Glacier County chief. [volume], May 20, 1938, Magazine Section, Image 6

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

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE’S
Za Hide the Hwei With
SYNOPSIS
Muth Chlnrlek of L C ranch, obseucd by
laax <4 dancer to her outapoken father. Lee,
tram a band <4 lawlma ruatlera headed by
Sherm Howard, decider to eave him by slop
toe with young Lou Howard. Sherm'a aon.
and cornea tone town ot Tall Holt to meet
him. While In Yen Sanger's etore, a crook
neaad stranger enters. sixes up the situation,
and whan a drunken cowboy. Jim Pender,
rider in and starts shootins. protects Huth,
while Lou Howard hide, Disunited with
Lou’s cowardice. Huth calls off the elope
ment. and sends the stranger tor her lather
at the gambling house across the street.
There the stranger. calling hlmsell Jeff
Gray, meets Morgan Norrie, a killer. Curly
Connor. Kansas. Mlle High. Sid Hunt, and
other ruatlera, and Sherm Howard. Lee
Chlawlck entera. with hla foreman. Dan
Brand, and telle Sherm Howard of hla or
ders to shoot ruatlera at eight. Jeff Grey
returns to Ruth and coldly reassures her ol
her father's safety. At eupper, Ruth intro
duces Jeff to her lather and Brand, and In
Sanger'e etore later ahe apeaka cordially to
Curly Connor. Coming out ol the atore. they
are greeted by eudden gunplay. Lee la
wounded, and Jeff Gray appears with a
smoking revolver. Two days later, Huth
telle her father of her projected elopement
and her disillusionment. Later. Ruth meete
Jeff Gray, whom ahe thinks tried to kill her
father. When he tries to hold her bridle.
Ruth accidentally presses the trigger of her
gun. and wounda Jeff. She taker him to
Pat Sorley's camp. Talking over the ahoot-
Ing with Sorley, Ruth la credulous of Jeff's
story of shooting at the assassin rather than
at her father, and later pleads with Lee to
listen to him. When Lee arrives at Pat
Sorley's camp, lie finds only a note to Pat
from Jett. Meanwhile. Jeff rides into Tail
Holt and sends word to Sherm Howard he
wants to see him.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
—7——
He pulled on his boots and swiftly
examined his revolver. That the
weapon rested lightly in its holster
so that there would be no hindrance
to a quick draw he made sure. This
invasion in force might or might
not mean trouble. Curly had prob
ably come with a chip on his shoul
der. Norris was a killer of the worst
kind. On the other hand, Sherman
Howard had the reputation of doing
his fighting by proxy. He might
have brought Morg merely as a de
fensive precaution. Jeff hoped, if
they did not open up with a blast of
guns, to talk them out of any
thought of vengeance. It would not
be easy now, not with Curly all hot
to rub him out.
In his throat there beat the pulse
of excitement that always accom
panied deadly danger. His fingers
trembled.
A knock on the door sounded.
Gray’s nervousness vanished in
stantly. He said, “Come in,” his
drawling voice cool as ice-water.
CHAPTER V
Their host maneuvered Norris to
a rocking - chair, Howard to a
straight-backed one. Curley he seat
ed at the foot of the bed. Gray
stood in a shadowy corner farthest
from the window. He was giving
himself the best chance possible. Of
the three visitors, Norris was prob
ably the most dangerous gunman,
and a rocking-chair is not the most
advantageous spot for swift and ac
curate shooting.
“A little crowded in here, gents,"
Gray said lightly. “Hope you don’t
mind sitting on the bed, Mr. Con
nor. I’m short of chairs.”
“Suits me," Curly answered.
Gray nodded, turned his attention
to the big man. “I hated to trou
ble you to come here, Mr. How
ard, ” he said apologetically, "but I
have a busted leg that interferes
with walking."
"I didn’t mind coming. I wasn’t
busy.” Howard’s leaden opaque eyes
never lifted from the stranger.
“Just reached town and I thought
I’d better see you,” Gray men
tioned.
Slumped in the chair, the gross
weight of the man overflowing, How
ard reminded Gray of a prize hog.
Howard said nothing. He waited
for the situation to develop. The
man had a capacity for effective gi
lence.
"Figuring I might want to stay
around Tail Holt awhile,” Gray
went on easily.
"Ifo a tree country.” Howard’s
voice was suave.
“For some folks,” Norris added
with an insolent laugh.
Gray smiled. “My idea, too, Mr.
Norrie. I want to And out if I’m
one of those folks.”
