Newspaper Page Text
THTT'ESDAT, JUNK 2. 1921.
BLUE
Tale of the
Flatwoods
By DAVID ANDERSON
(Oopjrlf hi if UM Bobta-MarrUl Oompur)
The old man reached out his hand.
It seemed heavy for him. The Pearl
hunter grasped It He was startled to
find It cold. He glanced hastily Into
the old man’s face, A pallor was
spreading over It that was unmistak
able —the momentary return to con
sciousness was but the gleam that, at
the end of a gray day, sometimes flares
out between sundown and dark. He
■aid nothing of It to the girl, who was
happily busy again with the water and
bandages.
The sheriff had left the couch and
was squatted over the body of the
fallen bandit- The Pearlhunter hap
pened to glance that way. The sheriff
beckoned to him.
“This feller ain’t dead yet,” he said,
when the Pearlhunter had Joined him.
The young man stooped over the
iqirawled robber. He was still breath
ing.
"He don’t deserve It," the sheriff
went on, “but It’s only common de
cency to get him up.”
He put his arm under the man and
raised him, while the Pearlhunter
brought a damp cloth from the basin
by the couch, and wiped his face. The
touch of the cold cloth rallied him.
— “Water 1” he mumbled, husky and
strained.
The girl had turned and was looking
on. She ran to the kitchen and brought
a cupful. The Penrlhunter held it to
the man’s lips. He couldn't swallow,
but the touch of the water seemed to
revive him. He opened his eyes and
atared, like a man trying to make out
objects in a very dltn light. His eyes
caught the glitter of the sheriff’s star,
frowned, raised, found the Pearlhunter
and strained hard at him.
“And It was — a cussed Warbrltton
—that got me at last I”
“Who speaks the name of Warbrlt
ton TANARUS” came a hoarse voice from the
couch.
The dying bandit started, rolled his
•yes toward the sound.
“What was that 1 That voice I”
The Pearlhunter caught the foot of
the couch and moved It around so the
two fast sinking men could see each
other. No sooner had the gray gluut
on the couch caught a glimpse of the
man on the floor than, with a great
cry, he tried to rise. His utmost
Strength only served to bring him part
ly up on un elbow, —and that only with
the Pearlhunter'* aid.
“Murtln ltedmond !’’ be cried —and
almonst Instantly: "Where Is she?
The woman you distalnod? And the
boy? Tell me! I’ve wtill the strength
to tear It out of your cursed throat 1”
The dying robber fixed his falling
eyes on the couch. Only God know# —
who glveth his grace to the Just and
to the unjust—how he found strength
for further words.
“Warbrltton —1” He muttered the
name huskily, the bloody froth upon
his Ilpe. "She was not dlstalned. It
was all a mistake. I let you think It
because I hated you—because I loved
her—because she loved you and not
mo. Twenty years she's roved these
rivers, pure as the dew at dawn. She
sleeps tonight In a grave four days old
•t Fallen Hock.”
He picked up his hand from where
it sagged down upon the floor, carried
It at great labor to hts bosom, fumbled
under the fancy vest, drew forth a
picture and laid It against his lips.
The Pearlhunter snatched It away. The
action brongbt the picture near the old
man. He seised it, held It an Instant
before his eyes, and with a deep groan
laid It against his bosom.
“And the boy?” he cried to the man
on the floor, “The boy?”
The Red Mask was going fast, but he
raised his face and muttered hoarsely:
"The boy—stands before you.”
Since the old man snatched the pic
ture the Pearlhunter and the girl had
been staring at each other. Events
■were happening, developments unfold
ing, too fast for comprehension. The
old man was staring at them both,
from one to the other, us If unable to
grasp a revelation that had been twen
ty years coming. He stretched up his
Imnds at last to the young man, pulled
his face down to him. gazed on It as
at something of which he had long
dreamed but never hoped to see;
turned back to the man on the floor.
"Martin Redmond, I'll requite the
deed you’ve done, the one good deed
of your evil life. The little girl I’ve
raised as my own, the child of the
good woman you cruelly killed, the
child you deserted, your daughter
stands before you.”
The girl recoiled In horror. The un
natural father strained his glazing
eyes toward the daughter his thought
had outraged; a cry muttered up out
of hla chest and brought with It a gush
Oldest Inhabitants.
