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I! Crooked j :| Trails j :: and | || Straight j i: By I t $ X William MacLeod Raine X V V S Copyright. Dy G W Dillingham Company A V ♦♦♦♦♦WWWW'WK'W'W SYNOPSIS. Part I. CHAPTER X.—Adventurous and reck less, rather than criminal, and excited by liquor, Curly Flandrau and his churn, Mac both practically mere boys, become involved In a horse-stealing adventure. Disposing of the stolen stock In the town of Saguache. Ariz., the band separates. Curly and his partner staying in town. They are awakened and told a posse is in town in pursuit of them. They elude their pursuers. Overtaken next day, Mac Is killed by the posse and Curly made captive, after he has shot one and him •elf been wounded. The man shot Is latev p.iiiio.. CHAPTER II. At the End of the Road. Curly's wooden fnce told nothin? of what he was thinking. The first ar- j tide of the creed of the frontier is to be game. Good or bad, the last test of a man is the way he takes his medi cine. So now voting Flandrau ate his dinner wth a hearty appetite, smoked cigarettes impassively, and occasional ly chatted with his guards casually and as a matter of course. Deep with in him was a terrible feeling of sick ness at the disaster that had over whelmed him. hut he did not intend to play the quitter. As the uuy negan to wear out two riders from the' Bar Double Al reached the ranch and were brought in to iden tify him as the horse thief. The two were Maloney and Kite Bonfils, neither of them friends of the young rustler. The foreman in particular was a wet blanket to his chances. “You’ve got the right man all right." bo said to Buck without answering Flandrau’s cool nod of recognition. “What sort of a reputation has he got?" Buck asked, lowering his voice a little. Kite did not take the trouble to low er his. “Bad. Always been a tough character. Friend of Bad Bill Cranston and Soapy Stone.” “1 don’t know anything against the kid. barring that he's been a little wild.” Maloney testified. "And I reckon We ain’t any of us prize Sunday school winners for that matter.” As Buck turned to leave the bunk house the boy touched him on the arm. “How about Cullison?” he asked, very low. But Buck would not have It that way. "What about him?” he demand ed out loud, his voice grating like steel when It grinds. “Is he—how Is he doing?” “What’s eatin' you? Ain’t he dying fast enough to suit you?” Flandrau shrank from the cruel Words, as a schoolboy does from his teacher when he jumps at him w’lth a cane. It was then that Maloney made a friend of the young man for life. He let a hand drop carelessly on Curly’s shoulder and looked at him with a friendly smile in his eyes, just as if he knew that this was no wolf but a poor dog up against it hard. “Doc thinks he’ll make it all right." But there were times when Curly wondered whether it would make any difference to him whether Culltson got well or not. Something immediate was in the air. Public opinion was sifting down to a decision. Most of these men were up to the average for the milk of human kindness. They were the aquarest citizens in Arizona. But Flan drau knew they would snuff out his life Just the same if they decided It wm best. Afterward they might re gret It, but that would not help him. Darkness came, and the lamps were lit. Again Curly ate and smoked and chatted a little with his captors. But as he sat there hour after hour, feel ing death creep closer every minute, cold shivers ran up and down his spine. They began to question him, at first casually and carelessly, so it seemed to Curly. But presently he discerned a drift in the talk. They were trying to find out who had been his partners in the rustling. “And I reckon Soapy and Bad Bill left you lads at Saguache to hold the sack," Buck suggested sympathetically. Curly grew wary. He did not Intend to betray his accomplices. “Wrong guess. Soapy and Bad Bill weren’t in this deal,” he answered easily. The foreman of the Bar Double M Interrupted Impatiently, tired of trying to pump out the Information by finesse. "You’ve got to speak, Flan druu. You’ve got to tell us who was engineering this theft. Understand?” The young rustler looked at the grim frowning face and his heart sank. “Out with it,” ordered Buck. “Oh, I expect I’ll keep that under nay hat,” Curly told them lightly. They were crowded about him in a half circle, nearly a score of hurd leather-faced plainsmen. Some of them were riders of the Circle C out fit. Others had ridden over from neighboring ranches. All of them plainly meant business. “Think again, Curly,” advised Swee ney quietly. “The boys ain't trifling about this thing. They mean to find oat who was in the rustling of the Bar Double M stock.” “Nut tbrmurh me. tlu» won't.” "Xn rough you. And right now.” A dozen times during the evening Curly had crushed down the desire to beg for mercy, to cry out desperately for them to let hitn off. He had kept telling himself not to show yellow, that it would not last long. Now