The Wingham Advance-Times, 1938-11-17, Page 6AGE SIX THE
. ! | u . H |||X|J| t I , , .. , R ;.......................... t.............. ! ...
nriKGEF?
EYE :
SYNOPSIS
The Kid’s name was Bob Beeves,
but back home on the Brazos they
called him Tiger Eye, because one
eye was yellow*—the eye with which
he sighted down a gun-barrel. His
father was “Killer" Reeves, but the
boy did not want to kill. If he stay
ed home he would have to carry on
his father’s feeds, so he headed his
horse, Pecos, northward and encount
ered Nate Wheeler, who drew his .45
and fired just as Tiger Eye did. The
I<id didn’t want to kill Nate, only to
cripple him, but his aim must have
been wild, for Wheeler dropped from
his horse. Babe Garner came riding
up. Wheeler was a “nester," he said,
and had it coming to him. Tiger Eye
rode to Wheeler’s cabin to notify the
dead man’s widow.
The Kid breaks the news of Nate’s
death to his widow and then goes out
and brings in his body, discovering
he had not missed his shot to disable
Wheeler but had broken his arm,
while another shot had killed the
man. A gang of strangers ^rides up.
One of them insults Mrs. Wheeler
by coupling her name with the
stranger. The Kid shoots a hole in
each of the ears of Pete Gorham, who
hurled the insult, making his escape
in the confusion. He lays in wait for
the party and finally sees the men
drive off with Wheeler’s widow and
child. He trails them silently.
Learning that th “nesters" plan to
draw the Poole riders into a trap,
the kid informs Garner, telling him
at the same time he had learned it
was the latter’s shot that killed
Wheeler and not his own. Garner is
grateful and gets the boy a job riding
xange for the Poole outfit. The Kid
sees a lone rider attack a man and
a girl driving in a wagon and wounds
the assailant, and then finds out he
is Wheeler.
3 After rescuing the girl’s dad, the
Kid is given a grateful warning by
the girl, who thinks he is one of the
Texas killers, to get out of: the val
ley before the nesters shoot him.
The boy is touched by Nellie’s con
cern and lets his mind dwell on her,
realizing she must have liked him
personaly to warn him when he was
supposed to be one of the imported
gunmen. Later he tells Garner he
wounded a nester who tried to am
bush him.
* * #
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
“Now* you son-of-a-gun!’’ Babe
stepped forward and clapped a hand
admiringly down on the kid’s should
er. “I knowed there was some rea
son why you let that damn’ fake fun
eral get by.” 5
“Yo’all says it was a fake fune’l,
Babe?” <
“Shore it was a fake. One of the
boys got wise ’t they was goin’ to
FRENCH-CANADIAN BARON’S FAMILY ON RELIEF
Living on relief in a Toronto ap
artment is the 8th Baron de 1’Eveille,
liis wife and two small chicken. His
family Is one of the oldest rtfi Canada
and was granted its hereditary title
by Louis XIV in WO, The present
baron was born at Brighton in 180?,
and since then has fived in Mexico,
pull off something. You was sent ov
er here to keep cases, but one of the
boys over at the Poole happened to
see ’em when they come up on the
Bench. Old man, he suspicioned
something was wrong about that per-
cession, so he sends us all over to
the buryin’ ground over on Cotton
Creek. That’s where they was head-,
in’ for. Shore had more mourners
than what they figured on I”
“Yo’all- didn’t fight’’em, Babe?”
“No—shore, we didn’t. But we
shore beat ’em to that buryin* ground.
Thirty-five punchers was settirt* on
their horses back on the ridge about
a hundred yards away, when ‘that fun
eral percussion come along. There
wasn’t no grave dug, so we set there
and watched ’em dig it.’’
"Yo’all shoah they buried Nate
Wheelah ovah theah?”
““Nate Wheeler? Naw, they never
buried Nate Wheeler there. Jim
Poole’s nobody’s fool. He saw right
through their little scheme right off.
