The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1942-07-09

tire. He crouched here, drinking
down two hot strong cups of coffee
without delay, before touching the
solid food. The mark of the long
ride was on him and on the big
Jaded horse, and Morgan knew that
the crew, sprawled idly under the
sun, saw all this and were making
their guesses. A man on the run,
they would be thinking. He finished
his meal and tapered a cigarette
and lay back on the ground, propped
up by an elbow. This food hit him
like a shot of whisky. 1t took the
heaviness out of his muscles, it
made him cheerful. But he was
increasingly pushed by the sense of
wasting time. He said: (Which way
to Sage City,"
The wagon boss drawled: There's
trail about five miles over yonder.
Keep on it. I hear old man Lowry
amt in good health"
Morgan thought about that. The
brand on the big white horse was
Running L. Maybe that was what
the puncher was talking about.
He said: Never met him. I've
been on the trail since last night at
nine o'clock, from War Pass. I
swapped horses at Crooked River,
! and roped this one off the grass
lands. What need is a fresh horse
for the ride into Sage City. I'll be
back this way day after tomorrow.
mot bad ride" said the wagon
boss idly, and let the silence come
| on.
The wagon boss had made up his
mind. He said: mo, not bad ride
at all. Take that strawberry"
Morgan rose at once. His upper
legs had gone stiff; he stamped his
feet on the ground and limped over
to the white horse. He put his gear
on the strawberry and hit the sad
die.
At three thirty, with eighteen
| hours of steady riding behind him,
he came upon main break in the
/ road. One fork led into the south
east, the other swung toward the
north. 1t was now within half
hour of the land office deadline;
paused at this junction, scanning
the forward haze with an anxious
eye, he made out no kind of a blur
on the horizon. This land ran
straight into the cloudy mists, fiat
as a board. A few fresh prints
showed either road; they were
alike, these roads, as to the wear
and tear of usage, and nothing gave
him a hunch except that the north
ern fork seemed to head more near
ly toward the spot he thought Sage
City ought to be.
And so he took 1T, but two miles
later this road brought up before
the burnt ruin of a ranch house.
He wheeled around, backtracked
to the junction and followed the 9TH
er route. Wagon tracks came from
the desert and dropped into the
road, a wavering wheel-and-hoof
pattern coming out of nowhere and
leading apparently nowhere. 1t was
then four o'clock and he thought he
had lost his race. Twenty minutes
later the desert marched to a rim
that fell downward three hundred
feet into a valley. The road de-
scended sharp grade. At the bot
tom of the grade, straddling the sill
yer streak of shallow river, lay
Sage City, its gray housetops and
dusty streets making toy town s
pattern from this elevation. He SET
the tiring pony into it's last run,
came down the grade and crossed a
wooden bridge. He saw the half.
empty street, the false-fronted build.
ings and the once-white spire of a
courthouse sitting athwart the far
end of the street. When he reached
the courthouse and stepped down, a
pair of men came out of the door.
Morgan said: Land office ir
there?"
They nodded. He passed into a
shadowed hall, heard voices through
half-closed doorway, and pushed
that door before him. There was q
man standing by desk; this man
was saying: "Seventy-eight hun
dred. That's the bid. Another bid,
gentlemen? Another bid?"
There were only four other men
in the room. One of them, standing
by the rooms side-wall with his
face turned from Morgan at the mo-
ment, was Charley Hillhouse.
Charley Hillhouse said: Eight
thousand" and came about and dis.
covered Morgan.
ITO BE CONTINUED)