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THritSDAY, MARCH 24, lg2L_
* Tshe
BLUE
moon
Jl Tale of the
Flatwoods
By DAVID ANDERSON
(Ooprrlgtit bj the Bobbi-MurlU Cowpan 7)
merit was enough. The mischief was
done. Women screamed; men mut
tered and swore; hut all shrank back,
widening the circle.
Who started It, who said It first,
will never be known. Nobody knows
how the mob forms —a low mumble;
a quick flare into frenzy; mild eyes
grown wild; stolid faces afire; a rnb
hle; a clamor; reason down, blood
lust up.
“Hang ’!m I Hang Mm !”
Even the women took up the cry, so
great was the terror of his name—the
Red Mask —a name that might have
stampeded the village. The mob
charged him. Bound as he was, he
dashed at them. A butt of his shoul
der caught the foremost man, a burly
Blacksmith, on the Jaw. He went
down like a beef under the mallet A
drive of his head to the pit of the
stomach crumpled up another. A well
directed kick laid out a third.
He fought as the men of his blood
had always fought But what can
one man, with his hands tied, do
against many? They had his blouse
ripped off, his shirt In shreds, and a
hundred hands still Itching to get nt
him. They heat his fnce; his body—
wherever n fist or a club could reach
him. A stick of stove wood In the
hands of n lanky woodchopper laid
open an ugly gash across his head.
Half-dazed, he was trying to wink
the blood and mist out of his eyes
when a roar was heard on the out
skirts of the crowd, and the stocky
form of the old Boss was seen fight
ing his way Into the circle. He had
probably gone up to Fnllen Rock, as
he had promised the night before,
missed the Pearllmnter, and come on
to the village. He fought well, and
opened a nnrrow swath, half-way
through the circle to his friend. But
Just there somebody struck him above
the ear with the flat of a barrel stave.
The ripple subsided; the swath closed.
The Pearlhunter’s last friend was
down and out.
Tlie rope was flung over a limb,
naif a hundred hands, some of them
women’s hands, stretched up ready to
pull, naif a hundred hands did pull.
The rope tightened—slowly. A hush
fell on the moh; a hush so deep that
the creak of the tightening rope could
he distinctly heard. That last fiual
scene, the last stroke that stops a life
—lt Is a solemn moment; even to a
mob. The Penrlhunter was lifted;
the last light tips of his toes left the
grass; flames ran up and down hts
spine; the world turned black.
There came a sudden dash of hoofs,
and a man rode straight at the moh.
It takes a hardy person to withstand
the chnrge of a horse. Tin* crowd
parted. The horseman reached the
dangling man, and with one slash of
a huge Jackknife, cut the rope.
The stroke came barely in time.
Tlie Penrlhunter, only saved from
crumpling down to the grass by the
nrm of the horseman, drooped limp
and gasping against the side of tho
horse. Slowly the world quit reeling;
the light came back; he raised his
eyes; caught the glitter of a sheriff's
star upon the vest of his rescuer.
It Is mnrvelous how one brave man,
with the law behind him, can awe a
mob.
“Who Is this manr yelled the
sheriff.
A man, whose mouth had been
mashed by a butt of the Pearlhunter's
"Who Is This Man?" Yolled the Sheriff.
bead, clawed the red mask up from
the ground, trampled and soiled, hut
at>|l unmistakable, and held it high.
•fhe sheriff started; glared hard af
the Penrlhunter.
"An’ so it’s you they’ve roped 1" he
growled. “Damned If 1 hnln’t a no
tion to let ’em finish tlie Job."
A snarl ran through the mob. They
surged forwnrd. Tlie sheriff drew his
revolver again, and cursed them back.
“Red Mask or red devil I” he
stormed, “he’s entitled to a trial un
der the law; and a trial he’ll git.”
