Newspaper Page Text
THURSDAY, MAY 26, 1921.
BLUE
MOON
Jl Tale p/ the
Flataoods
B r DAVID ANDERSON
(topruw *>J tb* Bobtx-Mvnu Osapur)
He came straight to the honse; the
one friend absolutely true to him in
all his dangerous world; the one
friend who still regarded him as a
gentleman. The horse reached out his
nose to meet him; nibbed his shoulder
with his head. A moment the man
gave to the caress, then hurried to
the com sack, laid three ears upon
the rock, and turned to the hay.
Now was the critical instant. If they
escaped his glance now—l But he
was totally unsuspecting. Without
raising his eyes as far as the pocket,
he grabbed up a handful or two of the
brightest straws and turned back to
the horse.
“Short rations tonight, Rocket; and
I’ll make your toilet while you eat."
He took down from near where the
saddle hung a curry comb and brush
from another of the numerous cran
nies of the cave and proceeded, with
surprising skill and quickness, to
groom the horse. The task completed,
he laid hack the brush and curry
comb, and, lifting the feet of the horse,
examined them one by one, nail by
nail, afterward running his hands
down the horse’s limbs and lingering
over each joint, finally summing up
the inspection by listening with no
little care to the animal’s breathing.
It was the work of a master. The In
spection over, he took the saddle down
from the wail, threw it on the horse,
drew the girths, hung the bridle on the
horn, unstrapped his spurs from the
back of the saddle and buckled them
to his heels.
“I wish I knew,” he muttered, half
to himself, apparently half to his
dumb companion, as he waited for the
animal to finish his supper, “whether
that Pearlhunter has left. It looks
like he had. And yet, that’s not like
his breed —to cut out. Still, there's
always a chance.” He seemed to
meditate; flung up his head with a
bitter grimace and a toss of his hand.
“Chance!” he growled. “What’s life
without its chancel Life! Huhl A
game of chance —with the cards
stacked, and the devil’s deal! Rocket,
you’ll carry double tonight Yellow
curls, eyes like bluebells and ankles
—! But high headed —she came dev
ilish nigh shootin’ me this afternoon!
But the harder to tame, the better
worth tamin’.”
The Pearlhunter was writhing back
In the pocket, his face like the rock
he crouched against; but the sheriff
hadn’t nudged him.
The Red Mask looked down at the
fast disappearing provender before
the horse, walked back and forth
across the cave a time or two, turned
and stood for a moment or two fum
bling behind the oak root where It
had been tied.
“That sheriff.” He straightened,
threw up his head and laughed boister
ously. “He couldn’t find a lost ele
phant, let alone a wonderful, wee lit
tle drop of distilled witchery like
this.”
From the dry clay and shale back
of the oak root he had drawn forth a
small plush box. With the word “this"
he blew the dust off, and pushed in
the catch. The lid flipped up. On the
tiny cushion lay the Blue Moon
twinkling In the candle-light, not un
like the princess that waked up in the
cave of the dragon.
At last came the sheriff’s nudge.
The Pearlhunter quietly passed his re
volver over. There couldn’t have been
a sound In the act louder than the
drawing of a breath, but somehow it
must have reached the man by the
horse. There came a change over his
face —a change so slight as to be as
good as imperceptible; to be felt
rather than seen. Had he so much as
glanced toward the pocket back of the
hay, the Pearlhunter would have acted
on the instant But he didn’t glance
that way. Very leisurely he closed the
box, put it In his vest pocket and
looked down to see if the horse had
finished his supper.
The Pearlhunter was In the act of
pressing against the knee of the sheriff
in sign that the time had come, when,
totally without a warning sound, with
out the slightest preliminary motion,
there came a shot from behind the
horse that dashed the candle out. The
shot was followed by a scuffle of feet.
The Pearlhunter leaped the hay and
charged through the dense dark
straight at the horse. It wasn’t there.
From the passage came the clatter of
hoofs.
Followed by the stumbling sheriff,
he groped his way to the mouth of the
passage. He was barely in time to
hear a splash, and the click of steel
upon the rocks of the pool.
CHAPTER XIV.
Man to Man and an Even Draw.
The candle lingered long that night
In the cabin of the three gables. The
old man was more than usunlly rest
less. The girl hovered ahout his chair
constantly. She succeeded at last in
foaxing him down in his chair, where
he sat groaning: mumbling in his
beard; and whetting the knife on the
palm of his hand. She had smoothed
the cushions behind his head and
stood stroking his face with her hand,
when, without the least warning, the
door flew open, and, sharply outlined
against the dark background of the
night, a man with a red mask over his
face stalked across the threshold.
