The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1948-11-11
Law of the Tribe
By BURTON FORESTER
Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Features.

along the creek, and the flies
buzzed and bit. There was no per-
ceptible breeze in the still, hot air,
but the leaves on the aspens quiv-
cred. The Kid didn't notice them,
however; or the heat, or the flies.
He was staring with Mortified eyes
at the scene before him. the circle
of wigwams, the fat pinto ponies
grazing and switching their tails
lazily in the shade, the group of
silent bucks gathered before the or
nate tent of the chief.
The Kid stopped his scared pant
ing in the middle of a breath; it
seemed that the Indians fifty yards
away must hear him. It didn't
seem possible such a thing could be
taking place in this, the twentieth
century, but there it was. The chief
was speaking. The Kid strained his
ears to hear.
you cheatum in rock game, at
shutdown you lose scalp. So are the
laws of my tribe
Old Barrister, Barrie as the Kid
had known him, his white shock of
hair exposed to the heat of the sink
ing sun, was held by two brawny
bucks. Old Barrie, who had been
the Kids boon companion in the
few months since BE had come from
the East, green as grass and not
dry behind the ears" as the boys
said, had been his constant teacher
and guide in the strange ways and
trails of the West.
The Kid cursed silently because
the boys wouldn't let him carry a
siX-shooter. Maybe they'd let him
now, he thought savagely as he
crawled as quietly as possible back
to his horse. If he had a gun there
was a long chance he could save
Old Barrie's scalp, but now all he
could do was ride for help.
Old Crowbait stood with lowered
head, too lazy even to switch at the
flies. The Kid made the saddle in
one leap and thumped the fat ribs
with his heels. He couldn't spur
desperately, as the books said, be-
cause he hadn't even been promot-
ed to wearing spurs. Maybe they'd
admit he was man now.
Startled, old Crowbait raised his
head and gradually achieved a stiff
legged gallop. The Kid tried to re-
member what the cowboys would
have said on such an occasion.
The sun was just touching the
western rim of the desert as old
CroWbait staggered up to the bunk
house where the boys were loung-
ing and rolling before-supper ciga-
retteS.
Quick Old Barrie's losing his
scalp" the Kid shouted.
Curly ran his tongue along the
edge Of the neat cylinder and looked
up at the Kid. rs that old repro
bate in another poker game? If
yuh ask me, it's the guys fool enough
to play with him who'd better be
hangin' on to their scalps."
Fot tears of anger stung the Kids
eyes. You darned fool, I mean it!
He cheated the Indians in a rock
game and the chief said they'd
scalp him at sundown!"
The completed cigarette fell from
Curly's numbed fingers. BY gosh,
that's right! They catch yuh cheat
in at that and they'll scalp yuh
sure."
But" the Kid almost sobbed,
hes played with them lots and
they know they have to watch him.
They won't really kill him for that,
will they?"
Curley fshed for a match auto
matically to light the cigarette he
had unknowingly dropped. 81 dun
no. They're sticklers for tradition,
and they'll take his scalp. It's Just
too bad if he happens to die be-
cause of it,
cav, I dunno" Doubtful Dan put
in. That old lawyer could talk
his way out of anything!" But he
was by no means the last in the
rush for horses.
The dusk was deepening swiftly
when they swept into camp. No one
was in sight except the old chief.
squatting before his tent, from
which issued excited voices.
Curly hit the ground running and
showed his gun under the chief s
nose. where's Barrier" he de-
manded with sort of icy calm.
The Kids Mortified eyes rested on
something dangling from the pole
above the chiefs head. A some
thing that swayed gently in the
night breeze. Nausea almost
claimed him as the realization
came that this had been Old Bar
rie's scalp.
The chiefs leathery face was in
scrutable as he jerked a thumb over
his shoulder toward the interior of
the big wigwam and answered
In there"
A dozen guns in the hands of the
cowboys covered the chief as Curly
jerked aside the flap and looked.
Looked and then doubled up in 81
lent mirth.
Without thought of danger the Kid
leaped from the saddle and tore
open the flap. A rock game was
in progress, the Indians attempting
to guess who, in the double line,
held the tiny pebble in closed hands.
At the far end sat Old Barrie, but
gone was his imposing shock of
white hair Old Barrie was as bald
as a boulder.
Seeing the Kid, he looked up and