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O-'"' By FRANK H. SPEARMAN Prank H. Sroa-rv^n WNU Son,;? SYNOPSIS D -i Vfrf ? \ ? ilthy. Spar'-h ?wrcr of n ? t ? i! ? - ? t : jnc v tefuscs t>? heed ???vera' * - f .i raid In a hind of outl.i-A< ><: : In bans One day after he has flr.altv deeidi : t? seek ife pr> tecUon of the nearbv ?? . :? f.>r {??< wife ami family, the indiar-- -Tihe D ' Alfredo 1* killed and his tv .1 re ? i ?? from t h? ar-'-- .>? ? ?' ? ?>f :t m .i ?. Monica, arrl ar- . ! .way *o the hdls. Pa dre Pasqual. missionary frfend of the family* arrive? at the ruir.< of the -arch rnd tetnt ? ?tor v >f t rai 1 from Monica After a tr\ trr* . ? ? cult trip across the plains a 1 a;:* s from Texas to California. \ ! Ht rv R-nvic. a Texas adventurer. B | Pal UIlM and Simmie. s? !?"!> mi <r.'ut. sixht the party of Indians who havi carried ????ft the two nttie ipris. Tim j three Texan? attack tre war parij ?( , ? ?dd I ? ? 1 i-s and thr u :h a clever ruse, scat- | ter the \a-.is to the h III? The M.'ls are saved. The reun makes its way out cf the hills avd meets the distraught Monica, the ehildrcn's maid. The girl? arc left with M ? ? a rut t ho friendly Padre at a nv.s-.on. and th.e Tex.i- ? proceed to Monterey. Here Howie completes hts business for (Jen. Sam Houston of T-xas. who has commissioned him to deliver an important message. Bowie decides m have a look at the wild untamed country that California was in the middle Kiroreer-.th century. Bowie disappears from California but returns eight years later and makes the acquaintance of a friendly Span ish family at the Rancho Guadalupe Ho t o attracted bv the lovely Carmen, daughter of Don Hainea. the rancho's owner. CHAPTER VI?Continued Bowie listened, indeed, to the words of Don Ramon; but he heard the cadences of another voice?a voice of sweet-throated music, strange to the ear but bewildering in utterance. For the first time in his life the Texan, w ithout realizing it, began to love the strange tongue in which Californians spoke and to listen for every syllable that might fall from the lips of the young Span ish girl. The clinging black of her gown did not hide the tender slope of her shoulders; it contrasted with the ivory of her slender neck; and above this, from a perfectly poised head, fell soft masses of brown hair. They framed the features of one just at the threshold of full-bloomed adolescence: lips filling with prom ise of a richer maidenhood; eyes that retired under long dark lashes and opened with a searching light. "You want to start tomorrow?" Don Francisco was asking. Bowie nodded. "But I have an idea." suggested Francisco. "My uncle is having ma tanza this week. He is slaughtering surplus cattle for the tallow. Cap tain Davis, with whom my uncle trades, is in port at Monterey from China. He will want much tallow for South America and Boston?it will be a big matanza. You should see one. Much attention, much ex citement, much work. Stay over a day or two. The streams will then be fordable, and you and your scouts, in the meantime, will be well entertained. Plenty of bears!" "Bears?" echoed Bowie. Francisco nodded. "Dozens. They come down from the mountains at night after the matanza ofTal. Plenty of chance for a bear fight if you like one." The Texan showed interest, asked more questions, and said he would talk to his scouts. The next morning Bowie and his host rode out to where the matanza was in progress. Pardaloe and Sim mie were already on the scene, watching every move of the vaque ros as one rode quietly into the corral, lassoed a steer by the horns and brought him outside. When the rider had the beast well placed, a second vaquero roped the steer's hind legs, threw him and, with two ropes taut, tied his feet in a bunch and, with a knife, gave him the golpe de gracia. What interested the Texan, sea soned as to cattle and horses, was the skill and speed with which the vaqueros worked and the almost human intelligence of their horses? the perfection of their response to every hint of their rider in snaring and handling a steer. It was par ticularly this skill of the hor$es that made the work proceed rapidly with out mishap or hitch. For two days thn work went for ward speedily. The matanza ground was a scene of the greatest activity. To the Texan the spectacle of such abundance, such profusion of waste and such indifference to everything but the work in hand was a source of amazement. A hearty lunch served to the family at noon was followed by a heartier dinner for the evening, with the difference that native wine accompanied the din ner. This was the family gathering 4r?g?ln? the rider ? di-zen