The mob muttered ominously but
fell back, leaving some little space
about the horse. The Pearlhunter
wns the tallest man there. Ills height
enabled him to see with tolerable
dearness to the outskirts of the
crowd. He swept his eyes over the
heads of the others like a man looking
for something he fully expected to
find. He was not disappointed. Id
the outer edge of the crowd, leaning
carelessly against a hitch rack, stood
the man he was expecting to see. He
had come out of tlie Mud Hen nt the
beginning of the uproar but had taken
no part in the lynching. He didn't
need to. He had a whole town to do
It for him.
Tlie Penrlhunter was not surprised
to see him there. Why shouldn't he
be there, a very much Interested spec
tator at the final working out of his
well-laid plot, a plot that had worked
out so Infinitely better than he had
planned? Why shouldn’t a man come
to see himself hanged?
And there the Pearlhunter stood,
with the rope around hts neck —the
wrong neck —and no proof to put It
around the right one. Something
swelled under the rope; something
that surged up to his eyes and struck
out a splinter of fire. He turned to
the man on the horse.
“Sheriff, if you’ll stick my gun back
and cut my hands loose, I’ll rope you
the real Red Mask.”
It was an unwise thing to say. He
knew it the moment he’d said It, It
wns unlike him. The man leaning In
apparent carelessness against the
hitch rack wns probably quite un
aware that he was suspected. It
might prove a costly mistake to let
him know that he was. Besides, It
was extremely unlikely that he would
have the pearl still on him. With the
pearl gone, the proof would be gone.
The Pearlhunter’s usual slow caution
should have brought a good many con
siderations to his mind before he said
that. Rut a rope around a man’s neck
makes a prodigious difference In the
look of things. One ennnot help won
dering what would have been the out
come had the sheriff heeded the re
quest and cut loose the hands of his
prisoner. Things would have hap
pened—and they would have hap
pened fast.
Tlie sheriff laughed; a hard, raspy
laugh. A good many things In that
laugh: the jangle of handcuffs; the
grate of keys In stiff locks —but never
a mite of mirth.
“He’s roped now.”
"He’s not," was the Pearlhnnter’s
Incautious answer, “but he’s handy."
He had purposely raised his voice.
But the man for whose ear It was In
tended never shifted his position;
never changed, even In the slightest,
his easy smile. He did slip his hand
down the front of his frock coat and
loosen It against his side, but that
was all.
The sheriff swore; turned slowly In
his saddle and glanced the crowd over.
"Ladles an' gentlemen," he said, rais
ing his voice, "ns I said before, this
man Is entitled to a trial, an’ a tidal
he'll git. He’ll hang—but It’ll be the
law’ that hangs ’lm, an’ not you. I ad
vise you to break up tills damn fool
ishness an' go home."
It could be seen with half an eye
that the sheriff was In no humor to
stand any back talk. The crowd didn't
try It; they obeyed—many sullenly,
some grumbling openly. A few stayed.
The man leaning against the hitch
rack went back to the Mud Hen.
The village of Buckeye straggles
fof a (Tunrter of a mile along the river
road. Tho road Is a bigger Institution
than the town. It formed the princi
pal street. The village lockup, or
Jail, stood In plain sight a short way
to the west on the north side of the
road.
The sheriff dismounted, picked up
the slit and trampled blouse, threw it
about the shoulders of his prisoner
and untied the severed rope end still
knotted about his neck. With n mut
tered command, he made a slight mo
tion toward the lull with his revolver.
The Pearlhunter. still with bound
hands, his shirt 'n tntterod that It
left him half-naked from his waist up,
the blood upon his face nnd body fast
stiffening into clots,’ obeyed the com
mand.
Inside the lockup the sheriff cut his
hands loose, and immediately stepped
outside and locked the door, seeming
to have no fancy to tarry after his
prisoner’s hands were free. Turning
back to his prisoner he pointed out
his house nnd told him he would bring
over some supper later on.
The Buckeye lockup was a two
story, rectangular structure of heavy
logs. There were two cells, with a
hallway between, on the first floor,
and the same arrangement above. The
Pearlhunter was the only prisoner, so
he had free range of both lower cells.
