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Show I P TIIE STORY TIIUS FAR Vlrffle Morgan, widow, and "owner of the Morgan paper mill In the Carolina mountain district, turna down a marriage mar-riage proposal from WaUace Withers. He leaves In a rage. Branford Wills, a young stranger, who has been lost In the mountains moun-tains for three days, rinds his way to the Morgan home. He is fed and allowed to remain overnight. He Identifies himself as a government employee, working with surveyors in the district. Will develops pneumtnia and la forced to remain In the household. Marian, Vlrgle's daughter, dislikes Wills. Trouble Is developing as Withers meets Stanley Daniels, the mill s chemist Virgie learnt someone Is attempting at-tempting to obtain title to timber lands owned by Tom Pruitt, life-long friend of her deceased husband and part owner of the mill. She advises Tom to clear up title to his property. A love affair is developing between Daniels and Lucy Fields, Vlrgle'a secretary. Withers attempts at-tempts to bargain with Daniels to have him help In getting possession of the Morgan mill. Daniels refuses. Wills Improves, Im-proves, and discovers he Is In love with Marian. - She Is developing similar symptoms. symp-toms. Both keep It secret. Virgie offers Wills a Job at the mill. Tom learns timber tim-ber Interests have sent men to look over his land. He takes a rifle and goes Into the woods. His health greatly unproved, Wills leaves the Morgan household to live In the village. Tom Anally spots his "enemy" and shoots, seriously wounding a man. CHAPTER VII Continued "Get down out of there and come . Into this house. What business have you got Bearing these children to death? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom." "No. I ain't comin in. I got mud on my feet . I got to go to Jail, Mis' Morgan. I shot him but he hadn't no business in there measur-In measur-In up my timber." "Nobody's going to take you to any Jail this cold night. You clean your feet and come along in here! I've had about all the foolishness I can stand for one day. If they want you they'll come after you fast enough. Shove him out of there, Bry. I'm getting out of patience I might muss him up If I let my Irish go." After some argument and a minor scuffle, Tom was half dragged, half carried into the house. Lossie was white-faced, Marian frankly crying. Virgie shut the door firmly. "Much obliged. Bry. You can go on home now. I'll handle this alone from here on." "Do you want me to telephone or send anybody, Mrs. Morgan?" "No, I'll do the telephoning. Just go on home and don't talk, Bry not tonight, not to anybody. Tom's all wrought up there may be something some-thing to this business and there may not Don't talk till we know and then there won't be anything to take back. He needs some hot food and a shave and a night's sleep. He'd die of pneumonia if they stuck him in that cold Jail in the shape he's in." "If-be did do it, they'll be looking look-ing "for him, Mrs. Morgan," Bry said. "He ate lunch at Jim Bishop's Bish-op's house he ' told them he was hunting bear. Jim will be bound to talk." "Well, he isn't hiding anywhere. They can find him easy enough. But I've got to take care of him he hasn't got sense enough to take care of himself. Marian, stop whimpering whimper-ing and get some of your father's old clothes and you make some hot coffee, Lossie make a lot of coffee." Giving orders, being executive and the matriarch again, helped Virgie keep' her calm. But when Bry had gone and Marian had slipped upstairs, up-stairs, and Tom Pruitt fed and warmed and dressed in some of David's Da-vid's old clothes lay sleeping on the couch by the fire, Virgie dropped into a straight chair and sat gripping the arms, letting her spirit tremble and her stout heart shudder with apprehension. appre-hension. She looked up at David's portrait. David would have known what to do in a situation like this but David's eyes had caution and judgment in .them. David had never done anything any-thing on impulse. She could not - seek for precedents. Nothing like this had ever happened to David. David had been a slight man and Tom's lean ankles thrust out pathetically pa-thetically from a pair of David's old trousers. David's socks would not cover Tom's feet the heels made little pouches under his instep, the toes were stretched tight They had made Tom dress, fed him, com pelled him to rest, as they would have managed a man in a coma If he heard their voices he made no sign. He had gulped a few swal lows of food, then ignoring cup and spoon had sunk into slumber, relaxed re-laxed and pitiful. He was, Virgie saw, an old man. A very old man. Too old to be tormented. David, likely, would have been able to prevent this affair. Virgie knew that she had heckled Tom too much, that she was vaguely to blame. Her motives had been good, but so Where the motives of all fatuous fatu-ous blunderers. If Tom