the fear of breaking down sloughed from his soul. He rose front the bed and looked round at the brown faces cir cled about him in the shine of tl*e lamps. “I’ll not tell you a thing—not a thing.” He stood there chalk-faced, his Ups so dry that he had to keep moistening them with the tip of his tongue. Hutch had a new rope in his hand with a loop at one end. He tossed it over the boy’s head and drew it taut. Two or three of the faces in the circle were almost as bloodless as that of the prisoner, but they were set to see the l hing out. “Will you tell now?” Bonfils asked. Curly met him eye to eye. “No.” "Come along, then.” One cvf the men caught his arm at the place where he had been wounded. The rustler flinched. “Careful, Buck. Don’t you see you’re hurting his bad arm?” Sweeney said sharply. “I didn’t aim to hurt him,” Buck de fended himself. Curly’s senses had never been more alert. He noticed that Buck had on a red necktie that had got loose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. It had black polka dots and was badly frayed. Sweeney was chewing tobacco. He would have that chew In his mouth after they had finished what they were going to do. “Ain’t lie the gamest ever?” some one whispered. Tlie rustler heard the words and they' braced him as a drink of whisky does a man who has been on a bad spree. “Better do it at the cottonwoods down by the creek,” Buck told Bonfils in a low voice. The foreman of the Bar Double M moved his head in assent. “AH'right. Let’s get it over quick as we can.” A sound of flying feet came from outside. Some one smothered an oath of surprise. Kate Cullison stood in the doorway, all out of breath and panting. “What is It?" They had not a word to say for themselves. In that room were some of the most callous hearts in the ter ritory. Not one man in a million could have fazed them, but this slender girl dumfounded them. Her gaze set tled on Buck. His wandered for help to Sweeney, to Jake, to Kite Bonfils. “Now look-a-here. Miss Kate,” Sweeney began to explain. But she swept his remonstrance aside. '•No—No—No !” Her voice' gathered strength with each repetition of the I “I Went Hava It" word. “I won’t have It What ara you thinking about T" “He'a a rustler, Mias Kate; belongs to Soapy Stone’s outfit,” Sweeney an swered the gtarL “Can you prove It?" “We got him double cinched.’’ “Then let the law put him In prison.’’ “He shot yore paw,” Buck reminded her. “Is that why you’re doing It?” “Yes’m,” and “That’s why," they nodded. Like a flash she took advantage of their admission. "Then I’ve got more against him than you have, and I say turn him over to the law." Kite pushed forward, rough and overbearing. "Now see here. We know what we’re doing and we know why we’re doing It. This ain’t any busi ness for a girl to mix In. You go back to the house and nurse your father that this man shot.” “So It Isn’t the kind of business for a girl,” she answered scornfully. “It’s work for a man, Isn’t It? No, not for one. For nine—eleven—thirteen—sev enteen big brave strong men to hang one poor wounded boy.” At that an amused laugh rippled out. It came from Maloney. He was leaning against the door jamb with his hands in his pockets. Nobody had no ticed him before. He had come in after the girl. When Curly came to think It over later, If he had been given three guesses as to who had told Kete Culllson what was on the pro gram he would have guessed Maloney each time. “Now that you’ve relieved your mind proper, Miss Culllson, 1 expect I nny ui me ouya win oe giau 10 escort you back to the bouse,” Kite suggested with an acid smile. “What have you got to do with this?” she flamed. “Our boys took him. They brought him here as their prisoner. Do you think we’ll let you come over into this county and dic tate everything we do?” “I’ve got a notion tucked away that you’re trying to do the dictating your own self,” the Bar Double M man con tradicted. “I’m not. But I won’t stand by while you get these boys to do mur der.” Kite laughed sarcastically. “You hear your .hosts, boys.” “You’ve had yore say now, Miss Kate. I reckon you better say good night,” advised Buck. She handed Buck and his friends her cothpliwbnts in a swift flow of femi nine ferocity. Maloney pushed into the circle. “She's dead right, boys. There’s noth ing to this lynching game. He’s only a kid.” The tide of opinion was shifting. Those who had been worked up to the lynching by fix* arguments of Bonfll* began to resent his activity. Flandrau was their prisoner, wasn’t he? No use going off half-cocked. Some of them were discovering that they were not half so nnxlous to hang him as they had supposed. The girl turned to her friends and neighbors. “I oughtn’t to have talked to you that way, but you know how worried I am about dad,” she apolo gized with a catch in her breath. “I’m sure you didn’t think or you would never have done anything to trouble me more just now! You know I didn’t half mean it.” Slip looked from one to another, her eyes shiny with