The barred gate opening to the stair
leading to the upper floor was heavily
padlocked. The door of the jail faced
south—faced the river road. Each
cell had one window; the window of
the one looking east, the window of
the other looking west Those win
dows were both rather larger than
might have been expected. Each con
tained a single snsh, with the four
bars to each window, set in auger
holes in the logs at the top and bot
tom. The sash was hinged at the side
so as to swing In.
The Pearlhunter opened the sash at
the west window and swung It beck
as far as It would go. Through the
bars he could look out under the cool,
calm trees In the Jail yard. Tho river
road wound dusty and dry toward the
sundown; wound to the first curve
and hid Itself In the hills; wound on
to that sharp turn at the rim of the
deep woods by the low fence. And
there the path began, the dim slim
path worn by wonderful feet; the path
that led to a girl with eyes like the
placid sky at the bottom of the
spring; eyes that “trusted” him, that
would look for him. What would they
he like when he didn’t come; when
the word reached her that he was the
Red Mask? lie thought of that bit of
scarlet cloth behind the books, with
the knife thrust near an eyehole.
What If he should never have the
chance to set himself right—if he
should die without the chance? What
would the eyes ho like then?
Tlie thought distressed him well
nigh past bearing. He winced as
♦ hough It had been a blade that
stubbed him. The crinkle of paper in
his tattered blouse caught his atten
tion. He drew the paper forth —the
draft! In the fast failing light he
smoothed It out and pored over tlie
words again.
Ills day! His great day! He had
watched It slip Into a starry world
upon the crest of midnight; had
watched it unbar the gates of dawn.
And now It had driven across the
world and out at the gates of sunset.
Dead ! Gone back into the night!
He left the window; dropped down
upon the one broken chair In the cell
and burled his face In his hands.
CHAPTER VIII.
Silence That Came Alive.
The Pearlhunter was not a man to
be long held down. His day was gone;
but the night remained.
Tlie sheriff was to bring his supper
to him. The fact suddenly became
significant. Maybe he’d come Inside.
Maybe he’d come alone.
A rusty stove out In the hallway be
tween the two cells caught his eye. No
poker; no lid. Tlie door wns fastened
In a manner ttiat prevented Its being
taken off. The hearth was gone. Noth
ing loose. He stood studying It. The
legs! He darted behind the stove,
lifted it, and wrenched one loose, hid
It under his rumpled blouse; and went
to the east window to watch the
sheriff's house.
A scratching at the west window
caught his ear. He listened till it
was repeated; crossed the hall and
tiptoed to the window. A hand came
up to scratch the window ledge ngain.
The Pearlhunter laid his palm upon
It. It was snatched away; but came
back again.
"That you, Penrlhunter?”
“Yes.”
The man on the outside raised him
self even with the window. Tlie Pearl
hunter would have recognized him In
half the light—the Boss. Ills face
came close to the bars on the outside;
the Pearlhunter’s face came close to
the bars on the Inside. The friendly
butt of a six-gun came across the win
dow ledge. Tlie comfortable feel of
it in his fingers gave the Pearlhunter
anew lease of life.
"Hide it In y’ur pants leg, or
some’r’s,” the Boss whispered. “An’
Liili
“Hide It In Your Pants Leg, or Som
’ere’s.”
here's some more bullets, an’ th’ caps
an’ powder flask.”
The young man grasped the hard
old hand and whispered nn awkward
word or two. The Boss drew his bund
buck and swore.
“Hit ain't no more’n you’d 'a' done
for ine,” he growled. “Now listen.
Bull Masterson he's camped three
mile up the river. He’s got seven
men; an’ I’ve got five. That makes
fourteen, countin’ me nnd Bull. We
c'n plum upset this denied ol' meat
house. An’ once’t we git y’u out, let
’em lay a claw on y’u ng’iu, if they
devil dn'st.”
“No, no,” the Pearlhunter muttered.
“You mustn’t do that. You’d cross the
law yourselves.”
1
(Continued next week.)
cactus vfrows *ru reet.
~Tn the hot Mexican deserts speci
mens of cactus have been known to
reach 30 <sr 40 feet in height
THE WINDER NEWS
Classified Ads.
