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Show for the sun wns hot. My companions wire fur ahead. 1 could not woo llio dust, of their heels now. I Kiivi' up trying try-ing to catch tltt-iit nnd chocked tlio speed of uy lioi'st! nnd wool m nt a wiilk. The liorns wore sllll sounding. Some of them seemed to bo tulles away. About twenty rods iihoud I saw tliroo riders In strange oosluinos coiuo out of it dooryiinl nnd take the mud m( n wild gallop in pursuit of Latour i' nd l'urvis, They lind not discovered uio. I kept lis ciil id as I could in the midst of (his oxclkMuenl. I passed the house from which (he throe riders hud just turned into tlio roml. A number of women nnd no old man and throe or four children stood on the porch. They looked ut me in silence us-1 wns passing and then begun be-gun to hiss and Jeer. ' It gave mo a feeling I have never known since that day. I Jogged along over the brow of the hill when, at a white, frame house, I saw the center toward which all the nun of the countryside were coming. Suddenly I hcurcl the hoof-beats of a horse behind me. I stopped, and looking over my shoulder saw a rider approaching ine in the costume of an Indian chief. A red mask covered his face. A crest of eagle feathers circled the edge of his cap. Without a word he rode on at my side. I knew not then that he was the man .Tosiah Curtisnor Cur-tisnor could I nt any time have sworn that it was he. A crowd had assembled around the house ahead. I could see a siring of horsemen coming toward it from the other side. I wondered what 'was going go-ing to happen to me. What n shouting nnd jeering in the crowded dooryard! I could see the smoke of a fire. We reached the gate. Men in Indian masks nnd costumes gathered around us. "Order ! Sh-sh-sh," was the loud com- j Tfie Light j j: in the 1 Clearing : I A Talc of the North ; Country in the Time of Silas Wright By ? J IRVING BACIIELLER 5 i Author of "Kben Holden." "D'rl and 5 I," "Dnrrel of the Bleiiaed IsleB" C 1 "Keeping Up Willi Llie," Etc., Etc. S (Copyright by Irving Baeheller) CHAPTER XV Continued. 15 "Where ye goin'?" "Up to the Van Ileusen place." "Where do ye hail from?" "Cobleskill." "On business for Judge Westbrook?" "Yes." "Writs to serve?" "Yes," I answered with no thought of my imprudence "Say, young man, by hokey nettie! I advise you to turn right around and go back." "Why?" " 'Cause if ye try to serve any writs ye'll git into trouble." "That's interesting," I answered. "I am not seeking a quarrel, but I do want to see how the people feel about the payment of their rents." "Say mister, look down into that vnl- "I shall send tlio sheriff and n posse," ho said with a troubled look. "Pardon me, but I think II: will mako a had matter worse," I answered. "We must: not. forget that the pn-troons pn-troons are our clients, " he remarked. I yielded and went on with my work. In the next wool; or so 1 satisfied myself my-self of the rectitude of my opinions. Then came tin? most critical point In my history a conflict with Thrift and Four on one side unci iConscienoe on the other. Tin? Judge raised my salary. I wanted want-ed the money, but every day I would have to lend my help, directly or Indirectly, Indi-rectly, to tin? prosecution of claims which I could not believe to bo Just. My heart went out of my work. I began be-gan to fear myself. I''or weeks I had not the courage to take issue with the learned judge. One evening I went to his home determined de-termined lo put an end to my unhap-piness. unhap-piness. After a little talk I (old him frankly that I thought the patroous should seek' a friendly settlement with their tenants. "Why?" he asked. , "Because their position Is unjust, mi-American and untenable," was my answer. lie rose and gave me his hand and a smile of forbearance in consideration considera-tion of my youth, as I took It. 1 left much irrllaled and spent a sleepless night in the course of which I decided to cling to the ideals of David Da-vid Hoffman and Silas Wright. In the moaning I resigned my place and asked to be relieved as soon as tlio convenience of the judge would allow it. He tried to keep me with gentle persuasion and higher pay, but I was linn. Then I w rote a long letter to my friend the senator. Again I had chosen my way and with due regard to the compass. "Do you know whore Kato Fullcrtoni lives?" I asked. "Well, it's purly likely that I do," ho answered as he stood resting on bin smith. "I've lived seventy-two years on this hill conn; the fourteenth day o' June, an' if I didn't know where sho lived I'd be 'shamed of it. Do you sou thai big house down there In the trees?" I could see the place at which ho pointed far back from the village street in I lie valley below us, Uie house nearly near-ly