Cheyenne Wells record., November 10, 1921, Image 2

About Cheyenne Wells record. (Cheyenne Wells, Cheyenne County, Colo.) 1???-1969

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THE CLAN CALL
-LONESOME."
Synopsis.—Toung Carlyle Wllbur
ton Dais, or “Bill Dais/’ son of
a wealthy coal operator. John K.
Dale, arrives at the Halfway
B witch. In eastern Tennessee,
abandoning a life of Idle ease—and
Incidentally a bride. Patricia Clav
ering. at the altar—determined to
make his own way In life. He
meets "Babe” Littleford. typical
ssouatalneer girl. “By” Heck, a
character of the hills, takes him to
JOhfi' Moreland's home. Moreland
Is chief of his “clan." which has
an old feud with the Llttlefords.
He tolls Dale of the killing of his
brother, David Moreland, years
ago. owner of rich coal deposits,
by a man named Carlyle. Dale
believes the man was his father.
Dale makes his home with the
Morelands. Talking .with Babe.
Dale Is ordered by “Black Adam”
. Ball to leave “his girl" alone.
' Dale whips the bully. He arranges
with John Moreland to develop the
coal deposits. Ben Littleford sends
■ a challenge to John Moreland to
meet him with his followers In bat
tl4. Moreland agrees. The two
clans line up for battle. A Lit
tleford fires tha first shot Babe.
In an effort to stop the fighting,
crosses to tha Moreland side of the
: river, and Is accidentally shot by
her father and seriously wounded.
The fight stops and Babe Is taken
to the city. Doctors announce she
•Is not seriously hurt. Dale meets
an old friend. Bobby MclAurtn.
who has married Patricia Claver
ifier Dale's father admit* he killed
David Moreland and offers him
funds to develop the coal.
CHAPTER Vl—Continued.
“You needn't.” broke In the embit
tered Hill Dale. “I can pet the neces
sary funds without difficulty. I’ll pay
the debt myself. You’ve had a great
many years In which to try to make
amends, and you haven't done any
thing. You might have helped the
Morelands without their even knowing
that It was you—especially as they
seem to hnve known you by another
name—and that’s the only way you
could have helped them. Here you
have one reason why 1 cannot accept
tissfstance from you; don’t you see, fa
ther? The Morelands wouldn’t hnve
It, and 1 couldn't lie to them.”
He motioned to McLaurln. who had
halted on the lower veranda step In
order that he might not overhear, and
'' turned and walked away. McLaurln
followed, and soon overtook him.
Bill Dale stopped suddenly and
(heed back to his father.
“ICeinember that Bobby gets his
house and lot!”
••Yes.” replied John K. Dale. "Bobby
gets his house and lot.”
He went sadly toward the mansion
that seemed to him now a good deal
like a tomb. Young Dale touched his
friend on the arm.
"Tell me. what did mother sayT I
know It's going to hurt, but—tell It.”
“Bhe was sitting beside on open win
dow In the library,” said McLaurln.
”1 told her that you were at the gate,
and asked If she would like to see you.
At first I was afraid she hadn’t heard
me. Then she opened a book that she
was reading, found her place and
“I'll Pay the Debt Myself.*
ff -X * . . I . I .. J. t.,
*!■'* i-jj /L jK •jotiKit r»il) I-m i 1
1 Marked It wltp' a tlpger, an<J looked at,
u‘‘ •<4od»' »bß , ciW^e? ! i' ! »Biiwsre<l,. , ;
Wf.'l'Ur.l ntuafiu; Ul All to me
“>! s:
•to me tbere U no such penon on
I v ew*H«»o»«Wl«W»ia'"..l I
,a»wr l .y*.»wwy ft* I ***: jh
rut 9io ot attriP'TCH Vftl if c "* l
I -id bwlnu «* Iwm oilt to; slleW
Ben Ut
|«ronl tail JtnlMt-Hl MM**r hiitafall
By HAPSBURG LIEBE
there In the dining room of the Blals
dell, they drank the water * from , fhelr
tlngerbowls, threatened with sudden
death the waiter who flickered, and
found the way to the lobfijfl
To Llttleford the minutes dragged
soddenly. Finally he told Moreland,
In a sentence tilled with double nega
tives. that he could bear the suspense
no longer, and proposed that they set
out at once for Doctor Braemer’s hos
pital. The hotel manager overheard
some of the one-sided conversation;
he 'phoned the surgeon and learned
that the young woman was resting
easily, which information he passed
on to the mountain men.
