Life — December 23, 1915 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The contest closed on October 4th. So man: a 4 one necessitating a careful reading, that our friends are We shall continue to publish the stories been received, each f invited to exercise all due patience. thousands of manuscripts have accepted each week in this department until all the manuscripts have been passed upon; and as soon thereafter as possible the prizes will be awarded. The Reward By Herbert Heron 'O one knew just how popular Cobbe was till Dick Walling shot him. It was Cobbe's fault, but Walling didn’t wait to explain, Like others, he didn’t know the degree of the deceased's popularity, but he had a fair idea, and left Monterey as fast as his horse could take him, The animal was the speediest in the county. He stopped at Parl’s on his way up the valley. Parl greeted him cordially. For half an hour they talked. The ‘phone rang. “That's for me. I told Cobbe I'd stop here,” and with that, Walling took down the receiver. “Hello! This is Mr. Parl's. Oh, yes, you want me. What? Well, I'm damned! Not a sign, I'll watea. Sure. What? How much? Whew!" He ended in a long whistle, and hung up. “Tl be ing along now.” He shook hands, mounted, and rode toward Monte- rey till Parl shut the door. Then he circled, and went on up the valley. A thousand dollars reward, dead or alive! He knew now how popular Cobbe was. They hadn't even waited till the sheriff had failed to get him. There are few ranches above Parl's, and these have no telephones, so he rode by, unconcerned. Towards midnight he came to a place owned by a girl and her brother. He had loved the girl, but de- cided that she didn’t care for him. The brother liked him, though, and he could get some food for his stay in the moun- tains till things quieted down and he could leave the country. The brother came to the door, pale and troubled. “ He can’t have heard. ”" The thought was dispelled by the sudden relief on the boy's face. Thank God, it’s you, Dick! Mary's dying, and—— Walling followed him into the room where the girl lay, high in fever. “I couldn't leave her alone, to get the doctor, but now you can go——" Something in Walling’s manner stopped him, “I'll go, and you can stay with her. Are you on Firefly? I'll take him. It'll be quicker.” Before Walling could think what to say, the boy was gone. He went to call him back. The girl moaned. What could he do? He couldn't refuse this duty fallen on him from the sky, even if the girl were a stranger; and this was the woman he loved, . « but she was dying. “Dick! . Oh, Dick! . . Dick! . . ." The voice from the bed startled him, He went softly over to see what she wanted. In her eyes there was no recognition: she had spoken in de- lirium, She loved him! But the rush of joy was swept away by the sight of her suffering. He bathed her face and hands. By and by the fever seemed less. She passed into a light sleep. He made some coffee. While he drank it he had time to think of himself. When the doctor came from Monterey. . . . The doctor would know, and . . . “I must clear out when I hear them Then another thought forced S) its way in: hile you've still a good lead. Go now!" He went to the stable, saddled a horse and led him out. Then the face of the girl came over him. He left the horse tied to the gate, and went back. She was sleeping still, but brokenly. He couldn't go. It was a two hours’ ride to Parl's, where the boy could ‘phone. . . . If the doctor left Monterey immediately, he'd get to the house about five. It was now nearly two. The girl slept. Walling knew it was the critical time. If she woke better, she would probably recover. The thought was sweet to him. If she went again into delirium. . . . He sat still, thinking. The hours passed very slowly. Suddenly Walling heard a step outside. He had heard no horse coming. He looked out cautiously, and saw four men with rifles. Walling cocked his revolver, took down the boy's rifle from the wall and loaded it. He could account for some—and those who were left might de- part. It would be a battle, There was no use being taken alive. ter be shot than hanged. The leader made a signal. Walling raised his gun. And then—Mary stirred. Her battle, like his, was still undecided. If she slept on, and woke refreshed, she would get well. If not... Walling laid down his rifle and stepped outside. The men covered him. As he was taken down the road to the waiting horses, the doctor and the girl's brother drove up. “She's asleep,” said Walling. The boy showed no surprise—he had heard the story from the doctor—but his voice was pitiful: “Why didn’t you? . . . I didn’t know. . . . Oh, my God! . and you stayed . . . when you could have anyway. Bet- Wp ae a) A TRIUMPH OF ENTERPRISE comicbooks.com