The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 20, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 9, 1909 Page: 3 of 10
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1 (
*
v\* '/.'I
rl, lwi'nmo ot
stranger w
yin« herbs
in central A:
Ml ll|> til*
S3y Y. Marion Crawfohd
eg? AUTHOR Of "JAftAC/fiFSCA," "ARETHUSA"ETCfTC
]L LL/STRATJOflSJW <A.W£1U>
CQPYRJGHT /907^BY R~M/lR/OA/ CRAWFORD
SYNOPSIS. ] most. But now it was more; he was
sure that it was a yard and a half at
aniored the least. He rubbed his eyes and j
' in %th* l°°ked hard at the dark belt of wet [
tia, ami sand, and it. was twice as wide as it '
a would !nul heen. The water was still run-
Hosuif. ! ning out somewhere, but it was no |
longer running in. and in an hour or
supply. | two tin* pool would be dry. The trav-|
eler' was something of an engineer,
CHAPTER I.—Continued. and understood sooner than an or-
The traveler fished up the sack and dinary man could have done, that his
waded out upon the tiny beach. He enemies had intentionally stopped up
looked up rather anxiously, though lie the narrow entrance through which
could not have seen a head looking he had to come, both to make his es-
down from above if there had been | cape Impossible, and to hasten his end j
any one there. Th°re was not light hy depriving him of water. 1 lie fallen
enough. He understood also that if houlder alone could not have kept out
the men were going to shoot at him 1 the overflow of the spring effectually,
from the height they would wait till it j They must have shoveled down mass-
was daylight. Baraka stood still in : es earth, with the plants that grew
the water, which was up to her waist, ! 'n abundantly and filled it with |
and lie paid no attention to her. but | twining threadlike roots, and they
; must have skillfully forced quantities!
1 of tiie stuff into the openings all round
! the big stone, making a regular dam j
' against the spring, which would soon I
j run down in the opposite direction.!
Baraka. a Tartar
of a golden heard
prosp. i ling and s
vicinity <>f her home m <
revealed to him the loe
of ruhies hoping that tin
love her in return for
They were followed to
fflrl's relatives, who bloi
tranee, and drew off ti
leaving the couple to dlt
Wi , -
sat down to think what he should do.
The night was warm, and his clothes
would dry on him by degrees. He
would have taken them off and spread
them out, for he thought no more of
Baraka's presence than if she had
been a harmless young animal stand-
ing there in the pool, but he could not
tell what might happen at any mo-
ment, and so long as he was dressed
and had all his few belongings about
him, he felt ready to meet fate.
Baraka saw that he did not heed
her, and was thinking. She came up
out of the water very slowly, and she
modestly loosened her wet garment
from her, so that it hung straight
when she stood at the end of the
beach, as far from the traveler as pos-
sible. She, also, sat. down to dry her-
self; and there was silence for a long
time.
After half an hour the travelc r rose
and began to examine the rock, feel-
ing it with his hands wherever there
was the least shadow, as high as he
could reach, to find if there was any
foothold, though he was already sure
that there was not.
"There is no way out," Baraka said
at last
have s
They knew, of course, that Baraka |
had led him to the place and had gone ]
in with him, for she had left all her |
outer garments outside, and they i
I meant that she should die also, with
i her secret. In a week, or a fortnight,
or a month, they would come and dig
awav the dam and pry the boulder |
aside, and would get in and find the
j white bones of the two on the sand, I
| after the vultures had picked them
clean; and they would take the trav-1
eler's good revolver, and his money.
He thought of all these things as he
sat there in the dim light, and watched
the slow receding of the water-line,
and listened to the girl's soft and reg-
ular breathing. There was no death
in her dream, as she slept away the
last hours of the night, though there
might not be many more nights for
her. He heard her breath, but he did
not heed her, for the water was sink-
ing before him, sinking away into the
sand, now that it was no longer fed
I have been here by day. I | lr<),n *'ie opening.
1 sat motionless, and his thoughts
"They will let themselves down I r;in madly from hope to despair and
whom she had led to the ruby mines
for love's sake.
