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HomeMy WebLinkAboutZurich Herald, 1932-01-21, Page 2JIM THE CONQUEROR By PETER 13. KYNE Illustrated by Allen Dean SYNOPSIS Don Jaime Higuenes, Texas rancher, and Tom Antrim, sheep owner, have peen bitter enemies. Capt. Ken Hobart, for- merly a Texas Ranger, now Don Jaime's Manager, finds him wounded and Antrim dead after a shooting affray. Roberta Antrim is advised of her Uncle's death at the hand of one Jimmy Biggins, "Crooked Bill" Latham, Rob- erta's 'other uncle, wants her to narry bis friend and lawyer Glenn Hackett, and tells her he is on the verge of bank- ruptcy. He outlines his match -making schemes to Hackett, CHAPTER XI.—(Cont'd.) "Well, in the fulness of time when the market breaks—as you and I know blamed well it will—you make the mythical clean-up, head me back the deed to Hillcrest and a fake cheque for my winnings—or rather, let Rob- erta do it, so she'll feel that the credit for the soup is all hers—remind me of my word of honor to quit stock 'gambling, shake hands all around, bid Roberta a somewhat suppressed good- bye and announce you are off for a trip around the world, to be gone a year. And at that moment, old son, if you play your cards with, skill and judgment, Roberta will go with you or I'm fit for an insane asylum." Glenn Hackett looked genuinely dis- tressed. Crooked Bill rambled on: "I want Roberta to go to Texas to look after that estate. She has a jolt com- ing to her when she gets there, and I'm the little boy that knows it. Twenty-five years ago I was in the cattle business myself, in Las Cruces County, Texas. I owned the Rancho Verdugc and sold out to a chap named Bill Hobart. I know this Higuenes family. I don't know Don Jaime Mi- guel "Higuenes, but I did know his father, and a grand piece of work he was. Spanish with a broad streak of Irish, or Irish with a broad streak of Spanish, I forget which. Not a drop of Indian blood in the family. I re- member the old man had an infant son named Jaime, so this chap who killed Tom Antrim must be that boy." "Higuenes says a man named Jim Higgins killed Antrim. Roberta told me over the telephone." "Jaime is Spanish for James, read- ily corrupted to Jimmy, and Higuenes is Spanish for Higgins. Don Jaime went over to Antrim's camp to order him and his sheep off the Higuenes range. Antrim, figured on murdering the boy without risk to himself• For- tunately a third man was present at that conference just before the kill- ing—a ranger named Kenneth Hobart —son of old Bill Hobart to whom I sold the Rancho Verdugo. Higuene's borrowed the Ranger's rifle unknown to Antrim—and although Antrim shot Higuenes three times, eventually Hi- guenes got out of range. Then he stalked Antrim and killed him. I have had a report on the matter by telegraph, collect, from the coroner at Loa Algodones." "Very interesting, Mr. Latham." "Best news I've had in fifty years, Glenn. But what challenges my in- terest is this. Antrim is dead, Higu- enes lives and is not seriously injured, yet Antrim's :sheep, with the tacit consent of Higuenes, continue to tres- pass. Meanwhile Higuenes is doing all he can to protect Roberta, whom he has never met—and all at consider- able loss and inconvenience to nim- self, because those sheep are ruining his range. Sheep foul a range up, and cattle will not graze where a sheep has grazed. Also, a sheep de- stroys the range. Now, why is Hi- guenes doing this?" "Search me, sir." "He has some ulterior motive, and Roberta will discov. r it, of course. Well, I want Roberta to go down there all het up with the mental picture she has painted of this romantic Higu- enes. She'll find a brand of man she never met before. All I hope is that be makes love to her with Latin im- petuosity, because if he does he'll be . put in his place. Roberta will not De *Imbed by any man•" "There may be a great deal in what you say, Mr. Latham, and perhaps *our plans will work out exactly ail you expect, but I'm here to tell you they will not, and for ole very potelit maven. I'm not so blamed certain t I want Roberta." keit a3ffl star d at the young man in amazement. "I'm afraid of her,' Hackett urn- esi in hia Blow, methodical way. "s o blamed lassiern and I'm too old- fashioned. PR not change and she ecn't. I fear we would be miamaited and I'll not risk a brief happiness. I den stand to lose Roberta now, but I wouldn't care to have to stand to lose her after I'd won her; it'd break my heart to discover at some future time that she wasn't happy with me." "Mares' nests," Crooked Bill pro- tested. "I tell you I know women. They may hoot for years at a master- ful man, but they'll end up by marry- ing him and adoring him until death