Digital Library of Georgia Logo

The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, September 13, 1887, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

■ W^'WWi’^w^'■ ¥i ''' : ■ ? :'A ®<S>SWK 11H’ ; ? W®’*® 018 iJw'ff xt fft OW® ; XIX. SI,OOO in Christas Presents. (See last column of sixth page.) When YOU SUBSCRIBE TO THE CONSTITUTION YOU GET THE BEST AND CHEAPEST PAPER IN AMER ICA. ON ITS MERITS AS A NEWSPAPER IT HAS GROWN FROM 9,000 TO 112,000 CIRCULATION IN THREE YEARS. In TAKING IT YOU GET THE Best and Cheapest Paper. Besides this, YOU GET A SHARE IN OUR “CHRISTMAS BOX” of Presents of SI,OOO cash. If you sub scribe NOW YOUR NAME GOES IN THE BOX, WHICH IS SHAKEN UP ON JANUARY 1, AND ONE NAME DRAWN OUT BY OUR AGENT. THAT NAME GETS SSOO, THE NEXT S2OO, AND SO ON THROUGH THE LIST. Some subscriber will get the SSOO on January 1. Why not YOU ? Out of the box of subscribers’ names, one name will come first. It MAY be yours. If so, you GET SSOO AS A PRESENT. The NEXT GETS S2OO, and so on. Subscribe at once. For every NEW SUBSCRIBER YOU SEND IN YOUR NAME GOES TN AGAIN. GET UP A CLUB. Hie Captain’s Doughter. By W;4. PERRY BROWN, th or of “The Courtin’ of Pole Bryson,” “The Shootln’ Match at Possum Trot,” “Darthuly,” Etc. PROLOGUE. Durin* the nii'ht after the second clay’s fight at Chickamauga, parties of confederates with torches were moving here and there in search of the wounded. (Inc of these, led by a stal wart Georgian, came upon a young federal lieutenant of cavalry whose arm had been shattered by a fragment of shell, while a con sequent fall from his horse had dislocated his collar bone. By the lantern’s light the captain gazed upon a pain-distorted, boyish face. As he held a canteen of water to the parted lips, his hand was grasped by the unwotmded hand of the sufferer, and during the youth’s removal to a Stretcher his eyes followed the bearded Geor gian’s face with the appealing constancy of ■conscious helplessness. “Do not leave me,” lie said, as the captain was about to give way to the approaching sur geon. “I can do you no good now,” replied the other. “Your’s is a case for the doctor; lie’ll attend to you.” “Do not leave me,” pleaded the sufferer with strange persistency. “What about him, Meigs’” asked the cap tain of the surgeon. “The left arm must come off. The collar hone we can set in a jiffy, so move yourself, my man. We have no anesthetics, as your cavalry captured our medicine chest. But hero is some whisky.” The young federal shook his head and again grasped the captain’s hand, holding it despite the. latter’s gentle efforts to prevent it, during the amputation .which immediately took place. The young man’s nerve was wonderful, not withstanding his slender physique. Such patient repjpssion of the signs of agony strong ly touched the captain. But when all was concluded, with a gasping sigh, the patient swooned away. “G< >d grit,” remarked the surgeon, forcing a few drops of the rejected stimulant between the pal, id lips. “D—d if he hasn’t,” replied the Georgian as he prepared to go. Just then he saw a soldier remove a ring from a finger of the amputated hand. ••Give it here,” he said. “None of that work with -his poor boy’s property.” The captain took the ring, intending to re store it to its owner when the latter became conscious and able to claim his own. But a half hour later an unexpected move of Thomas’s corps caused this particular point to be temporarily abandoned. When at daylight the confederates reoccupied it, the young fed eral with other wounded men left there were gone. Then the captain thought of the ring. It was of gold, with a heart—haped garnet flanked by two small diamonds, bearing on the inside a rudely carved imvription which the Georgian failed to decipher. The chances of war are proverbially uncertain. He. neither saw or heard of the officer again, and not knowing either bls name or regiment had no retracing clew by which to return it. The war swept on and, in time, came to an end. The Georgian retired to a devastated plantation and fought as manfully for subsist ence as he had fortrn rly done for glory. Ho became stout and grizzled, and children in time grew up around him. The ring still lay unclaimed in his wallet. Was its owner still alive? He yet nourished a faint hope of one day restoring it, despite a growing fear that the riddle of ownership Would lorever remain unsettled. 1. Paterfamilias sat with chair tilted back and his feet on the piazza railing. The local paper was in his lap and a cob pipe was in his mouth. His son stood at the foot of the piazza steps booted and spurred. “Tl.e Cheever place has been sold, father,” he said. “Well, who bought it, Bud?” “A yankee, as usual. Ono of those ever lastingly smart fellows who corne down south to show ‘we no’ robs’ how to farm. His name is Barker, I believe: a Wisconsin man, and an old soldier in the late unpleasantness;.” ‘T’mglad ho has smelled powder!” exclaim ed tl.e planter. “Doubtless he has got over being in id at us, and won't go crazy over the” The young man strolled off and his father dropped into a reverie. Twelve years since the surrender of Lee, and what changes!—not" among the least of which was the gradual alteration of his own sentiments regarding the results of that internieine conflict wherein lie >..