“Last time I saw you that roan
was foggin' it outs town fast,” Nor
ris taunted. "You looked like you
had hurry-up business anywhere but
here, Mr. Gray, if that’s what you
call yoreself."
"1 ehanged my mind," Gray said.
“Why?” Howard asked bluntly.
••Got a booted leg. Shot up the
other day.”
"la front of the Golden Nugget?”
Meegto toquind, ouopiefon in hie
"■toToToii the L C range."
"Wfoo^m^won gunning for
Ifototo "Who
MH* MV Mi ttNMf*
Mfow. H CM* ortond
Curly ripped out an angry oath.
“If you hurt Miss Ruth—”
Smoothly Howard interrupted.
“Let us hear the story. Curly. Mr.
Gray sent for us to tell it, don't you
reckonT”
“Go ahead, Sorreltop." . Norrie
laughed derisively. “We’U believe
every word you say.”
Gray told the story of his adven
tures in the L C territory, with
careful editorial elisions. They
heard it to a finish.
“That Chiswick girl is a tough
proposition," Howard said, shaking
his head gravely. “She’ll come to a
bad end, like enough.”
“Nothing of the kind," retorted
Curly hotly. “She’s a mighty nice
little lady.”
“Some hot-tempered, but with the
making of a fine woman in her,”
Gray concurred.
“She’s sure a wampas cat,” Nor
ris cut in, his slurred voice a sneer.
“Leave the girl out of this,” Curly
snapped.
“Mr. Norris only meant she is a
little lively,” Gray explained.
“I can tell him what I meant,
fellow, without any help from you,”
Norris blustered. “And I didn’t
bring her name into it. She was
in the fairy tale this bird has been
giving us.”
Ignoring Norris, the crook-nosed
man spoke to Howard. “I don’t
claim to be so law-abiding myself.
Maybe I left some place in a hurry.
Maybe I didn’t. Thought it wasn’t
good manners to ask a stranger
about his past.”
“You can’t catch a mule without
an ear of corn, Mr. Gray,” the big
OHB
“No objections to you staying
here, Mr. Gray."
man said. "If I get you right, you
are asking our help. Before we
give it we have a right to know all
about you.”
"Fine, tor you,” the cornered man
replied. “But how about me? How
do I know some fox won't write a
letter and have me dragged back
to—to some place I don’t want to
go?”
Howard looked affronted. "If a
man throws in with us, we don't
betray him.”
“Is that a promise?” Gray asked,
looking to the others for confirma
tion.
“Y’betcha, if we’re satisfied with
yore story,” Curly said.
“If,” Norris accented, with an ug
ly laugh.
Reluctantly Gray drew from his
pocket the poster. Still slumped in
his chair, the big-shouldered fat
man read it carefully.
“So you’re Clint Doke,” he said.
Gray did not admit this in words.
"Draw yore own conclusions,” he
told Howard.
"Lemme have a look at it,” Curly
said impatiently. He read aloud:
"Height five foot ten, age twenty
nine, weight about 158 pounds, crook
nose, light red hair, gray eyes, scar
on back ot left hand. Will probably
fight desperately before being tak
en."
Curly lifted his eyes and grinned
at Gray. “Certainly reads like it
might be you, unless you’ve got a
twin brother the spittin’ image of
you, oven to the scar on yore hand.”
Norris reached for the poster.
“The picture ia sure ugly as galva
nised ata,” he sneered. “But it
looks a heap like thia guy, I'll aay
that I knew all the time be waa
from Texaa.”
"Says you and these three other
fellows are wanted for robbing the
Texan and Southern Flyer,“ Curly
monttansd. "Where are the other
Iha dodas, down to foe Toxas
bsn*osuntey-
_*Hgw nan you not to i ttay
. mF '‘.J.
COPYRIGHT WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE—WNU SERVICE
portant in Texas. Arizona sure
ought to give him the glad hand.”
“The name is Gray in Arixona,”
corrected the crook-nosed man.
“Worth two thousand on the hoof
—or as meat I reckon—down San
tone way,” Norris continued. “The
other guys who helped rob the train
only rate at five hundred apiece.
But Mr. Doke—he’s an honest-to-
God Jesse James.”
Gray ignored the jeer. “Like to
correct you on one point, Mr. Nor
ris. Two thousand on the hoof.
Not a cent if shipped down in a
coffin.” He thought it just as well
to stress this, to avoid being shot
in the back.
“That’s right,” Norris assented.
