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Show tM)U) ML5T A TALE Of CML STRIFE ft 4r RANDALL PARRISn 'T ftLUSTPATIONS -CD RHODES lor's face to my own. Me was heavily built and broad of shoulder. The face would have been hard, but for a gleam of good humor in the eyes, and the softening effect of gray-hair, gray-hair, and a gray mustache. The man had aged greatly, yet I recognized him instantly, my heart throbbing with the possibility that 1 also might be remembered. re-membered. Yet surely there was no gleam of recollection in the eyes that surveyed me and why should there be? I had been an uninteresting lad of fifteen when we last met. This knowledge gave me courage to meet that searching glance, and to lift my hand In the salute due to an officer of rank. "Ah!" said Harwood in deep voice, "a soldier from the valley?" "Yes. sir," respectfully, "the Sixty-fifth Sixty-fifth Virginia." "How does it happen you wear artillery ar-tillery uniform?" Expecting the question I answered unhesitatingly. "They'd lost so many gunners, some of us were detailed to help. Recruits are coming in now." "What was your battery?" "Staunton Horse artillery, sir." "Stationed?" "At Front Royal that was our winter win-ter camp." He nodded, tapping his spoon against the table, favorably Impressed by my prompt replies. His keen eyes sought the face of the silent mountaineer. moun-taineer. ' "You know this man, Taylor?" "Wal, I can't exactly say thet 1 dew, major," he said drawlingly, shifting shift-ing his feet uneasily. "He says he's a Cowan, frum over on Buffalo crick." "A Cowan! you mean " "No, he don't claim ter be none o' ol" Ned's brood his mar's a widder woman. They ain't no kin, I reckon." Whatever thoughts might have been in Major Harwood's mind were concealed con-cealed by an impassive face, as he sat there for a moment in silence, gazing at the two of us. "No doubt you did what you believed be-lieved to be best, Taylor," he said at last quietly. "We will talk it over later. You are both hungry enough to eat, I suppose? Draw up some chairs and Sam will find something. No objection to remaining here over night, Cowan?" "I'd be glad to get on, sir, but my horse is about used up. The roads have been hard and we have traveled rapidly." "Well, there is plenty of room, and you are welcome. This house," he explained, ex-plained, "belongs to a friend of mine, who had to leave the country too Yankee for his neighbors. I find it rather convenient at times. Ah, Sam, that rasher of bacon looks prime I'll try some myself." The three of us talked upon many subjects, although Taylor said little, except when directly addressed, and I noted that few references were made to the war. That Harwood was In the Federal service I had no doubt, although he was not In uniform, and, if this was true, then it must be also a fact that Taylor was a Union spy. The meeting here had not been by chance, although a mystery Involved tho hidden reason why I, a known Confederate soldier, had been encouraged encour-aged to accompany the mountaineer to this secret rendezvous. At last the meal ended and the major pushed back his chair and motioned Sam to clear the table. "You two men are tired out," he said genially, "and you had better turn in and get a good night's sleep. We'll all of us ride on into Green Briar tomorrow. to-morrow. I'll talk with you a minute. Taylor, In the parlor, before you go; but Cowan does not need to wait. Help yourselves to the tobacco. Oh, Sam! show this soldier up to the back bed-i bed-i room and see he has everything he needs." It was clearly apparent that Harwood Har-wood desired a private word with Taylor Tay-lor and so, after deliberately filling my pipe, 1 rose to my feet, stretching sleepily. The black returned with a small lamp in his hand and led the way up the broad stairs. A moment later I was left alone In a small room at the end of the upper hall with one window, so heavily curtained as probably prob-ably to render the light invisible from without. The door was securely latched, but there was no lock. Then I was not being held a prisoner. After some minutes I extinguished the light, and looked out of the window. win-dow. It was quite a drop, though not necessarily a dangerous one, to the