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Show ! M'H:4 A Tele Of Tho Flat woods S ! David AScIeon ! Ml A XKa Olaa . MooSpS little run of oaths that the Flatwoods call "split hlc'ry" stamped across the floor ; picked up his two satchels and brought them back to the desk. "Empty 'ein," the hard voice commanded. com-manded. "D d If I will," the other snarled, his eyes like live coals In his face. "Y'u will, 'r y'u'll face Jerry Brown and I ain't cnrln' a dern which." The other glared around ; appeared to meditate some desperate move; seemed to realize his helplessness ; finally slammed the s'atchels on the desk with a snarl and snatched out their contents. One of them contained some clothing cloth-ing and a few personal belongings ; the other a number of thick bundles of money real money ; the face of Hopkins left no doubt of that very Important Im-portant fact. The woodsman's eyes widened a trifle. "Lord, parson, y'u cut some swatli f'r a preacher! How much did yu have when y'u struck the Flatwoods real money?" "Five hundred." "I'm takin' y'ur word f r that Peel off that many and put the rest back." Hopkins picked up one of the bundles; bun-dles; counted off bills all tens and twenties to the amount of five hundred hun-dred dollars; and dumped the rest with the other bundles back In the satchel. The long arm of the woodsman unexpectedly un-expectedly stabbed across the desk and snatched the satchel. Hopkins "I found the print o' them heels on the dusty floor boards there by Pap Simon's desk, where they couldn't 'a' be'n mad till after the rug was drug back." The preacher peered at him through his huge spoctacles; a subtle premonition premo-nition of wlift was coming reached him. "I may have stepped there when I came out of my room. That was a most distressing srene, Mr. Warhope." "But the boanl was scratched where the heel had slipped aud dug into it under strain. How come y'u slipped?" The affable, benevolent smile weakened weak-ened ; the premonition of what was coming deepened. "lleally, you must not expect me to remember every small detail of so distressing dis-tressing a moment, Mr. Warhope." "That trick of removln' the brimstone brim-stone from the caps on the shotgun wss what I call downright smart. It took a good head t' think o' that. But ain't !l queer that a master hand like that would unlock the door after the murder, lnstid of b'fore, and leave blood ou the key?" The studious pucker around the eyes was fast smoothing out, and the man was breathing fast. His hand was fumbling the lapel of the frock coat and slowly stealing down the side. "What do you mean? You surely are not accusing me of the murder of my old friend?" . "I mean," rasped the woodsman, his slits of eyes on the hand stealing down the edge of the frock coat, "that night b'fore last I laid in the little park and hear'd what was said b'tween you and Black Bogus." Like lightning the creeping hand darted under the frock coat. But quick as he was, the Ivory-handled revolver was not quite out of the holster when the heavy six-gun of the 4 CHAPTER XV 20 Six-Gun Persuasion. In the church of which he had long been the chief support the funeral of the dead money-lender was held. In spite of his grasping and domineering domi-neering ways, the rugged worth of the man, to say nothing of his wealth, had made him widely known. Now Joined to this was the mystery of his death. People came from far and near, and the church was packed, while many were forced to remain outside, out-side, grouped about the open door and windows. The lleverend Caleb Hopkins officiated. offi-ciated. It was the first time the Flatwoods had heard him preach, because of the fact that tile day before, though Sunday, Sun-day, the church hud remained closi-d out of respect for its leading member, sleeping his last sleep at the red-roofed red-roofed cottage. Standing well back among the sileni group at the door, Jack Warhope watched the preacher go through hi." ordeal. Nerve he must have had, or he never could have carried it through Behind the piously solemn mask of his face there doubtless raged a terrific 'tempest, but it did not seem to retard his flow of thought or mar his oratory. Little enough can be said over a dead man, at the best, but that little he so clothed with artistry that the like of It had never been heard In the Flat-woods. Flat-woods. Each man writes his own epitaph epi-taph ; Simon Colin had written his. That was the basis of his remarks." He neither eulogized nor blamed and in that he showed the sense of a wiser man. Most of the crowd lingered about the cemetery for a time, even after the last solemn rites had been performed, as If slow to realize that a man so prominent, so long a power in the life of tlie little community, had with such uddenness dropped that prominence and power for the mean and voiceless walls of the grave. Immediately on the death of the old banker, the preacher had, for the sake of appearances, moved to the parsonage. parson-age. He had returned from the funeral fu-neral and had been for some time pacing back and forth, or fidgeting restlessly In his chair, In the cool front room upstairs the former minister's study when he was very much surprised sur-prised to see Jack Warhope ride up on Graylock, dismount, throw the bridle rein over the hitch-rack and come striding up the yard. He sprang from his chair, opened one of his satchels, snatched out the holster with the ivory-handled revolver sticking In it; hurriedly buckled it on under his vest, where it was concealed by the somber frock coat, and tiptoed back to his chair. A knock disturbed the sanctimonious sanctimoni-ous quiet of the study door. "Come in." . The knob turned, with a force and decision that somehow suggested the power of the hand laid upon It, and ! Jack Warhope entered; carefully ; closed the door; stood coolly looking ! the other over. I The preacher slowly rose from his j chair; slipped his hand down along I tlie front of his frock coat and loos- ened it