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Show I THE RED LOCK nillliiiiiKniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniinii.. it-j qj e Flatwooda niiiiiimmminiiiiiiiiiiiimimnnmi, Br DAVID ANDERSON Author of "The Blue Moon" Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co. built, 4. nlouch liat pulled low over ti Is head, a swart face covered by a heavy stubble of black beard, and apparently Just drunk enough to be dangerous, was roughly elbowing the crowd aside as ha stalked back toward the table. "Gimme some cake," he growled. Miss Martin, trembling on the verge of panic, passed a plate of cake to him. He snatched off a piece, held It up contemptuously for a moment and then slammed It back with a force that (lashed the plate from the timid little teacher's hand and scattered Its contents con-tents all about the table. "Aw, h 11, gimme some cake!" The preacher's shoulders lifted where he stood stooped among the women around the punch bowl. A spark of anger leaped into the eyes behind the spectacles, and his fingers curled toward his palms a movement that the others were too Intent upon the Intruder to notice. But the flash passed with the Instant; his shoulders drooped ; to his eyes came back the look of peering benevolence. "Friend," he called, still keeping his place among the women, "do you not realize that you are Intimidating these ladles and spoiling this ah most enjoyable en-joyable evening? Will you not please The swart-faced man stared Insolently Inso-lently at the preacher, a curiously bewildered be-wildered look crossed his heavy face. He seemed to study the drooping shoulders, the studious eyes behind the spectacles. "Say, you pore devil of a gospel sllnger," he snarled, "who's runnln' this show? Dry up, 'r I might take a nnticn t' sa'nter pver and twist y'ur ear." Turning back to the table, he took from his pocket an ugly clasp knife and, snatching up a big cake that stood still uncut, a sort of ornamental cen- wmm &V - ' r 'i ft iU)py7t I had come the flick of an Instant too late, the knli'e had found his flesh, grazed the left side of his neck, ripped through collar and tie and gashed hhj shoulder half-way to the armpit. Itlght there the Flatwoods showed, its teeth. Fifty pistols leaped Into view. Al Counterman, far back In the crowd, snatched a long-barreled six-gun six-gun from somewhere under his blouse and his lanky body stiffened to balance, bal-ance, a light In his one eye no man there ever seen before. Uncle Nick, with a vigor that set at defiance his weight of years, hurled younger men aHide and sprang into the cleared circle. Put with so many women and children chil-dren present pistols were out of the question. The desperado doubtless counted on this very fact. Stung to madness by the blow, he leaped up and lunged again with the knife. This time he ran square into the preacher. With a readiness and courage cour-age hardly looked for In one of his cloth, he had stepped In front of Jack Warhope, his tall figure erect and superbly su-perbly dominant. .Fifty flatwoodsmen, half crouched and straining forward, stood staring. The 'eyes of the dark-faced man stretched so wide that they appeared to bulge from their sockets. He lifted a dirty hand, brushed It across the wiry stubble of his face and, like a man half dazed, slowly shut the clasp knife and put It back In his pocket. Fifty flatwoodsmen relaxed, straightened straight-ened ; fifty pistols went back into hiding. The preacher slowly raised an arm and pointed toward the open door. The desperado's eyes dropped ; he rubbed his lips together as If to loosen them ; turned and stalked from the room. "Mebbe we ortn't t' let Tm git away," muttered a voice. "Aw leave '1m go," grunted Uncle Nick, a curiously puzzled expression on his face as he gazed at the open door through which the renegade had gone. "He's licked an' 'e ain't wo'ti hangin'." The old man turned away, still with the puzzled expression on his face, ' motioned Jack to a chair at the side of the room and began examining his hurt. At that moment Texle slipped through the crowd, some white strips of torn tablecloth In her hand, and approached the woodsman. A smile twisted his lips, and the girl, dipping one of the strips In the cold water Aunt Liza brought, began to wash the blood from the gashed shoulder and make it ready to be bandaged. The preacher looked on a moment, turned away and went back among the women who were gathering again about the punch bowl. The elaborate frock coat and stiff neck stock had again asserted