hidden by fall evergreens. "Yes," I answered. "Wal, that's the Squire Full'jrton place he's Kate's father." "Does the squire live there?" "No, sir not eggzuo'ly. He's dyin (here been dyin' there for two year or more. By gosh ! It's wonderful how hard 'lis for some folks to quit brealh-ln'. brealh-ln'. Say, be you any o' his family?" "No." "N'or no friend o' his?" "No!" "Course not. He never had a friend in his life too mean! He's too mean to die, mister too mean for hell an' I wouldn't wonder honest, I wouldn't mebbe that's; why Cod is kecpin' him here Jest to meller him tip a little. Say, mister, be you in a hurry?" "No." "Say, hitch, yer boss an'- come in I here. I want to show ye suthiu'." I dismounted and hitched my horse to the fence and followed him into the old 'churchyard, between weather-, stained mossy headstones and graves overgrown with wild roses. Near the far end of these thick-sown acres he stopped. "Here's where ihe buryin' begun," said my guide. "The first hole in the 1:111 was dug for a Fullerton." There were many small monuments and slabs of marble some spotted mand of the man beside me irl whom I recognized or thought that I did the voice of Josinh Curtis. "What has happened?" "One o' them tried to serve a writ an' we have tarred an' feathered him." Just then I heard the voice of Purvis Pur-vis shouting back in the crowd this impassioned plea : "Bart, for God's sake, come here." 1 turned to Curtis and said: "If the gentleman tried to serve the writ he acted without orders and deserves de-serves what he has got. The other fellow fel-low is simply a hired man who came along to take care of the horses. He couldn't tell the difference between a writ and a hole in the ground." "Men, you hnve gone far enough," said Curtis. "This man Is all right. Bring the other men here and put 'em on their horses an' I'll escort 'em out o' the town." They brought Latour on a rail amidst roars of laughter. What a bear- Joy there," the stranger began. "See all them houses they're the little houses o' the poor. See how smooth the land is? Who built them houses? Who cleaned that land? Was it Mr. Livingston? By hokey nettie! I guess not. The men who live there built the houses an' cleaned the land. We ain't got nothin' else not a dollar! It's all gone to the landlord. I am for the men who made every rod o' that land an' who own not a single rod of it. Years an' years ago a king gave it to a man who never cut one tree or laid one stone on another. The deeds say that we must pay a rent o' so many bushels o' wheat a year but the land is no good for wheat, an' ain't been for a hundred years. W7hy, ye see, mister, mis-ter, a good many things have happened ;in three hundred years. The land was willin' to give wheat then an' a good imany folks was willin' to be slaves. By hokey nettie ! they had got used to it. Kings an' magistrates an' slavery didn't look so bad to 'em as they do now. Our brains have changed that's what's the matter same as the soil has changed. We want to be free like other folks in this country. America has growed up around us but here we are livin' back in old Holland three hundred years ago. It don't set good. We see lots o' people that don't have !to be slaves. They own their land an' .they ain't worked any harder than we have or been any more savin'. That's why I say we can't pay the rents no more an' ye mustn't try to make us. By hokey nettie ! You'll have trouble 'if ye do The truth had flashed upon me out of the words of this simple man. Until Un-til then I had heard only one side of the case. If I were to be the servant of justice, as Mr. Wright had advised, what was I to do? These tenants had been Grimshawed and were being Grimshawed out of the just fruits of their toil by the feudal chief whose remote ancestor had been a king's favorite. fa-vorite. For half a moment I watched the wavering needle of my compass and then : "If what you say is true I think you are' right," I said. wirn iicnens and all in commemoration of departed Fullertons. "Say, look a' that," said my guide as he pulled aside the stem of a leafy brier red with roses. "Jest read that, mister." My keen eyes slowly spelled put the time-worn words on a slab of stained marble: Sacred to the memory of Katherine Fullerton 17S7-1S06 "Proclaim his Word in every place That they are dead who fall from grace." A dark shadow fell upon the house of my soul and I heard a loud rapping' at its door which confused me until, looking out, I saw the strange truth of' the matter. Hose leaves and blossoms seemed to be trying to hide it with their beauty, but in vain. "I understand," I said. "No ye don't. Leastways I don't believe be-lieve ye do not correct. Squire Fullerton Ful-lerton dug a grave here an' had an empty coffin