«! fought so hard to win yet bad lost all but honor. A feminine voice was heard trilling a fa miliar air. “Here, Lucy,” he called, “bring mo a drink.” A trim young lady, with saucy yet refined features ami dark red hair, brought out a gourd of water. ’•< licever's sold out,” ho said briefly, after drinking. “I’m glad of it,” slio replied, promptly. “Pe: haps now he'll go off and let me alone.” “Poor fellow! I reckon he can’t help liking you, Puss.” “Why, papa, he is old and round-shouldered and course and jealous. Then, too, he drinks like a fish.” “Yet Cheever has his good points.” “I don't know w here they are, papa. But— there comes some one.” A horseman was coming up the drive loading (torn the public toad up to the house. He dis- mounted, fastened his horse, and walked upto the piazza steps. “Captain Claggett lives here, I believe?” he asked, touching a trim Derby hat to Lucy, who acknowledged the courtesy by the slightest kind of a nod and immediately w ithdrew'. “That is my name, sir,” replied the planter. “Walk in. Lucy, bring another chair.” “My name is Barker.” returned the stranger. “I have just purchased the Cheever place, and have called on you as one of Mr. Cheever’s securities, to learn something more of the mortgage which the McGlinn heirs hold against it, and which I have partially agreed to as sume.” The captain regarded his visitor gravely, then said, rather irrelevantly: “ You are a northern man, Mr. Barker, and a soldier in the late war, I understand?” “Oh. yes,” said Barker, carelessly; “but when the war ended I quit fighting. I hope my southern friends won't think any the less of me on that account.” “Not at all, sir,” replied the other heartily. “If the soldiers on either side could have set tled things, our after troubles wouldn't have lasted so long. But—a—come into the sitting room. We'll see about that mortgage. The McGlinns are as close as 11—1, sir: yet I trust, we can fix things so as tolet poor Cheever out.” As they entered the room. .Miss Lucy, who, I regret to say, had been listening surreptitiously behind the door, darted hastily out and, col liding with Barker’s immaculate Derby, sent it spinning to the floor. “I—l beg pardon,” he said, assuming with true politeness all the blame. Lucy, with flushed cheeks, made him an elaborate courtesy, and fled without a word to the piazza, where she stood looking out among the tall pines before the house, with a pretty pout on her lips, and feeling that there had been times when she had appeared to better advantage than just then. When Barker and the captain finally reappeared, a few common place remarks ensued, and the visitor took his leave. “He says he received a body wound at Chick amauga,’’ said the captain. “And that re minds me, Pet, I might have told him about that ring.” “Very likely he would have claimed it,” remarked Lucy, with an entrancing frown, quite as uncalled for as her words. “Why, Puss!” said her father in careless re monstrance, at the same time taking the ring from his wallet. “Isn’t it lovely!” cried she,trying it on,and viewing the effect upon her shapely little hand. “Papa, you must let me wear it until after the picnic. We girls have so few pretty things, since that horrid war you’re always' gloating over.” “Have you forgotten whose ring it is?” “I have not forgotten that you don’t know any more than I do, papa,“she answered, with a saucy smile. “Suppose Barker, as you say, should put in a claim for it?” he said, playfully. “Barker? He shall claim me first, or I—” She stopped abruptly, and blushed at the uulhought of implication involved in her words. “He’d have d—d poor taste if he didn’t,” laughed the captain, whose sense of humor was I a little coarse. Limy flirted herself into the house at this, leaving her father to enjoy his joke alone. But she carried the yug off with her. 11. Miss Claggett, in a dark riding habit, mount ed on Gordon—a mud-colored, vicious looking Texas pony—was out for a gallop through the : “piney” woods, on a sunny April morning, a week or two after Barker’s call upon her father. Gordon’s friskincss, when not sulking with drooped ears over some youthful nn mory of western cowboys and prairies, was of that abnormally uncertain .kind vvhi< h called for care and good horsemanship. Her spirits rose with Gordon’s, yet at times the sough and glamor of the pines plunged her in careless reveries, quite unassociatcd with sundry buckings and prancings of that volatile quadruped, when the reins hue - loose. During one of these abstracted interludes a man rose up suddenly from behind a large “lightwood” log by the roadside. Gordon saw his opportunity and at once used it so effectually as to leave Lucy sitting in the sandy road, rather rumpled and frightened, while he, with a final flourish of his heels toward the skies, scampered off homeward, as though a legion of his oid foes, the cowboys, were after him. The man at once approached her. She saw j with alarm that ho bore :i seedy, trampish . aspect. Yet Lis figure was slight, and ho had but one arm, while his sac . despite a prema turely old look, seemed and confiding. Ho stopped at a respectful distance, and touch ing a battered hat, said: “Pardon mo, ma’am. Are you hurt? Can I help you?” This was hardly the language and manner of a tramp. Perhaps she was in for an advent ure. Ho coughed, and she noticed that he was hollow-chested and pale. Poor fellow! There could bo no harm in being civil to him, here in the interminable privacy of these woods. “No,” she replied. “I'm all right, I