For Rough or dressed oldfield lum
ber see .Mien Guffin. 30-tf.
WANTED—Men or women to take
orders among friends and neighbors for
the genuine guaranteed hosiery, full
Ine for men, women and children. Elim
inates darning. We pay 75c an hour
spare time or $35.00 a week for full
time. Experience unnecessary. Write
International Stocking Mills, Norris
town, Pa.
Choice Timothy Hay at $40.00 per
ton. —Emory Smith at L. L. Moore’s
barn. tf.
Compare our hay prices with others.
Emory Smith at L. L. Moore's Barn, tf
A WONDERFUL YEAR UNFOLDING
A wonderful year is unfolding before us—-a year of
unlimited opportunities for those who are prepared to
take advantage of them.
We form new classes every Monday—you can start,
immediately to fit yourself for a splendid position in
the bank or office with the assurance that your services
will be in demand the moment you are ready.
In the new competition which we are entering it
becomes increasingly necessary to # remove every ob
stacle —to be qualified for most efficient work —to know
thoroughly the branch of business in which you are en
gaged.
i
Our courses are practical and complete. Our grad
uates are always in demand. A few months in school
will increase your earnings immediately and insure a
much more successful future in every way. Arrange
your enrollment at once and be in our classes next
Monday.
ATHENS BUSINESS COLLEGE
Athens, Georgia
Barbecue! Barbecue!
The Old Reliable Barbecue Man will open up Satur
day, March 19, and 26, and every Saturday thereafter
on Athens street, right in front of Woodruff Hardware
Cos., in the place once occupied by George Whitley.
Now, my good friends, we will have one side
for white people and one for colored, and you won t be
crowded. I will see to it myself, that this will be an up
to-date place for your ladies to come*
Also, we will serve barbecue meat for 75 cents per
pound, when you order a pound or more.
Hash, per quart 50c
Egg Sandwich
Fish Sandwich
Ham and Eggs
Chicken Sandwich • ■
Barbecue Hens cn
Barbecue Fries -
Phone your order for any of the above to Watson-
Glover &' Cos. and I will send it to your door at once.
Phone No. 80. Mr. Watson is so kind as to report your
order to me and I will get the order to you on time.
Z. L. Moore
The Old Reliable Barbecue Man.
Choice Timothy Hay, one bale or
a ton at $2.00 per hundred pounds.—
Emory Smith at L. L. Moare’s barn.
Stable Manure for sale. Will de
liver inside city limits.—L. L. Moore.
Allen Guffin can supply you with
rough or dressed lumber at attractive
prices. 30-tf.
COTTON SEED FOR SALE.
100 bushels Fuller’s Improved Poullnot
Cotton Seed for sale at SI.OO per bush
el.—G. W. Fuller, It. F. D., Winder,
Ga. 4t
There is MORE POWER in THAT
GOOD GULF GASOLINE and SU
PREME AUTO OIL.
HAY FOR SALE.
I will have in a very short time a
car of choice Timothy Hay.' See me
before buying. Cheap for cash. —L. P.
Fle.v, Phone 348.
SUBSCRIPTION: $1.50 A YEAH
A New Shoe Shop. Good work at
low prices. For Half Soles, 65,c 75c,
SI.OO. Your patronage will be appre
ciated. Shop over Segars & Sons store.
—Lowe Bullock. 2t pd.
Call Winder Drug Cos., phohe 286 for
your fountain drinks, and notice the
sudden service.
Winder Drug Cos. Phone 2,86, agents
for Norris, Whitman’s and Hollings
worth Famous CandTes. s
Rooms for rent; also have furnished
nvims for boarders. —Nowell House,
formerly Old Tavern. It.
FARM WANTED —Wanted to hear
from owner of farm, or good land for
sale for fall delivery. L.' Jones, Box
551, Olney, 111.
NANCY HALL POTATO PLANTS.
Government inspected; $2.00 per 1,000
cash with order, through April, May
and June.—Mrs. Addie Evans, Graham,
Ga. mch24-Btpd