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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