yards before the Don could releja- him 8i*tl As he kicked clear with a mighty effort his head struck a rock, and he sprawled on the canyon floor, half conscious. The hear dashed awkward but swiftly after the flee ing horse and the helpless rider. Bowie, closc at hand, had barely seconds to head Irs panicky mount toward the angry beast and uncoil his lasso. Yelling to the Don to flee, Bowie flung his rope at the lop ing grizzly. It settled over her head and Bowie, spurring s\\ iftly back despite the weight and size of the grizzly, jerked the monster aroui.d and threw her of! her feet. Only for an instant. Rolling over, the boar, doubly infuriated, seized the lasso in her claw end began reel ing Bowie and his liors? band over hand toward her. The Texan per ceived his peril. H;s horse strove vainly to pit his strength against the strength of Ins enormous enemy. It was a hopeless endeavor. Relent lessly the bear dragged horse and rider toward him. Luckily a sizable tree stood near. With shout and spur Bowie. plunging forward, whirled the horse and managed to circle the tree before the bear could take up all the slack. It gave the Texan an instant of resp.te, and he dismounted. Bui in taut instant the bear charged him. The tree between the two was of little consequence, as the hunted man was aware, and the grizzly's leap was far beyond the nimblest feat of a runner. Taking what was at best a merely desperate chance, Bowie, as he jumped, fired shot aft vt the day at which the hostess and her daughter were formally dressed. After the family had settled about the tire in the living room and the conversation had shown signs of lag ging, Don Ramon made a request of Carmen. Carmen took her place at the fam ily arp, ran her lingers over the strings and sang a Spanish song. The conversation and the words of the song were lost on Bowie, but not the clear, true notes of the girl's voice. Don Francisco explained that the sor.g vas t*o appeal of a lover to the stars to bear witness of his devotion to his mistress. Carmen sang again, a French chanson. It was very slight, but it echoed in Bowie's ears most of the night. It bothered Bowie, that in these household meetings he could never manage to catch the eye of Carmen. He was discreet enough not to at tempt to coax her glance his way? and old enough to be ashamed of himself for his curiosity. But curi osity persisted. Toward the end of his stay a natural resentment at the aloofness of one who had for a week enlisted his lively interest impelled him to practice such retaliatory measure as he could. The least sat isfactory feature of his attempt to ignore her was that this made no apparent difference whatever to Carmen. If she were aware, there was no evidence of it?for her, he seemed not to exist. Don Francisco, on the other hand, grew increasingly attached to Bow ie. Everything about the Texan in terested the youth. Especially was he fascinated by the plainsman's novel revolver. Indeed, the whole male population of Rancho Guada lupe marveled at a pistol that would shoot six bullets without recharging. The matanza always brought down an army of bears from the hills, and Don Francisco, seeking excuse to prolong the stay of the hunters, promised them as many bear fights as they had stomach for?black bears, cinnamon bears and occasion ally the famed monarch of the Si erras, the grizzly, the highly re spected oso pardo, as Don Francisco ; called him. This prospect of ad- j venture interested the two scouts. They added their appeal to that of Don Francisco, and Bowie ? not ' loath to linger near the flame of the distant candle he had lighted for himself?consented. Hardly had night fallen when the ; vanguard of the bears arrived from ' the hills. Tempted by the rejected meat and offal of the matanza, the bears would come down at nightfall for a feast. This gave the hunters, disposed lor sport, their chance. Shortly the matanza ground was well filled with the hairy monsters, gorging, growling, fighting among themselves and snapping ferociously at those bolder coyotes who dared trespass on the preserves of their j banqueting "betters." The Texans watched. Don Ramon, circling a chosen bear, lassoed him by the neck; Don Francisco, watch ing his chance, executed the more difficult feat of roping the bear's hind legs; and the two horsemen, riding then in opposite directions, forced the bear to fight his utmost to save himself. In the end he was killed. The vaqueros made nightly sport with the big fellows. The Tex ans, seeing bear after bear brought to the knife, were not greatly im pressed. In the morning Don Ramon invit ed Bowie for a canter over the