The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1941-06-12

ing-stick at the cattleman. Damn
quick. Before the boys talk this
over too much"
ST expect that's good medicine"
Terry admitted. "I'n be going pres
emily. What do you know about this
Hart killing? Is there any evidence
about who did it?"
Assassin unknown" Garvey
stopped talking In headlines and
banged a table excitedly with his
fist. "Goddlemighty, mani Don't
worry about who killed Hart, but
about who is going to kill Calhoun
Terry if you don't get jump on you.
Lee Hart is here, and bunch OF his
friends"
1--WE met them," Terry said. eve
passed the time of day. No tracks
left by the murderer, you say?"
mot far as know. Where's your
horse?"
You've heard no talk-no names
mentioned"
''No-except that the big fellows
hired it done as a warning. You
don't have to decide that now. Fork
your horse, Cal, and light out of
town"
Its not quite as bad as that, Hor-
ace," the ranch manager said. Lee
and his friends have said their little
piece for today, I reckon. But this
killing of Buck Hart disturbs me.
I'll not say he didn't have it COM
ing. He was a proven thief, even If
a rustler's court and jury did turn
him loose. But it's bad medicine
Just the same. I don't know who
did it. He was a bully, and plenty
of people would have liked to see
him dead. The point is that the big
ranches will be blamed for this.
Trouble will come of it."
They'll be rightly blamed, in my
opinion" Garvey said tartly. "But
no use going into that. You know
where the Gazette stands In this
controversy between the settlers and
the big cattlemen. It's for the peo-
| ple" He brushed that aside with an
impatient gesture. I'm thinking
about you, Cal. You're too bull-head-
ed. Some low-down scoundrel will
get you from the brush one of these
days if you're not careful"
st don't think So" Terry replied
carelessly.
You're unpopular as the devil"
care you congratulating me on the
enemies have nader" the cowman
said, his smile scornful. "They are
a fine lot"
''Some of them are good men, and
you would know it if you were fair
minded"
"Read the riot act to me, Hor-
ace" Calhoun Terry put big
brown hand on the scrawny Shout
der of the editor. ''Say whatever
is in your mind"
The younger man knew that Gar
vey was his friend, and had been
ever since the day when Calhoun
had stepped with horsewhip be-
tween a hectoring rufhan and the
little editor.
A smile broke the hard lines Of
Terry's face and for the moment
showed it warm and friendly. "Pn
take your advice, oldtimer. I'm on
my way now"
The cowman waved a hand in
farewell and walked out of the build
ing. AS he crossed the courthouse
grounds he passed the county judge
just mounting the steps. They bowed
to each other, stif1y, without speak
ing. Judge Curtis had been elected
by the votes of the small settlers.
The allies of Terry called him a
rustler's judge. They meant that no
cow thief could be convicted in his
| court.
That the old days of the free open
range were passing forever Terry
knew. For decade and half the
cattleman had been king. His stock
had ranged the plains unhampered
| and had multiplied exceedingly. The
big ranches had paid good dividends
to the stockholders in Edinburgh,
London, or Boston. Then evil days
had fallen on the industry. The cat
tie boom had collapsed.
There were several reasons for
this. One'of them was bad manage
ment. Those in charge of some of
the large ranches had fallen into the
habit of living in Cheyenne or Den
yer and leaving the properties most
ly to the care of subordinates. In
order to show profits they had over
stocked the ranges and In some
cases sold too many cows and
calves. The grass was eaten short
| and the winter feed killed. More
over, as the country opened to set
Element nesters moved in and home
steaded the waterholes. There was
conflict between them and the cat
tie kings who had up to this time
possessed the land. As a result of
this, rustling greatly increased. It
was easy for small outfit on the
edge of a big one to increase its
holdings by branding calves of the
large concern. Year by year the
antagonism increased until it grew
very bitter. The great ranches were
doomed, the managers saw, unless
they could stop the stealing of their
stock and hold sufficient range to
feed the herds.
Calhoun Terry was particularly
hated by the smaller ranchmen be.
cause he had been one himself. That
was after he had ridden as a lad
for the Bottleneck Ranch. From his
father he had inherited a place In
a bend of the Buck River that bit
in and took great mouthful out of
the natural range of the Diamond
Reverse B. For several years he
had been leader of the little stock
man, an irritant thorn In the side
of the great ranch. A man of vision,