spoke the truth, this was real trouble. It was murder. And murder, in any country, coun-try, under any circumstances, was an ugly business. It loosed the law, a whirling machine ma-chine that men had contrived to grind the grist of their passions and bring out of them safety and Justice Jus-tice but a ruthless mechanism of ancient codes and remorseless procedure pro-cedure that could not be stopped after it was set in motion until the pitiful grist was ground fine. If Tom had killed a man there was no earthly way to save him. Virgie felt herself sickening. She knew how useless any of the timeworn devices de-vices would be in Tom's case. He bad, so be said, shot from ambush in dv hfifu rnrmivir tiinrn BY HELEN TOPPING MILLER and deliberately. He had said to, and no one would be able to alter his story. She knew Tom, He was not mad. He would be only too grimly sane. He would face the law with the stony silence of the mountain man, which had beneath it a sort of terrible, distorted pride jinrl a fierce sort of anger that was not heat but cold. No one could save him. She looked at his limp hand, hanging hang-ing to the floor, knuckles hard, the thumb bent and horny, stained with hark and the blue metal of the old rifle, the hand that had rubbed David Da-vid Morgan's back and turned his helpless body In the bed and suddenly sud-denly she turned sick. Going to the front door she flung it open and stood there, drawing long gasping breaths. The black cold of the night, the high hollow sky, the dogs coming com-ing questioningly -to sniff, steadied her. She was Virgie Morgan who had taken a tough job and beaten it; she was Virgie Morgan whom men obeyed and listened to. Over her head, unseen, unheard, a dark arc between her and the stars, wings might threaten. The wings of menace. For days she had felt their vague threat Something was working against her. She had to fight The timid thing that crouched and waited felt the swoop of de scent, the clipping steel of ruthless talons. Tom was still sleeping, collapsed and defenseless in his exhaustion. He would need a warm coat His hat lay on the floor, shapeless, stained with pitch and sawdust. She picked it up and straightened the brim. With the flash-light she explored ex-plored a hall closet found an old corduroy woods coat of David's. It would be too small but it would have to serve. She let the clock mark another an-other hour before she stirred from her chair, then, buttoning the sheepskin sheep-skin under her chin, she went out the .back door. The dogs came rushing but she quieted them with a word. The garage ga-rage door creaked slightly but she got it open, and she knew how to push her car out and roll it down the sloping drive without a sound, i She had done it many times when David lay ill. Tom woke with difficulty, stupe-fled stupe-fled with sleep and weariness. She gave him coffee and whisky, she made him put on David's coat and his hat Seen from the rear he, looked a taller, broader David Morgan Mor-gan and Virgie's heart gave a sudden, sud-den, clutching pang. "Where we going?" Tom demanded. demand-ed. . "Hush up!" Virgie ordered in a whisper. "Come along." The car rolled silently down the steep drive, between black hedges of laureL At the road Virgie started the engine, turned on the lights. Her plans were vague in her mind. To get Tom away delay perhaps the man he had shot at was not dead. Perhaps he had not been hit at all. Tom was old. Delay till something was certain. Alibis would be no use. Tom would defeat any attempt at alibi. There was Bry Hutton. There was Jim Bishop. No hope but to get Tom away. Delay. This was crime. Compounding a felony. She would be involved. No matter. Tom had stood by her. All his life he had had no thought but the mill, no thought of himself. He had no family no one but her. She had to save him somehow. All the dark, winding mountain roads she knew well. Every huddled hud-dled little farm, every dark, shuttered shut-tered country store at a cross-road with its goggle-eyed gasoline pump. Every man in three counties knew her, knew her old car, knew Tom Pruitt She raced the dawn westward, west-ward, keeping to the dirt roads, with Tom slumped on the seat beside her. Now and then he dozed, jerking jerk-ing away dully. She had put plenty of whisky in his coffee. He was warmed, relaxed, he asked no questions. ques-tions. Once he said, "Looks like you're takin a mighty long way round. Mis' Morgan." Virgie said, with a desperate sternness, "You're not going to jail, Tom Pruitt You never killed anybody." any-body." "Yes'm I hit him. He dropped clean. I'd have hit the other one but my gun jammed." "Shut up!" snapped Virgie. "I'm going to take you over the Tennessee Tennes-see line and put you on a train to Cincinnati." Tom gulped. "No'm no'm, , can't go. I can't go to no big town. I'd git lost I got to go to jail. You lemme out of here. Mis' Morgan, and I'll walk back. I got to go to