Fossil turtles ranging from S.OOO.nno
to 7,000.000 years in age. hove been
found In San Juan county, northern
New Mexico.
of froth and blood; he stiffened; his
face tightened horribly; he fell heavy
against the arms of the sheriff —dead.
The girt turned away from the grue
some sight, stole a half faltering
glance at the bewildered face of the
Pearlhunter, threw- herself down by the
side of the couch anil bowed her face
upon the old man’s bosom.
"Unsay It, Daddy! Oh, Daddx un
say It!"
He softly stroked her hair with his
great, gaunt lignd.
“It’s the truth. Dotty, and can't be
unsaid. But you owe him no respect—
a parent only, never a father. He de
serted you, and killed your mother —
In ways unspeakable killed her —a
woman of the high blood of the
Dawns.” He fumbled the picture up
off his breast, held It before his face
s moment, laid It back. “God 1” he
groaned. "The ruin he wrought 1 For
years I searched for her”—he spoke
the name In reverence, “and you, my
son."
His hand found Its way back Into
the Pearlhunter’s; his eyes strained
hard toward the face bending over
him.
They seemed hungry to know many
things—the twenty years of wander
ing; the death of the woman of the
picture; how the young man came to
be Just there; of his wounded arm.
But with the steady courage of a sol
dier who knew the end was near, he
put them by, and dropped his eyes to
the girl’s hair.
“Your grandfather, Dotty, old God
frey Dawn, cast your mother off when
she married Martin Redmond. Alone,
and dying In poverty and want, she
sent for me at last." The girl was
crying softly. He stopped, put his
arm about her and drew her close. “I
had the privilege—and honor —of mak
ing her last hours less terrible. She
died without —seeing you. You were
three years old when I gave up the
search, left everything in the hands
of my good friend, Judge Eskridge,
and came up here to lose myself in
these vast woods along uhe Wabash,
a present from General Jackson.”
His eyes closed wearily. He lay
so still, and the pallor on his fnce was
so ghastly that the Pearlhunter bent
anxiously over him. But the heavy
lids presently unclosed; the voice,
queer and hoarse from long disuse,,
and noticeably growing weaker, fal
tered on.
“Seven years 1 It seems only this
morning he shot me! And yet it
couldn’t be, or Dotty wouldn’t be the
wonderful woman she has become, nor
you, my son, the man you are —the man
I was when I led Jackson’s rangers.
Hesper Dawn Red—” the quavering
voice hesitated. "No, no, let that
name perish with bis who disgraced
It The Judge knows. Hesper Dawn;
David Wulf Warbrltton. Both of the
high blood of the Dawns; your moth
ers both named Hesper Dawn, distant
cousins, both the same name, and both
of the same high blood. Neither need
you be ashamed, my son, of your name
of Warbrltton. It has been more or
less on the tongues of men since the
brave days of Saxon Harold. Share
your estate with Dotty. It Is In the
will that you do so, and there’s ample
for you both. The Judge will know.”
The Pearlhunter was on the point
of mentioning the letter —the death
of the girl’s grandfather, his relenting
his will. But the faltering voice left
him no opening.
“My son, you are a man grown, but
you will not deny your father the
heart hunger of twenty bitter years.”
His voice was fast failing; his eyes
strained bard to find the Pearlhunter’s
face, though he was bending low over
him. The young man read the mean
ing, the twenty years of longing, in
the straining eyes. He knelt down and
laid his face against the old man’s
cheek. An arm stole about his neck
and held him close.
A long time the old man lay still,
his right arm around the girl kneeling
at one side of the couch, his left arm
around the man at the other. So still,
so motionless he lay that the deep
silence became burdened with a heavy
fear. The sheriff at the foot of the
couch bent forward. The Pearlhunter
turned his face, looked and bowed his
head. The girl raised her eyes, gazed
Intently at the placid features, threw
herself across the motionless body
and wept aloud.
The graceful musician, the intrepid
soldier —was dead.
CHAPTER XV.
The Song of a Thrueh.
Twentieth of June, and the world at
high tide; the woods full of cradles,
and each cradle housing a lusty baby;
the weak gone hack to earth, the fit
that survive beginning to test wing
and daw. Streams and woodland
pools grow languid with millions mat
ing. Each leaf has reached its maxi
mum of lung expansion. The trees
breathe deep. The forest has settled
down seriously to the business of ful
filling Its promises. Cocoon and chrys
alis have opened and flung forth their
glittering mysteries. Burnished bodies
and gauzy wings glance and glitter
through yellow sunshine and soft
shade, like flakes of star dust sifting
down out of the sky.
