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HICKORY HILL SETTLEMENT
fiy MARY E. RRYAN. Author of Jianch, Wild Work, Kildee, Uncle Ned’s White Child. Etc.
CHAPTER XVI.
ERA had worn black ever since the death
of her father in May. It was a matter
of notice to her pupils that this morning
after she had opened school and had
removed a black cape from about her
shoulders, she appeared in a white linen
waist. Also, she had worn a white sun
bonnet this morning, instead of her
black hat. Afterwards, they understood
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the significance of this little change in their teach
er’s usual dress. Now, they only said among one
another, “Don’t teacher look pretty in white, but
ain’t she orful pale?’*
When Dick Holly came in, he went at once to
where Vera sat. Laying a bunch of wild flowers on
her table, he said: “I saw Lela, and give her the
apple. I told her you sent it. Craig was there at
the cowpen mindin’ off the calves, whilst she milked.
Benny always done that afore, but I didn’t see a
thing of Benny.”
Vera dismissed school in the afternoon at twenty
minutes to four o’clock. Teaching today had been
a severe strain on her nerves. She was looking for
ward to an ordeal which would be trying if not peri
lous, yet her humane and chivalrous instincts im
pelled her to face it.
Walking homeward with the three Wiggins’ chil
dren, she was in the lead, when they reached the
bush-grown, little-traveled road that led to the Craig’s
place. To the surprise of the children, she turned
off into this road.
“You’ve taken the wrong road, Miss Vera,” called
Rachel.
“No, I am going to see Lela,” she answered.
They looked after her, with strong protest in their
faces, but sne walked quickly and did not turn her
head. The road led through woods and across a
stream. She had walked it only once before. When
she came to the foot of the hill on which the house
she sought was situated, she stopped, and looked
at her watch. It was fifteen minutes after four
o’clock. She wondered if Will Hadden was not near.
Listening, she presently heard the hoof-strokes of
a trotting horse, beyond the hill she had just de
scended, She walked on with quickened steps. At
the top of the hill, she stopped and took a recon
noitering look ahead. The house —a log house —
weather beaten and dark —stood in a field, now white
in spots with open cotton bolls. In the field in front
of the house were several large apple trees, which
she had remembered seeing. Near one of these, she
caught sight of a blue bonnet. Lela was picking
cotton in the field, and not far from her was her
mother, engaged in the same work.
“Craig is not here,” thought Vera with a quick
breath of relief. But directly, she saw him. He
was standing near the road, at some distance from
the two women. He had seen her and as she ap
proached, he squared himself towards her and glared
at her. He stood near a tree against which his
gun was leaning. A large brindle dog that had
been lying at his feet, jumped up and ran towards
Vera, barking savagely. She walked straight on.
The dog came up to her, barking and jumping at
her. She stopped an instant, and spoke to him
quietly. He kept on barking, but did not attempt to
bite her. She went up to the man, who was watching
her movements, with the wild gleam in his eyes,
which to her betokened madness.
“How do you do, Mr. Craig,” she said in a com
posed way. “I was told you wish to sell your place.
I received a letter last week from a man in the
city, who wants to buy just such a place up here
for his son, who is threatened with consumption.
He will pay cash for it. I have brought the letter—
it is typewritten—that you may see what he says.”
She handed him the letter in an envelope. His
menacing look changed to one of eager, shrewdness.
He took the envelope, and while he was clumsily
taking out and unfolding the sheet it contained, Vera
walked off in the direction of the apple tree, saying:
“I'll just speak a word to Lela, and give her this
book.” She was several yards from him before
he understood what sh® was doing. Then, ho looked
The Ototden Ase for ©coember 2, liKW
up and shouted: “Stop there! I shant, let you bother
that girl.”
Vera kept on, walking rapidly. “I shall not hinder
her a minute, Mr. Craig. I want to tell her good
bye.”
He made a step towards her, then stopped and
growled out an oath. He was anxious to sell his
place, and he wanted to read the letter.
Lela had just emptied the contents of her cotton
sack into a large split basket, which stood under
the apple tree. Vera came up to her, and instantly
seized her hand arid drew her behind the partial
screen of the apple tree. Then, saying: “Will Had
den is waiting for you at the foot of the hill. He has
a license to marry you; go to him at once.” She
threw her black cape about the girl’s shoulders and
exchanged her white sun bonnet for Lela’s blue
one.
“Now go Lela,” she said; “Go to Will Hadden. He
Is on horseback at the foot of the hill, waiting for
you.”
Dazed, frightened, but longing to obey, the girl
looked at her mother.
“Go to him, honey; its your only chance,” said the
mother.
Vera sent a glance across the field. Craig at that
instant, looked up from the letter and turned his
head in the direction of the three women. Vera
stepped away from the tree, drawing Lela with her
and called out:
“Keep the letter, Mr. Craig. You’ll want to write
to the man. I’ll write to him too. Good evening.
Good-bye, Lela and Mrs. Craig. I hope I shall see
you again before you move.”
Then, lowering her voice: “Now, Lela, take cour
age. Walk off boldly. You needn’t go near him.
Take a slanting course across the field.”
The girl obeyed. Craig looking at them, saw as
he thought, the teacher in her black cape and white
bonnet walking diagonally across the field towards
the road, while apparently Lela had turned to her
cotton row. The similarity in the two figures and
the swiftness with which the exchange of head gear
had been effected, blinded him completely to the
stratagem that had taken place before his eyes.
