Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1936-07-10

me.
I'm not rhinkin' anything of the
Sort" was the angry reply. 'Mebbe
we can get together On somethin.,
pretty quick what'll be a payin'
proposition for both of u.s."
'Bueno. l think yuh're tellin' the
truth for once in yore Life. Me for
the blankets"
Later Silas Spelle sat again in his
office thinking. But now the baf-
fled, thwarted look about him was
gone. He was smiling slightly. The
answer to his problem concerning
Ed Starbuck was at hand.
Old San JUAN Jim Delevan sat
in his invalid's chair on the wide
veranda of the Box D ranchhouse
and stared down the slope to where
a herd of Hereford cattle were mil
ling and believing about the eight
big troughs set out in the rolling
meadow beyond the barns and cor
rails below. The troughs were kept
filled with water piped from the
reservoir which lay beyond the dam
in the ravine which cut in on one
edge of the slope a hundred yards
above the ranchhouse. Still higher
up lay the pine ridged crest of the
San Juan Plateau, that great, YER
dant tableland which Delevan con-
trolled and which had been the
source of Delevan's nickname.
At Delevan's elbow lay a pair of
powerful binoculars. For the past
three hours he had used the glasses,
watching the slow, weary progress
of the herd as it had wound up out
of the terrible red, gulf of the
Kanab Desert, which lay beneath
the San Juan Plateau on the south
west, spreading out through a SHIN
mering, blazing inferno to where,
far on the horizon, reared the vol
canic crown of the Vermilion
Cliffs.
San Juan Delevan had been a big
man, but since the accident two|
months previous the flesh had vast
ed from his craggy frame until to|
look at him was to liken him to a
gnarled old oak tree. His
face was square hewn, and harsh
IS granite, his mouth grinl-his
Jaw jutting. He stirred restlessly.
The odor of sweat and dust rising
from the cautle came strong to his
nostrils. He was hungry to be a.
mong them; to hear the creak of
tendon and ciack of hoof as they
moved about; to note their hard
Won content about the watering
troughs more closely. For San
Juan Delevan loved cattle. Sturdy
breed that they were, he knew de-
sert travel was hard on the heavy,
bulky Herefords and it did his
heart good to see. them shaking
parched, dust coated throats at the
troughs filled with the sweet,
sparkling water of the plateau.
But there was a furrow of worry
between his keen eyes. He turned
to a slender, dark-haired girl sitting
beside him.
Honey, make a count of those
cattle,' he asked. Don't look to
me like they's six hundred haid
there"
Ronella Delevan, "Ronny" for
short, laid down a bit of lack en-
broidery and irected her calm,
clear eyes at the cattle. Brown eyes
those were, fringed with long cur
ling lahes. Below them was a,
straight, tip-titled nose, bewitch-
ingly freckled. Her mouth was
made for laughter but in repose
there was a hunt of brooding tend
erness about it. Her chin was
rounded but firm. She wore a cool,
dainty, but serviceable Bingham
dress. There were no frills about
Ronny Delevan. She didn't need
them.
After a moment she looked at
her father gravely.
mo dad, there isn't. I doubt if
there is more than five hundred
"Humph," grunted Delevan
gruffly. "That means Wade had
trouble crossing the desert. Rustlers
again, I'll wager. Why in hell
don't the man report? What's he
waiting FORE"
AS though in answer a thin man
] with a dark saturnine face left the
group of punchers and climbed