jail." But Virgie only drove faster, ihe j road was crooked and slippery. She had to slow down. She would have to buy gasoline at daylight but she wanted to get across the state line first Once over she could breathe again, ihe was, she knew, doing a mad reckless thing. Defying the law, aiding a man to escape a woman of position with a business reputation to uphold but there was nothing else to do. She turned west again, avoiding the traveled road that led up to the power-plant The road she took was wild and wandering. Boulders scraped the running gear, branches snatched at the fenders. Tom sat tensely, talking to himself, mumbling. mum-bling. You lemme out of here. Mis' u uca y v Wine the D. APPLITON-CENMY CO. w-N-u-Service Morgan. You lemme get out and walk." Virgie's face was grim. Her eyes fixed themselves on the wan beam of the headlights. A few more miles and she would feel safe. She saw the other car overtaking her before Tom did. Lights appeared in the mirror over the windshield, made the gangled growth on either side leap out of the shadow. She knew, somehow, what it was. A horn blasted. Virgie put on speed, but the slewing of her wheels told her that it was no use. She had failed. She chose a wide spot pulled aside, slowed, her heart pounding, hoping against hope that this might be some mountain boys returning from drinking in town, knowing somehow that it was not. Tom did not move. The car came alongside, crowded her so that she could not go on, stopped. A man got out Virgie said, "Hello, Lon," wearily. Lon Hicks, the deputy sheriff, said "Howdy, Mis' Morgan. I been following fol-lowing you.. You got Tom Pruitt ain't you? We got to take him back with us." Virgie employed none of the glib falsehoods she had been making up "I want to talk to you and I don't want Lucy to bear." In her mind as she tore along. They would have been useless anyway. She could not lie. She was a mountain moun-tain woman, without guile. ' She said quietly, "All right Lon. I was hoping I'd get him over the line so you wouldn't get him quite so quick. I guess you better take me along too. I'm to blame for this not Tom. He didn't want to come." Lon Hicks' lean face was inscrutable inscruta-ble in the dim light, but his drawling drawl-ing voice was quiet "I reckon I won't take you, Mis' Morgan. I reckon I'd have run Tom over the line myself if so be it wasn't against the law. You go on home. I ain't seen you real good, anyway." At dawn Virgie drove her old car Into the garage. The bouse was dark and still. She made herself a cup of coffee, drank it hot went upstairs, up-stairs, and took off her damp shoes and her dress. She would get a couple cou-ple of hours' sleep. Then she would go to Asheville perhaps to Roanoke or to Richmond. She would get the best lawyer in the country, to defend Tom. It was all she could do now. A heaviness of defeat was upon her. Dark wings shadowed the sun. CHAPTER VIII In a long trough, fed by slow streams of water, a mass of macerated mac-erated wood moved steadily toward the great caldrons that would steam and froth and dissolve it with sharp bisulphides, turn every raw, green chip to a limp and obedient mass of fiber while the noxious breath of the process steamed out on the mountain air. Branford Wills, his first day in the mill less than two hours old, stood beside the trough and tended the moving mass with a wooden tool hand-made and polished to a rich patina by the hands of a generation of pulp-makers. He was learning the "process" as Virgie had instructed in-structed him, and if the men who initiated him were stiff and curt and taciturn' about answering questions. Wills put it down to the inborn aloofness aloof-ness of the mountaineer, the same intolerant independence that he had encountered n the government work in the National Park. He met their glumness with a quiet dignity of his own, knowing how foolish and mistaken any attitude atti-tude of wise-cracking familiarity would be. When old Jerry, lean-faced and sour-eyed, said roughly, "If you're a -figuring on working here you better bet-ter git yourself some working gloves. Men don't fool with this stuff with bare hands." Wills countered coun-tered by inquiring where gloves could be bought Slightly mollified. Jerry expressed himself concerning the value of two-bit and four-bit gloves, then as though afraid that he had unbent too much, growled, THE LEW SUN. LEIII. UTAH rwiffffli - nil "Git a hold this-a-way! You're the awkwardest feller I ever see!" Wills had expected dislike and resentment, re-sentment, the usual hostility of a clannish group to a stranger, and he was relieved to encounter no active ac-tive antagonism. Only the chemist young Daniels, had been definitely unfriendly. Daniels had shaken hands, but with a withdrawn and slightly contemptuous look in his eye, and had gone back to his laboratory lab-oratory without a backward look. The dampness, the steam, and the nauseous odors