He was, of course quite unaware
that the girl already knew his Identity.
That probably explained why he had
put on the mask. It would be impos
sible to describe the startling trans
formation it wrought on his sinister
face. From out of all its many ter
rors the night could not have selected
a more appalling one to fling Into the
cabin.
The girl screamed and clung about
the old man in the chair. H# scream
seemed to rouse him. He glanced up,
rubbed his wide, pitiful eyes, and.
with a wild cry—more that of beast
than man—sprang from the chair with
a strength that sent the girl reeling.
His sleeping senses seemed to wake,
to recognize the object for which his
ghostly eyes had searched the woods
for weary years—a bit of red cloth
with a certain face behind it. His
giant frame seemed to swell with a
strength tremendous. He raised the
knife and leaped toward the intruder.
A giant’s strength, but with the dis
ordered unwieldiness of a stricken
mind. The knife barely grazed where
It was meant to kill. Before the gray
The Merciless Arm Struck Again and
Again.
giant could recover his ponderous
strength to strike again, the Red Mask
bad him by the wrist, and, seemingly
unwilling to risk the sound of a shot,
was raining blows upon his head with
the butt of his heavy revolver. It was
a horrible thing to see. The girl stood
with laced fingers, helpless with hor
ror. The first blow brought the blood
streaming out over the white hair and
disabled the old man so frightfully
that he Ceased the struggle and stood
quivering. But the merciless arm
struck again and again until the vast
frame drooped, shrank together, the
knife fell from his fingers, his knees
gave way and he sank groaning to the
floor —writhed, straightened and lay
still.
The revolver was foul with blood
and gray hair. The murderer noticed
it, hastily wiped it away on a comer
of the fallen man’s coat thrust it back
into his pock'et and raced the girl.
The spell was broken. She started
as if from a nightmare and sprang
back of the chair. Like a man pressed
for time, he dashed after her. With
the chair between them, she managed
for a bare moment to keep beyond his
hands. He kicked the chair out of
the way. She darted toward the
kitchen door, probably with the hope
of escaping to the woods, but he was
too close to her. She whirled toward
the door of the bedroom. The turn
was fatal. His hands reached her and
drove her back into the comer of the
room at the head of the couch.
She fought as only a woman fights
—for a stake Infinitely higher than
life Itself. Since time began the earth
has staged that struggle. Her dress
was tom, her body bruised, her hands
gradually driven together behind her
back; a hot wild face near her own.
A step creaked the plank at the door.
Her assailant whirled at the sound and
she sank panting against the wall.
Just inside the door, his body
crouched forward, his lips tight drawn,
stood the tall form of the Pearlhunt
er.
' Things happened so fast in the next
instant that words are too slow to
keep up with them. It was man to
man, and an even draw. The two
shots came so close together that the
hills out through the open door caught
but one echo. But the shot from the door
struck first —a scant little mite of an
instant first —and Jarred the aim of
the other a trifle high. The shot from
the comer merely clipped a bandage
at the top of the Pearlhunter’s shoul
der, drew a little welt on the skin,
and whistled harmlessly away Into the
night. The bullet from the door evi
dently found the core of the target.
The Red Mask bent backward. The
revolver dropped to his side. He tried
to raise It again; seemed-surprised
that he couldn’t. He laughed oddly,
and swore; stared round toward the
girl; gasped and choked. The revolver
slipped from his fingers. He groped
with his hands, as If searching the
air for it; staggered, caught himself,
tottered, pitched heavily to the floor.
The girl edged out of the corner
past his body and threw herself upon
the form of the old man. The Pearl
hunter eased down the hammer of his
revolver, thrust it back Into his pock
et, and stooped beside her. At the
touch of his hand, she raised her head
and knelt stroking the still face and
crying softly. The Pearlhunter opened
the old man’s coat and felt over his
heart.
“He’s alive!”
She laid her face down close and
spoke his name—the only name she
knew. There was no response.
“Help me lift him to the couch,”
the man said.
They had the old man on the couch,
and the girl had run for water, when
the sheriff, who had been far out
stripped by the younger man, dashed
into the cabin. All three worked over
him. The Pearlhunter chafed one
wrist, the sheriff the other, while the
girl bathed his face, washed the blood
out of his hair, and strove to staunch
its flow by binding up his head in cold
cloths.