believe. I shall Lave a couple of miles to walk, but I don’t mind that.” Then she attempted to rise, but sank back with a faint cry of pain. “What is it?” he asked quickly. i “1 tear—l have sprained my foot,” she said, | faintly. ' E-e-e! jfow it hurts!” There was a branch close by. and he rushed i off, returning with his hat full of water. “Have you a handkerchief?” bo inquired. ' “If you will undo your shoe I will pour water ■ on the .sprain, then you can bind it up.” , The situation was embarrassing, yet the pain I grew worse. Coyly she exposed a fair;-like , foot and attempted to remove her boot. But her trembling bands failed, and she sank back | with a low moan of pain. Without a word, the man deftly unlaced the little boot with hist i one hand, took it carefully off. and then poured the cooling watei on theswollen instep. Then he brought another hatful, wet the hand- I kerchief she gave him, and, with a touch as ; light as a woman's, wrapped it round the sprain I and slowly poured more water on it. i Lucy watched him witli lips compressed and i hot flushes, not altogether caused by pain, • chasing each other over her face. “There,” he said at length, “you must rest quiet here :.nd 1 will get help to von as soon as I possible.” Just then be saw the captain’s ring on her finger, eyed it furtively for a moment, then .• aid: | “Excuse me, but will you let me look at that ■ ring just one-minute?” He held out his hand and she, wondering if “he really coveted it in r< turn for his Samaritan j services, handed it to him, not knowing hardly I how to refuse. He examined it, looked eagerly ! at the inscription inside, then returned ft without a word. Yet she fancied that his ! manner became graver, and that something like dignity seemed somehow t , be for the mo- I ment impressed upon him. At length the pain of Iter sprain decreased ami ho prepared to go for asubtaiice, when there came a sound of trampling hoofs through the pines. Looking up they saw two men approachin l '. Lucy colored ami grow haughty and reserved at once. The trainpdrcw further I away from iter, and replaced his soaked and , misshaped hat upon his head. The surprise which George Barker may Lave felt at seeing Miss Claggett sitting by the road i side in such company was veiled in a look of | solicitude at the sight of her bandaged foot and discarded shoe. Torn Cheever, his companion, looked inquiringly from the lady to the tramp, ■ and dismounting, said to her: “Why, what's the matter, Lucy? Has this fellow insulted you?” “Not at all,” she replied, vaguely nettled at ( his words. “Gordon taw fit to throw tue, run ATLANTA, GA. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1887. away and sprain my foot. This—-a—man hap- ’ penvd to be near, and kindly rendered every assistance possible.” “Who are you, anyhow?” demanded (’hoover i rather brutally of the tramp, who was regard- : ing Parker attentively, and ignored the ques tion. Meanwhile the latter alighted and now said I to Lucy; “My horse is quite gentle. If Miss Claggett will honor me by using him. we will soon Fave 1 her at home.” “Thanks,” she returned, not noticing : Cheever, who scowled furtively at thorn both', j She readily resigned-*?rsoM into Barker’s ' hands, and he lilted her skilfully into the saddle. Lucy then turned to. the tramp and ; said kindly: “Come with us. please. My father w ill want ; to know of your kindness Io his daughter.” They started at once with Barker at Lucy’s * bridle rein, while Cheever followed sulkily. The tramp sighed and quietly fell in behind them all. The reserve with which Lucy had treated Parker on their previous meeting now melted into a real enjoyment of his efforts to entertain ' her. He was polished and deferential; yet his persuasive tones evinced a strength and self- ■ confidence ever pleasing to women when felt ' by rather than obtruded upon them. Cheever I watched them vindictixcly, his mien oppress- < ing the resentment he silently felt. The , tramp’s eyes rested on’ Parker oftencr than 1 elsewhere. A yearning expression at ‘inn’s ! came over his feeble features as he noted the northerner’s eager attentions to the lady; then, when Cheever’s manner would more strongly evince his dislike, the tramp’s face would harden into a frown that seemed to evince any thing rather than a liking for Tom Cheev< r ’ And so at length they arrived at Captain ; Claggett’s, where Lucy was consigned to the care of her mother and “Black Mannny” and disappeared, leaving with Barker a ravishing j smile as a remembrance un! il —they met again. ! The tramp went to the kitchen and received ! a kind and indulgent welcome from both j whites and blacks. Biul thanked him, and ; the captain swore ronmlly that he should “lay ! around and oat bog and hominy as long as his j laziness allov cd him to remain.” Cheever i liked awhile on business matters • with the planter and Barker, and then, still 1 sulky and suspicious, took bis leave. As for Barker —lie staid until the next morning, find left with a rose on his coat lappel, pinned there by Miss Jaicy as she sat in an easy chair on the broad piazza,• while the tramp regarded them wistfully from his lounging place on the sunny side us the kitchen. 