ground. Those dim outlines of buildings build-ings Vere probably the stables, where I would find my horse. With no guards the trick of getting away unobserved would be easy enough, and I knew the oad sufficiently well to follow it safe-y. safe-y. But I desired to learn first what hese two men were actually up to. Such information might prove more I important than my investigations in Green Briar. I stole across to the door I and opened it noiselessly. There was I no one visible in the upper hall, and I leaned over the stair rail gazing ' down, and listening. A light still burned within the dining room, bui 3 :here was no sound of voices, or ol Movement. The silence continued, and I began - ;o cautiously steal passage down the t carpeted stairs, crouching well bact against the side wall. Little by little 3 I was able to peer in through the oper i door the chairs were vacant; there a was no one there. The gleam of tbf i lamp revealed a deserted room, tht table still littered with dishes. Whai had become then of Harwood anc r Taylor? Were they sitting beyond ir s the darkened parlor? I crept to th 3 half-closed door. The room w as bluet i- and silent, although I could perceivt a dimly the outlines of furniture, a Something some vague sense o - mystery, of danger, gripped me. I fel a strange choking in the throat, and reached for the revolver at my belt. It was not there; the leather holder was f nipty. My first sensation was fear, a belief I was the victim of treachery. Then it occurred to my mind that the weapon might have fallen from the open holster as I rested rest-ed on the bed a mere accident. At least I would learn the truth of that dark room. I stepped within, circled the overturned chair, and a groping foot encountered something lying on the floor. 1 bent down and touched It with my hand; it was the body of a man. The whole truth came to me In a flash there had been a quarrel, a murder, unpremeditated probably, and I Picked It Up Wonderlngly. It Was My Own. the assassin had escaped. But which of the two was the victim? An Instant In-stant I stood there, staring about In the dark, bewildered and uncertain. Then I grasped the lamp from the table in the other room, and returned holding the light in my hands. The form of Major Harwood lay extended on the floor, lifeless, his skull crushed by an ugly blow. Beside him lay a revolver, its butt blood-stained. Beyond Be-yond doubt this was the weapon which had killed. I picked it up wonderlngly it was my own. (TO BE CONTiNUED.) HEIRS TO DEAD GREATNESS Victor and Louis Napoleon, "The French Pretenders," Celebrate Their Birthday Same Week. Both the Napoleon brothers, Victor anc'. Louis, famous for their mirth-provoking mirth-provoking act entitled "The French Pretenders," celebrated birthdays recently re-cently on the same week. Louis, the younger, passed the half-century mark, while Prince Victor Napoleon, who would sit on the imperial throne of France if the republic hadn't destroyed de-stroyed that piece of furniture, was fifty-two. LouIj was Victor's heir to the pretendership until about a year ago, when a son was born to Victor and his royal spouse, Princess Clementine Clem-entine of Belgium. Victor is a grandnephew of Emperor Em-peror Napoleon I. He lives in Brussels, Brus-sels, and in 1910 married Clementine, the third daughter of King Leopold I of Belgium. The birth of another Bonaparte was hailed with great delight de-light by the few followers of the pretender pre-tender and the pretenderess, and the christening of the infant Prince Louis "King of Rome" was marked by Imperial Im-perial pomp and eclat. The ceremony cere-mony took place in the palatial premises prem-ises of the proud papa in the Avenue Louise. Most of the imperialists of France were there, and did not crowd the buildings. Prince Louis, the younger brother of the pretender, is apparently a confirmed con-firmed bachelor. He served in the Russian army for many years, with rank of lieutenant general, but now resides at Geneva, where the Napoleons Napo-leons own a fine chateau. Message on a Man's Scalp. We hear much about secret writing, but have not yet heard of anything to beat the simple cunning of one His-tiaeus, His-tiaeus, a Greek, at the Persian court in the