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THURSDAY, MARCH 10, Ghe BLUE MOON Jl Tale of the Flatwoods By DAVID ANDERSON (Oopjrt*hl by lb* Bobb*-MrrtU Oompuy) of the first—dropped by chance. He had a very plausible surmise ns to the story of the other, the one with the knife thrust through It at the three gabled cabin. But this one—this last one? The man wanted to hide that bit of cloth right there. Rut why? The Pearl hunter raked his brain for the answer. Why? He must have been Ignorant that the other was hidden behind the chink, or why should he have taken such pnlns to hide this one? He was probably Ignorant of the fact thut he had dropped the other one In the cnb ln that night; possibly did not know where he hnd lost It. It was even con ceivable that the loss of It may have occasioned him no small anxiety. If he did not know that he had dropped the other mask In the cabin, he prob ably was unaware that the Penrlhunt er knew him. The young man sat still a long time over that thought That he could with such nppnrent rendlness supply himself with another mask after the first was lost suggested a near-by rendezvous, undoubtedly somewhere In the Flatwoods —a ren dezvous, or a confederate. But that was unlike him—to have a tonfed erate. He was known to work alone. And his horse —he would not likely al low himself to get far from It. He wouldn't dare ride It Into the village. Rocket, the famous thoroughbred of the Red Mask, wns well known. And a horse can not be easily disguised. But always, no mntter where his thought strayed, like a man lost in the woods and traveling In a circle, he Invariably came back to the starting point—the question : Why did he hide the mask In the cabin? One thing was certain. He didn’t hide It without a purpose. He seemed to feel some Intangible, indefinable force for evil forming about him—like spider webs across the face; delicately effective; hideously ef ficient. A kind of dread crept out of the silence and the solitude and gripped his spirit. Hanger; death —• the Red Mask juggled with them as a king juggles empires. Why didn’t ho draw there In the saloon; why didn’t he draw at the fence? There was death In his eyes. The scene In the cabin that first evening crossed his mind, when by chance he hnd learned the secret of the man’s identity; a seoet shared by no one else In the Flatwoods; a secret he dared not revenl for want of proof. He hnd often thought of It. Tonight freshened It In his mind coin pelllngly; the strange actions of his mother; her flaring scorn; how she had sprung from her chair and bent the Intruder off with the Imperious dig nity of her eyes. Her story, the one all too brief word that hnd reached him out of the sealed past, came to him again. Long and long he sat with his head bowed over the table. Pawn at the east window surprised him. He stepped to the cabin door. The square of moonlight upon the floor was pale and sickly. Great shafts of bronze thrust up out of the east and dimmed the stars. A mist lay along the river like a cloud thnt hnd fallen from the sky and loved the warm earth so well that It refused to return. He stood In the door and watched the world wake up—his world; the only world he knew. A half sleepy twitter, here and there among the trees; a croak down by the water’s edge; n squawk over In the bayou; and on the higher ground a trill now and then of distilled witchery—he knew them all, every voice. A crow wal lowed along In the purple light and rasped the silence with his raucous call. He wns answered by another from somewhere across In the bot toms. The woods lifted Its thousand voices; a multitude shouting, ns at the coming of a hero. And the hero wns at hand. The gates of dawn opened and he drove In. Bronze turned to gold, the hills away In the south bared their heads; a soft breeze crooned along over the trees and blew out the morning star. In the early light the Penrlhunter searched the ground about the door step for any tracks thnt might have been left by the night prowler. In the hard and moldy o;>en ground he found the marks of a boot. The heel bad only touched the ground once or twice. He was struck by its small size. It wns said by some thnt the Red Mask had been a gentleman and an artist before he took to the road. The I’earlluinter could well believe It, Ifor certainly no other boot In the Flnt ■roods could leave a print so small. I The heel had been somewhat worn, K> thnt the nails protruded slightly. Key had left a very distinct row of Hnts around the edge of the mark. track was made by the boot. ||Bkimtc<| one of tin- left. No nails ■H .1. From t: .