The Clinton chronicle. (Clinton, S.C.) 1901-current, August 03, 1933, Image 11
TPURSDAY, AUGUST 3, 1933
[E CLINTON aiRONICLE. CLINTON, S. C.
tAGE ELEVEN
nn
.^r
T
SECOND INSTAI.LMENT
Synu{>sis; Ruth Warren, living in
the Fast, comes into possession ofj
three-(i’j.ar‘er interest in an Arizona j
ranch, left to her in-the v» ii 'of herj
only orot’ner, reported to have diedj
while on business in Mexico. With her j
ailing hu-band and «small child, sl^ej
goes to Ajizona to take possession,
thinking the climate may prove bene
ficial to her husband’s weakened {
lungs. .A'! riving at the nearest town. i
she learns that the ranch, ‘‘Dead Lan
tern.” IS S.’) miles across the
Charley Thane, old rancher
mail carneiv agrees to take them to
“Dead I.antern” gate.
Now Go On With the Story.
some
to do
one
on a
who knovws
^ ^
around
ranch.” ^
j ‘‘Well, yes—I expect it will."
j Nearly tvVo hou^-s after they had
' passed through the range of low
mountains and had turned southward,
j a wire fenl^-came down from the
, mountains om the western side of the
jvai.oy,
! ‘‘Taat’s the Dead I.antern fence,”
said Old Charley noncommittally,
j “There’s twenty thousand acres of the
W ■Ji ■Wi
other personal things, everybody knew j have
it was Harry. Snavely was notified ■ what
and he seen the Mexican and told all
he knew about it, which is about what
I told you.”
“W as there anything to show 4vhat
caused Harry’s death?”
‘‘Nothin’ exact. The Mexican said it
looked like he’d been thrown from his
horse and draggeil—'but it’s hard to
tell,”
“Was—Harry buried?”
■‘Yes, the Mexican did that and he»Oead Lantern, feed enough to run two
desert.' marked the grave. He told them at the ’ thousand head, the land’s all fenced,
and rural! next rancho he come to about where there’s heaps of browse up in the
to find the grave and all.”
The girl’s eye.s filled. ‘‘That was
kind, ’ she murmured.
‘‘I expect Will told vou it wouldn’t
hardly he possible to have the body
brought over the line?”
“Yos. And I’d rather liiave things
not a si und —not a sound — it’s tooi^hc vay .hey are—I’m the only! one
i you! -It’s fini.shed_
living tHing! It’s too ’from the Dead Lantern home ranch
Old CiiaHey changt'd the subject. | to my place, that make.s it about stX!
‘‘Are vou folks plannin’ on stayin’ a inilvs.”
spell?”
“Yes—I simpose so.” tshe answered
.slowly, with a nervous glance at the
gaunt range of mountains thev wouhl
hills.”
“How
acres ?”
big
twenty thousand
commarided, the girl sud-
“Li.s* -n!’
denly. Her face was white, tense with
dread, aj’.J her lip quivered. “Oh, Ken
neth!” she cried hysterically. “There’s
not a sound — il\s too'
ing mo .er-, not
b-brg!” - ••
Old ( barley put down his sandwich
and stepping on the starter, kicked
open the muffler. .Ancient Ixna broke
into un unsteady roar. To give color
to his ac’ion the old man got out of
the car, threw back the hood, and
stood stating skeptically within.
in the hack seat the husband and
wife weiv locked in each other’s arms.
Little Da\id watched them with sol
emn eye-, not quite sure of his proj)et
course. “It’ll he all right^ dear,” the
man’s voice came to her inf^a" strained
whisi>er above the grateful noise of
the car. “Age’ll jii.st ’ have to stick it
out — you’ll get useil to it — all—”
Again the thing in his chest began to
flutter madly.
* * . * *. .
“Sizeable. The skyline of those
mountains js the western bound’ry; to
the south where that ridge runs ,out
into the valley is the southern line.
