Bloomington High School - Gothic Yearbook (Bloomington, IN)

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 -| gtif (Suthir -□ lUhu 31 Am islill lirrr You who h«vo lived in or near an oil-tlold haw k«ii n delicately adjusted spring-wagon drive «lowly toward the newly developed district , and return a slowly to head- quarter». You knew that this was a nitroglycerine wagon, and that it wa» driven slowly that it might be driven again Without stopping to explain more about tin- precarious mi»- »ion of thi- breeze-buggy,'- I shall relate an experience I once had with one- I visited the log oil-held» at Robinson. Illinois. where m cousin. Arthur V—. hauled the explosives from tin- rnlx- ing-plutit to the new wells During my visit I accompanied Arthur regularly, and I confess that I gloried in following an avocation which raodand my life-in»urancc policy void, ami which, while placing me equally distant from heaven ami hell, put me farther from earth than from either. On one of thee trips an ugly clou I ?•» » •» up. l the wind that preceded the rain brought down tlu mad. an old new «paper That was the only thing under the -un that would scare Billy, the least hor»c. and when thr Sunday Supplement heaved up into hi» lUnk. BiUv bream» an equine go-devil Hu first lunge fired the other horse, snd olT they went We kept the mad till »e rear hut the railway saritrh. where Ihi lift nltro-glycerin. can bout;. -I «mt At the «arm- moment, a front wh.-el collapsed from it» impsct srlth a high croas-tie. and Arthur and I waps thrown to the ditch A telephone pole » finished the wreck that when wv re- gained -fur senses we found the can littering th« rwsd It was well for u« that, instead of going to the Arid loaded, w were returning with empty can»! ifctf tits ■-C D If IM h» ,

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[jEhj Phil Jardine down at Kdmontnn Hr drunk. Wr riilr out together. He tell roe he kill homesteader. Riders think vou did it. Phil stole your min Hr gone to Three Crons Bar.” Rabbit Jim’. diction would have turned an {Englishman's hair white, but it told Jean O'Neill ail he needed to know. “Thank . Jim, said Jean, briefly Rabbit Jim's eyes glittered “PhiL he kill my squaw You kill him. No want money.” ami he waved t«ck the proffered silver. He over at Three Cross Bars. Jean was off down the trail like a whirlwind. He be- strode the plains-brcd stallion. Coeur-de-Lion. He had rap- tured the animal when it was about two years old. and had never regretted his trouble. Three Cross Bars was only fifteen miles away, and if the Riders did sight him. there was Long Tim's twenty miles further on. To a horse like Coeur-de-Lion. eighty miles a day was not a hardship; he could be forced to go more. Long Tim had slept till almost sunset. Sitting m a com- fortable chair on the front porch, he was trying to decide whether to take another cat-nap or to go and feed the stock, when a sound of galloping hoof caught hi ear. Same drunk fool riding a horse to death. he comment- ed to the porch pillar Then he started A figure was com- ing up the trail, swaying. The man caught the bo a« he •tumbled, and was about to fall. “Jean, lad You're shot' Was it—was it the Riders?” “The Riders No. Phil Jardine plugged me. H-hr killed that man. and—stole— m —gut to— to kill him with.” Long Tim picket! him up bodily and, carrying him into the house, laid him on the bed. “No use. «aid Jean, as the older man tried to stop the How of blood. “He got me good. Tim. but I got him. too. I’m all in. Tim. but I got Phil Jardine. Hr stopped from weakness “Oh. no.” Monohan tried to speak cheerfully. “You’ll S.H. Mw m « • t]------------------------------------------------- be nil right soon. You— Jcnn interrupted. I told Reno I'd meet him twenty mile over the border. It'll be a wider border than I thought, but if you kc him, tell him Mint IH be waiting.' Keep still. Jean.” burst out Monohan. Here, drink this, and lie still. Jean drank the water, but went on speaking. Coeur-de-Lion’ «lend. Killed on his feet. He’s down nt the bottom over there. The Riders—they're after—af- ter me. They saw me—but Coeur-de-Lion—bent 'em out. “For Mod’s sake, keep still, implored Monohan You’re going to get all right. Keep still and don't start that blood ■ again I'll be back in a moment. Long Tim went out on the porch and looked over the hills. Then he sat down agam. If I’m not in there. Jean won’t talk. he thought, as he ! lighted hi pipe. j At that moment, two men rode around the house—two | men in scarlet coats and black trousers with a stripe down j the seam. They carried rifle . One was the Sergeant, Howdy. Tim. greeted tin Sergeant. How's things with you? Tim was silent. A noire in the doorway causer) the three to turn. There stood Jean in the doorway, grasping the sides for support. You're too late, gentlemen. he -aid. with a short mirthless laugh. I've got a change of venue.” He swayed forward and Tim caught him a he fell. “Jean! exclaimed the Sergeant. He's gone. said Long Tom. sadly. “Do you want him now? There were actual tears in the Sergeant's eyes I No. Tim. We had come to tell him that Whiting, here. | had found Phil Jardine shot through the lungs near Three • Cross Bar-. Jardine confessed that he murdered the home- steader. with Jean's gun. He -aid he got Jean. We thought we'd find him here, and we did. but we came—too late. IM'n a IMl.

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