Hungry Horse news and Columbian. [volume] (Columbia Falls, Mont.) 1946-1948, 1947-05-30

man tobacco farm. He rode a Dor
rowed pinto that gave promise of being
as fleet as Ell Caballero Rojo's gallant
blue roam. He wore two Colts, and
in the saddle holster reposed a Win
chester.
Yet he knew that he was not armed
with the all-important weapon of cour-
age. He dared not meet his quarry
face to face and attempt to shoot it
out. So he itched for a chance to
shoot Ell Caballero Rojo in the back
under cover of night.
The silence Knocked him as he
strained eyes and ears. Twice, and
again, he mopped the cold sweat from
his forehead, trying to force himself to
believe that what he intended to do
was easy, and the reward sufficient to
take any chances for
At last he tensed, his head cooked to
one side, his heart pounding. He
heard the sound of grazing animal.
He located a mount, saddled, bridled
and ground-hitched. The saddle-skirts
were decorated with metal studs that
suggested Old Mexico.
'That Burr Aldman told Mr.. Bartle
about visit he'd had from Mexican
peon |" Weber unused. "Must be the
same-but why is he prowling so close
to the Aldman house again, and afoot?"
He dismounted, led his horse behind
a shaft of rock and began to inch to-
ward the house. Fear inspired him to
move with such super-caution that it
seemed hours before he reached the
house and looked through a window
into a dark room. The door to the
adjoining room was open-and framed
in the rectangle of light stood Ell
Caballero Rojo!
Once in any mans life luck may
smile on him so broadly that his brain
is paralyzed momentarily by his good
fortune. For that moment in his own
life Clark Weber crouched spellbound.
Then both his hands sagged to the cold
butts of his Colts and he began to lift
the heavy weapons. AS suddenly he
let them drop, as spasm of terror
sped along his tingling nerves.
Behind him sounded the soft pad
of cautious feet.
The strange Mexican! Panic
clutched Weber's throat. Was this
Mexican by any chance in cahoots with
Ell Caballero Rojo? From everything
Weber had been able to learn the red
headed avenger was a lone wolf. But
now it certainly was true that a
strange Mexican was on guard outside
the Aldman home, while the outlaw
was inside.
The Mexican's footsteps were NOV
ing closer and closer. Chills did a
hornpipe down Webers spine. He did
not even dare fire toward those creep
ing footsteps, for he was recalling, only
too well, how Ell Caballero Rojo could
move like pronged lightning and shoot
straighter than warriors arrow.
In the next split second Clark Weber
decided where his one chance to side
step his grave lay. He tried to run
silently, but broke into reckless flight
when he heard an angry sound behind
him.
Painting, he reached his horse and
flung himself into saddle.
He dug his heels into his horse with
out mercy, expecting any moment to
hear the ming of a bullet With his
slight lead, fast horse, and the inky
night, if he could hold out another
mile! To a spot he had noticed when
on patrol
And he did. There he flung himself
from saddle. Even as he rolled in dust
and stones he dragged out both Colts,
then climbed up the side of a rock
where centuries of storm and erosion
had carved many toeholds. He heard
the beat of his own horses hoofs as
it ran on, riderless.
He waited, guns cooked and ready.
"If l can get him here" Weber
painted, 81 can get Ell Cabalero Rojo
III a spot where l can pick him off as
| would blind crow"
Clark Weber did not have long to
crouch on the rock where the trail was
narrow. Juanita came, wildly chasing
the riderless horse. And the moment
she was opposite him, Weber leaped as
a mountain lion leaps on the back of
fat calf