were pretty bad and Wills was not entirely strong yet But a dogged determination made him swallow grimly, and stand braced, with his feet apart, listening listen-ing to Jerry's impatient instructions. These muscular, grim, silent men might despise him for an outlander now, but they should not pity him for being a weakling and a quitter. "Keep that there moving," ordered or-dered Jerry, yelling above the howling howl-ing crunch of the drum-barkers. Then he muttered. "Time and nation!" na-tion!" and scrubbed his nose with his glove. Across the damp, odorous, roaring mill, a red-clad figure was hurryingMarian hurry-ingMarian Morgan. Jerry pushed back his cap, in a half-grudging gesture of respect. The mountain woman has been a chattel and an inferior in-ferior for generations. The mountain moun-tain man has learned to admire and respect the female sex but slowly. Wills mouthed, "Good morning," but the words were lost in the grinding bedlam. Marian's face was pale, her hps straight She said, "I want to talk to you," but it was the gesture of her hand that made the words intelligible. in-telligible. Wills handed the wooden paddle to Jerry, who received it with a flourish of obvious relief, and followed fol-lowed Marian past the battery of steaming digesters, through a sheet-iron sheet-iron door into the yard. A cold wind was blowing but after the noise of the mill Marian's voice sounded loud and flat "Please come over here to the car. I want to talk to you and I don't want Lucy to hear." He followed her into the car. She shut the door, drove out the gate, and into a little weedy lane that ran through a lumber yard. There she stopped the car and said without with-out preamble, "I'm sorry to impose on you. I know you're busy with a new job and all but .there's no one else I can turn to. It's about Tom Pruitt You didn't know Tom but he helped my father build this mill. He has been like one of our family always. A week ago he disappeared and that's why mother moth-er got the idea of putting you in the mill. She needed a man. Last night I found Tom. He was over on Hazel Ha-zel Fork. He owns some timber over there rich timber. A man named Cragg from Baltimore was trying to steal it And Tom shot him." -Wills sat silent for a moment Then he said, "Do they know the men back there?" "I suppose so. They took Tom to jail last night Mother went to Asheville Ashe-ville early this morning to get a lawyer and arrange about a bond for Tom." "Then this Cragg isn't dead?" "Not yet Tom shot too low. The bullet went into his shoulder and hit the spine." "I see." Things were coming clear. The attitude of the men in the mill. Their eyes, Judging him gloomily. Tom Pruitt, who belonged to the mill, had always belonged, was in trouble, and he, Branford Wills, a young upstart had blandly walked into Tom's job. "The reason I came to talk to you is this," Marian went on. "Even if you don't admire me an awful lot" "But-great Scott!" Wills began, and then as abruptly ceased. He could not say, "I'm mad about you." He could not speak out the things that seethed in his heart and stormed at his guarding lips to be spoken. She was Marian Morgan, of the Morgan mill. And he was a mill-worker, empty-handed and undistinguished un-distinguished by any prowess of skill or accomplishment "But I know," Marian went on, not locking at him, "that you are fond of mother. And this morning, after she left Lon Hicks, the der uty at the jail, telephoned. He says Tom is going to refuse bail. That he wants b stay in jail He's old and queer and he was over on that ridge for days with no shelter and very little to eat watching for those men, lying in a bush ' to waylay them. He's upset and somebody will have to talk sense to him. He has to come back mother needs him. So I'm going over to talk to him and you have to go along." "I'll be glad to help, of course to do anything I can. But I'm not quite sure what it is that you want me to do or why" "You've taken Tom's job. It's all over town, of course things get around in a flash. Tom will have heard it by now. But if you talk to him tell him he hasn't been pushed out" "I see. Shall we go now? Could I wash my hands and get a coat?" She drove back to the mill yard and waited, aware of Lucy Fields behind the window of the little office, of-fice, watching and on fire with curiosity cu-riosity probably, poor silly Lucy. (TO BE COTlL ED) U 1 I I"-'-" New York Heartbeat Memos of a Midnlghten Farmer Paul Whiteman gave farmer Frank Norris of Time's staff a nice Aber-deen Aber-deen angus bull and farmer Norris is mighty appreciative . . . Ex-Senator McNaboe says if that item about keeping the wackiest company referred to him which it didn't) he can prove it's Inaccurate, etc . . . Eddie Cantor, whose flickers (except "40 Mothers") never grossed less than two million dollars, is 3.000 miles from ffwood, where they are producing a dozen musicals. No wonder the bankers who back