tears. "I know that no braver or kinder men live than you. Why. you’re my folks. I’ve been brought up among you. And so you’ve got to forgive me. Some said “Sure,” others told her to forget it. and one grass widower drew a laugh by saying that her little spiel reminded him of happier days. “I’m so glad you’ve change*! your minds. I knew you would when you thought it over,” she told them chat tily and confidentially. She was taking their assent for granted. Now she waited and gave them a chance to chorus their agree ment. None of them spoke except Ma loney. Most of them were with her in sympnth.v hut none wanted to be first Id giving way. She looked around from one to an other, still cheerful and sure of her ground apparently. Two steps brought her directly in front of one. She caught him by the lapels of his coat and looked straight into his eyes. “You have changed your tnind, haven’t you, Jake?” The big Missourian twisted his hat in embarrassment. “Sure. Whatever’s right suits me." “Well, you know what is right, don’t you ?” "I expect.” “Then you won’t hurt this man. our prisoner?" “I haven’t a thing against him If you haven’t.” “Then you won’t hurt him? You won’t stand by and let the other boys do it?" “Now, Miss Kate—" She burst into sudden tears. “I thought you were my friend, but now I’m in trouble you—you think only of making it worse.” Jake gave in immediately and the rest followed like a flock of sheep. Two or three of the promises came hard, but she did not stop till each one Individually had pledged himself. The young man she had saved could not keep his eyes from her. He would have liked to kneel down and kiss the edge of her dress and put his curly head In the dust before her. The Ice In his heart had melted in the warmth of a great emotion. She was standing close to him talking to Buck when he oj/vnv i u ■ iv t* iviv«i • “I reckon I can’t tell you—how much Pm obliged to you, miss." She drew back quickly aa If he had been a snake about to strike, her hand Instinctively gathering her skirts so that they would not brush against him. MI don’t want your thanks,” she told him, and her voice was like the drench of an Icy wave. But when she saw the hurt In his eyes she hesitated. Perhaps she guessed that he was human after all, for an Impulse carried her forward to take the rope from his neck. While his heart beat twice her soft fingers touched his throat and graced his cheek. Then she turned and was gone from the room. It was a long time before the bunk house quieted. Curly, faint with weari ness, lay down and tried to sleep His arm was paining a good deal and be felt feverish. The men of the Circle C and their guests sat down and argued the whole thing over. But aft er a time the doctor came In and had the patient carried to the house. He was put In a good clean bed and his arm dressed again. The doctor brought him good news. “Culllson is doing tine. He ought to nmke It all right.” Curly thought about the girl who had fought for his life. “You'll not let him die, Doc,” he begged. “He’s too tough for that, Luck Cul lison Is.” Presently Doctor Brown gave him a sleeping powder nnd left him. Soon after that Curly fell asleep and dreamed about a slim dark girl with fine long-lashed eyes that could be both tender und ferocious. CHAPTER III. The Cullisons. and Laura Londpn. *'•**•>.- - Ka. 4-Kes ■ \ of the cook beating the call to break fast on a triangle. Buck was standing beside tho bed. “How’re they coming this glad mo’ning, son?” he inquired with a grin. “Fine and dandy.” grinned back Flandrau. “How is Cullison?” “Good as the wheat, doc says. Mighty lucky for Mr. C. Flandrau that he is. Say, I’m to be yore valley and help you into them clothes. Git a wiggle on you.” Buck escorted his prisoner over to the ranch messhouse. The others had finished breakfast but Mfaloney was still eating. His mouth was full of hot cakes, but he nodded across at Curly in a casual friendly way. “How’s tlie villain in the play this mo’ning?” he inquired. 'twenty-one usually looks on the cheerful side of life. Curly had for gotten for the moment about what had happened to tiis friend Mac. He did not remember that lie was in the shadow of a penitentiary sentence. The sun was shining out of a deep blue sky. The vigor of youth flowed through Ills veins. He was hungry and a good breakfast was before him. For the present these were enough. “Me, I’m feeling a heap better than I was last night,” he admitted. "Came pretty near losing you out of the east, didn't we?” “Might a-turned out that way If the stage manager had not remembered the right cue in time.” The heart of the prisoner went out to this man who was reaching a hand to him in his trouble. He had always known that Maloney was true and steady as a snubbing post, but he had not looked for any kindness from him. “Kite just got a telephone message from Saguache,” the Bar Double M man went on easily. “Your friends that bought the rustled stock didn’t get away with the goods. Seems they stumbled