Glacier County chief. [volume], May 13, 1938, Magazine Section, Image 6

About Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
Unci'PkilQi
Snp,
A Great Difference
The unwise man puts things off;
the wise man puts things over.
Money spent on a magnificent
church is not wasted. It gives joy
to those inside and those outside,
as well.
Has anyone ever analyzed suc
cess so that you can understand
it? We think not, or more people
would have achieved it.
That's Her Business
The woman pays and pays and
pays, of course. That’s because
she buys and buys and buys.
People really resent other peo
ple being indecent rather than sin
ful. There is a great difference.
SEEDS,
SOIL and
CLIMATE!
Tbs soil and climate of this part
of the country are an open book
to the seed experts who breed
and select pedigreed Ferry’s
Seeds. In their experimental
gardens, they have perfected
seed varieties that are at their
best under these conditions.
You’ll find these seed varie
ties in the familisr red-and-sil
ver Ferry’s Seeds store display.
The unique Ferry-Morse Seed-
Breeding Institute has spent
years to bring them to perfection.
Select your seeds from the
Ferry’s Seeds display—all have
been tested this year for ger
mination— and further tested
for fmenest to type. 5c a
packet and up. 1938 novelties
too. Ferry-Morse Seed Co.,
Detroit, San Francisco.
jlrc^Ds
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MOORE
ELECTRIC
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE’S
Za Hide the Hweh-WiiU
COPYRIGHT WILLIAM MACLIOO RAINS—WNU SIRVICI
SYNOPSIS
Ruth Chiswick of L C ranch, obsessed by
fear of danger to her outspoken father. Lee.
from a band of lawless rustlers headed by
Sherm Howard, decides to save him by elop*
lng with young Lou Howard, Sherm's son.
and comes to the town of Tail Holt to meet
him. While in Yell Sanger’s store, a crook
nosed stranger enters, sizes up the situation,
and when a drunken cowboy. Jim Pender,
rides in and starts shooting, protects Ruth,
while Lou Howard hides. Disgusted with
Lou’s cowardice. Ruth calls off the elope
ment. and sends the stranger for her father
at the gambling house across the street.
There the stranger, calling himself Jeff
Gray, meets Morgan Norris, a killer. Curly
Connor. Kansas. Mile High. Sid Hunt, and
other rustlers, and Sherm Howard. Lee
Chiswick enters, with his foreman. Dan
Brand, and tells Sherm Howard of his or
ders to shoot rustlers at sight. Jeff Gray
returns to Ruth and coldly reassures her of
her father’s safety. At supper. Ruth intro
duces Jeff to her father and Brand, and in
Sanger's store later she speaks cordially to
Curly Connor. Coming out of the store, they
are greeted by sudden gunplay. Lee is
wounded, and Jeff Gray appears with a
smoking revolver. Two days later, Ruth
tells her father of her projected elopement
and her disillusionment. Later, Ruth meets
Jeff Gray, whom she thinks tried to kill her
father. When he tries to hold her bridle.
Ruth accidentally presses the trigger of her
gun. and wounds Jeff. She takes him to
Pat Sorley’s camp.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
“Must I?” He grinned at her with
cheerful effrontery.
"Of course you must.” Ruth al
most stamped her foot in exaspera
tion. "If you didn’t do it, who didT”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She took that up triumphantly.
"Neither you nor anybody else.”
“But I could guess.”
“Who, then?” she demanded.
“If I ever mention it, probably it
will be to the gent himself,” he said
softly.
“I thought so.”
Gray turned to the line-rider.
"Two shots were fired before Mr.
Chiswick’s friends took a hand. I
fired the second. Point is, who cut
loose with the first?”
“If you weren’t in it, why did you
shoot at all?” Ruth asked.
“I’ve asked myself that two-three
times since,” he replied suavely.
“Plumb dumb of me. For 20 years
I’ve been minding my own busi
ness exclusive, yet soon as I hit
Tail Holt I butt into yours, not only
once but se-ve-real times. I wouldn’t
know why, unless I’ve gone loco.”
“You beat around the bush with
out telling anything,” the girl
charged.
“By your own story you shot at
the boss onct,” Sorley snapped.
“Right after you’d eaten supper
with him and Miss Ruth.”
“Who said that was my story? I
don’t recollect ever telling it.”
Ruth stared at the hardy scamp,
her eyes dilating with excitement.
“You mean you didn’t fire at Father
at ail, but at the villain who was
trying to kill him?”
“Go to the head of the class,
Miss,” Gray said, with a grim ironic
smile. “It’s the best story I could
think up after three or four days,
so I thought I would come back and
try it on Lee Chiswick. ’Course
you’re smart as a whip, and I
wouldn't expect to put it across with
you.”