Ben Uttleford was quiet for tlve
minutes, more or less. Then he again
proposed to John Moreland that they
go to the hospital to see Babe. More
land refused tlatly, and accompanied
his refusal with an unmistakable look
of contempt.
-you’re as restless as a dawg in a
flea town," he told his old enemy, and
with that he walked away.
A few minutes later Ben Llttleford
stole out unnoticed by his neighbor
from the B'g Fine, and went at a brisk
g«.i tv t>d street. Moreland found It
out shortly afterward; he followed the
Llttleford chief hotfoot, and overtook
him. Trust your hill dweller to note
landmarks when he goes Into unknown
territory Llttleford was headed
straight for the hospital.
They walked'‘(dr two blocks In si
lence. .Iloreland* had assumed the at
titude' of one who has had the guard
ianship -of an* Irresponsible person
thrust upon him. But soon he soft
ened somewhat.
“1 shore cain't onderstond, Ben." he
drawled, "how BUI Dale ever could
bear It to live here."
"1 wonder,” Llttleford said absent
mindedly, as though he had not heurd,
"whar Bill Dale is at* its mighty
durned lonesome without him, ain’t it?
That was good ham we had for break
fus’, John."
“It wasn’t ham. it was beef."
“It was ham."
“It was beef.”
“It was ha—”
“Don’t ye reckon,” hared John More
land, “that 1 know a dang cow’s meat
when 1 see it? it was beef!”
They had halted In the middle of a
stream of pedestrians. A policeman
crowded his way to them.
“Move on!” he growled.
• ••••••
BUI Dale was at that moment enter
ing the lobby of the Dlaisdell with
Hubert McLaurln at his side. Dale
had Just told McLaurln that be meaut
to go to Cincinnati to borrow money
from his wealthy friend Harris. Then
McLaurln told Dale something that
saved him the Journey to Cincinnati.
-V'ou haven't heard about Harris,
B1U? I’m sorry, because he would
have accommodated you. He went
broke a few days ago in the cotton
smash. He was here yesterday, and
left last night for Clncy.”
Dale did not try to conceal his sur
prise and disappointment. Harris, for
all his youth, had been a business mar
vel.
“i'll have to try somebody here, 1
guess. But 1 won’t take It front fa '
ther—mother wouldn't permit It, any
way, If she knew —and there are sev
eral other reasons. Queer how a fel
low’s mother would turn him down
like this! Usually, y’know. It’s a fel
low’s mother that sticks by him the
longest. . • .
“1 wonder where 1 could hnd old
Newton Wheatley, of the Luther-
Wbeatley iron company? 1 know him,
all right. He always liked me, Bobby.”
-I’ou'll hnd him at home," McLaurln
answered. “He’s out of business, uud
here all the time now. He might tuke
a shot at coal. Why not ’phone him
from here?"
“I’ll do that,” Dale decided. “Look
up my two friends for me, Bobby, will
you?”
He was soon speaking to Newton
Wheatley. He was brief in stating his
wishes. To the question as to why he
did not go to his father for funds —
well, he hnd his reasons, and it was
rather a private matter. Wheatley, of
course, remembered the neur-w*edding.
The old Iron man was sileut for
what seemed to Dale a very, long time.
Then his voice came over the wire
with an almost ominous culm:
-Who besides you has seen this vein,
Carlyle? Anybody that knows coal?"
“i'es, my father,” Dale answered
quickly. "He went over it yenrs ago.
Ask him about the coal In DaVid More
land’s mountain. ’Phone him, and then
’phone me. I’m waiting at tjie Blais
dell.” •
Wheatley agreed a little reluctantly.
