Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1936-01-31

Ken's moccasined feet, gay with
blue and white bead work, braced
themselves apart as, long barreled
Colt in hand, he waited for an Indian
to expose himself.
But the Apache intended to be wary,
it seemed. Perhaps some war-wise
veteran among them realized that the
five buffalo hunters-professio
shots each one-would undoubtedly
exact a formidable toll of casualties
before they parted company with their
weapons and scalps.
At any rate, only four young braves
more daring or ill-advising than their
fellows, darted from behind their
rocks and yelled to their companions
to follow. But as the leaders were
promptly tumbled on to the earth
with warm lead slugs impeding the
action of their savage hearts, no more
Apaches appeared.
Reckon we're too much of mouth
full" grinned the young man in the
cavalry hat when the attack died
away. "Your ugly mug scared 'em
off, Yank."
"Well, may be damned" growled
Brownell as he methodically reloaded
his gun, whats got into these here
Injuns? The peace was only signed
three months ago."
Somebody's shore stirrin' 'em up"
growled Yank, land I'd like to git my
claws on him."
"Say," grunted Brownell, anybody
want them skelps?"
"Bet yer life want one" Yank re-
piled, his Indian-like features set in
a tight grin. "Back in Trinidad you
can sell them skelps to tenderfeet
from the Feast for twenty bucks each.
o. K. to lift the ha'r, Chief?"
Ken, true son of the West and &C.
customed to it's cruel usages, briefly
inclined his head. go to it, boys,
they'd have had yours-Me? No,
thanks, not interested. Reckon got
soft while I was fightin' the Rebs."
Less than ten minutes later the
hunters had marshalled into columns
again their herd of solemn faced bur-
ros and, after careful accommodating
of the early morning countryside,
moved off again toward Novedad-
that riotous, drunken shanty and tent
town which for the present was the
headquarters of the A. K. & N. rail-
road Builders.
Leaving his four hunters to dis
cuss the recent skirmish, the man in
the cavalry hat spurred on ahead,
cheered with the thought of food 9TH
er than hastily cooked buffalo chops
and unleavened bean bread. Accord
ingly, when the sun glowed on his
fringed buckskin shirt he raised his
voice in a succession of those lugub-
rious songs which are so favored of
the westener.
Having tunefully buried divers cow
boys according to wish; one with a
bottle of booze at his head and feet,
another 'On the lone pra-rie,' and a
third Beneath the weeping willer
trees, Ken, with his blue eyes ever
sweeping the horizon, spurred ahead
to reconnoitre one of the last ridges
which barred Novedad from sight.
His voice, naturally rich and power
full, was, for the benefit of high
soaring buzzard, chanting the last cpl
sodes of the tragic adventures Of
| FRANKIE and Johnnie
Judge said 1 shot him in the third
degree,
He was my
Precisely then the golden bay stall
lion he bestrode reached the crest of
the ridge and his song stopped very
abruptly. Looking up at him with a
curiously pleasing smile was girl.
Gle was your WHAT" she inquired.
"Please go on, like it,"
Ken grinned and, riding off the
skyline-no westerner stays there
longer than necessary-continued:
He was her man but he done her
wrong and that's the sad truth"
"Would he do me wrong?" she in
quired sweetly.
"No, ma'am, I expect not" When
he saw her at closer range Ken's as
surance momentarily deserted him.
She was riding pretty little Nor
gan mare and was regarding him with
the widest pair of blue-black eyes he
had ever beheld, but it did not escape
him that small gloved hand rested
on the ivory butt of a revolver strap
ped about her slender waist.
"Do you always sing in the morn
ing?" she inquired with a derisive
smile curving lips that were like the
poinsettia blossoms that bloom in old
Mexico.