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Show ERSKINE DALE PIONEER I I- I By JOHN FOX, Jr. 1 Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons "PALEFACE!" "Here'a a itory of pioneer clays in early American history that contains vivid pictures of momentous events from Kas-kaskia Kas-kaskia to Yorktown and of famous American fighting men from George Rogers Clark to George Washington. The story revolves about a striking figure the son of a blueblooded Virginian, Vir-ginian, stolen and brought up by the Indians and reclaimed by his kindred only in the end to hear the call of the wild and become a pioneer in Kentucky. But he escaped from the wilderness wilder-ness a breech-clouted savage. He went back to the wilderness a civilized white man, with the best gift of civilization a lovely love-ly American bride. . John Fox, Jr., is the author of this story. Patriotically American, he won fame with stories of Kentucky, his native state "The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come," "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine" and the like. "Erskine Dale rPioneer" is his latest and last. "Be liappy even with two, If t'other were fur away." "I reckon you'll have to try some day with all of us far away," said the gentle Lydla. "No doubt, no douht." lie fell upon his breakfast. "Poor boy!" said Lydla, and l'olly looked at her with quickening wonder. Duve gave his hunting knife a pathetic pa-thetic flourish. "And when the Virginia gallants come, where will poor Dave be?" "I wonder," said Lydla, "If they'll have long hair like Dave?" Dave shook his long locks with mock pride. "Yes, but it won't be their own an' it'll be powdered." "Lord, I'd like to see the first Indian In-dian who takes one of their scalps." Polly laughed, but there was a shudder shud-der In Lydia's smile. Dave rose. "I'm going to sleep till dinner don't let anybody wake me," he said, and at once both girls were serious and kind. "We won't, Dave." Cow bells began to clang at the edge of the forest. "There they are," cried Polly. "Come on, Liddy." The young hunter entered a door and within threw himself low's head with a simultaneous roar of command : "Git in everybody git In quick !" From a watch-tower, too, a rifle bad cracked. A naked savage had bounded into a spot of sunlight that quivered on the buffalo trail a hundred yards deep In the forest and leaped lltbely aside into the bushes both rifles had missed. Deeper from the woods came two war-whoops real ones and in the silence that followed the gates were swiftly closed and barred, and a keen-eyed rifleman was at every porthole port-hole in the fort. From the tower old Jerome saw reeds begin to shake In a cane-brake to the left of the spring. "Look thar!" be called, and three rifles, with his own, covered the spot. A small brown arm was thrust above the shaking reeds, with the palm of the hand toward the fort the peace sign of the Indian and a , moment later a naked boy sprang from the cane-brake and ran toward the blockhouse, block-house, with a bow and arrow in bis left hand and his right stretched above his head, its pleading palm still outward. "Don't shoot ! don't nobody shoot !" shouted the old man. No shot came from the fort, but from the woods came yells of rage, and as the boy streaked through the clearing an arrow ar-row whistled past his bead. "Let him in !" shouted Jerome, and as Dave opened the gates another arrow ar-row hurtled between the boy's upraised up-raised arm and his body and stuck quivering in one of its upright bars. The boy slid through and stood panting, pant-ing, shrinking, wild-eyed. The arrow had grazed his skin, and when Dave lifted his arm and looked at the oozing ooz-ing drops of blood he gave a startled oath, for he saw a flash of white under un-der the loosened breech-clout below. The boy understood. Quickly tie pushed the clout aside on bis thigh that all might see, nodded gravely, and proudly tapped his breast. "Paleface!" he half grunted, "white man !" across a rude bed, face down. "Honor !" cried one of the old women, wom-en, "you go an' git a bucket o' water." The whir stopped instantly, the girl stepped with a sort of slow majesty from the cabin, and entering the next, paused on the threshold as her eyes caught the powerful figure stretched on the bed and already in heavy sleep. She felt the flush In her face and to conceal It she turned her head angrily when she came out. A few minutes later she was at the spring and ladling water Into her pail with a gourd. Near by the other twogirls were milking milk-ing each with ber forehead against the soft flank of a dun-colored cow whose hoofs were stained "with the juice of wild strawberries. Honor dipped lazily. When her bucket was CHAPTER I s -1- Streaks of red ran upward, and In answer the great gray eye of the wilderness wil-derness lifted Its mist-fringed lid. From the green depths came the fluting flut-ing of a lone wood-thrush. A cougar leaped from the low limb of an onk, missed, and a shuddering deer streaked through a forest aisle, bounded Into a little clearing, stopped rigid, sniffed a deadlier enemy, and whirled into the wilderness again Still deeper in the depths a boy with a bow and arrow and naked, except for scalp-lock and breech-clout.- sprang from sleep and again took flight along a buffalo trail. Again, not far behind him, three grunting savages were taking tak-ing up the print of his moccasined feet. An hour before a red flare rose within the staked enclosure that was raared in the center of the little clearing, clear-ing, and above it smoke was seen rising. ris-ing. Before the first glimmer of day the gates yawned a little and three dim shapes appeared and moved leisurely leis-urely for the woods each man with a long flintlock rifle In the hollow of his arm, a hunting knife in his Iielt, and a coonskin cap on his head. At either end of the stockade a watch-tower of oak became visible and in each a sleepy sentinel yawned and sniffed the welcome smell of frying venison below him. One sentinel rose towering to the full of his stature, stretched his mighty arms with n yawn, and lightly leaped, rifle in hnnd, into the enclosure. en-closure. A girl climbing the rude ladder lad-der to the tower stopped midway. "Mornln', Dave !" "Mornin', Polly!" "You