- ' Dale wafted yrntferitly for tifteen
minutes.: .Th«?Q thevcJerk called tinh
.to the. He. v took ( jup the receiver
with boyish eagerness. '- ’y
Wheatley began 'edfAlatty: >k, Your fa-,
the* tells me It la a .good proposition, H
Carlyle,, aq A’U let jfyp hq.vp Ml the
Money you v Il. need. And If you a
i good Milling s man, 1 know where jwii,
can lay-yeur hands on one; also’l'tah
% f#rhfebrro%.*t,**i* the driginul cost.
aMfWl&kl*' cotojwm* In 1
coti>«t my '
Let me see you at three o’clock this
afternoon —"
nwnYEinra WELLS RECORD
Dale was jubilant. Here waa a rare
stroke of good fortune. He went to
■ McLaurln—who bad not yet found
John Moreland and Ben Llttleford—
and told him about It. McLaurln was
almost as happy as Dale over it. A
bellboy appeared like a Jaek-ln-the-box
In the center or the hour. "Mlstoh
Cahiyle Dale! Mlstoh Cahlyle Dale!"
Dale wheeled. “Well?"
“Wanted Immejitly at Doetoh Brae
nieh’s hosplttle, suh!”
Dale shook hands with McLaurln
and hurried toward the street.
A few minutes later Doctor Braemer
met him In the reception room.
“What’s wrong, doctor?"
The surgeon beckoned'. “Come with
me.”
He turned and led the way through
a long corridor and to a sunny white
room where Babe Llttleford lay with
a bandage about her temples. Ben Llt
tleford was on his knees at his
daughter’s bedside; he was slowly
wringing his big, rough hands and beg
ging piteously to be forgiven.
Babe stared at him a trifle coldly.
She bad not yet seen the two men who
**l Was a.Tryin’ to Skoor Him Out
Fightin' Any Moro/* Bho Intor
ruptotf.
stood In the doorway. Then she In*
terrupted her father:
"You hush, pap, and go sway. I’d
told ye a bunderd times about hghtln'
a-beln' murder, and ’specially to us
wimmenfolks, and you never would
pay any 'tentlon to me. You hush,
pap, and go away. Ef 1 die, I’ll Jest
haf to die. And ef 1 die, 1 shore do
want to die In peace. Go way, pap."
"But ye must live. Babe, honey 1”
Ben Littleford moaned. "Ef you was
to die, what’d 1 do?"
"1 don’t know what ye’d do, pap,"
Babe said weakly. “You ought to
thought o’ that afore, pap. It may be
too late now. 1 want ye to go on off
and !e’ me alone. Ef 1 die, 1 want to
die in peace. The Lord knows 1 never
got to live In peace!”
There was a worried look In her
wonderful brown eyes, and the doctor
saw it. lie strode forward decisively
and helped Littleford to his feet. The
hlllman wiped away a tear with his
fuded blue bandana, and hung his
head, lie had been made a broken
man In one day.
"Go out to your friend Moreland,"
smiled the doctor, "and wait there for
a little while."
Babe's father walked unsteadily out
of the room. Dale went to Doctor
Braemer and whispered, “isn’t she go
ing to make It?" anxiously.
"Certainly she's going to make It,”
Braemer assured him. "Go on; she
wants to see you.”
Dale drew* a chair up close to the
white bed and sat down. Babe’s eyes
lighted at once, and she put a hand
uncertainly out toward him. Dale.took
the hand in his. He saw that it was
a little pnle under Its delicate sunburn.
"Glad to see you. Babe,” he told her
softly. "Why do you think you’re go
ing to die. Babe?”
She smiled at him. "Why, 1 don’t
think I’m a-goin’ to die," she said. “1
know I'm a-goln’ to live. Bill Dale.
1 feel like 1 could walk fifty miles
right now!"
"But 1 heard you teU your father—”
. "l was a-ttyln’ to sheer him out o*
tigntitr anjf' ttiore," she Interrupted.
r-Attd 1 believe l •bout <4dt»e It, don't
you?”/) rni«,
'.Dale,was relieved. "I do, is there
' iihyihhig l ‘lt there Is,
•I’ll'get’ 11-fof yon If li*r in the unl
. “The universe?" she repeated lnqulr
ingiyj “XVwiW Hie' tiiiiv!™t£‘yih Dale?
