Shiner Gazette. (Shiner, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 32, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 4, 1912 Page: 3 of 8
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ON HIS HONOR
By Roland Ashford Phillips.
(Continued from Last Week.)
Turning toward the clock, Stock-
ton managed to make out the time
—eleven o’clock! The man had said
the wires would he in working or-
der by midnight at the very latest!
There was yet. an hour in which to
prevent that message—that coward-
ly lie—from reaching Gimbel!
For the first time, as his eyes
roamed here and there about the
room, Stockton became aware of a
faint light shilling from beneath a
door a few feet to his right. After
many efforts and false starts, he
managed to roll himself over and
over until his face was against the
narrow crack. The door did not
fit tight, and a lighted, inch-wide
space extended between it and the
threshold. Placing an eye to this
crack, he made out the interior of
a smaller room. A lamp was burn-
ing on a low table, a few newspa-
pers scattered upon the hare floor,
and against one wall rested a cot,
upon which was £he form of a man!
Instinctively it flashed over the
engineer that this was a guard plac-
ed there to prevent possible escape.
If this was true, then he must look
elsewhere for an unwatched path.
With a determined struggle—his
strength was returning minute by
minute—he drew himself slowly
erect. His head cleared instantly.
As he attempted to move around,
he lost his balance, thrust out a
groping hand, and then toppled
against the door. It was unlocked.
It gave beneath his weight, and he
fell limp across the sill.
The cot creaked! Drawing him-
self once more to a sitting position,
Stockton saw a figure lift from
among the bed cloths. The lamp
was shining full upon, the stranger’s
face. One sharp glance, and then
an exclamation fell from the en-
gineer’s amazed lips:
“Jim Hadley!’’
It was the miner he had sent out
that first day of his arrival to ex-
amine Molly’s property.
“Why—why,” gasped the other,
his white face working conclusively
in the yellow glow from the lamp,
“that you—Mr. Stockton?”
“That’s me,” the engineer return-
ed swiftly. ‘‘I just came to my
senses five minutes ago!” A hurried
explanation followed, in which the
engineer told of his struggle with
the two men and his interval of un-
consciousness.
“I was coming up the canon here
three days ago,” he began, after the
other had finished, “when I fell
and my revolver discharged itself in-
to my ribs. I’ve been here ever
since. Can’t move very much. Af-
ter I found myself helpless-
knowing you’d be waiting to
from me, I asked Trent to deliver
you a note. Did you get it?
“A note—about the mining prop-
6rty?,J
“Yes.” The old man nodded. “I
wrote it out for Trent. He said he’d
deliver it to you right away!”
A sudden suspicion crossed Stock-
ton’s mind.
“What did you say?
ty worthless—pinched
-and
hear
The proper-
out?” he
asked.
“Worthless? Pinched out?” Had-
ley grinned. “Nothing of the sort.
Why, the claim is worth fifty thou-
sand if it’s worth a cent!”
A glad little cry broke from
Stockton’s lips. The property worth
fifty thousand! Then his letter to
Molly would he no lie, after all!
“Thank God,” he murmured
Trent’s plan was perfectly plain
now. He had learned most of the
story from Hadley’s ravings, and
used it as a scheme to aid Grimly.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Vital Half Hour.
The clock in the other room
struck a single note. The remem
brance came like a blow to Stock,
ton’s brain.
“That’s eleven-thirty,” he burst
out. “I’ve got to get into town he
fore midnight.”
He explained in a few words the
importance of that delayed message
Hadley listened and shook his head.
“You couldn’t make it in half an
hour wi’ li the best pony in the dis-
trict,” he said slowly.
“I’ve got to make it,’ ’the engi
neer shot out grimly. “I’ve got
make it! I can’t let that message
reach my firm!”
“It’s impossible. Better wait un-
til morning, and maybe then-
“See here,” Stockton interrupted
dragging laboriously across the floor,
can’t you untie these ropes?” He
lifted himself to his knees, turned
his back and thrust his hound wrists
close to the miner’s face.. “Try your
best-and hurry!”
He felt Hadley’s cold, slow fing-
ers fumbling at the cords. “Hard
knots,” he heard the man mutter
“I’ll have to jerk them loose! Here
—wait--” Hadley put forth all his
strength and jerked. Taken rather
unexpectedly, and, badly balanced
because of his strapped legs, Stock
ton went over backward across the
cot.
