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Newspaper Page Text
, A JUST REVENGE
By George Elmer Cobb.
(Copyright by W. G-Chapman.)
Lone Wolf, once an Indian chief,
though he did not look it now in his
rags and misery, but come of a proud
race, sat sunning himself on the
pavement. His squaw, a tiny pap
poose at her breast, occupied a near
doorway. They were footsore, home
less, tired. Hungry, too, and it "was
fully ten . miles to the reservation
where they had friends.
Suddenly the door behind the wo
man was pulled open inwards. Some
The Precious Deed in His Hunting
one had come down the stairs from
the gambling room above the town
tavern. He was flashily dressed, not
unhandsome fellow, but'the scowl of
a loser was on his face.
"Out of the way," he growled rude
ly, and gave the squaw a vicious push
with his knee. She could not help but
topple over. He heard her head strike
the hard pavement unmoved. She ut-,
tered a concerned cry, striving to
shield the helpless pappoose, and roll
ed to a stop,- sustained by one hand,
with eyes and thought only for the
Then Mort Dwyer drew back and
his hand whipped to his hip pocket
like a streak of lightning. An inert
mass, that squalid form on the pave
ment, was suddenly infuse'd with life.
Straight as an arrow, a gleaming
knife upraised, Lone Wolf made a
wild spring for the miscreant who
had imperiled wife and babe.
Speedy as was the gambler, he
would have been at fault and disad
vantage had the Indian perfected that
maddened swoop. Lone Wolf's flight
was checked by a low, beseeching m
word from the squaw. Seemingly it
told him that the pappoose was un
hurt. Further it awoke the savage
to the realization that an attack up
on a whie man in that section, no.
matter how provoked, would culmi
nate at a rope's end. The woman
was bruised about the face, but what
mattered that, when the child was
So with a muttered curse Dwyer
strode from the spot Lone Wolf gath
ered up His traps. His squaw prepared
to move on. The child wailed at be
ing disturbed by the rough shaking
"Wagh! Lone. Wolf will remem
ber!" spoke the Indian with a last
menacing glare after the gambler.
The latter forgot the incident with
in the hour. He was of a profession
and border experiences where Rem
ingtons and Bowies flayed conspicu
ous parts. Free of the babbling busi
ness thoroughfare of the town he
paused reflectively. A man of coarser
mood than himself joined him.
"Down on your luck, it seems?"
observed the latter, stealthily study
ing the face of the other.
"It seems right to you, then,"
growled Dwyer. "The -cards have
turned wrong and Monte JPete has
got me for more than I am worth."
"'Try the heiress, Miss Barclay,"