My place is ’round on the other side
of that riilge—’bout twenty miles by
hit- road. But there’s u trail over the ridge
^ ’from
To Old Charl^:’s_
young w<^'man sat be,*<ide
surprise
the
him for tbe
rest of l!ie afternoon. Her manner had
changed. Silently, she looked aiiout
her. Th'ie was no pleasurable inter
est in her face as her eye studied each
detail ol her surroundings it was us
though 'he felt it incumbent upon her
to understand this strange country.
Aftrcr half an (hour
questious;
“Will we see any
“We pas'ed one an hour l>ack.”
“That man on the horse? He didn’t
look like a cowboy. Oh. But don’t they
wear those - those fur rug things on ___
their leg' and high-heel hoots and higi.soon the
and revolvers—forty-fives?” jthere?” ‘ '
‘Hair eiuvps are all right on a fash-, “It’s quite a jiiece yet—we’ve only
plate cowboy, or in a cold coun-; about forty-five miles. We ♦
.she began to ask
cowboys today?”
“Why
in the world is the ranch called
the Dead I.antern?”
hats
entering. ‘‘.Aren’t we nearly
".And all that land from here to the
mountain tojis belongs to the Dead
Lantern?”
"Ye.s. .And thei'e’s a heap more of it
~!you can’t see tuckeil away in them!
canyons. If you followed the line fence j
! on horseback it would take you about |
I fiuir days to ride 'round the ranch.” j
j “No wonder it can hold two thou-'
I sand cows! What dp cattle sell for*
i apiece 1 mean how much a head?” '
j “Forfy to fifty dollars lately.” 1
I She made a tjuick calculation. ”My|
'heavens! (’oud we gel a hundred j
j thousand dollars for the cattle?” j
I Old ('barley smiled. “It’s, not quite!
I as simple as all that,” he remarkeii,
- I gravidy as he turned from] thfe^road i
: and stopped by the Dead I {fnwmrimtP
~|hox. Ju.st beyond the mail hq:^ was the
gate; a newish sign, enidely lettered
J in l)lack paint, was nailed on the mid-
idle hai'. “.Anybody coming on this
-'ranch is liable to get .-hot."
j When the old man heard the girl
gasp he knew that she had seen the
isign, and with averted eyes he began
to I'ummage in the goyernment mail
The girl watehed her husband’s face
I as he read; their eye.s met blankly,
'then turneil to the old man.
^*iiW hat in the world does , that
^ niean ?” asked W’arren.
j “Nobody thinks it means anything,”
ion piaie cowuoy, 01 m a ,c(iriie auuui. loriy-iiye miles, we^ross
try. Tha* man was wearin’ the u.seful'this range and then we’re in the San
kind—plain cowhide. He was probably '.Jovgt* valley. The valley’s a long one
wearin’ rolin’ boots—high heels, —funs ’way down into .Mexico. The
nobody packs a gun nowadays 'ceptin 1 Dead Lantern’.s ' about forty miles
hi-jackers and peace officers. Oh, valley and up against the
kinda usual to carry a gun in j^^f^uplains on the west side. My place
car for coyotes and such, but I ain’t
aeen a cowpuncher with a holster on
for fifteen or twenty years.”
“Why. acconling to you, this wild
couniiy must be as safe as a town
with a good police, force. ’
“Lot- afot We got
.1
is^ along there too -lies between the
soutli Dead Lantern fence and the
' Mexican line kinda over an elbow in
the moiMtain range.” ■,
“Why in the world is the aianch
* ''i
icalled ti»e Dead Lantern?”
an-l a few other
you’ve got high
rattlesnakes j “Well, you .see, the brand is the ouj-
t^ings, hut in town , lantern an’ folks got to call-
school kids scootin |>,.ad Lantern—I *'ecl-:on be-i
around in stripped Tords. [cause there wasn’t no light in-it. A
For the first time in many houisj^j^P niakes a hiand and jiuls it on his!
the gtrl laughed. She i*elaxe<l in j tuTtlle, and then folks get-to calling ii‘
seat, and pulling her tight-fitting^hat ^^hatevef it looks like to them. By
and by, .'onie name sticks and from
as
from he’ head, let the dry wind do
it pleased with her short amber hail.