111. George Parker rode with the Claggetts to the Sunday-school picnic. Cheever had remon strated with the captain for showing these 1 “h-1 fired northerners” so much social <n- ! couragement, but the latter had said einphati- ■ cally: . “Barker’s a gentleman, and he’s sol’d fmnn- ; cially as you well know. Lucy seems to like j his company, and tier pleasure is mighty apt to i bo her oid pappy’s law. Be. ides, what does ' our old-fashioned conservatism amount to now, when we’re all scutiiing for bread together in the. same furrow ?” Our friend the tramp, attired in one of the captain’s half-worn suits, a good size too large for him, was also along. Lucy and 1-nrkcr rode , side byside on horseback,as though this dispo sition of themselves was the mostnatural th mg in the world. The we: therwns good, the attendance large, and Oak Grove, down by the Ilhiloo river, the very place to please everybody. The dinner was simply immense, making our tramp long for the stomach of an anaconda when he found that sated-nature, would endure no more, even ! of syllabub and pound cake. The picnickei s had .scattered through Ihe woods. L* :'t to himself he wandered off to smoke a pipe and perhaps be overtaken by a nap. and finally laid down near the edge of a precipitous bluff overhanging a sheltered nook by the riverside, where a fringe of oak bushes, interlaced by muscadine vines, concealed him from the ejc.s of casual strollers. Lighting his pipe, he la; ilv indulged in that full-fed con tent of mind and body/which is the usual result of a good dinner well enjoyed. Then—he fell asleep. After a lime his senses were tickled into activity again by a murmur of voices below him. He peered over tiro brow of tiie clid’ and beheld Barker and Lucy engaged in a private conversation. She was seated with her back against a pine, playing nervously with along fern, while he reclined at her feet, his hat thrown to one side and his whole manner expressive of soft, persuasive appeal. 'l'hc tramp ncsth’d doser <l<ovn among the bushes and watched them. At length Barker possessed himself of Lucy’s hand, which she surrendered with an air of shy, yielding re luctance il it bore its own sweet interpreta- j tion. A half smothered imprecation met the I trump’s car. and peering cautiously around, ho saw Tom ( hceve.r also watching the se ne below from behind a great rock that had hitherto concealed these two eavesdroppers from each other, in his silent fury the latter had thrust himself forward into view. Barker raised the Jillle hand to his lips, kissed it pas sionately while Lucy seemed to be slowly yield ing io the concessive promptings of her heart. But voices were now audible from Un- river side, and soon Lucy was called away by a Levy of gill', having Barker at last alone. He started up the bluff, wrapt in a pleasing reverie, until he came to a deep gorge separating him from the open woods beyond. A long foot-log spanned its nanowest pait. The place was is'dated and wild, none of the picnickers appar ently being near. Cheever stoic after him, his face alive with the malevolent passions that were consuming him. 31JC tramp, suspecting foul play, crept after them both. As Barker approache d the log Cheever drew near and slipped behind a large sweetgum tree. The former, still wrapped in pleasant fancies, started slowly across the chasm, here fully eighty feet deep" with huge, jagged rocks ;•! Ihe bottom,w here a tiny rivulet ran on towtoi’ the river. Cheever, darting forward, sei • <i a long hand-pole that lay near. Ono shrewd push from behind, and all Lucy’s bright fancies concerning this, her latest lover, would be sti at rest forever. At that m unent he felt a sharp tap on the shoulder. H< ' urned quickly and found him self confremb dby the tramp, who whispered, jerking hi thumb towaid the bushes; “Buck v u go there, with me!” Caught in the act, with every move intx rpre- ■ tative of his murderous intent, raging inward- i ly, yet remixing the ncrx*ssity of secrecy ami I of—obedience, he turned. Barker went on his , v.ay, seemingly unsuspicious, while the two ' others again crouched among the bushes, i glaring dumb defiance at each other. “Now, Mr. Cheever,” said the tramp, as , Berber disappeared from sight, “you needn’t | explain. Bm I’ll just give you a pointer, ii j you want this little affair kept dark, sm I of forgotten like, you must let that man alone, i If yon ever try to harm a hair of his head, i blame me if I don’l publish your little mistake I here, - m ic Hwy’ll be sure to waul an ex try ' cdfalif n. tlii'i 11 clrkilate just where you won’t wm ' to it read.” With Hi he turned abruptly and sauntered l.’/ii\ away,leaving< heever in a state of mind ’ more easily imagin' d than described. IV. T1 < ’ . eks rolled on. Barker’s attentions to Miss Claggett continued. Cheever si ill hung around, saying little, doing !