themselves. The stoop had cme back to his shoulders ; the flare had left his eyes. The girl, with lingers trembling, glanced through the open door into the square of darkness that had swallowed swal-lowed up the desperado ; bent low over the bandages, and brought her face close to the woodsman's ear. "Jack he looked like like Ken would 'a' looked !" The woodsman started ; looked into the square of darkness ; and then into the girl's face. "No, no!" he whispered. "Even If he was alive, he wouldn't 'a' come down that low !" CHAPTER VII Fancies and Fence Rails. Jack Warhope made a one-handed job of his work among the feed-pens next forenoon, though It was a task for two. The young woodsman was immensely sensitive over the fact that he was a bound boy, though Simon Colin never obtruded it on him and seldom exercised any sort of authority over him. He allowed him to live on in the cabin where his father and mother had dreamed their dream, to come and go as he pleased. The shrewd old money-lender probably knew that the young man's high spirit would urge him further than any amount of exercised exer-cised authority possibly could. And Simon Colin knew the race from which his bound boy had sprung. From the first, Simon's treatment of his bound boy had caused his neighbors neigh-bors no small wonder It was so unlike un-like him. He had sent him to the village vil-lage school till he outgrew It, and had allowed him to roam the woods without with-out any sort of restraint. Far from discouraging his very aptitude for woodcraft, he had even loosened his heart-strings and his purse-strings; an infinitely harder thing for him to' do to the extent of buying him the best double-barreled shotgun the market mar-ket afforded, and a revolver of model nnd workmanship as fine as the art of revolver-making could produce at that time two gifts on which the boy certainly cer-tainly east no discredit. "Why don't y'u try some day t' trap your fairy?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) THE NAKED KNIFE BYNOPSrS. On tho banks of the Wabash Htari'l Texle Colin and Jack Warhope, youn and very much In love. Texle Is the only daughter of old i':ip Simon, rich man and mont-y-lender. J;tck Is the orphan bound boy of I'ap Simon who had foreclosed a mortKapre on the Warhope ent;ite. At Mrt Texle and Jack talk sadly of Ken Colin, the girl's nilsalnr brother. Then Jack Kays that In ten days his servitude will be over, that he will ride out Into thn blK world to Keek his fortune. Hoth know what that will mean to them. Texle nnd Jack talk of the red lock of "lied Colin." inherited in-herited by Ken. And Jack Hays he's coining back as soon rs he Hnd.s Kold In California. Then arrives tho new preacher, Rev, Caleb Hopkins. Tap Simon Introduces In-troduces tho vlllaKer.4 to the new prencher, who was a college mate of Ken. At supper at the Colin home the preacher tells how the boy killed a gamhler and disappeared, disap-peared, iris father attributes Ken's fall from Krace to his red lock of hair. Then Prp Simon has a sort of stroke, brotlKht on by reading a letter from Ken, "somewhere In New York," who curses his father on his death bed. A postscript by another hand says he Is dead. At the vll-laero vll-laero store and post ortlce T.op:e Felden, a newcomer, says he saw the now parson with his arm aroittvj Texle. Jack licks him, shoots a pistol from his hand and makes him say he was mijtaken. Tho preacher and the villagers pro nshlnsr. Jack discovers the preacher carries a stx-prun. A footprint on a concealed houseboat house-boat fits the preacher's boot. CHfPTKR VI Continued. Of a trrtth, the comparison between the two men could not well have been more striking. The young preacher was a very hnndsome man. The beard mid spectacles,, the mass of hair falling fall-ing about bin ears, seemed to invest fdm with nn air of exquisite mystery an olr that bus such power to compel the attention of women. The young woodsman, on the other mind, with his uncouth and ill-fitting clothes, though far from plain, owed Miatever attractions ho possessed to his magnificent physique, a bold regularity regu-larity of features, and fn honest, open fiankncss a man's man. With a Je.rky, elaborate bow to Jack, the young preacher turned to Texle. "I was Just hunting for you, Miss Texle. They want you at the punch bowl." The girl must have known the woodsman was about to speak to her. Ills face was as easy to read as the signs of spring. She glanced at him ; dropped her eyes ; laughed a trifle uneasily he thought, knowing her