“We've been awfully rudfc.” she .smil
ed, “we should have introduced our-
j^g[ves — my husband’s name is Ken
neth W'a’ien; I’m Ruth.”
The old man nodded. “1 figured
maybe you might be. I think my son, |
Wtfh~ wi'ote you abcKik—Mr. Grey.” |
“Oh!” The girl’s face went sober.
then on every’hody calls -the ranch
that.” The old man pau.sed. “I expect
this’ll he your first trij) out this
way?” he asked.
“I may as well tell you,” said Ruth.
“my husband hasn’t been doing w’ell
in business for some time—his health,
you understand. Harry knew how
, things were and — w'ell, he’s always
.see, of course. .Mr. Will Thanes hig brother. My hu.sband and'
did , • ® ,1 Indian on the wagon .seat, where
I were very young when we rrained. , , ■ , . . •>*»
, ■ u p, u LSnavely is? Are you his man;
and he kept his eye on us. He felt that r 1 1 1 1 * u- * u
. . , p 11 A he Indian ooked at his tw o-hun-
we had no one to fall back on but h m
^pp^n’t''Ared-and-fifty-pound sijuaw, glanced
•• Hhe |.au«d. “Wh™ Harry fame'l-'-Wny.
ter came from Los Angeles and I
not think of there being a connection
when 1 learned your name this morn-
’ing. Did—did you know my hrothei ? nr,y father and stepmother
“Yes, pretty well. He and Will used;p^juj^pd. “When
to ride the country together quite a, bought his part of the cat-
bit wherever Will c^me out. Will war’jtjp lanch, he willed it to me. He was- ,
answered Old Charley 1 eu.ssuiimgly.
“Ju.st Jcp Snavely’s way he’s a little
ac-centric.” He pointed to a faint
cloud of dust far up the two wheel |
paths which led from beyond the gate j
toward the distant mountains. “I’ll he-
going along now'—I reckon^it would be
hqst for you folks to meet your new
pardr.er alone, anyways.” He looked
into VVarien’.s eye.s. “And if something I
should come up sudden-like that you’d
want to get to town in a hurry just:
ride over the mountain to my plac«. I
This old car ain’t much, hut -she still
rolls.” I
V\ hile they were piling the baggage
iiy the mail box, both the girl and her
hu.«hand glanced Irequently at the
They watched Old f’harley until the
car di.sappeared over a hill a few hun
dred yards south of the gate, then j
turned their attention to the approach
ing wugon on the ranch road.
When the wagon .stopjied at the
gate, an Indian hoy of ten slid cau-,
tiously to the ground and, with his
w'iile eye.s fixed on the three by the
mail box, .sidled to the gate and open-
it. This done, he speedily rejoined the
family, in.-the., wagion* JvennetlL. WajCcL .
ren went forward. "Can you tell me,”
lie' addres.sed the two-hundred-pound
wagon .seat, “w'here :Vlr.
and
then turned his black eyes on*
“No sabe.” The horses start-
know
the giri
I
me
about Harrv’s death.” asked
quietly.
Old Chariey shook his head. “There j ^vjjl benefit Mr. Warren
ain’t much 1 can tell you. I"expect, qij Charley was silent for a mo-
Wilt w’rote about all anybody knows. I “Well, well,” he said at last.
Your brother went down into Mexico you’re jmrt owner of the Dead
la.st fall. After the fall cattle sellin’, lantern.” The car covered a hundred
the letter from the
the man!” David,
box out.stretched,
here -vhtm tl^ news was brought vou^e, and he wanted.
your bvotber. " to have something to fall back on * ama, e ei 01
"Pkuse tell me what you know anything h^p|>ened to him. Now
that he’s gone, we’ve come out here , . . .u . m
. .L u \\r 1 ♦u;-.,!, /.i; ! No, David, not to that man. .Mama
to the ranch. We aLso think the cli- ’ . .u *
will tell you when the man comes to
whom you are to give the letter.” Ani
.started toward the letreating wagon.
it was. He and his pardner, Jep Snave
ly, had been figurin' xir lookin’
some stock down that way—so
weiit. Snavely heard from him a time
or two and learned Harry was goih’
further into the interior. After that
Snavely didn’t hear from him. For a
couple of months he didn’t think
nothin? aljout it because mail’s mighty
uncertain in some parts of Mexico.