He would come down till he was
within easy range, and then he would
wait till he had a fair chance at them,
when they were standing still, and she
knew that he was a dead shot
! traveler's revolver could never carry |
as far as the long gun. Baraka was)
sure, .ind Saad could come quite near I
with safety, since lie seemed able to
j climb down the face of a Hat rock !
where there was not foothold for a
cat. He was still descending, he was |
i getting very near; if the traveler were
I not warned he might come out of the.
j cave unsuspiciously and Saad would
shoot him. Saad would
! liiiu first, because of his revolv
i then he would kill Baraka
! leisure. If he fired
i traveler would have
The traveler's v
that would have
r uo yards as
gone through tin
Baraka sprang
and ran along tin
body. In an ilist;
it. him
h; 11 u
rel<
understood
yet. if indei
was barely puss
enough to take
After hesitating
not from fear but
ered herself to s
sli like an ante!
for the mouth of
iding his old gun.
by he had not killed
lie want« d to. for it
le that he loved her
r alive.
ellis.
and, where it struck head first, rolled
>ver and lay motionless in a heap.
is a Mauser pistol
killed ns surely at
and the bullet had
Tartar's brain,
up the sandy slope
narrow beach to tlie
lit she had detached
brown water-gourd from the
which lie it had hung over
Saad s shoulder, and she felt that it
was full. Without a thought
self she hastened back to the mouth
of the cave where the traveler was
now standing
with perspin
his matted t
were wild, his hands wen
"Prink!" cried Baraka
she gave him the gourd.
lie gripped it as a greedy dog snaps
at a bit of meat, and pulling out the
wooden plug lie set the gourd to his
lips, wiili an expression of beatitude.
ran do
ripping
vn into
bleeding,
joyfully, and
r a lew
l doubt, she gatli
ing, and made ;
ie along the
•, for
s an old travelei
ttle, knowing tli
i*ii(l on making
\ gourd of
e than many n
ami only
t his lifo
the small
/atel* was
hie
1 then.
jus'
th
Leaving a Funnel-Shaped Hollow in the Sand.
back again to hope. The water was
going down, beyond question; if it
was merely draining itself through the
"N..." replied Ilaraka. "They know I sand to somi' subterranean channel
from above with ropes, till they are
near enough to shoot," the traveler
answered.
that you have a good weapon, and |
they will not risk their lives. They
will leave us here to starve. That is |
vhat they will do. It is our portion,
he was lost, but if it was flow ing j
away through any passage like the
one by which he had entered, there
was still a chance of escape—a very
and we shall die. It will be easv. for sma11 ''bailee. When death is at the
there is water, and when we are hun-
gry we can drink our fill. You will
die first. You are not as we are, you
cannot live so long without food."
The traveler wondered if she was
right, but he said nothing.
"If we had got out with the treas-
ure," continued Baraka, "you would
have loved me for it, because you
would have been the greatest man in
the world through me. But now, bi
cause we must die, you hate me.
understand. If you do not kill m
you will die first; and when you ar
gate the tiniest, loophole looks wid
enough to crawl through.
The surface of the pool subsided,
but there was no loophole; and as the ;
traveler watched, hope sank in his
heart, like the water in the hollow of
the sand; but Baraka slept on peace-j
fully, curled up on her side like a lit-
tle wild animal. When the pool was
almost dry the traveler crept down
to the edge and drank his fill, that he
j ! might not begin to thirst sooner than
B need be; and just then day dawned
p I suddenly and the warm darkness gave
dead 1 shall kiss you many times, till! way t0 a ('°o1 uSht in ;l f('w moments.
I die also. It will be very easy. I am
not afraid."
The man sat quite still and looked
at the dark streak by the edge of the
pool where the water had wet it when
the falling boulder outside had sent in
little waves. He could see it dis-
tinctly. Again there was silence for
a long time. Now and then Baraka
loosened her only garment about her
as she sat, so that it might dry more
quickly; and she quietly wrung out
her thick black hair and shook it over
her shoulders to dry it, too, and
stuck her two silver pins into the
sand beside her.
Still the traveler sat with bent head,
gazing at the edge of the pool. His
hands were quite dry now, and he
slowly rubbed the clinging moisture
from his revolver. Some men would
have been thinking, in such a plight,
that if starving were too hard to bear,
a bullet would shorten their sufferings
in the end; but this man was very full
of life, and the love of life, and while
he lived he would hope.
lie still watched the same dark
streak where the sand was wet; he
had not realized that he had been so
far from it till then, but by looking at
it a long time in the starlight his sight
had probably grown tired, so that he
no longer saw it distinctly. He raised
himself a little on his hands and
pushed himself down till it was quite
clearly visible again, and he looked at
the rock opposite and up to the stars
again, to rest his eyes. He was not
more than a yard from the water now.
The place was very quiet. From far
above a slight draught of air descended,
warm from the rocks that had been
heated nil day in the sun. But there
was no sound except when Baraka
moved a little.