“I didn't read it careful. Well, Mr.
Doke—Gray, I mean—it’s a pleasure
to meet up with a famous man like
you.”
“This is private information,” the
fugitive said. “I don't expect the
word passed around among yore
friends. I’m lying low for a while,
you understand.”
“It still isn't clear to me what
you were doing in the Sweet Spring
valley,” Curly insisted. “Or why you
wanted to kill Lee Chiswick.”
Gray smiled. “I was in the Sweet
Spring valley because I had to get
out of Tail Holt in a hurry on ac
count of Curly Connor making a
target out of me,” he told the black
haired man cheerfully. “Me, I was
going somewhere in a hurry, and
I happened to land in the L C coun
try. About yore other question—l
never have wanted to kill Chis
wick.”
“You just shot at him for prac
tice," Curly suggested.
“I didn’t shoot at him.” Gray let
his cold eyes rest on Norris. “I
reckon that’s not information to yore
friends.”
“Meaning me?” asked Norris, his
eyes slitted.
“Meaning only that this has been
talked over among you. Someone
took a crack at Chiswick. Whoever
it was, I could just see his figure in
the alley, and I ripped loose at
him.”
“Why?” asked Howard. “Had you
any chips in the game?”
“I've asked myself why often
enough since,” Gray replied, shak
ing his head. “Damfino why. Nary
chip, Mr. Howard. But I had just
been eating supper with him as his
guest, and I reckon my notion must
have been to see he got a fair
break.”
“But that isn’t yore notion any
longer, Mr. Gray?” Howard queried
lightly.
"I'm not drawing a pay-check to
be his bodyguard,” Gray drawled.
“Is it straight goods what he says,
Sherm?” Curly demanded.
“I reckon so, Curly. One of the
boys got impatient and cut loose at
Chiswick.”
“Who?”
“I don't know who. I'm telling
you only what I've heard.” "
“All right,” Norris said. “This
busted leg of his. Do we have to
take it on faith?”
“It needs some attention,” the
wounded man replied. “Is there a
doc in town?”
“No, doc, but Sherm here is al
most as good.”
"Fine. Would you mind looking
at it, Mr. Howard?" Gray asked.
Howard examined, washed, and
dressed the wound. There could be
no doubt it was authentic. After
he had finished taking care of it,
the fat man gave a decision.
"No objection to your staying
here, Mr. Gray. This community
doesn't aim to be hard on a man in
trouble. Of course, if Lee Chiswick
finds out you are here, as he is lia
ble to do, it will be up to you to look
out for yourself.”
Gray said he would try to do that.
Tony Flores, one of the vaqueros,
rode in to the big house with word
Early Roman Writers Classified Their
Doga as Watch, Sheep, Hunting Breeds
Without doubt one of the earliest
uses of a dog was to help herd the
stock of his master. Early refer
ences to dogs confirm this. When
you examine the works of Roman
writers, observes an authority in
the Chicago Tribune, you find that
they divided dogs into throe classi
fications, watchdogs, sheep dogs,
and hunting dogs. It is quite likely
that the conquering Romans
brought these dogs into England.
The Bible also gives us a sidelight
on the early use of dogs for herd
ing, as In the book of Job are read
Job’s reference to “thobe whose
fathers I would have disdained to
have set with dogs of my Rocks."
■nos dogs have helped for many
osoturiee to tend the Rocks of their
maotws a practice that prevailed
to many soualrim M isn't surpria
tog tort today wo still has* a rath
.ao torpo aumber of working breeds
wNh htodhe; toettoete sag a real
that there had been another raid on
L C stock.
“How do you know?” Lee Chis
wick demanded.
“Ran across the tracks of a bunch
being driven up Box canyon," the
Mexican said.
“New tracks?”
“I’d say not more than a day old,
senor."
"Sure they were driven—that they
weren’t strays?” asked Dan Brand.
Tony explained that five or six
shod horses had followed the cattle.
“Too late to catch the thieves or
pick up the stolen stock,” Brand
mourned.
“Maybe not.” Lee gave curt or
ders. “Arm yourselves, boys. We'll
take off after them. Ruth, help
Frank rustle grub for us—enough
tor two-three days. Bob, get Pat
Sorley and Buck Conrad. Cut across
and meet us at the mouth of Box
canyon. Tell them to bring rifles as
well as six-guns. Be there inside of
an hour.”
Ruth gathered all the food she
had cooked, had Nelly grind two
packages of coffee, chose a side of
bacon, added flour and corn meal,
as well as salt, pepper, and sugar.
