them
in court. These .feuds already give
black name to lot bigger coun-
| try than has title to it. I wouldn't
want any of that around here even
| on Shellenberger's land. Maybe it'll
be all right and I'm just touchy
about things
While he was pretending to him
self tina. everything was all right,
F! it went abruptly awry. Spared him
self was in the blacksmith shop at
the camp when it occurred. The
men came down from the woods
with the tools to be sharpened.
They were rough-looking laborer
type Of men. White liquor was
| heavy on their breath and red in
some of their eyes. 4. ~
The trouble between Ike Dallow
and Jack Caher had begun in rough
humor when Ike said that Jack had
been cutting timber for three
months and still didn't know which
way a tree was going to fall and
would have got his fool self killed
long ago if somebody didn't always
pull him out of the way. The men,
glad of words to break. the silence
and isolation, laughed; their laugh
ter inspired Ike to- keep it up, elab-
crate it, and go on batting Jack.
Then Jack Caher lost the humor OF
it feeling himself in ridicule out of
the usual good-natured butt, and
showed resentment. Ike Dallow
couldn't very we'll stop without
seeming to back down.. So they car
ried on through the drink they had
behind pile Of brush and down to
the shop. Spared tried to quiet
them, but they were too excited
now to listen to him. They grew
more boisterous, drawing others into
the batting.
"That's about enough now, Ike"
Jack Caher said.
"Listen to the little rat-eared
poodle" Ike said. Enough what?
Then Jack lunged at Ike and hit
him under the eye. Jack stumbled
as he swung, and was carried to his
knees past Ike Dallow and against
the bellows by the forge. In the
flash of blind anger, Ike seized a
cant-hook, swung it over his shout
der, and before Jack could recover
his feet he brought it down with
crushing force on his neck and
shoulders. Had the hook not caught
in the bellows, the blow would have
slain Jack Caher outright and in
stantly. He crumpled with a cry
and groan, his bleeding head push
ing into the soft leather OF the bel
lows. causing the smoldering forge
to throw up shower of sparks.
It was all too quick for anybody
to intervene; the sudden flash of
the long smoldering antecedents.
Ike Dallow stood for a moment