Presently she did not move any
more, and when the traveler looked he
saw that she was curled up on the
sand, as eastern women lie when they
sleep, and her head rested on her
hand; for her garment was dry now,
and she was drowsy after the walk
and the effort she had made. Be-
sides, since there was no escape from
death, and as the man did not love
lier. she might as well sleep if she
could.
He had been certain of the distance
between his feet and the water's edge
1 in mediately, because it was day,
Baraka stretched herself on the sand j
and then sat up; and when she saw
what the traveler was doing she also
went and drank as much as she could |
swallow, for she had understood why
he was drinking as soon as she saw-
that the pool was nearly dry. When
she could drink no more she looked
up at the rocks high overhead, and
they were already white and rod and
yellow in the light of the risen sun;
for in that country there is no very
long time between dark night and
broad day.
Baraka sat down again, on the spot
where she had slept, but she said
nothing. The man was trying to dig I
a little hole in the wet sand with his
hands, beyond the water that was
still left, for perhaps he thought that j
if he could make a pit on one side, |
some water would stay in it; but the
sand ran together as soon as he
moved it; and presently, as he bent [
over, he felt that he was sinking into j
it himself, and understood that it was
a sort of quicksand that would suck |
him down. He therefore threw himself j
fiat on his back, stretching out his
arms and legs, and, making move-
ments as if he were swimming, he
worked his way from the dangerous
place till he was safe on the firm |
white beach again. He sat up then and j
bent his head till his forehead pressed
on his hands, and he shut his eyes to
keep out the light of day. He had
not slept, as Baraka had, but he was
not sleepy; perhaps he would not be
able to sleep again before the end
come. Baraka watched him quietly,
for she understood that he despaired
of life, and she wondered what he
would do; and, besides, he seemed to
her the most beautiful man in the
world, and she loved him, and she was
going to die with him.
It comforted her to think that no
other woman could get him now. It
was almost worth while to die for that
alone; for she could not have borne
that another woman should have him
since he despised her. and if it had
come to pass she would have tried to
kill that other. But there was no
danger of such a thing now; and he
would die first, and she would kiss
him many times when he was dead,
and then she would die also.
as he s#t; it had been a yard at the The pool was all gone by this time,
leaving a funnel-sliapped hollow in
the sand where it had been. If any
water still leaked through from with-
out it lost itself under the sand, and
the man and the girl were at the bot-
tom of a great natural well that was
quite dry. Baraka looked up, and she
saw a vulture sitting in the sun on a
pinnacle, 300 feet above her head. He
would sit there till she was dead, for
he knew what was coming; then he j
would spread his wings a little and lot I
himself down awkwardly, half Hying
and half scrambling. When he had
finished, he would sit and look at her |
bones and doze, till he was able to fly
away.
The hours passed, and the sun rose i
higher in the sky and struck deeper
into the shady well, till he was almost
overhead, and there was scarcely any
shadow left. It became very hot and
stilling, because the passage through I
which the air had entered with the
water was shut up. Then the traveler
took off his loose jacket, and opened
his flannel shirt at the neck, and
turned up his sleeves for coolness,
and he crept backwards into the hol-
low where the ruby mine was, to shel-
ter himself from the sun. But Baraka
edged away to the very foot of the
cliff, where there remained a belt of
shade, even at noon; and as she sat
there she took the hem of her one
garment in her hands and slowly
fanned her little feet. Neither he nor
she had spoken for many l.ours, and
she could see that in the recess of the
rock he was sitting as before, with
his forehead against his hands that
were clasped on his knees, in the at-
titude and bearing of despair.
He began to be athirst now, in the
heat. If he had not known that there I
was no water he could easily have
done without it through a long day,
but knowledge that there was none,
and that he was never to drink again,
parched his life and his throat and his I
tongue till it felt like a dried fig in his j
mouth. He did not feel hunger, and
indeed he had a little food in a wallet
he carried; but Le could not have eat-
en without water, and it did not. occur
to him that Baraka might be hungry.
Perhaps, eten if he had known that
she was. he would not have given her
of what he had; he would have kept
it for himself. What was the life of a
wild hill-girl compared with his? But
the vulture was watching him. as well |
as Baraka. and would not move from
its pinnacle till the end, though days
might pass.
Baraka was not thirsty yet. because
she had drunk her fill in the morn-
ing, and was not used to drink often;
it was enough that she could look at |
the man she loved, for the end would
come soon enough without thinking
about it. All day long the traveler
crouched in the hollow of the ruby
cave, and Baraka watched him from
her place; when it grew dark the vul-1
ture on the pinnacle of rock thrust its
ugly head under its wing. As soon as
Baraka could not see any more she
curled herself up on the white sand
like a little wild animal and went to
sleep, though she was thirsty.