Vera picked the cotton from a few T bolls, before
she ventured to look at the retreating figure of the
girl she was trying to rescue. Lela had reached the
road; Craig was not looking at her; he was folding
the letter and putting it in his pocket. When she
looked again, Lela was passing out of sight, down
the brow of the hill, at the foot of which her lover
was waiting.
Mrs. Craig saw her daughter disappear over the
hill with a profound sigh of relief.
“Thank God, she’s saved,” she exclaimed. Then
in an anxious voice. “But you, Miss Weston; what’ll
you do? You must get away. Oh. you must get
away before he finds out.”
Vera knew she must make her escape before
he found out. She had planned to slip around to
the rear of the house, when he was not looking,
then run across the strip of field and belt of woods
that, intervened between the Craig place and the
home of the Holly’s, where she would find protec
tion.
But Craig gave her no chance to slip away. In
stead of picking his cotton row out, which would
take him further from her, he stopped after awhile,
and stood as if reflecting, his face turned in her
direction. She dared not look towards him; she kept
on, working mechanically, dreading every instant to
hear his step behind her.
Directly, there was a tug at her skirt; then, Mrs.
Craig’s excited whisper:
“He’s a cornin’; run for God’s sake. He ain’t got
his gun—run, Miss Weston!”
But Vera knew that to run was useless. She
heard Craig’s long striding step behind her. If
she ran, he would quickly overtake her. Perhaps
he would pass on, not recognizing her, and go to
the house.
But no; he stopped at the apple tree.
“That basket oughter been full by this,” he growl
ed. “You've been wastin’ time. Where’s the book
that school teacher brought?”
“There it is,” said his wife, pointing to the book
that lay at the foot of the tree.
He picked it up, and holding it at his back, he
fluttered the leaves apart, until he was satisfied that
no note was concealed in it. Then flinging it down,
he came on to where Vera was at work.
“What you mean by leavin’ naps in them bolls?”
he cried. “Pick that cotton clean.”
She picked on in silence. He stood, watching her.
She thought he must hear the loud thumping of her
heart. The long sun bonnet hid her face, but
her hands! She had pulled the sleeves of her
waist partly over them, but the slender white fin
gers would, she feared, betray her.
Suddenly, Craig cried out, “Pull off that bonnet!”
Fear gripper her heart. She stopped work, but
she made no movement to take off the bonnet.
He started towards her, with outstretched hand.
She sprang back beyond his reach, pulled off the
bonnet, and with head erect, stood and looked him
in the eyes.
He glared at her, spechless with rage, his face
working as in a spasm; then, with a roar, “I’ll
pay you for this; I’ll kill you,” he started towards
her. She threw out her hand against him; her
eyes seemed to hold him back for one instant, with
their intense defying gaze. “Stop,” she commanded
in ringing tones. “Don’t commit another crime. The
officers of the law are coming to arrest you for
the murder of Benny Bond.”
His raised arm fell to his side; he stood as if trans
fixed, livid terror on his face.
Suddenly, his wife seized his arm and pointed to
the road.
“Yonder they come now. Yonder they come to
take you. Run for your life,” she screamed.
He looked; he saw two men on horseback, riding
at full speed towards the house.
With a sharp, wild-beast cry, he darted away. He
ran like a wolf, bounding over crashing cotton stalks,
until, reaching the stable lot, he flung open the gate,
leaped upon the horse standing near and dug the
heels of his boots into its sides. The frightened
animal rushed out of the enclosure, ran across the
strip of field and disappeared with its rider in the
woods beyond.
CHAPTER XVII.
The horsemen did not slacken their speed, until
they drew rein at the spot where the two women
were. Trembling in every limb, through reaction
from the excitement and terror she had experienced,
Vera leaned for support against the apple tree, not
recognizing the two men, until Rob’s voice, sharp
with anxiety, sounded close to her ear.
“Miss Vera, are you hurt?”
She straightened up and smiled faintly. “He did
not touch me,” she said.
"If he’d hurt you, I’d never forgive myself for
leavin’ you there,” declared Will Hadden, the other
horseman, whose dark blue “Sunday” suit, donned
for his expected wedding, had caused him to be
taken for an officer of the law.
“Your coming, saved me,” Vera said. “It was
surely a providence. How did you know?” looking
at Rob.
“Rachel told me you were here. I came straight
on, for I was afraid for you, after what happened
yesterday. I met Will with Lela on the horse behind
him. She got down and went to our house and he
came on with me. We saw Craig rush at you. I’d
have shot him, if I’d had a gun, ’stead of a pistol.
What made him run so, when he saw us?”
“He took you to be officers coming to arrest him
for killing Benny.”
“Killing Benny? Has he killed the boy?”
“I only suspected he had, when I accused him
of it, but I saw by his face it was true.”
“Yes, it’s true; it’s true!” moaned Mrs. Craig.
“He knocked Benny down with a stick of wood, Sat
urday night. The poor child never moved nor spoke
after he fell. Craig put him in the shed room and
locked the door. He’s been in there ever since.
Craig ain’t burled him. He dug a grave in the corner
of the garden Sunday night, and covered it with
bresh. I looked for him to bury Benny last night,
but he didn’t. ’
(Continued on Page 14.)
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