<• h, ami nursing ( in futility the worst suspicio ns of others that a | nr.rr w, jealous nature could inspire. Our friend tho tramo also lingered, dividing his time between Barker’s and the captain’s pretty evenly. His health grew worse, and a recur rent cough racked his slight frame, while cer tain ominous hectic flushes now rarely left Ids cheeks. One day the captain ami Barker, with sev eral of their neighbors, vent driving for deer down in the greet Tuckaboo swamp. Barker was to dine w ith the Claggetts on their return. Lucy sat in the piazza sewing and indulging in pleasing bits < f reverie, during one of which sii pri< ked her finger. While . qurozinga thiy blood drop from its ivory background, (’hoover walked in, with an air of having something important to sav. “Maw ning,” he said, dropping uninvited into a chair. Lucy nodded, and just then the tramp ap peared with a bucket of water, which ho placed on Hie uat< r-shclf and lounged out, the per sonification of indolent discouragement. When out of sight, however, ho slipped into the dark ened s:iting-room, and enseonsed himself in a listening attitude behind the wall against which ( hoewr had tilted his chair. • (’ap’ gone on a hunt?” asked the latter. “Yes. they’ve al) gone, ami 1 was expecting a quiet morning for work, but—” Here she pouted slightly and rot ked her foot impa tiently. “But now 1 ’in hero the chance is gone, you’d say. If I’d a boon Barker now’, work and quiet might l.avegone to the devil for all you’d have cared.” “51 r. Barker is too much of a gentleman to— to —be rude to ladies,” she replied, indignantly. “Barker a gentleman? Don’t you bo toosuro of that. He pretends to be of good family, and all that.yet he’s got a brother whoisa common vagabond and a probable thief.” “I’ll not believ it on your word,”said Lucy, hotly, while the tramp inside clutched at his heart and seemed about (o fall, but recovered and again listened witli haggard features and the hue of a corpse. “Perhaps you won’t,” returned (’hoover, allowing a cruel smile to disfigure his face. “ But Major Teague, onr sheriff, has got a letter f ym the peili< e at Barker's old home up in Wisconsin, asking if this brother- Sain Barker •y name—hadn’t turned up hero. He is anted back there forsonie crime or other, and has been known as a common tramp for years. They' think your Barker, Lucy, secretly helps him and probably knows wheae he is.” Lucy looked straight, before her, and her Wo) k lay neglected in her lap. Cheever watch ed h« r, while tierce de>ir< s contended with tho bitter thoughts that almost maddened him, under a senseof the dislike with which his presence inspired her. A her a long pause he again spoke, in a changed, intensely earnest tone. “Lucy, you have known mo for years, and I have loved you for years. You hain’t en couraged me much, yet what can a follow do, when he ge-s so infernally wrapped up in a pretty face that he sees no rest, day or night? 1 might have done better if you’d have shown me some chance.” “Am I to blame for your dissolute habits and your misspent life?” she asked, still gazing out through the pines. “And now,” ho continued, ignoring her question, “along comes this fellow Barker, v.ith his smooth ways and oily tongue, ami all my years of devotion—yes. by God, Lucy I 1 have h>\ed you for year - all t his, 1 say, goes for nothing when he sets his cursed eyes on you.” Miss Claggett rose, saying coldly, though in wardly hot and indignant: “AB this is useless, sir. sfy father will bo Lack by and by. He may put up with your very disagreeable ways better than 1 can. Good morning.” Then she marched straight through the great hall, dropping her work along the floor, ami so on out into regions near thekitchen. Cheever sat for a moment or two silent and motionless. Then, slapping his hat on his head, he strode off w ithout a word to w heie he had left his horse. While mounting the tramp lounged up. “Mr. Cheever.” said the latter, “I s’pose you haven’t forgot that little confab we had by the high foot-log on the day of the picnic? What 1 said then I mean to stand now.” “Who in the h—l cares? 1 don’t.” With this parting shot, < ’heever rode off. V. After the hunt Barker remained at the Clag getts’ over night “to eat his share of the veni son,” as the captain jovially nut it. To her admir'T Lucy vouchsafed only a few w r ords, that seemed quite Jost under a chilling cere moniousness of manner. Barker wondered, and alter supper waylaid her in the hallway, saying : “I wonder how f can have offended? I know something is wrong.” “I’m not aware of being offended—myself,” she said grandly, yet with a compunctious inward tingle. Her serenely cool manner baffled him. Then M rs. (.'laggott called her daughter, and Lucy sailed away with a sweeping courtesy, her dark, red hair reflecting the glint of the lire light. The next morning Barker lingered on. Something was on his mind, and while the captain sat smoking, with his feet perched as usual on the piazza railing, he said, aft« r a long silence: “Captain, tliere is something I wish to speak to you about today.” 1 he captain emitted huge vohtrnesof smoke, w hile Barker hesitated, aproci < ding so unusual with him that the former at length said, with LI tin I. cordiality: “Plain sailing, ibe sailors say. soonest loads to port. So out with it, Barker, if it concerns mo.” “You have no doubt observed my attentions to Miss Claggett. Aly future happiness Las now become o strongly invok'd in their favorable reception, that 1 have felt— that is— I desire—” “ You w ant to marry her, I suppose?” inter rupted the cafitahi, blowing out a cloud of smoke that must have completely filled him from the waist up. “I love her, captain,” returned Barker in a slightly tremulous tone. A silence ensued, during which the planter smoked on, while Barker watched his features; but he might as well have observed a stone as far as expression went. Meanwhile our tramp sat, with his Lack to the smokehouse wall, lazily whittling. 