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

the stable wall, wide of their mark.
Mems boots pounded down the Odd
Fellows stairway; somewhere a
woman screamed. Breathitt was on
his horse, racing along the Burnt
Ranch road, when, looking back, he
saw four Herendeen men rush from
the side of the courthouse. McGeen
was in front of him, but fading back
from Breathitt's fire, into the shall
low alleyway beside the bank. Low
bent, Breathitt went by him, pound
ing the pony with his spurs. There
was short following fire and after
wards, in the safe darkness beyond
town, Breathitt's Indian yell sailed
up. He was a fugitive then, and
knew it; and this was his way of
telling them so.
Morgan took the desert road as
soon as he left War Pass, heading
northeast into the open flats.
At midnight, from summit point
he looked down upon the breaks of
the Crooked River, whose rounded
peaks and shale pinnacles and bare
ravines lay tangled and disheveled
in the moonlight From this eleva-
ton he saw one lone light buried in
far pocket, which was the location
of Vane Walrad's ranch, and went
downgrade into the river canyon.
Beyond one in the morning, he
sighted close row of poplar trees
beyond the stream. He passed over
a swaying cable bridge, the geld
ing's feet booming up enormous ech-
oes from the planking. Before he
saw the house definitely he began
calling: Hello there-hello, Wal
radi"
There was a yard behind the pop
lars and the blurred skeletal outline
of corrals and wagons and hayracks,
and house almost hidden by the
trees. A door slammed. He passed
through the poplars to reach front
porch, and held his seat here until
Walrad's voice came at him, sleepy
and uncharitable. well, who is it?"
"Clay Morgan. I'm riding straight
through to Sage City, Vane. My
horse is going bad"
''Morgan?" said the man, and
was still. Morgan heard a pair of
horses stirring in the adjoining cor
raj. One of them softly whinnied,
and then the rancher said with a re-
viving cordiality, "Sure, Clay"
''I'll be back to pick up my horse
in two days"
Moonlight put silver, phosphor-
escent glow to the roads dust.
Pulling in for a walk, Morgan
looked at his watch and found it to
be half-past two; one hour later with
the moonlight changing and day not
far away, he knew his horse was
done. Nor could he see the shadow
of ranch or house ahead. He let
the pony drop to a walk and in this
time-eating way covered the next
half-hour. The road climbed to a
long roll of land, tipped over the
crest and point into shallow mead
ow, through which creek ran with
pale glowing. There was box
elder grove here. Coming to the
water he let his horse drink; and
heard rustling in the low tree
branches. A tall white horse, fol-
lowed by three others, came out of
the covert and stopped.
He roped the white horse, saddled
it, and left his worn out pony to
Craze.
Ten hours out of War Pass found
him threading the pine timber. Here
and there a woodcutter's road led
away, and occasionally he saw cat
tie grazing.
At noon the country changed
again, the pines dropping behind
and a canyon taking him down a
rocky draw. Shortly thereafter a
desert of scab rock and sage, smoky
with falls heat and falls distant
brush fires, unrolled before him.
Nowhere did he see break-either
the shape of a ranch, or town, or
a moving object. He had his mo-
ment of tremendous disappoint-
ment; and then, completely clear
ing the canyon, he discovered, on his
right, chuck wagon and a half
dozen riders seated around it.
He pulled over at once, but re-
mained in the saddle until the wag-
on boss said: "Get off and pitch in.
He stepped stiffly from the saddle,
found a tin plate and cup at the
tail gate of the chuck wagon and
helped himself to the pan of short
ribs and Dutch-oven bread by the
-seses,s