A queer lift of joy sang in the
girl’s blood. She knew this was the
truth. It explained everything. He
had fired on the assassin and run
forward to protect her father from
any others who might turn their
guns on him while he was defense
leu. Naturally his purpose had
been mistaken. The fire of Dan
and Curly had driven him away.
He had no time to explain. If he
stayed, he would be shot down.
There was no chance to show his
weapon, with only one chamber
empty. Now he bad no evidence to
back his story.
"Why didn’t you tell me before?'
she cried.
“You and yore friends are so
handy with guns I never get time to
make oration',” ha said dryly.
Distress flooded her. She had shot
him, after he had perhapa saved
the life of her father.
“His story don’t look good to me,”
Sorley said coldly. “I would say he
was namin' a whixzer on us, Miu
Ruth.”
"No. It’s true.” The girl drew a
deep breath of relief. “I’m awf ly
glad It is.”
The wounded man looked at her.
"What difference does it make to
you whether I or someone else shot
him?” be asked.
Her eyas met hie, the color on
her cheeks hot beneath them. "I
don’t like you a Mt. I think you are
hateful. But I didn’t believe you
were a lew scoundrel until what I
■aw at Thil Holt How I know
you’re net that kind of man. You
uvad my father's life. I don’t know
kow to thank you ... or to tell
you n how sorry lam that I hurt
** ! Oe no* re aB right,” ho Jewed,
“aad I ouM to tall yea hew grate
hd I amfir the tmftn you gam
IsMgRftVWW
Ruth felt anger stir in her, but
she kept it down. “If there’s any
thing I can do for you while you’re
here—anything I can bring you,”
she said in a carefully even voice.
“I’m going to see you again, am
I? How nice! There are several
things you can bring me. One is
some tobacco. I’d like two-three
books, and the latest newspaper you
have. Also, bring Lee Chiswick.
I want a powwow with him.”
“I’ll ’send the books with my fa
ther,” she said.
Lee Chiswick broke into his
daughter's story excitedly.
“He’s hanging around waiting for
a chance to dry-gulch me.”
Ruth shook her head. “I thought
so at first. I don't now. Listen.”
“Lucky the wolf didn't do you a
meanness when he had a chance.”
The strong jaw of the cattleman
set. “I’ll have him rounded up and
rubbed out before he’s 24 hours old
er.”
“You won’t need to round him up.
I can tell you where he is. My
story isn’t finished. Do you want to
hear it or not?”
“Where is he?” demanded Chis
wick.
“He’s at the rim rock line-camp,
with a bullet-hole in his leg.”
“Did Pat get him?”
“No. I did.”
“You what?”
"I shot him.”
Her father stared at her with
blank astonishment. “Good God,
girl! What do you mean?”
“I tried to pass him. He caught
at the bridle rein. I don’t know why.
Perhaps he couldn’t get out of the
way and didn’t want Blue Chip to
w
"What name shall I say?” asked
Reynolds.
trample him down. Somehow my
gun went off and hit him. I didn't
want him to die before he could
get help, so I took him to the camp.”
“Why didn’t you come and get
some of us?” he asked, his voice
sharp with anxiety. “He might have
shot you down on the way.”
“I was as safe with him as I
would be with you. Father," she
said. "He isn't that kind of man.
I don’t like him. . He’s . . . insult
ing. But he is not the kind of ruffi
an who would hurt a woman or
would take advantage of a man in a
fight. He didn’t shoot you. Some
one else did.”
"That’s crazy talk!” Lee shouted.
“We saw him do it.”
"We thought we saw him do it,”
■he corrected. “But we didn’t. He
saw someone fire at you and shot at
the man. Then he ran forward to
protect you, and we all thought he
was the killer. Think it over, Fa
ther. From the poeltion you were
standing the bullet that creased you
must have been fired in the alley,
but thia Gray came another direc
tion."
“Got It all figured out, haven't
you—with his help?” Lee said an
n- he had been the man, would
he have run forward into the nest of
us? It isn’t reasonable. He was
taken by surprise when Dan began
shooting at him. I could see that.
To save his life he had to get out”
“What’s he doing here, then?”
"Ha wants to see you. I don't
know what about Ho insisted on
my bringing you."
"Ha’ll ate mt. all right” the eat
tlmm ttHI. hit yokt birth tnd
grim.