4 noise of approaching luiols was heard, ami two men appeared in sight, riding through the pines. “Barker,” said the < aptain. suddenly, “we’ll talk this over at another time. I’ll he frank with you: You are a northerner, and 1 don't know yet whether to like that in a son-in-law or not, but you seem to be a square man and a good neighbor, ami these are two things I do like powerful well.” Tom Cheever ami a tall, narrow-eyed man, with a h'-avy chin beard now walked up rhe step-. Barker was introduced by < aptain Claggett to •'Major 'League, our sheriff, and a d d good sheriff too.” Whereat the sheriff srnih d, said “howdy,” and leisurely picked some very large, yellow teeth with a pine splinter, while hi- wan dered toward the tramn,who now lacked lazily across the yard toward the piazza, ( heever v. as rest less and avoided Barker both by word and look. After a few moments’ clint over various ■ v • j suggested by Major Teague's nresenco, the latter turned to Barker ami said in a dry, unemphasized tone: “We re lookin’up a brother o’your’n, Mr. Bairj r. 1 got a letter from the porlicc. at Osh kosh, Wb<« nsin, inquirin’ alter him and you. It ’s an old case of assault with intent to kill, ami—it did kill. Your brother baked out and, from what them thar pci lice say, I reckon ho come to be a common tramp. Sorry to say this, Mr. Barker, but truth’s truth, and thar’s worse behiml. 'I hese here perlice have studied over the case putty considiblo, and as they haven’t been able to find your brother they may want—yon.” “Me!” exclaimed Barker, with a rising color he could not repress. The had looked on In riUtjut wonder, but Cheever’s greedily vindictive face caused him to say in an aside: “Tom, this is some of your work.” *‘No, no,cap,” returned that worthy. “This is a Barker business from a toizzard; if it isn’t I’m d-d.” The trainp now slowly entered the piazza. “Yes. sir, you,” continued IMajor Teague, looking steadily nt Barker, who as steadily returned his gaze. “They think you can prejudice that thar brother of your’n, if you want to. In fact, you stand charged as bein’ an accessory after (ho fact.” “The charge is false!’’ said Barker, emphati cally. “ I had a brother who did as you de scribed, but whether I have one now or not I do not know. 1 have not heard of him in nine years.” “ rhe pcrlice,” resumed the sheriff imper turbably, “have thought you might possibly know w here your brother* is. They have got word from some one that a tramp stays round your place a great deal -a feller like your brother, with one arm, and—” “Why, that - that—” stammered the cap tain : then seeing ( .leever’s cruelly oxpie. sive smile, heiignhi turned on him, saving: “Tom, it’ this isn’t your work it looks might ily like it. Why, d nit, sir! this man you speak of has been with me more than at Barker's, and bo’s as harmles • as a child.” “Gentlemen,” said Major Tcaguo, “let mo get through with my arrant and you can all have tho floor, II it’s not for me to argy agin ymir suppositions, but 1 have a warrant for this tramp, mid if he is your brother, Mr. Barker, that lets you out, pro\ bled you liaven’t know ingly nid« d in concealin'him from jus tice. Bui ii this isn’t him, them thar pci'lico want, you, ■ nle •; you prove your innereenco of helpin’ him outen the scrape.” Tho tramp now’ advanetd with an air of nervous, fidgety resolution, ami said: “Mr, Shmiff, I am George Barker's brother, and though hr hasn't, known hide nor hair of me in nine years, as his brother. 1 don’t bolh vo he’d have four bark on me if he had. Would you, George?” Ho. turm d toßarker with a dumb longing in his watery ('yes, while the latter stared at him, feeling certain vague misgivings concerning this friemiloss waif now merged into a sudden conviction of tho sad truth they had fore shadowed. I’hoever’s cruel smiio grow ex ult all f, while the eiiptaiii ejaculated : “(lood God ’hnighty Tho tramp turned to the latter, sayin :: “Do you remember, sir, a. young federal officer whose hand was taken ‘off the night al h r < ’hi< kamauga in your “I do. God help mo! 1 do!” exclaimed the veteran. “1 was that lieutenant, captain. 1 had a ring—” “Yes, yes. my poor fellow. I can :ht one of our boys making off with it. 1 took itjnlend ing to restore it to you when you were able to claim your property.” ‘‘When I came to,” continued the tramp stolidly. “1 was in the bands of our boys again. I saw that ring when I first met Ml« (Taggett in the woods. Inside are the words ‘con aiiiore,’ carved by myst If for one to w hom the line 0111 e lielonged, and who, curse her! was all- 1 wards the cause of my doing the deed for w hich I have been wanted so long.” Barker now grasped bls brother’s hand, say- “Snni, why didn’t you make yourself known ? 1 ought io have recognis’d you: hut, myGM! how changed you arc! 1 would have stood by you, and i’ll stand by .you now ” “I always felt that you would, George; but the affair broke mo up. 1 went from bad to worse after I disappeared, until L became an alien and an outcast. I came hero quite by accid' iit, saw that ring, recognized you. and just islayed on because I hadn’t the nerve to ha\o under the kind treatment [ received. Bui. 1 never thought of bringing trouble on you,<reorgo.” “I believe it,” said Barker. “Now, gentle nun, IN me say that this poor man has been more sinned against than sinning. Ile married, years ago, a woman older than himself, who made his life a hd), ami finally ran away with the, man whom he bl rm k in a moment of is true, y t openly and in fair fight.” “1 believe you, Barker,” said tho captain. “I saw his hand off, and it hardly phazed him, though lie wouldn’t even take a.dram to nerve himself. And I say, d—n a man who wii’t defend hir. honor! Hero, Lucy!” That astute young lady, in lingering about the hallway, had heard enough of tho fore going conversation to divine Low the land lay. She now' demure as though mih s had intervened between b rswo« 1 self and all surreptit ioiisly :icquir» d knowledge. Yet she contrived to shoot a swift, tender glance a,t Barker, who was no laggard in const ruing it as a gaze of recoil' iliation. “Well, Lus’.’’ said her father, “here’s an owner for our ring at last.” As Lucy qui( Ily held it forth Major Toaguo took ;t, saying : “I reckon I’ll have to take charge of it for awhih*, if it. belongs to your brother, Mr. Barter. This less you out, but, unless your brother <a’n give a pretty stiff bond lie’ll nave Io goto jail until llm \\i cousin officer g'ts here with the reck is shun.” “If you’need more bail, Bark er, "said ('aptain ('la? ''i t, “.send foririo. Stick to your brother, 1 say, lor blood should be thicker than water any w hero.” jLc tramp, lookin', it ■ i eever, now said to Barker: “George, look sharn whenever that man comes about you. 11 d have pushed you over the foot log the d;i , <»f the picnic.” Thon he briefly but pointedly related the circumstances. “H’s a. lie!” cried CheCicr, boldly. “it's the truth, : ontlenicn,” said Barker, suddenly. “One o; niy hands, who was hunt ing muscadines, saw the whole affair from a distance and told m< about it. 1 said nothing, »" • an e I thought ( heever ?t fi iend of Captain Claggett’s.” I’m <1 <1 if he is any more, if that's his game!” returm d Ihe captain. ('hoover utt< inpted to blnstc r, fail' d, ami found himself g» norally ignored. A dispersal of th*' party m.w' took place. Major 'League carrying off bis prisoner. Barker w hispered to Lucy: “1 must stand by my brother. Will you wish me good hick ?” For an answer her hand softly returned the furtive pressure of his own. “Lucy,” said he' father when the two were left alone, “do you like him?” Lm y looked hard at a rose bush, then stead ily into the captain's eyes, while the fcll-tale color slowly sfinuul over her face. Then she lowered her gaze to the floor and stood,a muto stafuc of unwilling confer don. Her father understood, chuckled a little, ami said: 'Lhat’ball right, Pct. I like, him myself.” She flaslu d one n ore glance at him and fled without a word. VI. There Is little ni'ie to ti 11. Barker manfull; food by his brother until a jury of his peers pronounced a verdict of jus tifiable homicide, ‘ hall not a man defend the honor of his heart h ? One week then • ft< r the latter died, esteem ing death less of t bi rden than life had long be< n to him. On bis dying bed he said to Barker: “G< orgc, Miss < la »gett seemed to like that ring of mine. H; ou don’t think my own i-nd luck will follow i», give it to her as coming from a poor devil who didn’t have any latter MjißO than to send it.” (xi (>rgo did s but not to remain unrepro. gented in that I no himself, bought another one w hich, on I s return to Georgia, he insist ed that Lucy should wear on a certain s ig gesiivc finger. Os course, Lucy coniplicd. As for('hcex( r. he lingered around, unfor getting yet seemingly forgotten or ignored, though he eventually found out that the earth was si ill solid ami H at his anpelitq yet re mained to remind him that he waft human. PRICE FIVE CENTS. BETWEEN THE LINE?. By WALLACE P. REED. I. “War is a bad thing,” said Captain Hay, aft we sat together one summer evening in front of his mountain cottage. The captain had been.entertaining mo with some of his war experiences. He had seen a rough time in Fast Tennessee. Between tho f< dorals and the union bushwhackers, who uere quite numerous in that region, ho had found it ncce sary to do some hard fighting and some swift, running. “ \'os,” continued the captain, “war is a ter ribb* business. It is not so bad between two armies. Kegular soldiers expect to kill and be killed, hut such a war as we Imd right here be tween the. lines, with friends ami neighbors and brothers cutting each other’s throats— l tell you, sir. it was rough.” 1 looked out upon the clusters of m hite farm bouses dotting the hillsides and resting in the valleys. Il seemed to mo that p<‘a«e had reigned there forex er. “Did you have much trouble right armind here'.’’ I asked. “Weil, you would have thought so,” ro plied the captain, gloomily. “Do y«m remem ber speaking t<> me about the Widow Scot! and renmrkine that she had a very sad luce?” “\es,” 1 answered with some interest, “was she the Ix ii 'n * < r tlio victim of soinft war tragedy?” “ A vi< tim,” .vid the captain, jerking the words out with .something of an effort. “\<»u know,” ho io limed, “that, wo were about half union ami hall ' « nf( derate in this iii'i';liborlyod. W('!l,as l'a*«i is the boys were old enough lo .honlder a mil Ar I, they slipped off, some going to tho f- iL r tls, ami others joining the confederates. “Ho Ihing.. reeked along unt'l Burni-ide was in h no\\iih’,!’nd I .<-ug..t r* 1 t m .0; advancing on him 1 hrougli the inoiintiiin ; At that time I had I ' ii away from In ce foi about two years, but wh n Longs'). 1’.4 1 .'.lil wng got over yonder l> hind lh« (.m e, I camo Loro with b'lusd of < a\airy m pick up as( w conscripts. “Whew! But, w. found a regular hormt’s nest, ’i’liorc were some good ct *.ft'ile .