against his side. I The motion was not lost upon the -1 woodsman. His eves had narrowed i They Totaled Exactly Three Thousand Five Hundred Eighty Dollars. whirled to spring at him ; faced the muzzle of the steady six-gun; flinched back. With exasperating deliberation the woodsman stored away the bundles of bills in the capacious pockets of his hunting blouse; snapped the satchel shut, dropped it to the floor and slid it toward the other with his foot. "You'll go ahead o' me downstairs," he directed; crisp and cold. "Make whatever excuse y'u please t' Mis' Mason, Ma-son, 'r anybody else we run onto. We'll stand out there at the hitch-rack till the stage comes along. When It does, you'll board It, jlst like nothln' had happened. I'm almin' t' trail y'u on Graylock. Make one false move, and the next move will be mine." He backed to the stair door, threw it open and, with a slight sweep of the revolver, stood aside. The eyes of Hopkins behind his glasses were like the eyes of a trapped viper, but he dared not disobey the command. He strode through the door. The woodsman dropped the six-g back in its holster and followed. Mrs. Mason was at the back of the house when they came down, so they escaped encountering her. The same good luck held at the hitch-rack, for the stage was Just pulling out from the post office as they reached the gate. Tlie woodsman waved his hand ; the driver drew up; Hopkins stepped woodsman leaped up and covered him. "Butt first, Parson," came the cold, decisive command over the steady barrel. Hopkins stood Just as the gun had caught him motionless ; poised on the flat of one foot and the toes of the other; his body slightly crouched forward. Reckless though he was, a man who held the world at bay, and keen-witted as a dog fox, he slowly relaxed the pose and grudgingly handed hand-ed over the revolver the ivory butt first. The woodsman snatched it ; removed the caps from the tubes and stuck it back into the holster under the frock coat. "And now I'll, jlst trouble y'u f'r that parlor-door key." Hopkins scowled ; whipped a black look at the steady muzzle of the six-gun six-gun ; dragged the key out of his pocket and passed it over. "No, I ain't accusin' you of the murder," mur-der," the woodsman went on. as cool and collected as if there had been no interruption, at the same time dropping drop-ping the key into his pocket. "I'm doin' y'u the honor t' think y'u hain't quite fell that low bein' y'u didn't want 'is death, nohow. No. y'u wanted 'im t' live, so's you could slip out all the good bills y'u dast every night and leave counterf it bills in their place. "You'd jist got through changin' the money that night when 'e rushed out ou y'u. He tried t' shoot both bar'ls but you fixed the caps so's they Jilted aboard and it rattled away. Twilight had put the woods to sleep when Jack Warhope rode back to the homestead from trailing the stage. IJe groomed his horse, foul w.'th sweat and sand ; fed him and went straight to his cabin. Before lifting the latch he stopped a moment and, with a slow sweep of his eyes, sifted the gathering shadows. The foothills away across on the plains were already hiding under the sable wings of the south ; a sinuous lighter streak marked where the river rimmed the bottoms ; the red flare of the spent day faintly spangled the west; the woods breathed softly; hard ly a pulse stirred the apple blossoms; out of the silence came the tinkle of the spring under the cliff lapping down the sulphur-stained gutter ou its way to the barn-lot and cattle pens. lie filled his lungs full of the serene evening; entered the door; closed and fastened It with unusual care; drew the Minds of the two small windows end lighted his candle. What to do with the bundles of money? mon-ey? A key to the dead banker's safe he did not. have, even If he could have found the chance to open it aud put them back. lie look the thick bundles out of his blouse pockets and began to count them. They totaled exactly three thousand live hundred eighty dollars one hundred seven twenties und one hundred forty-four tens. The woodsman's woods-man's eyes lifted at the amount. Such a sum In live nights It snowed what Hopkins might have done in time. (TO BE CONTINUED.) I wouldn't go off. Then foller'd the struggle, and no doubt you was bad flustered when 'e fell hack acrosst the chair, dead of heart disease. Then y'u unlocked the clour t' head off suspicion, sus-picion, but y'u must 'a' be'n flustered r' y'u wouldn't 'a' left blood on the key." Hopkins was bowed forward, staring star-ing bard through his glasses. The woodsman glanced at him. "Ther's jist one p'lnt I ain't quite clear on did 'e know it was you?" The question caught the other off guard. "My God. yes! Oh, his dead face there in tlie coilin in tlie black night it's before me" He shuddered; gripped his hands till the knuckles turned white; stiffened after a moment and pulled himself together. to-gether. "Mr. Caleb Hopkins" a peculiitr twist had slid into his voice that brought a quick look from the man addressed "I 'low y'u didn't aim t' kill Pap Simon, but the Flatwoods ain't big enough any more t' hold you and me both. The Milford stage from down the river is leavin' the post office f'r the city In a few minutes. You're goin' t' be a passenger and y'u ain't coinia' back." Hopkins winced; Involuntarily dropped his bund to the butt of his six-gun, before remembering It was useless; snapped out a niuitered curse and stood glaring about him. A grin, hard and dangerous, crawled out of the woodsman's eyes and twisted twist-ed his face. "I 'low we'll be s'.artln' now," he rasped. I Hopkins swore again uu artistic I 'Butt First, Parson," Cams the Cold Incisive Command Over the Steady I Barrel. I to slits in Ids face; his lips were tightened tight-ened to a straight hard line. . He t dropped a quick look at the preacher's feet. j 'Ther' ain't another pair o' boot Seels in the Flatwoods like them, Mr. Hopkins." The brows or the other llftea la po-gU po-gU lurprlse. , |