don't seem to have much use for this ladder." "Not unless I'm goln up; and I wouldn't then if I could jump as high - as I can fall." He went toward her to help her down. "I wouldn't climb very high." she said, and scorning his hand with a The wilds were quiet. The boy pointed to them and held up three fingers to indicate that there were only three red men there, and shook his head to say there would lie no attack from them. Old Jerome studied the little stranger closely, wondering what new trick those red devils were trying now, to play. Dave made an impatient gesture for silence. "What's your name?" The boy sbook his head and looked eagerly around. "Francals French?" he asked, and In turn the big woodsman shook his head nobody there spoke French. However. Dave knew a little Shawnee, a good deal of the sign-language, and the boy seemed to understand a good many words In English; so that the big, woodsman pieced out bis story with considerable accuracy and turned to tell it to Jerome. The Indians had crossed the Big river, were as many as the leaves, and meant to attack the whites. For the first time they had allowed the boy to go on a war party. Some one had treated him badly he pointed out the bruises of cuffs and kicks on bis body. The Indians called him White Arrow, and he knew he was white from the girdle of uu-tanned uu-tanned skin under his breech-clout and because the Indian boys taunted him. Asked why he had come to the fort, he pointed again to his bruises put both hands against his breast, and stretched them wide ns though he would seek shelter In the arms of his own race and take them to his heart; and for the first time a smile came to bis face that showed him plainly as a curious product of his race and the savage forces that for years had been moulding him. That smile could have never come to the face: of an Indian. No Indian would ever have so lost himself in his own emotions. No white man would have used his gestures and the symbols of nature to which he appenled. Only an Indian could have shown such a cruel, vindictive, merciless fire In his eyes when he told of his wrongs, and when he saw tears In Lydia's eyes, the first burning In his life came to his own, and brushing across them with fierce shnnie he turned Indian stoic again and stood with his arms folded over his how and arrows at his breast, looking neither to right nor left, as though he were waiting for Judgment at their hands and cared little what his fate might be. as perfect from jhoad to foot as a statue of the ancient anci-ent little god. who. In him. had forsaken for-saken the couches of love for the tents of war. "I saw it," he said painfully. "That's that's my ion!" (TO BE CONTINUED.) tantalizing little grimace she leaped as lightly as had he to the ground. Two older women who sat about a kettle of steaming clothes watched her. "Look at Polly Conrad, won't ye? I declare that gal " "Lyddy 1" cried Polly, "bring Dave's breakfast !" At the door of each log cabin, as solidly built as a little fort, a hunter was cleaning a long rifle. At the western angle two men were strengthening strength-ening the pickets of the palisade. About the fire two mothers were suckling babes at naked breasts. At the fire a tall girl rose, pusiied .1 mass of sunburned hair from her fieated forehead, and a flush not from the fire fused with her smile. "I reckon Dave can walk this far he don't look very puny." A voice vibrant with sarcasm rose from one of the women about the steaming kettle "Honor!" she cried, "Honor Sanders San-ders !" In a doorway near, a third girl was framed deep-eyed, deep-breasted. "Honor!" cried the old woman, "stop wast In' yo' time with that weav-in' weav-in' in thar an' come out here an' he'p these two gals to git Dave his breakfast." break-fast." Dave Yandell laughed loudly. "Come on. Honor," he called, but the girl turned and the whir of a loom started again like the humming of bees. Lydla Noe handed the hunter a pan of deer meat and corn bread, and Polly poured him a cup of steaming steam-ing liquid made from sassafras leaves. Dave looked up Into Polly's v black eyes, shifted to Lydla, swerved to the door whence came the whir of the loom. "You are looking very handsome this morning, Polly." he said gravely, "and Lydla Is lovelier even than usual, and Honor is a woodland dream." He sbgok his head. "No," he said, "1 really couldn't." "Couldn't what?" asked Polly, though she knew some nonsense was coming. Another Arrow Hurtled Between the Boy's Upraised Arm and His Body and Stuck Quivering in One of Its Upright Bars. full she fell a-drenming, and when the girls were through with their task they turned to find her with deep, unseeing un-seeing eyes on Hie dark wilderness. "Boo!" cried Polly, startling her, and then teaslngly :, "Are you In love with Dave, too. Honor?" The girl reddened. "No." she whipped out, "an' I ain't goln' to be." And then she reddened again angrily as Holly's hearty laugh told her she had given herself away. As Honor turned abruptly for the fort, a shot came from the woods followed by a war-whoop that stopped the blood shuddering in their veins. "Oh, my Cod!" each cried, and catching at their wet skirts they fled In terror through the long grass. They heard the quick commotion in the fort, beard sharp commands, cries of warning, frantic culls for them to hurj-y, saw strained faces at the gates, saw Dave bound through and rush toward them. And from the forest there was nothing hut Its silence until" that was again broken this time by a loud laugh the laugh of a white num. Then at the edge of the wilderness wilder-ness appeared the fool. Behind him followed the other two who bad gone out that morning, one with a deer swung about his shoulders, and all could hear the oaths" of both as they cursed the fool in front who had given shot and war-whoop to frighten women and make them run. The sic kly smile passed from t he face of the fellow, fel-low, shame took Its place, and when he fronted the terrible eyes of old Jerome Sanders at the gate, that face grew white with fear. "Thar ain't an Injun in a hundred miles," he stammered, and then he shrank down as though he were almost al-most going to his knees, when suddenly sud-denly old Jerome slipped his rifle from bis shoulder and fired past the fel- |