do them part. Go through with my plan and then stand by to see how the eat jumps. Nothing like worry and adversity to clear a proud head, I'm telling you." "Well, it cannot hurt to try the thing out, Mr, Lanham, If there's any backfire later, you'll be the one to get scorched for deceiving folks who trust you." "Spoken like a many" said Crooked Bill. CHAPTER XII. Half an hour after Don Jaime's coup had resulted in the capture of Bill Dingle and his men, another dust - cloud to the south attracted Don Jaime's attention. He watched it without interest. "Ken Hobart and his men return- ing," he explained to Mrs. Ganby pre- sently. "Ken has a hCad and can be pended upon to use it." His cheerful grin welcomed Hobart as he entered, leaving his men to ride around to the barns and corral. "I didn't bother sending a messenger with the news that it was a false alarm, Ken," he informed the latter. "I figured you'd have one man drop out of your party to watch the road to Valle Verde, while you rode on, taking your leisure." "I did exactly that," Hobart re- plied. "When he galloped after us and reported seven mounted men had come out of a canon to the east and taken the road to Valle Verde at a fast trot, I concluded your suspicions were well grounded and that I might risk returning. So Dingle arrived with blood in his eye, eh, Don Jaime?" Don Jaime nodded. "I have an idea they planned to hang me from one of the trellis beams in my own grape arbor.... Well, Caraveo has them over at the barn under guard." "What do you intend to do with them?" "It occurred to me it would be a fine idea to enforce my hospitality on Dingle and his men until after we've counted those sheep. That makes the job a lot easier, don't you think? Easier, too, to shift those sheep south of the Arroyo San Dieguito again and keep then there." Hobart nodded approval. "The best way to win a fight is to avoid it," ne agreed. "Well, Caraveo can count the sheep now, while I go up to El Paso for that crippled boy" He departed for his quarters .gain, changed into more urban clothing and was driven to town in the ranch car. Three days later he returned with Mrs. Ganby's son, an ethereal little boy semi -paralyzed on *his left side. When he had been greeted by his mother he was brought to Don Jaime to be presented. Shyly he sidled up to the lord of the rancho and Iaid a thin little hand in Don Jaime's, so firm and hard and brown. "I'm awfully glad you consented to come down here and keep me company, Robbie," the young man greeted him. "What can you do to keep a fellow amused?" he demanded. Robbie pondered Don Jaime's ques- tion and replied, presently, that hs could play the harmonica. "You'll be popular, Robbie, but to make a real hit you must learn to play a lot of airs you've never heard be- fore. Did you bring your harmon- ica?" "Yes, sir, Ken bought me a grand one in El Paso." "Think you two can get along with- out fighting?" Robbie laughed at the bare idea of conflict with his new-found. friend. "Oh, Ken and r get along fine to- gether. Coming out in the car he Iet me wear his pistol. He said we might meet some tough customers and It was best to be ready. He let me shoot his pistol, too." He stared hard at Don Jaime. "What's your name, mister?" "My name is Jimmy." "You got any boys?" "No. That's why I sent Ken up after you. I've bean lonesome a lot, here lately, so when your mother told me she had a boy, why, I thought I'd borrow you. You have no objection, I hope?" "Not the slightest, Jimmy." "Did Ken tell you about the pony we have here for you?" Robbie's wistful eyes glistened. "I can ride a pony I know I can." Little Jack Horner Katharine Elwes Thomas, in "The Real Personages of Mother Goose," takes us back to the source of little Jack Horner, beloved character of the nursery. We read: "I returned to England tor the ex- press purpose of making the acquaint- ance of Little Jack Horner in his ac- tual home surroundings. Right hall. pily I succeeded, for not only was 1 given the fascinating story from bis present -clay descendants making their home at Horner Hall, but heard it un- der the additionally realistic environ^ ment of sitting at midday dinner in the monastic refectory of the "Plum" extracted by the nimble -fingered "Jack" at the time when, as emissary of the Bishop of Glastonbury, he was supposedly speeding en his way with the "pie" for a propitatory audience with that august monarch, Henry VIII. Starting from Bath one sunsbiny morning of early July, I went zigzag- ging up and down the country until, finally alighting at Melts Station, I was informed that the sure way of reach- ing my destination was to walk diag- onally across hawthorne-hedged fields which at first .glance