The food she put in gunnysacks.
Her brother roped a pack-horse
and put on a crossbuck. With a
lash rope he threw a diamond hitch
expertly over the supplies.
“Bring your slickers,” the boss
snapped. “No war-sacks. We’re
traveling light. You won’t be sitting
on your spurs any this trip. Got to
hot-foot it over a cold trail.”
At the entrance to Box canyon
Lee found Sorley, Conrad, and his
son Bob waiting for them. Sorley
was sniffing over the ground like a
dog looking for a scent. The old
man was an expert trailer. He had
been a scout in the army during
the Geronimo campaigns.
The cattleman turned his horse
over to Frank and strode forward to
join Pat.
“What d’you find?” he asked.
“About half a dozen of ’em with
a bunch of young stuff traveling
lickety-split,” Sorley said. “They’re
in one hell of a hurry. Here’s a
big long-stepping horse with outsize
shoes. This one has a broken hoof.
You’ll be pleased to know, Lee, that
the lying scut who calls himself Jeff
Gray is with them. Must have rid
den right over from the line-camp.”
"Sure?”
"Unless he has loaned his roan to
someone else. I made it my busi
ness to take particular notice of
that animal while he was at the line
camp. The blacksmith who shod
that roan was either short of time
or nails. There’s a nail shy in the
shoe on the left front hoof. Take a
look at this track.”
Lee Chiswick studied the foot
mark.
“Here it is again. Begorry, I’d
swear to that on a stack of Bibles.
Gray's roan made it.”
“Hmp! We’ve got him at last so
he can't Ue out of it. He’s one of
the Tail Holt rustling gang.” Chis
wick's salient jaw set.
“I knew he was a bad hombre
first minute I clapped eyes on him,”
Brand said.
Lee drew Frank to one side. “Son,
we're following a cold trail. Look
at those clouds. It’s going to rain
tonight, and all tracks will be blot
ted out. Might as weU hunt a nee
dle in a haystack as these scoun
drels. I want you to go to Tail Holt
and keep your eyes open. There
will be a lot of whispered talk
among the rustlers there, but you
won't hear any of that. What I'd
like to know is who is in town and
who isn't. Find out who has been
away. Notice who drops in. If two
or three come together, check up on
that. I’m pretty sure Sherm How
ard is back of these raids on our
stock, though of course he doesn't
do any night-riding himself.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
sheep on the moors of Scotland and
elsewhere in the British isles varies
considerably in type. For example,
there are long-haired, short-haired,
and bearded border coUies. The
long-haired ia the most popular.
Here in America the biggest ad
vancement in making the breed bet
ter has been during the last ten or
twelve years. The source of most
of the promotion of the breed hae
come from New England, where
there are quite i few of the dogs
being used on sheep farms. It was
in New England that the first Amer
-401
With the onooptionoftho United
StatenjsndGroat Britain, Cot
bar’s Weaker, nearly every country
■Sato g%Litow^t^
ADVENTURERS’ CLUB MK
HIADIINIS FROM THI LIVIS
OF FIOFLI UKI YOURSILFI
"No Fear of Bulleti”
By FLOYD GIBBONS
Famous Bead Mas Banter
TT ELLO EVERYBODY:
A 1 There’s an old saying that a man who is born to be
hanged will never be drowned, and Pete Lovett of Brooklyn, N.
Y., has a hunch that something of the sort is true in his own case.
Pete doesn’t know what sort of an end the Fates have in store
for him, but he’s darned certain that no bullet will ever put
an end to his career.
Pete went through two yean of the World war without getting killed,
but that only helped make him all the more sure that he was bullet proof.
The thing that convinced him of it in the lint place happened before the
war even started—back in the summer of 1912, when Pete was a kid,
thirteen yean old.
Pete was brought up over in Brooklyn, and as a kid he spent most of
his time playing around the waterfront.
A rognlar dock rat, Peto was la those days—a yonagstar who
loved to be ia, or on, or anywhere near the water.
He and a couple of other lads used to go down to the docks together,
and one of those boys had a brother-in-law who was captain of a lighter
age barge tied up at the foot of Columbia street in the Red Hook section.
The Captain Was Drinking Whisky.
It was a day in August, and the three kids went down to the bargb,
at the captain’s invitation, to spend the day aboard it. The captain and
his wife had quarters aboard the boat, but the three youngsters no sooner
arrived than the captain’s wife left to pay a visit to a friend.