With a low moan, Hadley crump-
led back among the blankets. “My
wound,” he gasped. “My wound—
you struck, it—you-” the voice
died away.
Stockton, with a grip of horror,
saw the old man had fainted from
the pain.
The last ray of hope seemed to be
obliterated. A rush of blood pound-
ed to Stockton’s whirling brain.
What was to be done? What could
be done? Very carefully he drew
himself erect to his feet, gained a
balance, and hopped across the
floor grotesquely, a few inches at
a time. Approaching the open door
that led into the other room, a tiny
gleam of light caught and held his
attention.
It was the reflection from the
telephone. As he stood there, in a
helplesssort of way, a sudden idea
leaped to liis mind. If he could
get to that phone, get connections
with the operator at the telegraph
station before midnight-.
He peered up at the dim clock. It
marked ten minutes to twelve! Ten
precious, pregnant minutes yet re-
mained !
Laboriously he hopped into the
dark room, reaching the table upon
which the portable telephone rested.
He sank to his knees, and seized the
tablecloth in his teeth. He jerked
it, inch by inch. Presently, with a
crash, the instrument dropped to the
floor, the receiver falling from the
hook.
Even as he prepared to call, a
voice sounded, asking impatiently for
the number. After an effort, he
controlled his throat.
“Hello, central—give me the tele-
graph office at once!”
A snapping of wires came; then a
steady, dull roar, followed by a sharp
click. A new voice greeted him.
Hello,” he answered. “Is this
the telegraph office at Creede?”
Yes. Office at Creede!”
Are the wires between there and
Denver open yet?”
“Just open!”
“Listen”—Stockton’s heart leaped
so violently he could hardly form the
right words—“this is Mr. Stockton
talking. Stockton, of the Colorado
Construction Company. Remember
that message I handed in to you early
this morning?” *
A pause; then: “Yes. I believe
do.”
“Have you sent it?”
Another pause. “Not yet.”
"Thank God!” The exclamation
came unconsciously.
What was that?”
Listen”—the engineer ignored the
question—“I want two words chang-
ed in that message before you for-
ward it!”
Very well. I have the message
here. What are they?”
“Instead of El Tovar, make it
Bear Creek Canon! Get that?”
A slight pause followed.
“I’ll repeat what I have now.”
“I’m listening.”
“ ‘Mr. Gimbel, Denver. Have de-
cided upon the Bear Creek Canon as
being best suited to our project!
That O. K.?”
‘Yes. All O. K. Get it through
at once!”
“I’ll send it immediately.”
The clock above him struck twelve
times. After that he heard Hadley
calling him from the other room.
Stockton dragged himself in there to
find the miner apparently fully re-
covered from his faint. More care-
ful now, it was but the work of
moment to release the engineer from
his bonds.
With a quick cry of relief, Stock-
ton straightened his arms and legs
overcoming the numbness.
“I’ll get out of here—and get to
Creede before daylight,” he exclaim-
ed. “Then I’ll bring the sheriff
back with me. We’ll have you out
of this place before noon. Good-
by.”
Stockton ran across the room,
threw open a window, and dropped
lightly to the ground. The trail
down the canon lay distinct in the
moonlight.
CONCLUSION , i; '
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I
Mr MERCHANT
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Correspondence solocited.
TEXAS INFORMATION & EMPLOYMENT
BUREAU.
210 Book Bldg. San Antonio, Texas.
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CHRIS HAUSER, Jr.
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THE NEESE HIDE CO.
Cheap Lands on New Railroad
DILWORTH RANCH
10,000 acres subdivided into small tracts, all very fine black sandy
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EMIL LOCKE
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Mail Orders Attended to Promptly 1 .
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Look Who’s Here!!
List of S»|ss
R sentatives
Sid Peterson,
Center Point and
Kerrviile.
Chas. Neal,
Cotulla.
R. A. Wiseman,
Floresville.
E. Holekamp,
Junction.
Corder & McDowell,
Lockhart.
Levi Pullin, Sinton.
and Kennedy.
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Habermacher, J. C. Shiner Gazette. (Shiner, Tex.), Vol. 19, No. 32, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 4, 1912, newspaper, April 4, 1912; Shiner, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1142397/m1/3/: accessed June 21, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Shiner Public Library.