Somethin' to eatT" - teW ,
ffortp.ithf-«*n, thfr moop., W d,
' r 'She aintiW'at BW 0* dhe’
iaM,- «thi' 'Min'*! VDthhrt > n»fcnt r ao*
ain’t nothin’ ye can do to* m*, 1
reckon.”
OoprrttM *J
••But 1 thought, as tuey sent for
Babe Littleford's Angers held tightly J
to his. "It was me that sent fo’ you.
She turned her face the other way.
**l was so lonesome, Bill Dale!"
Kobert McLaurln's wife, Patricia, }
visited Babe twice daily, and a friend
ship that was none the less warm for s
being unique sprang up quickly be- ’
tween them. Patricia declared to her 1
husband that she was going to keep •
ttabe —whom she was already culling <
by her proper name, the same being 1
Elizabeth —and educate her. There «
was room in the bungalow, Patricia i
said; and she really needed company, i
becuuse Bobby was away so much.
Babe accepted little Mrs. McLaurin s ]
offer ns soon as Bill Dale convinced
her that she wouldn’t be merely an ob- •
ject of charity. The hill pride s first j
law is that one must pay for what ]
he gets—and it’s probably the first i
law God laid down for old Adam in |
Eden. Ben Littleford seemed bewil- j
dered and blue when they told him of <
the arrangement, but he voiced no ob- i
jection. Dale pressed upon him a ,
loan of a hundred dollars, and or- i
dered him to give it to his daughter,
which he did. Elizabeth Littleford, of ,
course, would need new clothing.
“I ain’t even got any dresses at ,
home,” she whispered to Patriclu, “but ;
two."
Bill Dale was sure now that he .
loved Babe, and he was almost sure
that she cared for him. But he wus
quite properly in no haste to come to
an understanding. lie hud known all
along that Babe would have to be
educated: and a woman’s tastes, he
reasoned, might change with educa
tion. And he wanted her to have the
opportunity of knowing other men of
his class. If she couldn’t love him
with a lusting love, he didn’t want
her to love him at all.
Oddly or not, he never thought of
Jimmy Fayne.
CHAPTER VIII.
Major Bradley and Henderson Goff.
When Bill Dale, the expert mining
man Hayes and the two mountaineers
stepped from a short passenger train
at the Halfway switch, they were ap
proached by the moonshiner, Heck,
and a man whom Dale had never seen
before. He was tall, and his bearing
was erect and soldierlike, though he
was every day of sixty years old.
His eyes were blue and twinkling with
everlasting good humor; his gray
mustaches and imperial were exceed
ingly well cared for; his teeth were
his own, and as white as a school
girl’s, and they bore out his general
air of neatness. He was, plainly, a
Southerner of the old type.
“Who's that?" whispered Dale to
John Moreland.
But Moreland didn't hear. He ran
forward with his right hand out
stretched, and so did Ben Littleford.
Men could not have greeted a brother
with more gladness, Dale thought.
“Hi, thar, Major Bradley 1" the hill
man cried. ‘‘And how d’ye come on
today?"
“I am very well, gentlemen, thank
you,” said the major, smiling.
He shook* their hands heartily. “The
trainmen gave us your message yester
day,” he went on, still smiling, “and
we were delighted to learn thut the
young woman was out of danger. I
trust you are all in good health, gen
tlemen.”
They assured him that they were.
Moreland turned to Introduce Bill Dale
and the mining man. From the mo
ment that Major Bradley gripped
Dale’s hand they were friends.
"Mighty glad to know you, sir!"
exclaimed the old lawyer. “I’ve been
hearing a great deal about you, sir,
over in the valley of the Doe. They
seem to think there’s nobody just like
Bill Dale! It was Bill Dale* this,
and Bill Dale that; it was ‘Here’s
where Bill Dale whipped Black Adam,’
or, ‘Here’s where Bill Dale was stand
ing w’hen such-and-such happened,' or,
‘Here’s where Bill Dale crossed the
fence!’ ”
"Uah-hah-hah!” sluggishly laughed
By Heck, who stood leaning on the
muzzle of his rifle. “Bill Dale Is all
right, major; ye’ve shore got my word
fo’ that."
The others laughed. Then John
Moreland said they’d better be mov
ing, or they’d be late for dinner.