It’s like this. Right up the creek,
about two miles from that burying
ground, is the Poole ranch, and it’s
a good seven miles across to Cotton
Creek from here. If they got over on
Cotton Creek with a funeral perces-
sion, they could sneak on up the
creek to the Poole. Seven miles of
bald prairie, and four miles under
cover. Savvy now?”
“Shoah do, Babe,” said the kid, his
thoughts flashing to the girl and what
little she had dared to say.
“Shoah hope yo’all didn’t have no
trouble, Babe,” the kid said.
“Never had a word of trouble, Tig
er Eye.” Babe’s eyes veiled them
selves suddenly from the kid’s ques
tioning stare. “Know what they
done, Tiger Eye? They knowed they
Had to go through with that buryin’
or we’d smell a rat. So they did.
They buried a coffin full of rifles
they aimed to use on us. When they
was gone, the old man had us ‘dig up
the box and open it.’.’
Babe folded a paper into a trough,
sifted in a little tobacco, evened it
with a careful finger tip, rolled it
deftly, drew the edge of the paper
lightly along the tip of his tongue
before he pressed it down and fold
ed up one end. He fished a match
from a pocket, flicked his thumbnail
across the head and got a flame, and
lighted the cigarette, then snapped
the match stub in two and dropped
the pieces at his feet. The kid watch
ed him, his mind piecing together de
tails of the story which Babe did not
know.
“I shore was worried about you,
Kid,” Babe said finally, drawing a
mouthful of smoke.. “Where’d that
fello-w jump you, Tiger Eye—if it’s a
fair question?”
“Back 'down the rim about a mile."
“Unh-hunh. Musta took yuh quite
a while.” Babe fanned the smoke
away from his face while he looked
hard at the kid.
“Take a right smaht while, Babe,
to trap a wolf.” A.strange, implac
able look came into the kid’s boyish
face. Babe looked at him and looked
away again.
“Shore. Well, let’s go,” he said af
ter a silence, and there was a new
note of respect in his voice. “I’ll tell
the Old iMan how it was. You done
the right thing, Tiger Eye,”
In the cabin at Cold Spring line
camp that evening, the kid was play
ing the mouth organ, his slim brown
ed fingers cupped and touching the
metal where the nickel was worn
through to the brass.
“Moah rim ridin’, Babe?”
“Why? Yuh like rim ridin’, Tiger
Eye?”
“Shoah do, Babe.”
“Yuh shore look happy to-night,
Tiger Eye.”
Babe spoke from the bunk, when
the kid’s dream could no longer be
compassed by the music and he sat
staring at the smoky bottom of the
dishpan hanging back of the stove.
England and Toronto. In the spring
he plans to take his family to Coch
rane and attempt to homestead a plot
of government land,
WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES
“Time to roll in, though, We got
t’ be ridin’ at dawn.1*
“Shoah feel that-a-way, Babe.”
Babe pulled .off a boot with a vic
ious yank and sat holding it in one
hand while he eyed the kid.
“Damned if I can see what there
is to be happy about, Tiger Eye."
“Damned if I can eithah, Babe.”
He picked up the water buckets and
went out into the night.
The ah’ was clean and crisp and
drops of dew on the grass winked like
diamonds in the sun. The horses had
galloped steadily for more than a
mile, but now they had settled down
to a walk and the reins lay loosely
along their pecks, Riding so, a habit
born of the long trail up from Texas
took hold of Tiger Eye, Instinctively
his hand went to his breast pocket
and pulled out his mouth organ, and
he began, to play soft snatches of old
melodies as he rode.
The music timed the easy swing of
the kid’s slim body in the saddle, and
the occasional click of his iron-bound
stirrups against Babe Garner’s wood
en ones. 'The tune didn’t matter; a
medley of this thing and that tiling
drifting along with his idling
thoughts.