so well and walked away beside the minister. The woodsman stood looking after them, a queer sense of emptiness In his breast a man nursed by nature, untaught to juggle with the heart's emotions. The voice of the gray-haired gentle-fvoman gentle-fvoman In the rocking chair recalled ills straying thoughts. "Aren't they a flue-looking couple?" he was saying. "Uh-huh." "As I look back over the years since we came to Buckeye, I remember that you and she have always been playmates. play-mates. My dear husband so often used to speak of the beautiful companionship com-panionship between you. Long association associ-ation with one so sweet and innocent must have had a most ennobling influence influ-ence upon you." "It didn't hurt me none." "Dear me ! but you are laconic this evening, my lad. Do "you always ?,peak with such Spartan brevity?" She might as well have said it in Latin. Jack was frowning hart in an effort to make out her meaniDg when Zeke Folick, officiously omnipresent, stopped at the old lady's chair. The woodsman was saved. He walked away in the crowd, while Aunt Liza, a few stmts away, never hack-ward hack-ward about a) ring her views, leaned over toward the postmaster's wife and, In hoarse half-whispers, laid down her vastly positive opinion on the very subject sub-ject he had Just scaped discussing. "Ain't it a burnin' shame the way Texle lets the new parson carry on with 'er, an' teavln' Big Jack out 'n the cold! an' him wo'th any two o' the parson, the best breath 'e ever drawod. Shell rue It. Mark my words, Hanher Polick, she'll rue It." "Aw, shucks. Aunt Liza, you're jlst Jealous f'r Big Jack, fcim bein' about y'u s' much, an' Uncle Nick a-teachin' Mm all about the woods an' boxin' an' Blch." "Nick! Nick!" It ouhl be utterly Impossible to commit to paper the ultimate ul-timate contempt in the stilled tones "f'r the lan' pakes! What d' y'u s'pose I care who the ol' man teaches 'Is fool truck an' boxin' tricks to? She'll rue the day she draps a fine lad like Big Jack bound though 'e be an' takes up with a teetotal furrlner, Jist b'cayse 'e happens t' be a mite slicker-lookln' slicker-lookln' mebbt though, f'r my pai-t I don't consalt 'lm one lot urn betrer-lookln' betrer-lookln' than Big Jack Is. She'll rue it, Hanner Folick, she'll rue It. That par-on par-on hain't got all that p'laver an' meechin' ways f r nothln', now there's the business of It, I-jeemlny !" The postmaster's wife had her lips gut ready for her reply when there came a sudden commotion at the door. A. Btrange man, tall and powerfully j "Say, You Pore Devil of a Gospel Slinger," He Snarled, "Who's Runnln' Run-nln' This Show?" terpiece that had been selected for the honor because of its size and beauty, he hacked himself off an enormous slice. There Is that about a naked knife a certain cold, flinching thought of sharp steel drawn across warm flesh that no other weapon inspires. Women gasped ; children flew in terror to their parents; the desperado was left with the cleared center of the floor to himself. him-self. He hacked himself off another huge section ; gulped it down ; laughed contemptuously, con-temptuously, and slammed the rest of the beautiful confection at a window with a force that snuffed out a candle and shivered the glass to splinters; he glared around at the shrinking circle and smacked the knife against the palm of his hand. "Say, ladies," he leered, his voice sounding harsh and strident in the dead silence of the room, "you and the youngsters nee'n' t' git panicky. I ain'i go'n' t' hurt you none. I Jist sa'nter'd in t' git a look ut a Jay I've hear'n tell shoots up K'ntuckians." The reference was too plain to be misunderstood. Not a man there but had beard of the shoot-up in the post office the evening before. Every eye turned toward Jack Warhope, standing stand-ing a step or two in front of the shrinking circle for the others had drawn back and he had not. The eyes of the desperado followed the eyes of the crowd. Slouching across the floor till the two stood face to face, he stiffened and glared with dull savagery Texie, just back of the preacher at the punch bowl, leaned across the table and almost stopped breathing. "Tm a K'ntuckian." "I 'low they was right sorry when y'u left." The reply stung the drunk man to madness. With unexpected vlcious-ness vlcious-ness he lunged and struck with the knife. The woodsman sprang back, warded the blow with ready quickness, and whipped a vicious Jab to the chin that pitched the Intruder backward to the door. But the blow, quick as It was, |