It was dawn when she awoke, and
her linen garment was damp with the
dew, so that the touch of it refreshed
her. The traveler had come out and
was lying prone on the sand, his face
buried against his arm, as soldiers
sleep in a bivouac. She could not tell
whether he was asleep or not, but she
knew that he could not see her, and
she cautiously sucked the dew from
her garment, drawing it up to her
mouth and squeezing it between her
lips.
It was little enough refreshment,
but it was something, and she was not
afraid, which made a difference, .lust
as she had draw n the edge of her shift
down and round her ankles again, the
man turned on his side suddenly, and
then rose to his feet. For an instant
he glared at her, and she saw that
his blue eyes were bloodshot and
burning; then he picked up the heavy
camel bag, and began to make his
way round what had been the beach of
the pool, towards the passage through
which they had entered, and which
was now a dry cave, wide below, nar-
row at the top, and between six or
seven feet high. He trod carefully
and tried his way, for he feared the
quicksand, but he knew that there
was none in the passage, since he had
walked through the water and had
felt the way hard under his feet. In
a few moments he disappeared under
the rock.
Baraka knew what lie meant to do;
he was going to try to dig through the
dam at the entrance to let the water
in, even if he could not get out; but
she did not move, for in that narrow
place and in the dark she could not
have helped him. She sat and waited.
By and by he would come out, drenched
with sweat and yet parching with
thirst, and he would glare at her hor-
ribly again; perhaps he would bemad
when he came out and would kill her
because she had brought him there.
After some time she heard a very
faint sound overhead, and when she
looked up the vulture was gone from
his pinnacle. She wondered at this,
and her eyes searched every point
and cVevice of the rock as far as she
could see, for she knew that the evil
bird could only have been frightened
away; and though it fears neither
bird nor beast, but only man, she
could not believe that any human be-
ing could find a foothold near to
where it had perched.
For some seconds, perhaps for a
whole minute, she saw nothing, though
she gazed up steadily, then she saw
that a small patch of snowy white was
moving slowly on the face of the cliff,
at some distance above the place
where the vulture had been. She bent
her brows in the effort to see more
by straining her sight, and meanwhile
the patch descended faster than it
seemed possible that a man could
climb down that perilous steep. Yet
it was a man, she knew from the first,
and soon she saw him plainly, in his
loose shirt and white turban, and with
a long gun slung across his back.
Nearer still, and he was down to the
jutting pinnacle where the vulture had
sat, and she saw his black beard; still
nearer by a few feet and she knew
him, and then her glance darted to
the mouth of the cave at the other
end of which the man she loved was
toiling desperately alone in the dark
to pierce the dam of earth and ^tones.
It was only a glance, In a second of
time, but when she looked up the
black-beared man had already made
another step downwards. Baraka
measured the distance. If he spoke
loud now she could understand him.
She knew him well, and she knew why
he had come, with his long gun. He
was her father's brother's son, to
whom she was betrothed; he was
Saad. and he was risking his life to
come down and kill her and the mac
knew that Saad would not risk wast-1
ing his shot on her while she was run-
ning. She stopped just under the
shelter of the rock and called inward: i
"Saad is coming down the rock with ;
his gun!" she cried. "Load >our
weapon!"
When she had given this warning
she went out again and stood before
the mouth of the cave with her back
to it. Saad was on the rock, not 50
feet above the ground, at t other
side of the natural wall, but .ooked
as if even he could get. no farther
down. He was standing with both his
hoels on a ledge so narrow that more
than half the length of his brown feet
stood over it; he was leaning back,
flat against the sloping cliff, and he
had his gun before him, for he was
just able to use both his hands with-
out lulling, lie pointed the gun at her
and spoke:
"Where is the man?"
"He is dead." Baraka answered
without hesitation.
"Dead? Already?"
"1 killed him in his sleep," she said,
"and 1 dragged his body into the cave
for fear of the vulture, and buried it
in the sand. Be not angry, Saad,
though he was my father's guest.
Come down hither and 1 will tell all.
Then you shall shoot me or take me
home to be your wife, as you w ill, for
I am quite innocent."
She meant to entice him within
range of the stranger's weapon.
"There is no foothold whereby to
get lower," he answered, but he
rested the stock of his gun on the nar-
row ledge behind hiiu.
"Drag out the man's body, that I
may see it."
"I tell you I buried it. I killed him
the night before last; I cannot dig him
up now."
"Why did you run to the mouth of
the cave when you saw me, if the man
is dead?"
"Because at first I was afraid you
would shoot me from above, therefore
I took shelter."