appeared to stretch interminably to the horizon. There was no sign of human beings, only sleek, grazing cattle lifting their heads in lazy inquiry at. the invading stranger whose feet, with unaccus- tomed timidity, trod over the thick, green turf that was their birthright of possession. . . Turning my back upon. the far -wind- ing roadway for this alluring short out through the fields, I mounted no end of primitive stiles and, gaining confidence as I progressed, unhesitat- ingly squeezed sideways through a multiplicity of those labyrinthine swing gates beloved of rural England, until suddenly from a knoll there came unexpectedly into view the church of "The Priest all shaven and shorn" with its neighbmoring manor, aTbe house that Jack built." Some distance beyond the hill lay Horner Hall, with, nearer at hand, the centuries old "plum" along the primly set garden paths of which a pleasant - faced woman wit;. white -kerchiefed bodice and broad -brimmed hat moved slowly as she cut posies to fill the flat- bottomed basket on her arm, looking for all the world as if she had stepped from a Romney gallery of .quaint por- traits. The legendary account runs that Jack Horner, son of a gentleman of in- fluence In the neighborhood of Glas- tobury, was, as the steward of Abbot Whiting, made the bearer to the king of the title deeds, twelve in number, of certain churchly estates. These, hav- ing been done up in the form of a pie, after the fantastic custom of the period, were entrustel to the steward. While on the way to London, Jack Horner inadvertently, or otherwise, tore a small rent in the pie. Where- upon sticking in his thumb, he pilled out no less a plum than the title deed of the Mells Park estate, held to this day by his descendants. The Pilgrim I will go on— By shores of dread, Where men have gone Unarmed, save for a steady tread. stillness, plains of I shall not fear If ragged thunder haunts my day, For I shall hear The holy note that is my way. I know the sheen Of languid hill and cooing brook— Where rookWhere men have seen The alien path with a cool, °leer look. No goal is mine Save in the joy of fields and trees; This is my shrine— To know the Infinite in these! —Alan B. Creighton, Halifax, in the Montreal Star. PITY It is often those who get on in the world who most need the world's pity. "When I get well we'll go riding to- gether. I think now, Robbie, your mouser wants to visit with you, so yoted better run along. After dinner we'll really get acquainted." 4,aving changed from his store otlio , gen Hobart dropped into a Lair beside' his employer. 'TAny trouble?" he asked. "None. BIG Dingle's foreman made a bluff at starting some, but Caraveo plaid no attention to hien. He was troubled in his soul at the lack of ROWS concerning Bill Dingle and the slat headers; to him no news was bad �me.ws eo I instructed Caraveo to tell ibin nothing—if necessary to treat hien rough. And I sent enough men to enforce my desires. First they mov- ed the sheep south of the San Dieguito where we had another corral. We're j Vsaf 4iing the brutes, shearing them, ex- amining their tails and feet, segregat-' ing the lame, the halt and the blind, cutting out the lambs and the old, ewes with bad mouths, and plan to haul them up here its trucks, after giving the foreman a receipt for them. The young and husky sheep we will turn back on the range." Ken Hobart chuckled. "Why, yon're "Miss Paris '32" quite a sheep expert, aren't you?" This;mum "Wolf, somebody had to do it fel' voted "11it the girl. I'll place a guard on the wool, and I warit you to sack that wool and haul it up to the ranch for safe-keett .g." lady after being Paris 1032" new leads rci ii'n displaying the i .ehlen , rhe Tuileries. 14.geati J « No.° Quality has no substitute Tea7resfn'me %iegar/ens" Coaching Days In Oxford Town In 1884 the Bodleian Library bought from Mr. William Bayzand, then jani- tor at the Radcliffe Camera, the manu- script of notes that he had made on "Coaching In and Out of Oxford from 1820 to 1840." This was none other than the Bi11 Bayzand who in his time had been a celebrated guard on the London-I.7',reford Mazeppa. The manu- script was subsequently printed in the Transactions of the Oxford Historical Society. Bayzand could recall the days when coming and going the Oxford .inns saw seventy-three coaches daily. Bayzand draws a vivid picture of an Oxford scene in which for many years he was himself one of the liveliest figures. He takes us round the city at an early morning hour, halting first outside The Angel in the Hikh, where ten coaches are already lined up along the street; porters, hostlers and guards busy with a rattle of interjec- tions as they make a final