put into it away bnck in 1S06. It means that he wanted everybody every-body to uriderstan' that his girl was jest the same as dead to him an' to God. Say, he knew all about God's wishes that man. Gosh ! He has sent more folks to hell than there are In it, I guess. Say, mister, do ye know why he sent her there?" I shook my head. "Yis ye do, too. It's the same ol' thing that's been sendin' women to hell ever since the world begun. Ye know hell must 'a' been the invention of a man that's sartin an' It was mostly fer women an' children that's sartiner an' fer all the men that didn't agree with him. Set down here an' I'll tell ye the hull story. My day's work is done." We sat down together and he went on as follows : "Did ye ever see Kate Fullerton?" "Yes." "No ye didn't, nuther. Yer too young. Mebbe ye seen her when she was old an' broke down, but that wa'n't Kate no more'n I'm Bill Tweedy, which 1 nin't. Kate was as, handsome as a CHAPTER XVI. The Man With the Scythe. It was late in June before I wns able to disengage myself from the work of the judge's olllce. Meanwhile there had been blood shed back in the hills. One of the sheriff's posse had been severely se-verely wounded by a bullet and had failed to serve the writs. The judge had appealed to the governor. I'eople were talking of "the rent war." What a joy entered my heart when I was aboard the steamboat, at last, and on my way to nil most dear to me! As I entered Lake Champlnin I consulted con-sulted the map and decided to leave the boat at Chimney Point to find Kate Fullerton, who had written to the schoolmaster from Canterbury. My aunt had said in a letter that old Kate was living there and thnt a great change had come over her. So I went ashore and hired a horse of the ferryman. ferry-man. I passed through Mlddlehury and rode into the grounds of the college, where the senator had been educnted, and on out to Weybridge to see where he had lived ns a boy. I found the Wright homestead a comfortable white house at the head of a beautiful volley with wooded hills behind it and rode up to the door. A white-haired white-haired old lady in a black lace cap was sitting on its porch looking out at the sunlit fields. ' "Is this where Senator Wright lived when he was a boy?" I asked. "Yes, sir," the old lady answered. "I am from Canton." She rose from her chair. "You from Canton 1" she exclaimed. "Why, of all things! That's where my boy's home is. I'jn glad to see you. Go an' put your horse in the barn." I dismounted and she came near me. "Silas Wright is my boy," she said. "What Is your name?" "Barton Bnynes," I answered as I hitched my horse. "Barton Baynes ! Why, Silas has told me all about you in his letters. He writes to me every week. Come and sit down." golden robin. Hair yeller as his breast an' feet as spry as his wings an' a voice as sweet as his song, an' eyes as bright as his'n yis, sir ye couldn't heat her fer looks. That was years and years ago. Her mother died when Kate was ten yar old there's her grave in there with the sickle an' the sheaf an' the portry on it. That was unfort'nit an' no mistake. Course the squire married ag'in but the new wife wa'n't no kind of a mother to the girl, an' you know, mister, there was a young scoundrel here by the name o' Grimshaw. His father was a rich man owned the cooper shop an' the sawmill saw-mill an' the tannery an' a lot o' cleared land down in the valley. He kep' com-p'ny com-p'ny with her fer two or three year. Then all of a sudden folks began to talk the women in partie'lar. Ye know men invented hell an' women keep up the fire. Kate didn't look right to 'em. Fust we knew, young Grimshaw Grim-shaw had dropped her an' was keepin' comp'ny with another gal yis, sir. Do ye know why?" Before I could answer he went on : "No ye don't leastways I don't believe be-lieve ye do. It was 'cause her father was richer'n the squire an' had promised prom-ised his gal ten chousnn' dollars the day she wns Eiarric.'.. All of a sudden sud-den Kate disappeared. We didn't know what had happened fey a long time. (TO BE CONTINiTED.) "I don't agree with you," said young Latour. "The patroons have a clear title to this land. If the tenants don't want to pay the rents they ought to get out and make way for others." "Look here, young man, my name is Josiah Curtis," said the stranger. "I live in the first house on the right-hand right-hand side o' the road. You may tell the judge that I won't pay rent no more not as long as I liver and I won't git out. either." "Mr. Latour, you and Purvis may go on slowly I'll overtake you soon," I said. They went on and left me alone with Curtis. He was getting excited and I wished to allay his fears. "Don't let him try to serve no writs or there'll be hell to pay in this