rancho. He particularly wanted to see how the rain had left the foot bridge leading across the river to the grain fields which stretched in rolling acres toward the bay. Re turning, he suggested a short cut through the hills. The two men were riding briskly abreast when, crossing a canyon, they stumbled suddenly, almost on top of a bear ambling along on her way with two cubs to the matanza ground. "Mira! Cuidado! Oso pardo," cried Don Ramon. The warning was well ordered. The bear, enraged, reared with the swiftness of a jack-in-the-box on her huge feet and sprang, as luck would have it, at Don Ramon. She struck him with a raking blow of her claw. It caught his trouser leg. The stout cloth, unhappily for the rider, held and the unlucky Don found himself torn from the saddle. In catapult ing headfirst to the ground his foot caught in the stirrup, and his fren zied horse dashed down the canyon. lSjl in that instant the bear charged him. er shot ir.to the bear's mouth and head. Then he dropped the empty revolver, whipped out his knife and, waiting not a second, plunged di rectly into the bear's arms for what was likely to prove a fatal em brace. Only one of the two, he knew could come out alive. The foreman Pedro was riding away from the corral when he saw Don Ramon's riderless horse racing out of the hills. The half-breed real ized at once there was trouble. Shouting to near-by vaqueros to fol low, he spurred for the hills. Be fore he reached them Bowie's horse, dragging the broken rope, shot out of the canyon and gave him the di rection. At the same moment he heard pistol shots echoing down the canyon waUs. Urging his compan ions who were stringing along be hind to follow fast, Pedro galloped into the canyon. His practiced eye told him the story as he rode. Whatever it had been, it was over, for the canyon was as still as the grave. On he galloped until, rounding a bend, he saw the bodies of the grizzly and the Texan lying less than ten yards apart, both apparently dead. But Pedro dared take no chances. His horse was frantic, and he knew the deadly danger of a wounded bear. Casting a hasty glance at Bowie, who lay on his face, he urged his frightened horse closer to the fallen monster of the Sierras. The vaquero eyed the beast narrowly while he rode his horse, kicking and ! flinging, around him until he caught | sight of the handle of a bowie j knife sunk to the hilt between the j ribs under the left forepaw. The grizzly lay quite dead. Hastening to Bowie, Pedro slipped from his horse to examine him. Dust-covered and mangled, the Tex an lay in a rapidly widening pool of his own blood. His heart was beat ing faintly, and Pedro, giving hur ried orders to his comrades, raised the unconscious man in his arms, pushed up from one ear a flap of scalp torn from Bowie's temple, and, shouting for puflballs, plastered the dry spores as best he could ovei' the unconscious man'* head, ?houlders and arms. CHAPTER VII Bowie woke in bed lo see a tall bukl man in the brown woolen habit o( a Franciscan pudre sitting in a | chair beside him and eying him with a suspicion of a smite. As Howie opened his eyes the padre laised the forefinger of his right hand and laid it across his own lips as if to enjoin silence. "Utis palabros, anugo, no mas!" hv> said in a low sympathetic voice. "Few words from you for some time yet. 1 want to see some nour ishment for you before you expend any strength?you left most of that, umigo. in the canyon. "Yes." he continued, still in Eng lish. "1 know what you want to ?i>k. You were brought back to the ranch house, given up for dead. When they sent for me at the mis sion I asked. 'Who is this man?" *A Texan, mangled by a grizzly," they told me. "A Texan?' I repeated. And wl-.en they assured me you were, I said. 'The Texan is not dead; I have seen many men torn by grizzlies; but the Texan outlasts the bear.' However, I say to you seriously, few words and on your back till we can get more blood coursing through your veins." Bowie lay so utterly weak he could hardly find voice, but speak he would. "Padre." he said, breathing with difficulty, "if the bear is dead 1 want my knife. My knife," he repeated with an cfTort, "and my revolver." For answer the Franciscan rose, turned to the bureau in the bedroom, took from it the long knife and the Colt revolver. "They have been cari'd for, amigo, as you see. But I advise you to rest up for at least three months before you resume with a grimly . . . That is, indeed, a knife," remarked the padre, hold ing up the bowie knife for interested inspection. "Where did you get it, amigo?" "The blade was made from a blacksmith's file," returned