That left the three kids alone with the captain. He was a heavy drink
er, Pete says, and this day was no exception. But he started in to show
the kids a good time by taking them out in his rowboat to hunt crabs in
the harbor.
They did pretty well hunting crabs. One after another they scooped
in with a net, until they had a peach basket full of them. They went back
to the barge, cooked the crabs, and sat down to a meal of crabs, boiled
potatoes and tea.
Only the captain didn’t drink any tea. Be had a bottle st
whisky alongside of him and be took frequent nips oat of that.
The captain’s wife hadn’t returned, and the bottle was almost empty.
He asked the boys if they would go out and get him some beer, and
two of them went, but Pete stayed behind. Pete says the captain was
ho*
■lli tCJk
The Captain Began Biasing Away at Pete.
acting normally and he didn’t notice anything strange about him. If
he had, he might have expected what came later. But the captain, as a
matter of fact, didn’t look as if he had taken so much as a single drop of
liquor, though he had been pouring it down all afternoon.
He Began Shooting at Pete.
After the other two boys had gone he told Pete his wife would be back
shortly and he thought he’d start getting supper ready. He asked Pete if
he’d go down the aft hatch where he stored his potatoes, and bring some
back to him. Pete walked aft and started down the hatch.
"In the meantime,” says Pete, “he must have gone stark mad.
Most barge captains keep pistols aboard for protection against har
bor thieves, and he had two loaded ones somewhere about the
boat. I was down below, standing jut to one side of the hatchway,
when all of a sudden he appeared overhead and began biasing
away at me!"
It was dark down there in the hold of the barge, and Pete was thankful
for that. The captain couldn’t see him and he was standing to one side,
out of range of the Are. “At the sound of the Arst shot,” says Pete, “I
went stiff with fright. I never prayed so long or so hard in my life. I have
faced machine gun fire and hand grenades in France, but nothing ever
scared me as much as I was scared that day.
“The captain emptied one revolver down the hatch before he stopped
firing. Then he slammed the hatch cover down on me and locked it so
I couldn’t get out while he went back, apparently to get his other gun.
I could hear him screeching and yelling up above—yelling that I wu a
river pirate and he wu going to Uli me if he had to come down the hatch
to do it.
"Now I heard him open the hatch cover and descend two or three
steps down the ladder. I began creeping slowly away from the hatch.
I moved along on a string piece barely wide enough to walk on. The
barge had four feet of water in its hold for ballast, and if I slipped and
fell into that, the captain would surely kill me.”
Trapped Down the Dark Hatch.
Pete was right alongside of the hatch stairway now. The captain's
legs were within a few inches of his hands. In a sudden desperation he
made a grab for those legs. He thought if he threw the captain into the
water he'd be able to escape. But in the gloom of the hold, he missed his
grab. He caught the cuff of the captain's trousers, and pulled with all
his might, but he miscalculated his strength. He couldn't budge the
captain. Instead, the captain brought his gun down across Pete's
wrist, paralyzing his arm.
Pete let go his help. Ia the darkaes, be began creeping along
the striagptoee toward the back of the dark hole be was trapped
in. Then, again, eame the sound of shots. Bullets splashed In the
water alongside ot him and thudded tote the wooden side of the
barge. Again the captain emptied Ms gun, and and then be
went back on deck, closing and tocking the hatch after him.
He was up in the cabin, reloading his pistols when Pete's two young
friends came back with the beer they had been sent for. They got the guns
away from him and ran out on the dock. Another bargeman came
running to the rescue. The police were called. They came and took the
now thoroughly crazed captain away in a straitjacket.
"All the Mme," says Pete, “I was pounding on the hatch cover and
calling for help. Altogether I was down there about an hour before they
came and let me out, but in that hour I passed through a century of
horror. Now, all fear of bullets has been erased from my mind. After
that experience, I don’t think I’U ever be killed by one.”
coer>WiL-wxv asnus.
Usually, in the Ohio pioneer daya,
Iba first question asked by a pros
pective buyer of a eaddle hone waa,
"Is be a good swimmer?" For with
no bridges over the streams, swim
ming wee the only way over.
_ NaaNas Downing Steest
S^^toynntoiaß. a Govea-
First Tralee Bone Drawn
The first two railroads in the coun
try, the Quincy railroad of Massa
chusetto and the Mauch Chunk rail
toad of Pennsylvania, both dating
from the year ito?, need bone pew-
M Md Mt lOMtnOtiVMe
MgMt OwiitattMg BfetavailM
Goma Waehtagtea and James