valley," val-ley," said Curtis. "In that case I shall not try to serve the writs. I don't want to stir, up the , neighborhood, but I want to know the facts. I shall try to see other tenants and report what they say. It may lead to a settlement." We went on together to the top of the hill near which we had been standing. stand-ing. Far ahead I saw a cloud of dust , but no signs of Latour and Purvis. They must have spurred their horses into a run. The fear came to me that Latour would try to serve the writs in epite of me. They were in his pocket. What a fool I had been not to call for them. My companion saw the look of concern la my face. "I don't like that young feller," said Curtis. "He's in fer trouble." He ran toward his house, which was enly a few rods beyond us, while I " started on in pursuit of the two men at top speed. Before my horse had tnken a dozen jumps I heard a horn blowing behind me and its echo in the hills. Within a half a moment a dozen horns were sounding in the valleys around me. What a contrast to the auiet in which we hnd been riding was this pandemonium which hnd broken loose in the countryside. A little ahead I could se men running out of thtt A'!. My horse had begun to lather, They Brought Latour on a Rail Amidst Roars of Laughter. like, poultrified, be-poodled object he was burred and sheathed in rumpled gray feathers from his hair to his heels. The sight and smell of him scared the horses. There were tufts of feathers over his ears and on his chin. ' They had found great joy in spoiling that aristocratic livery in which he had arrived. Then came poor Purvis. They had just begun to apply the tar and feathers feath-ers to him when Curtis had stopped the process. He had only a shaking ruff of long feathers around his neck. They lifted the runaways into their saddles. Purvis started off at a gallop, shouting "Come on, Bart," but they stopped him. "Don't be in a hurry, young feller," said one of the Indians, and then there was another roar of laughter. "Go back to yer work now," Curtis shouted, and turning to me added : "You ride along with me nnd let our feathered friends follow us." So we started up the road on our way back to Cobleskill. Our guide left us at the town line some three miles beyond. Latour was busy picking his arms and shoulders. Presently he took off his feathered coat and threw it away, saying: "They'll have to pay for this. Every one o' those jnckrabbits will have to settle with me." "You brought it on yourself," I said. "You ran away from me and got us all into trouble by being too smart. You tried to be a fool and succeeded beyond be-yond your expectation." It was dark when I left my companions com-panions in Cobleskill. I changed my clothes and had my supper and found Judge Westbrook in his home and reported re-ported the talk with Curtis and our adventure and my view of the situation situa-tion back in the hills. I observed that he gave the latter a cold welcome. We sat down together on the porch. "Silas wrote in his last letter that you were going to leave your place in Cobleskill," she continued to my surprise. sur-prise. "He said that he was glnd you had decided not to stay." It was joyful news to me, for the senator's silence had worried me and I had begun to think with alarm of my future. "I wish that he would take you to Washington to help him. The poor man has too much to do." "I should think it a great privilege to go," I answered. . "My boy likes you," she went on. "You hnve been brought up just as he was. I used to read to him every evening eve-ning when the candles were lit. How hard he worked to make a man of himself him-self ! I have known the mother's joy. I can truly say, 'Now let thy servant depart in peace.' " " 'For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,' sal-vation,' " I quoted. "You see I know much about you and much about your aunt and uncle," said Mrs. Wright. She left me for a moment and soon the whole household was gathered about me on the porch, the men having hav-ing come up from the fields. They put my horse in the barn and pressed me to stay for dinner, which I did. As I was going the gentle old lady gave me a pair of mittens which her distinguished distin-guished son hnd worn during his last winter in college. I remember well how tenderly she handled them ! "I hope that Silas will get you to help him" those were the last words she said to me when I bade her good-by. good-by. The shadows were long when I got to Canterbury. At the head of its 'main street I looked down upon a village vil-lage green and some fine old elms. It was a singularly quiet place. I stopped in front of a big white meeting house. An old man was mowing in its graveyard grave-yard near the highway. Slowly he swung his scythe. |