"Why did you come out again, if
you were in fear?"
"After I had run in I was ashamed,
for I felt sure that you would not kill
me without hearing the truth. So I
came out to speak with you. (Jet
down, and I will show you the man's
grave."
"Have I wings? I cannot come
down. It is impossible."
Baraka felt a puff of hot air pass
her, just above her right, ankle, and
at the same instant she heard a sharp
report, not very loud, and more like
the snapping of a strong but very dry
stick than the explosion of firearms.
She instinctively sprang to the left,
keeping her eyes on Saad.
For a moment he did not move. But
he was already dead as he slowly bent
forward from the rock, making a
deep obeisance with both arms hang-
ing down before him, so that his body
shot down perpendicularly to the
"Are you very thirsty yet?" ho
asked in a harsh voice.
"No," answered Haraka brawl*;
"keep it for yourself."
11 is hand closed round the neck of
the gourd and he looked up towards
the rocks above. The vulture had
come back and was circling slowly
down.
"You had better bury the body,
while I go on working," said the trav-
eler. turning back into the cave and
taking the gourd with liini.
Baraka had marked the place where
lie had tried to dig for water and had
almost disappeared in the quicksand.
She took from the body the wallet, In
w hich were dates and some half dry
bread, and then dragged and pushed
and rolled the dead man from the
place where he had fallen. The vul-
ture sat on the lowest ledge where
his claws could find a hold, and
though hi4 watched her with horrible
red eyes while she robbed him of hid
prey, he did not dare go nearer.
The body sank into the moving
sand, and Baraka had to roll herself
back to firmer ground in haste to es-
cape being swallowed up with tliei
dead man. The last, she saw of him
was one brown foot sticking tip. It
sank slowly out of sight, and then she
went to the hollow where thev ruby
mine was and took up a piece of the
broken crust, full of precious stones,
and threw it at the vulture as hard as
she 'could. It did not hit him, but h«
at once tumbled off the ledge into thw
air, opened his queer, bedraggle#
wings and struck upwards.
Then Baraka sat down in the shade
and slowly brushed away the dry sand
that had got into the folds of her lin-
en garment, and looked steadily at the
mouth of the cave and tried not to
realize that her throat was parched
and her lips almost cracking with!
thirst, and that the traveler had a
gourd almost full of water with hi mi
For she loved him, and was willing to
die that he might live a little longer^
besides, if he succeeded in digging his
way out, there would be plenty tq
drink, and when he was free she was
sure that he would love her because
she had made him so rich.
The sun rose higher and at last
shone down to the bottom of the
chasm, and she sat in the narrow strip
of shade, where she had passed most
of the previous day. She was very
thirsty and feverish, and felt tired,
and wished she could sleep, but could
not. Still the traveler toiled in the
darkness, and from time to time she
heard sounds from far away as of
stones and loose earth falling. He was
still working hard, for he was *ery
strong and he was desperate. ^
Baraka thought that, if he was able
to dig through the dam the water
would run in again, and she watcheq
the sand for hours, but it was drier
than ever. The shadow broadened
again, and crept up the rock quickly
as the afternoon passed.
(TO BE CONTINUED.) ;
iw
Look Well to the Kitchen
Writer In Houston Post Comes For-
ward with Variations on Old
Theme of "Feeding the Brute."
There Is a great deal in the old say-
ing that the way to a man's heart is
through his stomach. If he isn't well
fed he is going to give trouble. Feed
the old brute well and let him smoke
in the house and he will be as tame
as the family horse, but be careless
about his feed and he is apt to swear
and cut up like a balky mule. There-
fore, it is wise for every girl to look
well to her kitchen education. It is
true that man is hooked in the par-
lor, but it Is the kitchen that enables
you to hold him.
A kitchen is to the home what the
engine-room is to a power plant or a
locomotive to a train. If things ga
wrong in the engine-room, there's the
devil to pay. If the locomotive is out
of fix, the train must be switched to
the siding. If the kitchen is not com-
petently and efficiently conducted the
old man will fly off at a tangent and
possibly swear where the children can
near him. Moreover, he is apt to find
excuses to eat down town where pret-
ty girls with white, fluffy-fringed
aprons, dimples, ribbons and things
do the hash-slinging.—Houston Post.
Would Cut a Splurge.
"If," says the Alfalfa Sage, "I ever
become wealthy the first thing I will
do will be to purchase the biggest
touring car in town, and the second-
thing will be to purchase two more."j
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Sprague, G. E. The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 20, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 9, 1909, newspaper, December 9, 1909; Hennessey, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc105687/m1/3/: accessed April 23, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.