Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1919)

7H Photoplay Magazine the anger of a fiery will. His hands flevs' to his smarting face. With a third movement hers had relieved him of his gun. '111 return it when you say you're sorry." she told him. Morning brought new conquests for the bright-eyed Molly. By a swiftly running stream she met Dennis and his canine pal. Peter. As a dog Peter was not much, but to the boy he was the smartest thing on four legs in the world and only slightly dearer to him than his gun. "Me and him go hunting every morning," he told Molly. Dennis was the only child in Copper Creek. With several front teeth missing, a generous sprinkling of freckles on his snub nose, ragged clothes and a knowledge far beyond his seven years, Dennis struck deep to Molly's tender heart, but her natural maternal instinct warned her that sympathy or any display of affection was not Dennis" style. "Oh, I'm a good hunter," she declared enthusiastically. "May I go with you? " Dennis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I dunno. Girls ain't much J^ pood," he observed, '"but I'll try you out. Come on." t^ Cheyenne Harry was hunting also, but not with a gun. He was looking for Molly and found her out on the sage-covered hills with Dennis. Harry had spent most of the night in blackguarding himself for all kinds of a fool. Here was the sweetest little girl he'd ever seen and he got in bad at the very start. Repentant, he asked for his gun. Turning her back toward him, she lifted the skirt of her dress and took the gun from a pocket pinned between the folds of her petticoat. Somehow it was quite easy to forget Dennis, who tried to tell Harry to go get a girl of his own and leave his girl alone. When Molly left him to see Harry's claim, Dennis sighed and decided losing your girl was worth crying over. No, it wasn't cither. "Bah, what's a girl anyhow!" he grimaced. Grimaces are so necessary a part ^t ■. of a small boy's vocabularj-. «*. . Lafond had not been in Copper Creek long before he found in Jim Buckley an old enemy. Would Buckley recognize him? Covertly his hand stroked his beard, which concealed an ugly scar caused by having been struck by Buckley with a gun. Would he remember after all these fifteen years? It was not until Buckley first saw Molly that memory seemed to stir within him. Surely there was something familiar about her face — those eyes one could never forget, and what was there about Lafond that reminded him of — of — of what? Feeling he must be avenged, Lafond plans Buckley's ruin. He suggests to the miners that they pool their money for a stamp-mill. "It'll pay you back in a short time," he said. And Buckley being the trusted citizen, the miners turned seventeen thousand dollars over to him for the mill. Accompanied by Lafond, who claimed he also had business in Rapid City. Buckley converted the cash into a check and mailed it with an order to a Chicago machinery firm. But Lafond covertly substituted another envelope for the original and the one that Buckley put into the letter-box was empty, while the check reposed in Lafond's pocket. Molly had been in Copper Creek several days before she saw the old scientist. She and Dennis, on all fours, and Peter had crawled through the underbrush and dirt in search of game. A squirrel threw the hunters into a panic. Molly grabbed Peter and Dennis took aim. Dennis fired! Peter slipped through Molly's hands! "Ain't that just like a girl!" grumbled the disappointed boy as Peter pawetl at a hole down which the squirrel had disappeared. "Letting the dog go and scare the game! " "Who's that?'' asked Mol'y as a white-haired old man seemed to appear from nowhere. In his hand he held the handle and rim of a magnifying glass. Dennis' bullet had gone through the glass, with which he had been inspecting a specimen. "Oh, that's only that nutty old bug hunter who hves with Jim Buck'ey." said the boy. With far-away eyes that seemed to be trying to remember something. Professor Welch, whose m.emon.' had fled many years ago, looked deeply into the girl's. Had they ever -•^een each other before? It was a violent tug of her skirt by Dennis that diverted her attention. The starrp-mill was a long time coming and the miners grew restless. Acting upon Lafond's suggestion, they wrote to Chicago to find out what had happened. Molly soon had the whole town at her feet. Chief among her admirers, and standing first place in her affections, was Chevenne Harry, but he drank too much, she thought. "If you want to stand well with me. you'll have to stop drinking." she told him one night at the Little Nugget. "No one can dictate to mc what I oueht to do." he retorte 1 hotly, his jaw thrust out aggressively, and just to show hei Litde Dennis' Jog, wasn't dead after all. Turning to the girl and Cheyenne Harry, Dennis said : " Bah ! Girls ain t so much good as dogs ! " fell, and a who was boss he ordered : some more whiskey. But he never drank it Snatching the glass from his hand, Molly dashed it to the floor. His hands clenched tight. So did Molly's. One of his fists was raised as if to strike her. Taut and straight, her eyes looking straight and defiantly into his, she stood before him. His arm smile broke slowly over the face of each. ''Gimme a lemon pop!" he ordered to the amazement of the group who had watched the clash of wills. Then came the day of the opening of the dance hall. In spite of Harr\-'s pica that Molly should not attend, she put on her simple white frock, tied a ribbon in her dark curls and went. When she entered, the Little Nugget was crowded with miners, who had been relieved of their guns at the door, and over-painted and under-dressed women. Molly did not like it and wished she had stayed home, but pride forbade any action that might lead Harry to suspect she cared how much he flirted w^'th that brazen Bismark Annie. Greatly to his annoyance. Molly had seen Annie recognize him that afternoon, had seen her throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. and now, to-nicht, when she entered the dance hall .Annie — Oh, well, he told Mollie not to come! He appealed to Lafond. "Any man w'ho would let his daugh