inspection of traces, chains, harness, luggage. Al- ready the passengers are in their seats, the boys at the leaders' heads, and the coachmen up on their boxes, gently stroking the wheelers with their whips, and taking large turnip watches from ample frontages for fre- quent consultation. And then the sig- nal is heard, Queen's clock striking eight. The boys stand back, the guards swing into their places, the yard servants cry "Right away," and the departure is led by the Cambridge post, four bays, heading for Magda- len bridge on its eighty -two-mile jour- ney. News can never have the same tang since the days when it was taken through the town from the, inn -yards by word of mouth. The incoming coaches were the chief intelligence of the time, and within a few minutes of their arrival there was an eager buzz of gossip drifting away to the taverns and by -ways. At moments of national excitement, the coaches were waylaid by a continuous ambush of inquiry on the roads; a ploughman would shout his question over the hedge, well pleased with a word of answer, and the population of hamlets, too inconspicu- ous for official notice, would mob the guard's seat at a run, a mile into the open country. Epochal events, Tra- falgar or Waterloo, would send the coaches out of London garlanded with oak -leaves, and the fortunate mes- sengers could make what levies they liked on a transported people. Zayzand, who by some means was able to secure copies of The Times at six o'clock in London before he made his morning start 011 Mazeppa, tells how he was besieged by bidders along the western road on the day when it was known that the Reform Bill of 1832 had become law. Four browns or four bays, the successive stages were vocal with "Has the Bill passed?" At Shottenham, a gentleman gave a sovereign for copy of the paper; at Ross the price had risen to two sove- reigns; and on arrival at Hereford, the guard was carried shoulder -high to Mr. Bosley's inn, where the precious jour- nal changed hands for a live -pound note on the Hereford Old Bank, and having been read aloud to a cheering company, was "framed, glazed and hung up in the Club Room for many years."—From 'Inheritance," by John Drinkwater. . "A Break" Innumerable stories are told of Hor- ace Greeley's handwriting. Once he had written an editorial advocating the runing•of an early milk train from Westchester to New York City. The compositor who usually put his manu- script in type was away, and the task was assigned to another who was un- familiar with It. When the article ap- peared in print "early" was set up as "swill," and the consequence was an outbreak of wrath among the farmers of Westchester County, large delega- ' tions of whom descended on the Quite to see Mr. Greeley. Their wrath was mildness itself compared with his. He obtained the name of the guilty com- positor and wrote a letter to the fore- man of the composing -room ordering his immediate discharge, The man asked to have the letter as a keepsake. It was written on paper with Tho Tri- bune heading, and the only intelligible portion was the signature "Horace Greeley" at the bottom. The composl- tor went across the street and applied for Work in. The Times office, and pro- duced Greeley's letter as recommenda- tion, It was accepted and the pion `given work, for nobody unacquainted !with Mr, Greeley's chirography cot'°� iietcd it. ---Joseph Bncklin 13Isbop, No`s., . .,dukesof Many Years, Song of Mother Earth at Even Arthur E. Lloyd Maunsell in The Atlantic Monthly Cool hands of night, give ease Unto myself and these Children of land and seas. Hushed are they now asleep, Wakeful I watch and keep, Close to my heart who weep. Cool hands of night, assoil After this day of toil Us from all sin's despoil. After day's heat and stress And from all lust's duress Heal us, Q night, and bless. Cool hands of night, who place Stars' light in countless space, Touch thou my heart, my face. That I may see and know How those I bear shall grow, Unto what end we go. Teach their small hearts that they Shall know the things of day Fade and must pass away. That gain may turn to loss, That gold may turn to dross, And Love hang on a cross. Cool peace of night, mine eyes Search deep your starry skies That I may counsel wise Anll lives who my life share, In sorrow, joy, or care, In travail and despair. Cool hands of night, give ease Unto myself and these Children of land and seas. Saving Money Two Spaniards quarrelled and de- cided to fight a duel. To do this with - tut attracting too much attention, they took a train into the country. 7 he first Spaniard booked a return ticket, but his opponent took only a single. 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