TV^n he commenced gettin’ worried-^
he even come over to my place and
asked me what should be done. Well,
just about then a Mexican came into
Palo Verde and told about findin’
Hairy. Close to two hundred miles be
low the line, it was. The Mexican knew
the body was American and he
brought soiTie . letters — one of them
f.o.m you. He described the
was
clothes and so from the story the Mex-;
lean brought back and the letters and
yards of road. “l>onT suppose you’ve
o'^®*’jm.et Jep Snavely yet?”
Harry j '‘Sq. I hardly know anything about
him. Harry used to mention him in his
letters. Are you a friend of his?”
The old man pursed his lips. “I’m a
neighbor. In fact ,a real close neigh
bor to the Dead Lantern. It’s only
about six miles over the mountains
from the Dead I.Antern house to my
house.”
“Ah — what sort of man is Mr.
Snavely ? ”
“He’s about fifty—a good deal slim
mer than me”—the old man smiled—
“H’e’sxaK’old Vattleinan; but he ain’t
been m this country more'n twelve
years or so. Originally from Texas, so
Harry said. But he knows cattle and
ranehin’.”
I’m glad to hear that,” laughed the
instant later she whirled about to her'
hu.sband, the letter in her hand. “Ken-:
neth! Thi.s letter—it’s the one I wrote
over two weeks ago to Snavely—he
doesn’t know we’-re coming!"
(Continued Next Week).
DISTRESS AFTER MEALS
Reliered Bjr Blick-Drufkt
"I had sour .stomach and gaa,'-
wrl»“B Mr. Jess Higgins, of paw*.
aonville, Ga., “and often I would
have bilious'spells. I read'lthout
Thedford's Black-Draught and be
gan to take It. It relieved me of
this trouble. I keep it all the tiniis
now I consider It a f'ne mwlU;ln«.
I taka ix pfnoli of BlucU-Untuaht after
rnca Ih w'hfti I need It It helps to
prevent sick headache and to keap
the system In good order.”
Get a pacitage at the store. Try It I
Vote vou can get Btack-Draught (n
Capt. Rube Perkins Says:
BE WISE! BUY NOW
Before Prices Advance
Any Higher!
Make This Store Your Headquarters
FRIDAY AND SATURDAY
. - V.
' ■ V-'L
-. ■. .. . -N
SPECIALS
MEN'S UNION SUITS,
To close, out ....
MEN'S BROADCLOTH
I* A JAM AS, to close out
HANOVER SHIRTS,
$1.35 value
N and \V HirH Grnde
OV ERALLS, $L25 value
•■--f r-
VOILE and ORGANDIE DRESSES^
$1.00 values,
for
$1.00
iToo
T
Wolverine WORK SHOES, best on the
market at low prices—
SI.85 to S3.95
Utd WinK WORK SHOES and BOOTS,
special barjrtiins—
$3.60 to S4.50
$1.95 vafuesw -
for
$1.49
One lot 25c VOILES,
to Ko at
w
Rollins SILK HOSIERY,
$ 1.00 values _ ,. _
so-
^ All Silk SLII*S, real values—
$1.00, $1.75 and S1.95
All SILK GOWNS—
$1.50, $1.95 and S2.50
10-1 Unbleached SHEETING,
Special, yard
25'
One lAit PRINTS.
Fast colork, yard
10'
JDAY AND
BARGAIN
J. A. BAILEY, Merchant
Clinton, S. C.
COME TO CLINTON FRIDAY AND SATURDAY
FOR “NEW DEAL BARGAIN DAYS”
Capt. Perkins
Says:
Don’t Wait! Exchange;
lour Dream for the
Real Thing
|D UlLDING Materials Are Cheaper Now
Ilian They Will Be Later On. Why wait
When You Can Save Money By Building and
Repairing Now. The Wise Man WiU Not Hesi-
, tate. Be Wise and Start That Building Project
At Once.
Let Us Furnish You Estimates!
E. TRIBBLE COMPANY