W’hen they had put a hundred yards
of David Moreland’s mountain behind
them, the old Southerner tugged slyly
at Dale’s sleeve and whispered:
“Let us fall behind a little. If you
please. I want to speak with you
privately."
They began to log, and soon there
was a distance of several rods be
tween them and the others. ,
M I beeK through Addle
began Bradley, his friendly hand on
the younger man’s arm, “about you
and wha*-you’re planning to do for
the Morelands, i tell you, Mr, I
thanked heaven for your coming, and
you niiy count on me to help lf>. any
*8 thqugh up to
middle of last summer they didn'tlike
me any too well because I made Ben
I.lttleford’. cmblo mj Home wh “ ■ ,ot
he .«; . simple thin* that brought
us together. John Moreland’s little
ueDhew was lost In the woods and hla
mothe7 was frantic. There are pan
there, yon know, and wildcats rattlers
and copperheads. I was ortunate
enough to find the boy. and carried
aim home. That was all. They re a
fine people, my boy, and so are the
Ltttlefords. Good old Engllsh blood
that somehow wandered off. There*
no purer, cleaner blood In America,
“And non - —how are you getting
along with your plans for the opera
tion of the coal mine? ’
“Excellently,” answered Dale. W»
have the necessary finance; a geared
locomotive nnd cars and steel
rails have been bargained for.
"Good 1" Bradley gave Dale a hearty
slap on the shoulder.
“There’s something else 1 wanted to
say Mr. Dale.” he continued, hla
voice grave. "You’re nearly certain
to have a barrel of trouble with a
shyster coal man named Henderson
Goff lie's a vllluin, sir, If ever there
was one! And he’s quite the smooth
est article I’ve ever seen. He can
make you believe black Is white. 1*
only you’ll listen to him long enough.”
"Is he—has he been here recently?"
l>ale wanted to know.
“He's here now," answered the ma
jor. "He's been here for three days,
and he’s been working devilment fast.
He was up here last summer, trying
to buy the Moreland coal for a song;
he knows all the people, you see. Aa
soon as he lunded here on this pres
ent trip, he found out about your in
tentions. Then, at night, he freed
Adam Ball from his tobacco barn pris
on. and went home with him.
“Well, By Heck followed them and
did some eavesdropping —poor By has
his strong points!" the major went
on. “Goff learned that Adam Ball’s
father knew about the coal vein long
before David Moreland discovered It
and got lawful possession of the moun
tain. Then Goff made the Balls be
lieve that they were due a big share
of the proceeds of the Moreland coal!
It wasn’t very hard to do, I guess. The
Balls, this set. at least, were originally
lowlanders; they took to the moun
tains. I understand, to keep from be
ing forced to light during the Civil
war."
“Goffs Idea." muttered Dale, “is to
get the Balls to scare me into selling
Instead of developing, eh?"
“Exactly." nodded old Bradley.
“Then he would settle with the Balls
by giving them a dollar or two a day
for digging coal; perhaps he would
put them off until the mine was
worked out for half of that, and then
skip. Anyway, Goff would come out
ut the big end."
“1 see.” said Dale.
“If there’s anything that I can do,
at any time, you won't hesitate to let
me know?" said the major.
“You may consider yourself attorney
and legal adviser for the Moreland
Coal company, of which I have the
honor to be general manager," smiled
Dale, “if you will.”
Major Bradley’s voice came happily,
“My dear boy. I am glad to accept I
And there shall be no charge for any
service that I may render.”
They were not long In reaching the
green valley, which lay very beauti
ful and very peaceful in the warm
light of the early July sun. The soft
murmuring of the crystal river and
the low, slow tinkling of the cowbells
made music that was sweet and pleas
ing.
Suddenly John Moreland stopped,
uttered a swearword under his breath,
turned and went back to Dale.
"The’s a man a-wnitin’ on us ahead
thnr. Bill," he drawled, “'at ye shore
want to wutcli like a hawk to keep
him from a-stealin’ the eyeteeth out
o’ yore head. His nnme is Hender
son Goff, und he wants coal."