-Sr. nn.-tan .< he : -i .• *[. BL.. I r- ? It would he hard to say what train of thought the finding of the heel print plunged the man back Into as he straightened and stood crumpling the two patches of stiff cloth In his hand. His gray eyes and passive face were hard to read. An old broken crock lay against the cabin near the step. He picked It up, turned It up-side down over the heel print and went back Into the cabin. He kindled a fire In the cook stove, and when he had It going gooa, dropped both masks In and watched them burn to cinders —and afterward raked the ashes. The Pearlhunter, with the horse sense 20 years of hard knocks had beaten Into him, knew that this was his day—his one first day—his to seize; to have; to hold. Five thousand dollars; a gray ghost In the easy chair In the cabin of the three gables; a girl that "trusted” him —and the big day going! It was enough to make n man restless. The forenoon was nearly gone when, through the trees up the river, he caught the bright glint of the sun upon oar blades. Kven at that distance he knew the craft—Louie Solomon’s long, white six-oared skiff. Broom In hand, the Penrlhunter was making a prodigious dust and clatter among the chairs nnd boxes when the pearl buyer, short and pudgy —Jew from Ills shrewd eyes to his fat feet — stepped before the door. “House cleaning, hain’dt It?” “Oh, Just digging myself out" Standing his broom against the wall, he stepped outside. He knew Louie Solomon well —what pearl fisher did not? —and Louie Solomon knew him. Like two wrestlers on the mat the two stood looking each other over —a man that wanted to sell something; a man that wanted to buy It —with the odds on the one thnt could put up the big gest bluff. The world could be halved just there. “Cup by d’e shprlng?” “A gourd.” The two went around the west end of the cabin and back to where the spring boiled out from benenth the foot of the cliffs. The .Tew dipped up a gourdful and drank so deep that the Pearlhunter knew It was no honest thirst he quenched. The bar of the Mud Hen was famous along the Wa bash. "Illinmel! Dot shprlng! Not once I pass Fallen Rock I don't shtop undt drink ’lm. I’m campin’ here tonight. I’m last night campin’ here, but we shtruck towm late, undt got in mid d’e Boss undt a lot of pearl fishers. Undt dis morning!” He threw up his pudgy hnnds, the Jew’s exclamation point when words fall. "Ach Himmel, d’e hendt 1 Undt poker! All poker play ers vot I see, he’s d’e schlick one 1” "The Boss?” "Boss 1 He don’t can see last night d’e candle. Dot timber buyer. I don’t met him before. I’oker I From $23 he trim me!” The eyes of the Penrlhunter drew together. “Timber! Whnt was he like?” “Oh, so high like your shoulder,” he snld. “Light hair, blue eyes—undt hell on cussln’.” "Did he wear a fancy vest?" “You know him?” “I’ve seen him.” The pearl buyer took off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. “I tell him I’m tonight campin’ here. He say mebbe he come down undt gift me chance to get It back, my $23.” The Pearihunter’s eyes were still drawn and thoughtful, thotigh he made no comment, but led the way hack to the front of the cabin, ns though he believed his companion hnd merely come tip the hill for a drink at the spring nnd would now go hack to his skifT. It completely deceived Louie Sol omon, for all his craftiness. But, of course, he had no means of knowing the message the Boss hnd shouted up from the boat the night before. The Penrlhunter stepped Inside the door and picked up his broom. Out of the little end of his eye he saw the Jew watching him. He made a swipe with the broom as If to go on with his sweeping. It was a close grapple of wits. JUit the lure of the pearl wns too much' for Louie Solomon. He had to come to It at last; and he hud to come square. Taking off his hat, he looked back o‘r his shoulder and again drew his sleeve across his brow. “I’m bearin’ you picked up a blue one.” The Penrlhunter leaned his broom against the table nnd came out upoti the door step. "Who was telling you?” “Oh, dey talk. You sell hltn?” "If I get my price.” “How much you want It?" "Five thousand." The little Jew almost fell over. His fat hands punched the air full of ex clamation points. “Five t’ousan’! Himmel 1 You pearl fishers lss all alike —all crazy.” "That's my price.’’ He stepped hack inside the door and reached for his broom. The other hopped across the door sill and caught his arm. “Himmel 1 Let It go dot broom I I look at your pearl. You should Jump In d’e boat, undt we look him over at d’e bank. But I know he turn out like d’e rest —wort’ mebbe five hundred; mebbe no. You pearl fishers iss all crazy. Himmel 1" The Penrlhunter followed In silence. He did not ask how the other knew the Blue Moon was In the bank, know ing what river men were when drink had loosed their tongues. After days and weeks at the clam rakes and the mucky vats, with little more than an occasional grunt between them, three fingers of "squirrel" whisky would set jieir tongues tmoolng like 6 cork in a suck hole. Louie Solomon carried three rowers In his long skiff, all hardy river men that hnd been with him for years. Each man wore a heavy six-shooter In plain sight at his belt. Some said that he paid these men fancy wages, and that he employed them as much for their ability with the revolver as for their skill at the oars. It was far past noon when the white skiff drew up to the wharf. A crowd, mostly river men. was there to meet It —and more coming. It seemed ev erybody In Buckeye knew what was going on. In front of the Mud Hen the little Jew paused, rolled his furry tongue, and Jerked his hand toward the door. The Pearlhunter shook his head. “Wait till we get back from the bank.” The Jew stabbed the air with his ex pressive hands. “Illinmell It’s on me!" But the Pearlhunter was far too wise to fall for that trick. “Thanks," he said. “But business first.” He strode on toward the bank. The Jew trotted along beside him. The crowd followed. The old banker Invited them back Into his private office and shut the door. It was the first time the Pearl hunter had ever been fnrther in a bank than the lobby, and only once In his life that far. The solid and substan tial luxury of the place was a reve lation to him, even a matter of Intense curiosity. But the cumulative effect of It was to give him courage, to make him feel he was somebody. It seemed to the Pearlhunter that the bunker was gone a long time when he went to bring the pearl from the safe. When he finally re-entered the private office the owner of the pearl saw why. He had hunted up some where about the bank a small box, a tiny jewel case, covered with green plush, and was carrying the pearl In it —a little tiling, but very graceful nnd gracious. The act went to the heart of the Pearlhunter and Immense ly increased his confidence and self respect, which was probably the very thing the wise old banker hoped it would do. Louie Solomon knew fresh wnter pearls. Probably there was no great er expert living. His first, glance at the Blue Moon, when the lid of the tiny plush case was raised, betrayed him. Forgetful of the level eyes watching his slightest move, studying his every expression, he pounced upon the glorious jewel and caressed it with his hands, devoured It with his pro truding eyes—the crafty trader lost for the moment in the expert; the Jew In the man. But It was only for the moment. The enthusiast vanished; In hls place the hard-faced trader. He straightened; set the box, with the lid still up, on the table tlmt occupied the center of the office floor, and looked around at the others. "Sojo—1” he said, with a slither of his hand toward the ijearl —a gesture only Louie Solomon could make. “Undt dot iss it for which d’e pearl fishers should go crazy.” But even Louie Solomon couldn’t quite put over his accustomed bluff In the face of such a gem. It drew hls eyes back In spite of him. Taking a lens from hls pocket, he stooped over it again. “You no see dot flaw?" he said, aft er a short Inspection. The Penrlhunter took the lens and looked with quick, studied care. Some times the most perfect pearl will de velop a flaw In ripening. “No,” he