“My opinion ie that ho saved your
His, after he had already taken earn
at mm whsn a crazy man was on
J”ri Meats Mss/* Las tsMhar.
he'll be as safe with me as in God's
pocket I’ll have him brought to
the house and we'll take care of him
here. But he can’t pull the wool
over my eyes. He has got to be
straight goods.”
“That’s fair,” Ruth agreed. "I
don’t know anything about who he
is. Maybe he’s an outlaw on the
dodge. He’s as hard as iron and he
may have gone bad. But there’s
something clean about him. He
wouldn't shoot a man in the back.
I'd stake everything I had on that.”
Chiswick nodded. “I would have
said that myself, and I’m not often
wrong about a man. When he ran
at me with his gun smoking, I was
sure surprised. Maybe you’re right,
daughter. He’ll get a chance to tell
his story.”
“May I ride up to the line-camp
with you?” Ruth asked.
“No!” he exploded, and slammed
a fist down on the breakfast-table
to emphasize his decision. “You
can’t go with me. What’s the mat
ter with you, girl? You head for
trouble like a thirsty steer for wa
ter. First, you run off with a no
'count scalawag not worth a hill of
beans, then you shoot another and
tote him to hospital without asking
me a by-your-leave. That’s no way
for a lady to do. No wonder folks
think you’re a wild young hellion.
You are grown up now. You got
to learn to act genteel.”
"Would it be unladylike for me to
go down with you and take some
fried chicken and biscuits to a sick
man?” she wanted to know.
“You fix up this fried chicken and
I’ll take it down,” Lee said firmly.
“I aim to be reasonable, but I’m
through letting you behave so
crazy."
Ruth gave up. She packed the
tobacco, the books, and the food.
For Pat she put in a corn-cob pipe
to replace the broken clay one.
Knowing her father’s impulsive
nature, she was full of misgivings.
Over his shoulder, as he started,
he called back a word of reassur
ance. “Don’t you worry, daughter.
I'm not going off half-cocked. If
this Gray can show me he’s not a
yellow coyote. I’ll not harm him."
In a natural meadow half a mile
from the house he stopped to give
Dan Brand instructions about the
drive of yearlings sold to Broder
ick. This done, he told his son
Frank and the foreman what he
had just learned from Ruth.
Frank asked to ride with him to
Sorley’s camp.
The Chiswicks rode up to the rim
rock and skirted the edge of it un
til they reached a break. Through
this they climbed to the lip of the
park where the line-camp lay.
From the chimney of the cabin a
thin trickle of smoke drifted.
"Pat is probably line-riding and
has left this fellow alone,” Frank
said.
As they drew closer, Lee hulloed
the house. From the boulder field
back of it an echo came back to
them. No other answer sounded. A
second time he shouted, still without
response.
"Get your gun out, boy," he or
dered grimly. "I don’t like this.”
He swung from the saddle and
drew the rifle attached to It. Frank
dismounted hurriedly, his horse be
tween him and the house.
"I sure don't want to get blasted
out of my saddle,” he said.
The taro men worked toward the
cabin, using their horses to screen
them as much as possible from any
sharpshooters who might be in the
building or among the rocks above.
Nobody stirred except themselves.
Frank felt a strange prickling sen
sation run up and down his spine.
Any moment there might come a
crash of guns.
Lse maneuvered close to the door,
then made a bolt for it. His son
was inside scarce a second later.
The cabin was empty.
Cross Wheat and Couch Grass to Halt
Shifting of the Farm Soil in Canada
In some parts of Canada a serious
problem has been confronting farm
ers tor many years now—one with
which no English farmer is likely
to be faced. Their farms won’t stay
put.
On the wide prairies of North
America acres of loose soil shift
each year, through the action of
wind and rain. Up to the present
there has been nothing to prevent
it Farmers simply had to sit end
watch the tortile top soil wash sway
in the heavy rains of the spring and
autumn, and Mow away when. In
the summer, the burning sun dried
it iiD into Am dust*
Thus, every year, says a writer In
Answers Magazine, the land
was impoverished, and no amount
at manuring or earafttl cultivation
an the pari of the farmer served
Mm a hope
haa Ram totoasMsd, and sm2C£
•bto Irneto of land Have bam laid
“Where’s the fellow gone?” Lee
asked.
"I reckon he wasn’t as bad hurt
as he was making out,” Frank said.
“What’s this?”
Lee picked a piece of wrapping
paper from the table. He read aloud
something that had been scrawled
on it with a pencil. "Much obliged,
Doc, for fixing my leg. See you
later maybe.”
Jeff Gray rode into Tail Holt two
days after leaving the rimrock line
camp. His broad shoulders sagged
with weariness. The eyes of the
man were ’sunken. The lean face
was haggard and unshaven. At the
Alamo corral he dismounted stiffly.