Suddenly, without any warning signs
of returning consciousness, the old
man plucked his hand away from the
Pearlhunter and rubbed it over his
face. His eyes came open, but they
were not the some eyes. And his face
was free from twitching. The girl
stared down upon him in wonder. The
Pearlhunter stooped low and marveled
at the startling transformation. Nei
ther knew, nor even Buspected, until
the doctor explained it days later, that
the blows of the revolver butt had
loosened the tiny bit of skull that had
so long shackled his brain —loosened
it at the expense of a far worse hurt,
but undoubtedly loosened it. They
only knew that the eyes were free from
the vacant stare; that his face was
calm with the light of reason.
He felt again over his face, seemed
astonished at the beard. His eyes
calmly gazed up at the girl and stud
ied her a long time.
“You couldn’t be Dotty?”
His voice was queer, hollow, quaver
ing, like some sound from another
world, so long had it gone unused.
“Oh, Daddy!”
She threw her arms around him and
dropped her head on his breast. He
sat stroking her hair, finally raised
her, looked hard at her, rubbed his
eyes and looked agnln.
“You must be Dotty. But you’ve
changed so since morning.”
The girl seemed unable to teil him.
She strove for words, but none came.
The Pearlhunter drew nearer.
“You’ve been —sick a long time, sir,”
he said. “Seven years. And you’re
just getting well again.”
The puzzled eyes, suddenly wakened
into a world new and strange, turned
toward him.
“I haven’t the pleasure of your ac
quaintance,” he said with the stately
politeness of a day loDg gone. “May
I ask—?”
“I’m —I’m —"
He hesitated, flushed. The girl,
calm again, came to the rescue.
“He’s the Pearlhunter, Daddy. He’s
been —good to me—since you’ve been
sick.”
(Continued next week.)
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THE WINDER NEWS
BETHABRA
Several from here attended the sing
ing at Nazareth Sunday afternoon.
Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Stephens vis
ited Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Clark Sun
day.
Quite a large crowd attended the
singing at Miss Ethel Brock’s Sunday
night.
Mr. Albert Murphy and little daugh
ter, Bernice, of Hoschton, spent Sun
day with Mr. and Mrs. E. D. Murpny.
Mr. and Mrs. Paul Williams of Ath
ens spent one night last week with the
former’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. J. N.
Williams.
Several from here attended the
commencement sermon at Braseltou
Sunday.
Mrs. J. M. Sims and daughter, Eliz
abeth, Mr. and Mrs. C. C. Freeman
spent last Tuesday in Jefferson the
guests of Mrs. W. J. Webb.
Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Clark visited
Mr. and Mrs. Henry Puckett Sunday
night.
Misses Fannie and Elizabeth Sims
had as their guests Sunday Misses
Florine Rooks and Lourena Elliott.
Mr. Will Maxey of Winder visited
home folks Sunday.
Mr. and Mrs. F. M. Hardy is visit
ing their daughter, Mrs. E. D. Murphy.
Misses Bertie House and Dell Sims
spent Sunday with Miss Annie Clark.
Miss Pearl Collins of Rochelle is
visiting her sister, Mrs. Brauan Wil
liams.
ECONOMY
Now, as never before, we need to economize. We will
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We have plenty of distilled water for your batteries
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Do not accept something else. Demand Thompson
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Hargrove Brothers
Winder, Ga.
County Line
* *
Mr. and Mrs. Albert Alien spent Sat
urday night with Mr. and Mrs. Arthur
House.
Mr. A. D. Murphy and little daugh
ter, Bernice, of Hoschton, visited in
this burg Sunday afternoon.
Mr. W. K. Attaway spent Sunday
afternoon with Mr. G. W. Hardy.
Misses Desma and Lucile Murphy
visited Miss Bertie Hudgins Tuesday
afternoon.
Mr. and Mrs. Jewel House visited
Mr. and Mrs. Melvin Murphy Sunday
night.
Miss Eula Hardy spent a few days
in Winder last week.
Mr. Ruble Cronic of Sharon spent
Friday night with Mr. and
Friday night with Mr. and Mrs. Mel
vin Murphy.
Miss Mildred Haynie spent a few
days last week with her sister, Mrs.
Jewel House.
Misses Sybil and Gladys Holland
and Miss Birtie House visited Miss
Ollie Murphy Tuesday afternoon.
Mr. and Mrs. James Everett spent
last Tuesday afternoon with Mr. J. T.
Vanderford.
Mr. and Mrs. F. M. Hardy spent
Tuesday with Mr. and Mrs. Melvin
Murphy.
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yip
CARD OF THANKS.
We wish to express our many thanks
to the good people who ministered so
faithfully and patiently ditring the
sickness and death of our dear baby.
We also thank the physician for his
untiring efforts to administer to her;
needs. May each one have God’s rich- ,
est blessings in our prayer.—Mr. and
Mrs. David Ilnrdigree.