But If the woods have many cradles,
ihey also have many graves. There
was anew one tills placid June evening
at Fallen Rock—a new one beside the
one that was almost new. There were
orchids upon them both. A man and
a maid had together hunted the woods
for them. Only such as they could
have found so many. Only to her fav
orites does nature show the way to her
treasures.
The stanch old Boss and hard-faced
Bull Masterson were back at their
vats and clam rakes. Billy’s grand
mother vvus staying at the cabin of
"The Boy—Btands Before You."
the three gables a few days for com
pany.
The Pearlhunter came from the vil
lage In the still evening. Along the
dim, slim path through the woods he
came, against the face of the sunset.
The swing and spring of a master of
men was In his stride, for he carried
In his pocket a telegram addressed to
a man with a name at last, to David
Wulf Warbrltton. The telegram told
of two fortunes awaiting down the
river, of houses and lands, and advis
ing that Judge Eskridge was on his
way.
Near the turn of the path he stopped
and stood listening. The song of a
thrush was charming the silence. Only,
the song carried a certain delicious,
elusive witchery that no bird throat
ever knew. He stole along the path,
stopped and stood with hared head.
Upon the flat rock at the pool stood
the Wild Rose, the tears running down
her face, her lips and throat alive with
the magic of song. A lady cardinal
perched upon her shoulder. A king
cardinal fidgeted and twitched his crest
on an overhanging twig that almost
brushed her hair. A pair of shy
thrushes fluttered and flitted in reach
of her hand. Other birds walked up
and down near-by branches, or darted
down for a hurried peek at the crumbs
she had scattered over the rock.
The tears drowned the blue; the
song ceased. The birds fluttered away
one by one. The _glrl bowed her head
THE WINDER NEWS
and Stood with clasped Tianda, gaalfif
down at the quiet water.
The man’s step roused her. She
turned, and her hands unclasped as If
to reach toward him—but instantly
clasped themselves again. He turned
from the path, stepped out on the rock
and came to her side. A moment her
eyes met his, and then went back to
the placid water, and she stood crying
softly.
She turned back to him after a time,
a poor little half-drowned smile strug
gled out and brought a suggestion of
the dimples back.
“I had to tell them she said
(Continued on last page)
Fords orv
Farm Power Machinery
Will help you raise more for less. We are anxious to
prove this to all good farmers of Barrow county. See
us at once and we will arrange demonstration on your
farm. We are here to show you how and to help you
make money. Respectfully,
King Motor Company
C. B. MOTT, Manager
Authorized Ford and Fordson Dealers
WINDER, GA.
THE UNIVERSAL CAR
ABOUT FORD CARS-SOLID LOGIC
THE FORD CAR has been fundamentally right from
the beginning. That fact made it “The Universal Car.” It has always lead in lowest
first cost as well as in lowest cost to maintain and operate.
Runabout, Touring Car, Coupe, Sedan, Truck and Ford
son Tractor—we have them all and will make reasonably prompt delivery.
Simplicity has ever marked the designing and building
of Ford cars, Trucks and Tractors. Henry Ford and his engineers have always striven
for simplicity with strength. The success of the Model “T” Ford car and a great part
of the Ford Motor Company’s success has come from an early understanding and ap
preciation of that principle in motor car construction. The fewer the parts in a car,
fewer the parts to go wrong. When that simple truth is carried out in producing a car,
as it is in Ford cars, trucks and tractors, the result is bound to be a simplicity of design
and building that means simplicity, durability and economy of operation.
This simplicity of construction proves itself in the ease
with which Ford cars, trucks, and tractors are driven. Four million five hundred
in daily service proves every claim we make.
More than ever we are sure the Ford car is your necessi
ty—let’s have your order today.
KING MOTOR COMPANY
:iZ INSURANCE
Your neighbor’s home burned only a few days or months ago and a
’ikely. to strike this section at any time, so INSURE with US
Hi, t night with a clear conscience and a peaceful mind> Don’t
DELAx. ay mean the loss of your home. Any man can build a home
once. A WTSE man insures his property in a reliable insurance company
so that when calamity comes he can build again. He owes the protection
that it gives, to his peace of mind and the care of his loved ones.
KUgore, Radford & Smith
SUBSCRIPTION: $1.50 A YEAR