The owner of the place, Jim Rey
nolds, squinted an unspoken ques
tion at him from under slanted eye
brows. There was an arresting
quality about Gray that held atten
tion. The fatigue, the stains of trav
el, did not conceal his dominant
force. He unsaddled the sweat
streaked roan gelding with a compe
tent economy of motion. When he
moved, a pantherish ripple ran
wavelike through his well-packed
muscles.
"Yore bronc some gaunted,” Rey
nolds said.
"Some,” Gray agreed.
He watered and fed the animal
himself. Reynolds watched him, ob
serving that he knew how to treat a
hot, tired horse. The corral-owner
wondered who this stranger was.
“I’ll put up at Ma Presnail’s if
she has room for me,” Gray said.
"Could you send word to Sherm
Howard that I’m there and want to
see him?”
"What name shall I say?” asked
Reynolds.
“Jeff Gray. I’m obliged, sir.”
Gray limped up the street toward
the boarding-house.
Ma Presnall had her muscular
arms bare to the elbows. There was
a splash of flour on one temple.
She had been baking. Her face was
leathery and wrinkled, the challenge
of her washed-out eyes direct and
hard. For twenty years she had
lived in frontier camps and held
her own.
He could have a room and board,
she said, for a dollar a day or live
dollars a week. Strangers paid in
advance. A five-dollar bill passed
from Gray to her and she led him
to his room.
After washing the caked dust from
face and hands, he lay down on the
bed. The wound in his leg was
throbbing. For the better part of
sixty hours he had been in the sad
dle and he was almost worn out.
When the opportunity came he
would bathe and dress the hurt. Just
now he had not time. He was ex
pecting a visit from Sherman How
ard and perhaps from others. It
was unfortunate that his entry into
Tail Holt had been so melodra
matic. Probably he would have to
light out again, if they gave him
a chance to go.
With his pocket-knife he ripped
open the lining of his vest and drew
out a folded paper. He expected to
need it shortly. The paper was a
printed poster offering a reward of
2,000 for the capture of Clint Doke,
the leader of a band of outlaws who
bad held up and robbed the Texas
and Southern Flyer. A description
of the desperado was given. With
it eras a picture taken from a cut.
The face that looked back from the
poster at Jeff Gray was his own.
Through the door Ma Presnall
called information. “Some gents to
see you.”
“Who are they?” Gray asked, put
ting the paper in his vest pocket
"Sherm Howard, Curly Connor,
and Morg Norris.”
There was a barely perceptible
pause before Gray said, "Ask them
to come up, Mrs. Presnall, if you
wilL"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
And a weapon which will turn defeat
into victory, and the Biological In
stitute of Svaloef, South Sweden,
hopes before long to put a stop to
this constant disappearance of valu
able soil.
They are crossing wheat with the
farmers’ old enemy, couch grass,
and they hava every reason to hope
that the result will be a useful crop
of grain, provided by a plant whoso
clinging roots will bind together tbs
shifting soil.
Canadian farmers trill have much
to thank the scientists for whan they
plant this grain, and another on
which the scientists are working
now.
The latter Is a cross between
„,L -A —a_»_a_ u S— a n
wioti mnu e wwy wravua n <• iwimhi
Win be capable of withstanding the
bitter oold of the long northern wha
lers. and at ■—»*««<■»» a useful stop
sT<he saaw^^YlMagaS
■omut iSumr
P' fee .. Af'jfWT -H
CLASSIFIED
DEPARTMENT
HARNESS ft SADDLES
Bsaaimßhu
PHOTOGRAPHY
ROLLS DEVELOmP to S Msqßr ftlt.
ST’ (coin). •seafTISSSi
OARTNER STUDIO. BILLINGS, MONT.
PUMPS
THE PERFECTION WATER ROOSTER
i; ihx2?. r bij a p?.?.g r ?s&EHSii«,
economical to operate. ..For Jr— inform*-
ssLKiw *7 tN '££suSs
HOTELS
UMAX
■•tel • 3ZXZ
FAILS BOTH. Firaproof
"GOOD BEDS"
Cor. 4th Street— Ist Are. South
CHEAT FALLS, MONTANA
A Jiffy-Knit Blouse
Made in 2 Pieces
Patton ITSS
Large needles—four-strand of
string, pearl cotton or wool— a
simple stitch! You’ll knit this
blouse in no time. Pattern 1709
contains directions for this blouse
and a plain knitted skirt in sizes
16-18 and 38-40 (all in one pat
tern); illustrations of blouse and
stitches.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle, Needlecraft
Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York.
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