“OUTLAWS OF EDEN”

Matamata Record, Volume XX, Issue 1855, 2 August 1937, Page 3

“OUTLAWS OF EDEN”

By PETER B. KYNE.

“Now, I’m not going to start a bitter lawsuit with the Forlorn Valley Irrigation District. I shall merely enter a formal protest —and when I use the first person singular I mean Miss Kershaw and the Bar II Land and Cattle Company. Then I shall sit quietly by and watch those idiots bond their lands, market the bonds, and spend the money to erect a diversion dam and dig miles and miles of main canals and laterals. Then, just as they are about to open their flood-gates. I shall, upon affidavit that the district’s action is about to work great, hardship and damage upon me, be granted a temporary injunction by the superior court restraining the district from using the water, and ordering it to show cause, within ten days, why such temporary injunction should not be made permanent. The case will then be tried on its merits, and I shall probably lose in the superior court, because the judge will refrain from questioning the constitutionality of the state law. I shall.appeal and I shall win, and when I have won the only legal salvation for Forlorn Valley wid be to buy Eden Valley from us, either at private treaty or via the condemna-tion-suit route. If' it wants our water it must buy our lands —and a jury will set the price.”

“He hath taken down the might* from their seat and hath exalted them of low degree,” Gagan quoted humorously. "You appear to be something of a financier.”

"Just contemplate Forlorn Valley, the money derived from the sale of the bonds all spent on a diversion dam, main canal, floodgates, laterals, engineering fees, salaries, and so forth, suddenly discovering that after all it cannot get the water—that it’s all dressed up with no place to go. While they dwell in blissful ignorance of the cataclysm they curse and hate and deride Miss Kershaw and me for protecting our vested rights; when the blow falls—” "There will be stark drama and tragedy in that, not comedy, Mr Tichenor.”

“I dare say . . . Well, now that I have had my own ideas on the legality of my position confirmed by such imminent water counsel as yourself, U seem that all I can do is sit fcalmly by and watch Forlorn Valley jrttln itSrflf.” \ "But surely, Mr Tichenor,” Gagan iKjotefted, "you will take some measures to warn these people before they embark on such a ruinous enterprise." "Notwithstanding the fact that it would be very bad busniess.for. me to do that, I shall do it. It -will be a case of love’s labour lost, however. The people will not believe me; they are following a false leader and blindly loyal to him . . . Well, here’s your Cheque for legal services to date. Something tells me I shall be retaining your services at a later date.” Returning home, Nate Tichenor was met at the railrbad depot In Gold Run by his chauffeur with the car. Passing through Valley Centre en rout? to Eden Valley he saw some men skidding a linotype inio a vacant store in the Babson Block; above the door a new sign informed the world that presently the Forlorn Valley Citizen would here go to press. Certainly Babson was losing no time moving into action. Nor was Joe Branierd, as Nate discovered when he paused at the office of the Register, hoping to glean news of interest that might have occurred during his four

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days’ absence. •He found Braincrd writing an editorial cordially welcoming his competition into the field. "Going to press tomorrow with a two-page; issue, Nate,” lie announced. “Practically all of my local advertising has been withdrawn.”

••Why not run the cancelled ads. just the same, Joe? It I were you I would decline to let Babson see how badly he has hurt me. He may think la is slaves have not obeyed orders and start a light with them in consequence. If anybody cancels Lis subscription continue sending him the paper as usual. I’ll take care oi your deficit. When I’m lighting'a bitter light it’s, against my religion to cry out or admit I’m hurt.”

Brainerd grinned, for this was the sort of fight be loved to wage, if he could afford it. “I’m running another front-page editorial on the water question, Nate. Forlorn Valley has to have the water and if it cannot get it from the Mountain Valley Power Company it must tap the creek up in the Handle. I’m living up to our agreement, boy, and making the fight for my subscribers.” "You’d be a traitor not to.”

“What' did your lawyer say?”

Nate related in detail his conversation with Gagan. "Perhaps,” Brainerd suggested, "I’d do well to write a new editorial pointing out to the people the possibility of failure of the

plan upon which, led by Babson, they

are about to embark. What do the poor devils know about it? Only what Babson tells them.”

"That’s a splendid idea, Joe. The people will then have an opportunity to read .your editorial and digest it before attending the mass meeting. Consequently they will be more favourably inclined toward the proposition I shall have to make them at that meeting. And when the editorial has been written and set up, pull a proof and send it over to Babson. It may give him food for reflection."

Within two hours Brainerd sent his devil over to the bank with the proof and a note from Brainerd to the effect that he was running the editorial in his next issue and inviting comment. After reading the editorial Babson passed it into Henry Rookby for the latter’s reaction.