■. of course, but th< 11 iln re x\- ro i is ol unionists, and we saw trouble all t'n- tim -. “We shot a num’.> r of Imshw lun Lors just aft w ? e found them, w i.lmiit going through tho formality of a trial. I have novi r regretted that. 1 iie.x were robber . and assa in *', Id-ling in the wood. 1 and making war up<»n belli sides, sparing nothing, tliat e.-me in I In-ir \\ ay. No, I see nothing t<» »< ri t in all that.” The xeteran whilicd away x ..orously at hir pipe. “You raid something about tho Widow Scott,” I suggested. “Yes, I believe 1 did. Well, it, is still a sore subject with me, but I will tell you the story. In those times you must undt 1 !and that ibis valley war regarded by connm n ecu. 'nt ns a sort of neutral ground. There was no agree ment to that effect between military men, but we naturally fell into it, and it was a < •eimoii thing for some of Burnside’s men to run enwn and visit I heir honn.H, w hile some of Lmig streot's soldiers would slip over here for the game purpose. “Among tho uni'mists in tho valley xx'as a ynung fellow named John Hcott. We had played together, g« no to the *.ame school, and courted the same girls, and 1 was sorry enough when I came along in the fall of ’sixty-four, to • find tbat John had joined Burnside. A week before my arrival John had paid a flying visit to the. valley and had married Alice Dav is, th9 prettiest girl in East 'Leiim sseo.. “Some, of my men did not like John. They had an old grudge against, him, and flu v urged me to capture him xvln n he made, his next visit to his bride. 1 ki-ked a.'.iin ! this. I t >l<l them th d John wa no Im hwhacker. Ho was a brave soldier, and if ho wanted to sco his little wife I had no objection. Besides, f told them that xve were between tho lines and our old friends considered it neutral ground, ami we xvere in honor bound to n pect their xvishes. 1 made the point that we J eoutined our operations to the next county. We had simply made our headquarters in tho valley, ami had never moh sted Ihe p« ople, there. “I might as well have talked to the wind. Three of my mon swore that they would cai»- turcJohnor kill him. 1 nothing, but k« pt my eyes wide l open. “One night I found the.'.o three fellows miss ing. A few cautions inquiries ralistied m® that there was trouble ahuad. In some way the rumor had got out thaf John was coming home that night, and my three men. rein forced by several ('(.nfi dm'dte sympalhizeis, had decided to make, it-l ot for him. “J started off on foot uj> the valley in th® direction of the cottage W'here John’s wih> lived. I hardly knew' v. led to do. jf [ |. ; ,d know n the man’, route, I could have headed him/>ff, but, not knowing anything ab-cit it, f decided to hunt up my men, ami see, if I could not break up their arrangeim nts. “Just by the roadside in from of the cottage, fifty yards from tin hon. ”, wa . a little grov® ofliM . It was a bright nmonllgLl night, and anyone statioiu dln the gro 1 •• could see anybody approa< hingor leaving the house. It struck me that John’s cncmi s xveuhi s-leeft Hie giove as their hiding place, and without stopping to consider the d.-ngcr, I plunged hea'llong Info it. “ Lhe rtt icals had .‘•(•en me, and almost before J knew it they had me tied tea tree ami gagged ho that I < ould mal'.e no otib ry. it was all done in a second, and lx-fore 1 could recover from my surprise, I heard somebody at a distance whistling ‘The Girl 1 Left Be hind Me.’ The whistler rapidly approached us until he came in sight; and 1 recognized the fare and form of John Scott ! “Somebody in the house heard the familiar tune. A slender girl with a bunch <>f llowerft at her throat opem d He door and stood expec tantly on the piazza. I bad a good view of her. and I had never seen her look prettier. “With a brisk, eag( r step .John came down the road. His wife ran down the step ', ami f could nee her dress jhittering ay she apt d to wards the gate. “John opened the gate and shout of boyi h delight. On<? step forwauf and ii, > w ifo would hav been in his arms. “'Bang! bang!* went two shots from tho grove, and the brave young fellow staggered and fell forward on Ids face!” 'Lhe captain paused and brushed away a tear. “1 < ried then,” ho said, *‘Yes,sir, cried like a baby, and it unnerves me whenever I think us it. Those scoundrels rushed off in a hurry, wb'>oping like devils as they ran. J made a mighty effort and tore myself loose from my bonds, ami went up to Alice. She had John’s head In her lap and was kissing him, and sob bing as if her heart would break. Tho {root girl’s father came out from the house, and we carried John In. Poor follow! He was dead, 'l he first shot had killed him. “I never found out who murdered John,” raid the captain de pendent'/. “Thu threeb men I suspected denied it. They laid it on their comrades, and they denied it in turn. We had to get away from there the next day, and 1 did not return until the war had been over for a year or more. “You know n£>w why tho Widow Scott ba* such a sad face, and you will understand mg interest in her.” 1 I'x kcd away from the captain, and my rov ing eyes took in the (pdet beauties of the lovely valley w ith the hush of peace brooding ox er it* ('-mid It I t’nt less t!..'D a generati« n ago a set of <lex ils, in tho fthapu ui men, had hold high carnival there? The captain saw inv look and understood it. “Yes, ’he muttereu, as he rose to go In* “war b a bad thing—a bad thing, six I”