When the kid played, he thought of
the girl down in the valley behind
him. Reckon her old pappy was a
rustler, like all the rest of them -down
in the valley. Leastways, the kid had
gathered that Nellie’s brother Ed had
been shot by a Poole rider, and they
shoah. seemed to hate the name of
Poole.
The kid didn’t feel that he knew
Babe even after a week of living with
him. Babe always seemed to have a
lot on his mind. But Babe shore was
a fine man and a fine friend, and the
kid wasn’t the kind to pick flaws in
any one he liked.
Babe got out his tobacco and pap
ers and rolled a cigarette as he rode
along. He lighted it, blew out the
match, broke the stub in two and
dropped the pieces to the ground.
The kid was watching for that little
trick and his eye twinkled when
Babe’s fingers went true to jorm. Al
most a week now he had lived with
Babe, and never had he seen Babe
throw away a whole match stub. Al
ways broke it in two. The kid wond
ered why, but he didn’t ask. Pap
shoah had learned him not to ask
questions unless he plumb had to.
Far ahead across the level bench
land a faint veil of dust crept slowly
toward the north, carried far on the
breeze that fanned the kid’s left
cheek as he rode. Cattle, buncher,
and riders drivin ’em. Reckon may
be Babe was taking him over so he
could go to work on rourid-up. The
kid hoped so, for that was the work
he wanted and had come all the way
up from the Bazos to find.
“Shoah will enjoy swingin’ a rope
again, Babe,” he said in his soft
drawl.
“Swingin’ a rope?” Babe’s voice
had a startled note.
“Er ridin’ herd—anything, so it’s
cows.”
“Yo’re ridin’ line with me,” Babe
reminded him shortly. “Old Man
ain’t likely to put yuh on round-up.”
The kid did not argue the point,
but his eyes clung to the slow-movihg
dust cloud, and because his heart was
there he unconsciously communicated
his desire to his hor^e.
Riders were visible now in the.
fringes of the dust cloud. Riders and
a slow-moving river of backs seen
dimly as the breeze whipped up the
haze. Cattle going to some cl^osen
round-up ground. The kid’s eyes
glistened at the thought.
“I’ll ride over and see who’s in
charge,” Babe said suddenly, and he
struck his horse with the quirt he car
ried.
The kid’s hand tightened on the
reins. A cold Weight fell like a lump
of iron Upon his chest. He didn’t
know those riders up ahead, “They
were not the same old boys, with Pap
tall and hawk-eyed, on his big horse,
riding here and there, giving his quiet
orders. Plumb strangers, these were.
Babe knew them, but he didn’t. He
was just ah outsider, and Babe was
not taking him over to get acquaint
ed.
A man galloped out to meet Babe
and the two talked, hands and head
making little unguarded -gestures now
and then. The kid’s sidelong glance
saw every move they made. They;
were talking about him, and they
seemed to find a right smart lot to
Say.
Babe finally turnfcd in his saddle
and flung out an arm in a beckoning
gesture, but the kid kept his face
straight ahead and gave no sign that
he saw the signal. Babfe cupped his
hands around his mouth and let out
a loud “Ya-a-hool”
“Hey, Tiger Eye! Y* asleep?”
The kid. slid over so that his dang
ling foot might find its stirrup, and
yawned as he looked at Babe.
“Yo’all got me ottta bed befo’ day
light, Babe.”
“Come on over and meet Jess Mar
ket”
“Ain’t impawtant, is it, Babe?”
THEY SIP TEA ANO CLEAN THEIR TEETH DEEP IN THE JUNGLE
Pushing far up the Amazon for a
summer of adventure in the heart of
the Matto Grosso jungle, two daring
girls from the-United States manag
ed to retain several aspects of civiliz-
“Hell, no!” Babe gave him a study
ing look. “Thought you wanted to
meet the boys. You said—”
“Said I’d plumb enjoy swingin’ a
lass rope. Nevah said I was achin’
to meet anybody, though.”
