The Frontier, May 1926 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

a4 I'll shoot them, and then I'll have water on my land.” “And pretty soon after that you'll be busy on your farm and forget where the water comes from,” she said, and there was a wistful note in her voice. “Not in a thousand years!” and Clell’s voice trembled. “I’ve got everything ready to turn the water into Big Bowlegs, but unless—” and he stopped. “Unless, what?” murmured Jenny. “Unless I can have you, I don't want any water, don’t want any farm. ll go back to rambling,” He looked into her eyes, and the next instant she was in his arms, The only other work Clell did that day was to take a sledge and cold chisel and break away the stone at the low rim of the basin. This let out enough water to enlarge his silver rope about a hundred times. As he went down the gorge, water was gurgling over the stones, and he knew there would be plenty in the great pool by morning, with which to mix his cement and close the fissure. Then he would be ready to turn the stream into his en- chanted valley. Then would come wealth, and—Jenny, He said nothing of all this to Mar- shall, but he couldn’t help showing his happiness in his beaming countenance. Marshall saw it and attributed it to the buoyant health which his partner had and which he himself could never regain. Marshall had a “fiddling fit” on him that night. He rarely played, except when he was low-spirited. He hadn’t plowed any that day. The fact, was, he had had a slight hem- orrhage but had said nothing about it, On into the night the violin poured out its melody, but it was mostly sad, classical compositions. Clell sat in the cabin door, listened and wondered. The sad music had driven the gay mood from his heart. He thought of Buck Spradley, of Old Gray Hoss Riley, of Mosby and his apparent in- timacy with Marshall. - Someone wanted him out of the valley. Who could it be, except Spradley? Why had he kept quiet the last two weeks? He wasn’t the kind to give up without a fight. Ugly thoughts marched through Clell’s mind, like platoons of enemy soldiers. When at last they went to bed, sleep didn’t come quickly as usual, and he was restless when he did finally sleep. Clell woke with a start and sat up on his pallet. The moon was shining brightly and Marshall’s pallet was THE FRONTIER vacant. Clell called to him, and he answered from just outside the door. A moment later, he came in. “I’ve got a blue spell tonight, Clell,” he said. “Been sitting out there on the old wagon tongue, looking at the moon, as I have so often done since I’ve been in this country. It looks as if one could almost reach the moon and stars. Do you believe in premonitions ?” “No,” laughed Clell. “Guess my liver’s too active for that,” and he © stretched out on his pallet. The two horses had been driven up the gorge, above the spring, and left to graze on the greener grass and weeds they found there. There was a dead stillness over the place, and Clell fell asleep again. It seemed to him that he had slept but a moment when Marshall shook him by the arm. “Wake up, Clell,”’ he whispered. “Listen |” my N THE great still- iy ness, they could hear the hoofs of several horses com- ing up the valley. “They're coming to drive us out, this time,” said Marshall, calmly. “And we won't drive worth a damn!” snapped Clell, as he drew on his trousers and boots, buckled on his pistol, and sprang for his rifle that stood in the corner. “Will you stay with me, if it comes to a fight, Mar- shall ?” “T’'ll stay as long as I last, Clell, but I’m afraid I won't be much help. I - never was in a gun-fight, and——” “Hello, in there!” called a voice from the outside. “Hello, yourself,” returned Clell. “What do you want?” “Come out here.” “Can’t right now. I’m busy. State your business; I can hear you.” “All right. We come to notify you nesters to get out of this valley. This is a cow country, and we don’t aim to have any farmers in it.” “Oh, you won't have any farms?” Clell answered. “Well, now you listen to me. There’s one little farm on Bowlegs that’s going to stay right here. We have a title to the land, from the Government, and if you don’t get away from here and stay away, somebody’ll get hurt.” The reply was a volley of shots. Peering out through a crack, Clell had seen six mounted men, One of them was Old Gray Hoss Riley. The others were strangers. Buck Spradley wasn’t with them. As the bullets spattered the cabin wall, one or two coming through cracks, Clell’s rifle spat a streak of flame, and Riley slid from his old gray bag o’ bones. “Get down and rush ’em, fellers!” called the man who had been the spokesman and seemed to be the leader. “They’re just a coupla damned tenderfoots.” At the word, Clell and Marshall both began working their guns. Cleil was mad, now, and beside himself with rage. “Come on in, damn you!” he called out, in a lull of the firing, as he shoved fresh cartridges through the loading- gate of his Winchester. “My feet may be tender, but my hands are hard from honest work. I can’t shoot much, but I can hit like hell!” The gang dismounted and bunched fora rush. Two streams of fire from the cabin wall poured into them. Two more of the six went down. The other three fled toward their horses. Through his lookout, Clell saw four more men gallop up to the fray. “Reinforcements! Now we will have it!” he growled. Marshall, leaning against the wall, coughed slightly but said nothing. He had said he would stay as long as he lasted, and he was staying. Clell had no time to look at his partner. A funny thing was happening out there in the moonlight. The four new- comers had covered the three sur- . vivors of the battle, and coolly hand- cuffed them. “Hello, within there!” called one. “All right,” replied Clell. “What's on your mind? Want a little of the same?” “Not any, thank you!” laughed the man. “We're state Rangers and tried to catch this gang before they got here. Let’s suspend hostilities, and see what you have done to them.” At that instant, Clell heard a chok- ing noise from Marshall’s corner of the cabin, and turned just in time to see his partner turn loose the wall to which he had been holding and slump to the floor. Clell lit the old battered lantern, and the captain of the Ranger squad came in, “One dead, and two hurt bad enough to hold ’em for a while, on the outside. What’s the casualty list in here?” “My partner’s hit,” faltered Cell, looking up from where he knelt by COnniclboooks. com