They went on. Soon they met a
man who. in clothing and manner,
made Dale think of stories he had
heard und read of Mississippi river
steamboat gamblers of the long ago v
His eyes were black, and ns keen as
a pair of spear-points; his mustaches,
too. were black, and they hnd sharp,
upturned ends like those of a Mephis
to. The major had said that he was
a smooth article; he certainlv looked
It.
He met John Moreland with an oily
smile und thrust out his hand But
Moreland wouldn’t see the hand.
“Anything ye’ve got to say about
coal." he growled, “ye can say to Bill
Dale thar," pointing with a calloused
thumb. “Bill he’s the high light o’
the whole business; and when he
opens his mouth, ye cau cock yore
head to one side and listen fo’ gnws
pel."
Goff was delighted to meet Mr. Dale,
of whom he had already heard. Dale
had nothing whatever to say. They
walked on toward the cabin of the
Moreland chief, with GofT keeping up
a running tire of talk concerning the
scenery, the climate—anything but
coal.
At John Moreland's, gate, Goff
nudged Dale with an elbow and whis
pered :
- “Meet me ~ai one o’clock down there
where the big sycamore lies across
' the.rbrsr.. I've got sometldug to tell
you that will interest you-”
l!_ f - : * * Him
1 “I want you Littleford. to ba
1 on ,ood t.rm.wjth roar n.i.h
bon, tb. iioniujn’i: i;;
1
[ (TO be CONTINUED.!
Just Like New York Murderers.
cent fnilt
—AtUnu Coanttvttso.
THIS WOMKjn
experieK
Lowell, MMB.—“I had I,
tbe tune I was sixteen
B® “ very
did
I would
have to
bed, m»
thinking
After
Pmkham’iS^^E
hie
used the
Wmah, and have never felt btiZSB
I have the last two years. I
eat, sleep, and feel as strong
Doctors told me I could
children— l was too weak- bet
taking Vegetable Compound it
ened me so I gave birth to
pound boy. I was well all
all my work up to the last
a natural birth. Everybody'
me was surprised, ana when they
what made me strong I tell
great pleasure, 4 1 took Lydia
ham’s Vegetable Compound
felt better in my life. ' Use tfcii^^Hl
xnonial at any time.”—Mrs FtitiMW
Smart, 142 W. Sixth St..
This experience of Mrs. Smarts
a strong recommendation for
Pinkham’a Vegetable Compouni
only one of a great many similar
The Great Obstacle
“Wife has been pestering
sldernbly of late to sell out
to town/* sahl Gap Johnson of -/V
Ridge, Ark. “The children
catamounts for the change
they happened to think about
I was pretty nigh on the p int
so last month, hut Ju>t then
ler told me It was n’most
to raise dogs in tow n.
Star.
Shave With Cuticura Boap Wjm.
And double your razor efficiency
well as promote skin purity,
fort and skin health No
slimy soap, no germs. no waste,
Irritation even when shared
dally. One soap for oil uses—
bathing and shampoo!:,- Advertistg^H|
Real Ground for Complaint
“Very had form. I «• It,
up during church hours.”
“Probably she know - y..u don't
church." H
“Very likely; but she might
the decency to hsmiuic that I
Exchange. |H
course. To sail
in the flavor—l
I
WSyiKt”.' 'digfj ■
I
(fexzz^z&s J
He Was Unimportant JM
Muriel came running to her motw H
crying: . hotrftfl
“O-o-o mamma! Did you net
ladder fall down Just now? I
“No, dear. How did the ladder™
pen to fall down?”
“Well, papa eras "‘“““UM
window and It slipped, and * M
fell It broke three flo"**r l K,ts * I
daddy you’d he cross. M
“Oh. dear," cried the motto* ,|
hope your father hasn’t hurt (
"I don’t think he has yet, ■
the child. “He was hanging J
window sill when I came nwa J
you . about the flower pots* ■
burgh Chronicle-Telegraph. 1
1 Wealth may not bring hJPP 1 I
but, then, neither does poverty. ■
. Childish sports may satlrfr®*®!
[ -dren, but-annoy-the j
■’ ffir Night >*2l
MM7 Mom i n g ■jjPffl
’’ H%|
'€». KrNaM d» Mi “■ 0 * #P |