Bowia with a trace of pride in his weak ness. "And calls for a long strong arnv to wield it," mused the padre. Don Francisco entered the room on tiptoe. He greeted Bowie warm ly. "Amigo!" he exclaimed. "Thanks to God that you are alivel Tell me: what happened in that can yon?" The padre put up his hand. "He is too weak to talk." "But in a few words," begged Don Francisco. "In a few words," responded Bow ie dryly, "we had more or less of a fight." "Madre de Dios!" exclaimed Don Francisco. "I would call it more than 'less of a fight.' Pedro has nev er seen so big a bear?no, not in all his life, he truly says. But Bowie, you must know Padre Martinez. He has beep our surgeon, amigo. We had none else to call on. Dr. Doane was in Santa Barbara. Doctors are scarce in California, very scarce. We feared you would die from all the blood you lost. But Padre Mar tinez, who graduated a surgeon in Spain before he became a mission er, came quickly to our aid?and you see!" Bowie weakly acknowl edged his obligation by pressing the hand of Padre Martinez, who sat beside his bed, and the padre si lenced Don Francisco by waving him out of the room and then fol lowing him. At the door he encountered Don Ramon just coming to speak to Bow ie and, in matter of fact, to apolo gize for exposing his guest's life to such danger. Don Ramon brought back his nephew Francisco for translator. "Only a few words, Pad re,". exclaimed Don Ramon. "But he saved my life. I must, at least, thank him." Bowie, who in the everyday course of the life of a frontiersman would not have looked on his narrow es cape as an extraordinary event, found himself the hero of the rancho. Pardaloe and Simmie, shining in the penumbra of his prestige and though secretly elated at the feat, put on airs of indifference among the va queros to intimate that where they came from such incidents were ev eryday occurrences. The days went slowly, almost painfully, for an active man like Bowie. Dona Maria, realizing that her husband's life had been spared through the diversion of the bear's fury, was unremitting in her solici tude for the Texan's comfort. And when he wa3 ready to sit up. Car men sent flowers and a Chinese con fection to him. During the impatient days that fol lowed, Bowie had one faithful at tendant. Don Francisco spent hours at his bedside and entertained him with stories of California and of his people, the rancheros. Bowie was a good listener. One day while Don Francisco sat with Bowie a jar of Canton ginger was sent jn with the compliments of Carmen. Bowie, as suming such indifference as he could muster, asked why Carmen wor* black. (TO BE CONTINUEDJ Carman ct th? Rancho?T ?__ Declaration of War Though the President of the United States may reoimimn i a declaration of war. he ennnol de clare war. The U. S. Constitu. tion ?peciflcally Riven e<mg| t and congress alone power to de clarc war. Thus, white t . ed States entered the first World war upon the recomi- ??;n President Woodrow Wktaoo, it wag authorized to do s? l\v I ngi<ss. On April 4. 1911. tw> v ., antr Wilson's recommcmiati. n. the senate, by a vote of 8U t.> 0. parsed a resolution declaring a state of war existed between tV ?? United States and Germany. On April 6 the house approved tv.c m nate war resolution by a vote of 370 to 50.?Pathfinder. rheumatism MIH WHERE IT HURTS GOOD OLD p i)q?20 6Qi PRESCRIPTION C-2223-t. Our Humility Humility is a means ot prog ress. When we realize how little \vc know we shall yearn and strive to know more; when we feel how imperfect is our character, and not till then, we shall make ear nest efforts after our improve ment. KENT BLADES "S?10e He and 1 If a man should importune me to give a reason why 1 loved my friend, I find it coul-1 not other wise be expressed than by the an swer, "Because he was he; be cause I was I."?Montaigne. FIRESIDE WARMTH With a NESCO Circulating Kerosene Heater NESCO'S new Portable Circu lating Heaters provide clcan, moist heat WHEREVER AND WHENEVER DESIRED. These attractive Cabinet and Pound Heaters use kerosene? the cheapest and most easily obtained fuel. They have no unsightly flue connections and require no installation and serv icing costs. They deliver lOOfy heat from the fuel consumed. Attractive, scientifically designed louvres effi ciently distribute the heat. Models with the reflector arc project the cheery action of the flame into the room, similar to a fireplace. ar* twalr? 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The Cherokee Scout (Murphy, N.C.)
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Nov. 28, 1940, edition 1
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