“Jess is wagon boss,” Babe further
explained. “Good man to know. He
might put you on, when this trouble
with the nesters is settled.”
“Reckon I bettah make shoah of
my job, first. And if yo’all want me
line ridin’ ovah on the rim, I’d shoah
love to stay with yo’all.”
“Jess is a Texas man.’ Babe re
marked in too casual a t one. “I
Wellington Mutual Fire
Insurance Co.
Established 1840.
Risks taken on all classes of insur
ance at reasonable rates.
Head Office, Guelph, Ont.
ABNER COSENS, Agept.
Wingham.
DR. R. L. STEWART
PHYSICIAN
Telephone 29.
Dr. Robt. C. REDMOND
M.R.C.S. (England)
L.R.C.P. (London)
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
DR. W. M. CONNELL
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
Phone 19.
*
W. A. CRAWFORD, M.D.
Physician and Surgeon
Located at the office of the late
Dr. J. P. Kennedy,
Phone 150. Wingham
ed life despite their strange surround
ings. Head Guide Apparico (LEFT,
UPPER), and an Austrian wart-hog
hunter whom they met in the jungle
showed Helen Post and Edith Bray
thought maybe you might know him.
Don’t the name mean anything, Tig
er Eye?”
“Shucks, Babe, names don’t nevah
mean anything to a Texas man. Not
up’No’th. Plumb easy to lose .yo’all’s
Texas name awn the trail.”
“Did you?”
“Ain’t wore my name only twenty
yeahs, Babe. No pall to change it
yeti”
Babe accepted the reproof and said
no more, though his eyes stole anoth
er sidelong glance at the kid. In un
spoken agreement they touched spurs
to their horses and went galloping
Dr. W. A. McKibbon, B.A.
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
Located at the Office of the Late
Dr. H. W. Colbome.
Office Phone 54. Nights 107
J. W. BUSHFIELD
Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc.
Money to Loan.
Office Meyer Block, Wingham
J. H. CRAWFORD
Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc.
Bonds, Investment and' Mortgages
Wingham Ontario
R. S. HETHERINGTON
BARRISTER and SOLICITOR
Office —• Morton Block,
Telephone No. 66.
F. A. PARKER
OSTEOPATH
AU Diseases Treated.
Office Adjoining residence next to
Anglican Church on Centre St
Sunday by appointment
Osteopathy Electricity
Phone 272. Honrs, 9 a.tn. to 8 p.m.
Thurs., November 17, 1938
(RIGHT), how to drink mate, a na
tive tea. Surrounded by beautiful
pelts her friends back in New York
would envy (LOWER), Helen Post
nonchalantly brushes her teeth in' her
jungle “apartment.”
steadily across the prairie at right
angles to the herd.
The Poole owners never saw their
cattle. John Poole, president of the
Poole Land and Cattle Company*
gave orders from his New York of
fice. This sum for cost of operation,,
that sum deducted for normal loss,
and the investment paying a certain
percentage to the shareholders. But
when the calf tally dwindled .out of
all proportion to adverse weather
conditions, John Poole satup in his-
office chair and dictated a letter to
his superintendent.
(Continued Next Week)
<
HARRY FRYFOGLE
Licensed Embalmer and
Funeral Director
Furniture and
Funeral Service
Ambulance Service.
Phones: Day 109W. Night 109J.
THOMAS FELLS
AUCTIONEER
REAL ESTATE SOLD
A Thorough Knowledge of Farm
Stock.
Phone 231, Wingham.
Consistent Advertising
in The
Advance-Times
Gets Results
J. ALVIN FOX
Licensed Drugless Practitioner
CHIROPRACTIC - DRUGLESS
THERAPY - RADIONIC
EQUIPMENT
Hours by Appointment
Phone 191. Wingham
A. R. & R E. DUVAL
CHIROPRACTORS
CHIROPRACTIC and
ELECTRO THERAPY
North Street — Wingham
Telephone 880.