“He asks for my comment, Henry. Well, I’ll oblige him.” And Babson wrote In red crayon across the proof: “When Forlorn Valley has its own reservoir filled, you and Tichenor nave my permission to jump into it and drown yourselves, and greatly oblige, yours, etc., S. Babson." “Shoot ’em. in the foot,” Mr Rookby urged wittily. •

. When the bank’s messenger took the proof and Babson’s message back to Joe Brainerd, that astute individual sighed and, after the fashion of newspaper men, who always save the written expressions of opinion of their enemies, locked it up in his safe l , INSTALMENT' XIX. Darby, Nate Tichenor’s chauffeur, was enjoying to the fullest his master’s visit to Eden. Valley. Distinctly a New York product, Darby had heard there was considerable space west of the Hudson River, but he had not been prepared to admit that the country was as wide-open as he had found it. Darby had enjoyqd the branding, but most of all he had enjoyed the idleness of his job. Miss Kershaw had been very kind to Darby, too, in that she had sent him down an old, safe saddle horse

to ride. Also, she had sent a horse down for the gloomy hut efficient Joseph, but unfortunately she sent a stock saddle with him, and as Joseph had never ridden anything hut an English saddle, his conservatism forbade that he should try anything new. He compromised, therefore, by faking long walks, after the fashion of his kind, shooting blue-jays and hawks, and fishing. Like Darby, he rejoiced because his master required hut li! tie service from him.

Before leaving for San Francisco, however, the master had given the task of posting “No Shooting, Fishing or Trespassing” notices from the gate at the entrance to Eden Valley to the farthest limit of the Kershaw ranch. This task pleased both servants, particularly Joseph, who possessed a truly Britannic passion for privacy and the protection of private shooting and flshjng preserves from alien invasion. The notices once up, therefore, Joseph saw his duty plainly before him. With much misgiving, therefore, he climbed Into tiic slock-saddle on the horse Lorry Kershaw liad sent him, slung a ,22 calibre rifle in a scabbard and set forth to apprehend poachers, a poacli»r being considered by Joseph as absolutely the lowest form of human life.

For two days he ambled through the pleasant valley, enjoying the solitude. The day Tichenor came home from San Francisco Darby seized upon his absence to go fishing, while Joseph saddled his horse and set forth again on his delightful journeying, his heart still beating high with the hope of finding a poacher. And late in the afternoon, as the shadows were growing long in Eden Valley and Joseph was reminded' that he must return home soon and prepare dinner for his master, who had informed him he would dine at home that night, he discovered a poacher. He had ridden into a thick grove of yellow pines when, happening t-o glance up the side of the ridge that separated Eden Valley from Forlorn Valley, he saw a man descending through the buck-brush and laurels. Through his master’s binoculars the excellent Joseph made appraisal and discovered the man carried a rifle. The man could readily have found more open going, yet he preferred to stick to the tall brush, nor did he advance confidently as an honest man should. Arrived at last at the foot of the ridge, the fellow found a hiding place in a clump of laurel about 30 feet above the road, and Joseph both saw and heard him break off some branches as if to clear his view of the road. Then he sat down.

“Something devilish queer about this fellow, what?” Joseph decided. He got off his horse cautiously and slipped from tree to tree until he was within 40 yards of the man, when he sat down behind a clump of manzanita to await developments. Through his binoculars he could now make out the man’s form; he saw that the fellow’s rifle rested in a crotch in a laurel bush.

“He’s waiting for somebody,” Joseph concluded. “By Jove, a bally assassin, what? The blighter will bear close watching for a bit, I fancy.” Suddenly, up the valley, Joseph caught a faint rumbling. He knew that W'Oilld be his master’s automobile crossing a loosely planked little bridge across one of the small lateral streams that flowed down the hillside to Eden Valley Creek. Instantly there was u slight movement in the laurel bush; a little later Nate Tichenor’s car ho/e into view'. Joseph saw the hiding man’s hand come up and grasp the rifle, saw’his head come down to cuddle the stock —so Joseph, horribly excited but with hi's duty clear before him,, sighted on the man’s head and pulled away. He was rewarded by hearing a grunt; then the bushes parted, the man leaped down into the road and scuttled across it for the haven of the clump of sugar pines in' which Joseph was hidden. As he passed the bush behind which Joseph knelt concealed, the valet leaped up, followed and banged the fellow' heartily over the head with his rifle barrel. Then he helped himself to the stranger s rifle and stepped out into the road. “It’s quite all right, Mr Tichenor,” he shouted. “Joseph speaking, sir, The blighter was out to scupper you, I fancy, but I’ve scuppered him. Do come and have a look at the rascal, sir.”

Nate drove up, alighted and followed Joseph into the pine grove, where he rolled the unconscious man over and looked at him. “That’s Pitt River Charley,” he announced. “He’s a half-breed Indian and years ago he used to be a professional killer. I thought the fool had retired, but somebody must have made it worth his w'hile to get back into harnes-j. Are you quite certain he was gunning for me, Joseph?” “Absolutely sir. I’ve been watching him for an hour, sir. His gun was at his shoulder and he was sighting on you, sir, when I fired at his head, sir.”

(To be Continued).