into a bunch of rurales unex pected and had to pull their freight sudden.” “Make their getaway?” Curly In quired ns indifferently as he could. But in spite of himself a note of eager ness crept into his voice. For if the men had escaped that would be two less witnesses against him. “Yep.” “Too bad. If they hadn’t I could have proved by them 1 was not one of the men who sold them the stock,” Flandrau replied. “I.ike h— you could,” Buck snorted, then grinned at bis prisoner In a shame-faced way: “You’re a good ons, son.” Jake stuck his head In at the door. “Buck, you’re needed to help with them fwo-venr-olds The old man wants , ><> nave n raiK wit* the rustlei'. "Doc I «ays he may. Maloney, will you take | him lip to the house?" Maloney had once ridden for the Circle C and was friendly with all the men on the place. lie nodded. "Sure.” A Mexican woman let them Into the chamber where the wounned man lav. Kate was bending over the bed re arranging the pillows, hill she looked up quickly when the two men entered, tier eyes were still gentle with the love that had been shining down from them upon her father. Cullison spoke. "Sit down, Dick.” And to his prisoner: “You too.” Flandrnu saw close at hand for the first time the man who had been Arl | zona’s most fnmous fighting sheriff. ; Luck Cullison was well-built and of | medium height, of a dark complexion* 1 clean shaven, wiry and muscular. AI | ready past fifty, he lookecP n«t a day more than forty. One glance was j enough to tell Curly the kind of man j this was. The power of him found ex I pression In the gray steel-chilled eyes j that bored into the young outlaw. “You have begun earl*-, young fel ! low,” he said quietly. "But never mind rm-r n “You Have Begun Early, Young Fal low," Ho Said Quietly. that. I don’t ask you to convict your self. I sent for you to tell you I don’t blame you for this.” He touched the wound . “Different with your boys, sir.” “So the boys are a little excited, are they?” “They were last night, anyhow,” Curly answered, with a glimmer of a smile. Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at his daughter. “I’ll listen to what you’ve been hid ing from me,” he told them. “Oh, the boys had notions. Miss Kate argued with them and they saw things different,” the Bar Double M rider explained. Rut Cuinsou would not let it go at that. He made them tell him the whole story. When Curly and Maloney had finished he buried his daughter’s little hand in his big brown fist. His eyes were dancing with pride, but he gave her not a word of spoken praise. Kate spoke to Curly. “Father wants ■ me to tell you that we don’t blame you for shooting at him. We understand just how it was. Your friend got ex cited and shot as soon as he saw he ’ was surrounded. We are both very sorry he was killed. Father could not stop the boys in time. Perhaps you re member that he tried to get you to surrender.” The rustler nodded. “Yes, I heard him holler to me to put my gun down, but the others blazed away at me.” "And so you naturally defended yourself. Father wants it made clear that he feels you could have done noth ing else.” “Much obliged. I’ve been sorry ever since I hit him, and not only on my own account." “Then none of us need to hold hard feelings.” The girl looked at her fa ther, who answered her appeal with a grim nod, and then she turned again to the young rustler a little timidly. “I wonder if you would mind if I asked you a question.” "You’ve earned the right to ask as many as you like.” » “It’s about— We have been told you know the man they call Soapy Stone. Is that true?” Flandrau’s eyes took on a stony look. It was as if something had sponged alt the boyishness from his face. Still try ing to get him to give away his part ners in the rustling, were they? Well, he would show them he could take his medicine without squealing. “Your boys were asking that ques tion about Soapy last night. They had a rope round my neck at the time. \ Nothing unfriendly in the matter, of \ course. Just a cusunl Interest in my doings.” (To be continued) THE MAXWELL TRUCK HE’S FAST ON HIS “FEET” He responds with spirit to any request. He is up and ; away in a jiffy, gets over ground faster than bigger fellows, who j struggle under the heavy burdens of their own dead weight. i He turns a corner quickly, picks his way in and out of j traffic, fairly runs away from most any other carrier when a \ street’s thick with teams and motors. \ He therefore makes more trips, more miles in a day, cov- j ers moie territory, delivers or collects more parcels and freight. That’s why some call him “Speedy” Maxwell. He’s l there when it comes down to getting a thing done in a hurry. ^ jj He might just as well be called “Thrifty” Maxwell, for l he’s a penny counter, if you like. He never uses food except when he is working for you and he is almost sure to make you a present of your own cost in one trip around the calendar. For demonstration see Lillard and Ross Johnst on Agents for Little River County. ’ »