some of those movie firms are getting grayer . . . Reader's Digest will soon have another competitor . . . Geo. Miller of the Jolson show is looking for the press agent of Kelly's Stables for erroneously coupling him with Martha Raye via nightly phone calls there. Sounds In the Night: At the Circle Club: "Don't ever get the reputation reputa-tion of being 'a good guy on Broadway. Broad-way. It's as bad as being a 'nice girl'!" ... In the 48th St. Tavern: "He got his earache from his wife and his eyestrain from other women" wom-en" ... In Jimmy Kelly's: "Why. he's so yeller he could give transfusions transfu-sions to a lemon" ... At Club 18: "He's as cheap as glue and twice as sticky" ... At the Russian Kretch-ma: Kretch-ma: "He's a nerve specialist gets on everybody's" ... In the Stork: "Has anybody ever called them Ber-linsects?" Ber-linsects?" . . . In the NBC news room Sunday night at 9: 14: "Flash! The Italian army has just advanced twenty miles into Italyl" New York Novelette: Harry Niel-son Niel-son is a bartender in a saloon at 663 2nd Ave., New York ... If he hadn't heard about customer Daly's "robbery" of two diamond rings, two innocent girls might have gone to prison . . . The girls are Wendy Martin and Jean Sauve, who were visiting Daly's apartment when he said his two diamond rings (valued at $350) disappeared ... He caused he arrest of the girls . . . Miss Martin's lawyer bailed her out, but Miss Sauve had to stay in a cell . . . Then one Robert Mallon read the item in the papers and happened to mention it to bartender Nielson, also a friend of Daly's . . . "Why, Daly never lost any rings. I'fe got them in an envelope in my safe for him!" said Nielson. "He was too intoxicated intoxicat-ed one midnight to be carrying such valuables, so he gave them to me for safekeeping" . . . Finally, Daly, whose brain had cleared by this time (weeks later! ) told the District Attorney of his mistake . . . The complaint against the two innocent girls was dismissed without even an apology or expression of regret Broadway Ticker-Tape: Merry Madcap Fahrney tells chums she will marry that German Baron when his decree is final. And that they'll dwell in a Berlin castle. Well, it serves them both right . . . F. Tone picked up the darndest burning epidermis epi-dermis at Palm Springs, Calif . . . Edith Luce, the lovely "Louisiana Purchase" show girl, and Eduardo Matthews are One and One Who Make Twooooo . . . Irene Morgan. 17-year-old senorita at Havana-Madrid, Havana-Madrid, still gets posies and taffy from Bill Young, whose pop is an exec at a baking firm. They eloped when they were 14 three years ago. Their folks had it annulled making them wilder about each other than if they were pealed! They will wed in June when she's 18 . . . Ambassador Ambas-sador J. P. Kennedy's real ambish is to become a movie producer! . . The H. R. Luces of Time, Life, For-chin, For-chin, etc., plan a holiday (a what?) in China, in January ... Is Bullitt to succeed Ambassadaniels in Mex ico? . . . The papers say the Greeks are chasing the Mussolinis in tanks left behind by the run-aways . . That revises the proverb to read: "Beware of gifts bearing Greeks!" Typewriter Ribbons: Jean Dickenson's: Dicken-son's: Hollywood is like its fruit-colossal fruit-colossal in size, but you're not quite sure of its flavor . . . Thomas Mann's: The waves lowered their heads like bulls and charged against the beach . . . Sinclair Lewis': A smile like an airy pat on the arm . . Abe Martin's: He holds a dancing partner as if he's afraid she'll explode . . . Jerome K. Jerome's: Je-rome's: Idleness and kisses, to be sweet must be stolen . . . Gellett Burgess': He had a hand like 20 cents' worth of bananas . . . Hugh Walpole's: She was the sort of disagreeable dis-agreeable old woman who is forever slapping the face ofthe present with the dead hand of the past . . . Guy De Maupassant's: She wept like a gutter on a rainy day. Manhattan Murals: The first glimpse of New York city by air-like air-like the taste of your second glass of champagne . . . The money jive talkers in Harlem: "Lend me a foot" meaning lend me $2 . . . The punch-drunk third-rate fighters, who loiter near 8th and 51st in The Pursuit of Slap-Happiness . . . The girls who have bulls-eye trigger fingers fin-gers in those midtown shooting galleries gal-leries . . . The chalked message on the wall at 48th and 9th: "Margie. You didn't show up. N'lts to you Ed." NO W. . . Rooms as low as $2.25 Enjoy COFFEE SHOPi Breakfast from King George King George who became king of England in 1714 was the elector or ruler of Hanover in Germany when he was chosen king of Great Britain. Brit-ain. He was never able to speak English, though he ruled England for 13 years. Bullet Proof Tanks A leading airplane company In Baltimore, Md recently demonstrated demon-strated to army officials a self-sealing fuel tank. 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