answered, handing back the lens. "Neither do you.” It was a straight thrust. The buyeh *—— “Veil, How Much You Want It?" flushed and studied his man. Who was this Pearlhunter, anyhow? “Veil, how much you want It?” "I told you." The Jew ridiculed the Idea with hls hands. "I t’ought you make me some fool ishness. You dond’t can meant It?” ‘You’ve got a good chance to find out.” The Jew stooped again over the pearl, rolled It about upon the plush cushion inside the tiny jewel case, took a small pair of calipers from his vest pocket nnd measured it, not only to determine Its size but its roundness as THE WINDER NEWS well. The old banker looked across the table and winked at the Pearl hunter —a very distinct and unmistak able wink. A dry grin puckered the young man’s eyes. It’s not every pearl fisher that gets winked at by a banker. Solomon looked up after a while and growled: "I glff you free t’ousan’.” The banker started. But the Pearl hunter said: "If It ain’t worth more than that, I might as well go down to Mud Haul and fish for bullheads.” Louie Solomon swore—a stiff little run of what the Flatwoods calls “keen cussln’.” Ills eyes stuck out; he stormed back and forth across the floor a time or two, muttering to him self In Yiddish, a language In which he doubtless swore more comfortably. It was the “squirrel” whisky. Louie knew better, too. But the tempest was soon over. He stopped at the comer of the table, his face smoothed serene as a garden— and like a garden, the better for the ■torm. “Louie, I many times say to mine self, Louie, you got it too much big hearted to be a pearl buyer yet. Too much soft-hearted you got It. Hard hearted a pearl buyer should be. You giff too high, undt you sell too low. Misses Solomon, she die in d’e poor house yet, hain’dt It? I giff you four t’ousan’.” The Pearlhunter glanced across the table at the banker. “I reckon you might as well put It back in the safe,” he said. “He knows my price, and he don’t seem to want to do business.” The banker picked up the little plush case, snapped the lid down, and started for the door. Taking the pearl from the room was like putting the light out. The Jew’s face was a study. He drew hls sleeve across hls brow. “Bring It back,” he cried. "Himmel 1 You pearl fishers lss all crazy. I giff it de five t’ousan’.” CHAPTER VII. The Face in the Draft. The hanker brought back the plush case and set It down on the table. The Jew took out hls check book and be gan to write. The Pearlhunter never could re member the thoughts that came over him at thnt high moment of his life. For all lie could recall, there were no clear thoughts at all —just a loosening of the throat; a relaxing of the muscles, as If he had dropped a load under which he had been straining. He didn't know It. but the old banker was watching him. The old, embar rassing question—what name to write In the check —brought him hack out of the haze. He noticed that the Jew’s hand trembled as he wrote. It was an odd trifle to notice, but It was the one thing he could afterward clearly recall. The check, made out to "Pearlhunt er.’’ was In hls fingers! Five thou sand dollars—in words, and big plain figures! It was the first cheek he had ever owned —the first one he had ever seen. He was still reading it, puz zling over It. when the banker grasped hls hand. The banker shaking hands with him ! This was his day 1 “May I have the money on this?” “Why, my dear boy,” the banker an swered. laughing, and slapping him on the shoulder, “there Isn’t that much cash In the bank.” That was anew one on the Pearl hunter. He hnd supposed a bank had In Its vaults unlimited loads of money. "What will I do?” “You can draw part of It, and de posit the rest to your credit” All of which wns a foreign language to the Pearlhunter. “I didn’t want to use any of the money,” he finnlly managed to say. “I don’t expect to spend a cent of It for —you know —small matters. I expect to leave It right here till I can spend it for something—well—big. I Just wanted to show it to a —friend.” “You might show your—friend the check.” The hanker stole a glance at Solomon gloating openly over the gem, now that the deal was closed. “No,” he continued, “there’s a better” — safer, he was about to say, but didn’t —-“way than that. Why not deposit the check and take out a draft?” “Draft? What’s that?’’ The old banker reached hls fingers up through his hair and studied the man before him. Sitting down at his desk, he wrote rapidly for a moment. “This is a draft.” he said, handing over the slip he had been writing on and taking the check In exchange. “It is as good as gold anywhere, at any bank, any time. Show it to your friend, and I suggest that you after ward bring It hack to the bank nnd deposit it. I will then give you a check book nnd show you how to use It.” The Penrlhunter rend the paper over with curious Interest, put it in the big, formidable envelope the bank er gave him for the purpose, nnd but toned It away In an Inside pocket of his blouse. The little Jew hnd by this time put the Blue Moon back in the plush case, put the case In hls vest pocket, and pinned up the pocket “Illmmel!” he grunted, turning away from the table. “You pearl fish ers lss all crazy. I’d giff It to you a t’ousan’ more.” “I got my price." “Undt dot’s more as anybody got it yetjfrom Louie Solomon.” (Continued next week.) Oldest inhabitants. Fossil turtles ranging from 3.000.000 to 7,000.000 years in age. have been found In San Juiui county, northern New Mexico. Found a Cure for Indigestion “I use Chamberlain's Stomach and Liver Tablets for indigestion and find they suit my case better than any dys pepsia remedy’ I have ever tried and I have used many different medicines. I am nearly fifty one years of age and have suffereo a great deal fsom indiges tion. I ca?i eat almost anything I want to, now,” writes George W. Em ory, Rock Mills, Aik. These tablets contain no pepsin but strengthen the stomach and enable it to digest the food naturally. A. N. PORTER We carry a ful lline of Feed Stuff, such as— OATS, CORN, HAY, COTTON SEED MEAL, COTTON SEED HULLS. We can save you money on these items. We make a specialty of all kinds of Feed Stuff and are in posi tion to serve you promptly and at pri ces that will satisfy you. Give us a trial. A. N. PORTER Statham, Ga. Watson-Glover & Company On account of the present financial de pression and in order to better serve our cus tomers and to give them the benefit of eyery cut possible, we have decided to discontinue our usual 30 days credit system and sell strictly for cash. This will save the public money for we will cut out the expense oij bookkeeping and all losses. SO BEGINNING MARCH THE 10TH We will sell strictly for cash. Here are prices on a few articles that will show you how you will save by buying from us for cash. 10 lbs. Silver Leaf Lard SL79 No. 10 Jewels Compound Lard $ LI9 1 lb. Maxwell House Coffee 39c 1 lb. Luzianne Coffee 37c 3 cans Tomatoes 25c 3 cans Corn • • • 25c Best grade Cuba Molasses, 1 gal .... . 90c 48 lbs. Pink Lady Flour $2 ?5 24 lbs. Pink Lady Flour §LSO 48 lbs. Sunflower Plain s3*J| 48 lbs. Queen of Pantry Flour $3.15 24 lbs. Queen of Pantry Flour $1.60 48 lbs. Howard Flour, plain *. $2.75 1 gallon Caro Syrup • • • 50c size ‘‘Nigger m Canepatch Syrup 34c 10 bars Octagon Soap 41c 6 pkgs Washing Powders 2oe 30c plug tobacco now 3 boxes all 10c Snuff • • 25c I lb. pkge good coffee . '• • • 10 c size Carnation milk, o for 25c Good corn meal, per peck 33c Best side meat per lb 2Uc Pink Salmon, per can {g c Chum Salmon, per can II lbs. Sugar • f {Vr 5 gallons keresene oil gi.ig’ 100 sack white shorts . $3.4^ Choice Tiothy Hay, per ton S3B.UU Feed Oats, per bushel • • • • y 100 lb. bag, 90 p. c. gram, sweet Feed $2.50 The people have been especially kind to us in the past and we certainly appreciate it. Our change to a cash basis will, enable us to serve them better at lower prices, and we feel sure we will continue to have the pat ronage of our customers • • • We ask those indebted to us to please set tle at once. , .. , , We will continue to deliver goods as here tofore. WATSON-GLOVER & CO. Jackson Street Phone 80 SUBSCRIPTION: $1.50 A YEAR Placa of Rest. An Inn In a remote district of Cam bridgeshire, England, bears this In scription: “Five Miles From Any where —No Hurry." Day by Day, Every day Is a little life, and om whole life is but a day repeated, rhose. therefore, that dare lose a daj are dangerously prodigal; those that Sare misspend it, desperate.—Bishop Ball.