fifth century, B. C, who wanted to send a private message to a friend at Miletus. He took a slave with bad eyes, and, under pretense of curing him shaved his head. The message was then written on his scalp, unknown even to him, the-hair the-hair allowed to grow again, and the slave sent off to Miletus with a letlei which all could read, saying how wel' he had been cured. And the friend with whom the plan had been ar ranged, only needed shaving material; to uncover the secret message. Lon ' don Chronicle. Mist..ce Somewhere. "Yaas." said Uncle Silas, "my sor Bill hez got back from a specia course he's been a-takin' at college 1 with a piece o' paper signed by Ih ; 'thorities savin' as how he's an A. M ' I dunno what an A. M. Is. but I'n ' afeardey they's some mistake abou: 1 it, for judgin' from the time he git; down to breakfast he behaves mon like a P. M. ter me." New Yorkers Are Milk Drinkers. I Milk is becoming the favorite drinl ' of residents of New York city, accord ? ing to recent statistics of the bealtl t department, and the number of li i censed saloons is decreasing It i: reported that the consumption ot mill f has increased in the city 50 per con t in ten years. SYNOPSIS. 2 CuntvOerate flf-rReant Wyfttt of the fitfiunton artillery Is S'Mit as a spy to tita r;fttlve county on tho Croon Briar by General Gen-eral Juekson. VVyatt iiu-ela a mountaineer fiamed Jem Taylor. CHAPTER II Continued. "Things has changed sum since then. Nobody lives ter hum eny more. It's sure hell In Green Briar these flays somebody Is gettln' kilt every day er two. The cusses travel In gangs, murderln' an' burnin' from one end o' the county to the other." He spoke In an even, drawling voice, with not the slightest show of emotion, as though telling an ordinary bit of news: "D d if I know which outfit Is the wus the Yanks or the Rebs." "Which are you with?" "Who, me?" He paused in his bolting bolt-ing of food, and gave vent to an unpleasant un-pleasant laugh. "I rather reckon It would puzzle the Lord Almighty ter tind that out. I don't give a whoop fer neither of 'em. I'm fer ol' Jem Taylor, an' it keeps me tolor'ble busy tending ter his affairs, without both-erln' both-erln' 'bout no government." "Then your name Is Taylor?" "I reckon it has been for 'bout sixty years. Thar's a slew o' Taylors over along Buffalo crick, an som' of 'em are Yanks, an' a parcel of 'em are Rebs, but they don't git ol' Jem ter take nary side. At that, I'm gittin' all the flghtin' I hanker arter. Naturally, I'm a peaceful critter, if th' cusses let me alone." "Quieted down some over there lately, late-ly, hasn't it?" "Huh! Thar'a a rigiment o' blue-coats blue-coats at Lewisburg, an' a few cavalrymen cavalry-men rldin' ther pikes. Don't amount ter a hill o' beans as fer as ther boys are concerned. All they got ter do is go further back in the hills, an' be a bit more keerful. I reckon, young man, ye'll find plenty o' deviltry going on in Green Briar, if ye ever git out that away. Wal, thet's all thar Is fer us ter eat, an' I'm goln' ter take a snooze." He closed the door, fastening it securely se-curely with a wooden bar, and stretched himself out on the floor. The room was dark, as the only window win-dow was tightly boarded up, and using any bundle for a pillow, I lay down also. In a short time his heavy tjreathlng was evidence enough that Taylor slept. Slowly my heavy eyes closed, and I lost consciousness. The sun was below the mountain ridge, when the heavy hand of the old mountaineer shook me Into sudden wakefulness. With nothing left to at we were not long in preparing for departure, I endeavoring vainly to get my silent companion to converse, being be-ing rewarded merely by grumbled and evasive answers. Finally I desisted in the attempt, content to follow his lead. Taylor, astride his sorrel, with gun resting grimly across his knees, rode straight through the brush, away from the pike, down the valley of a small stream. In crossing, the horses drank their fill. "How about the valley road?" I asked as we climbed the opposite bank. The leader glanced back at me. "This yere way is nlgher, an' a darn Bight mor' quiet," he answered gruffly. "Soldiers been marching over the pike all day. Mout be all right fer yer, If yer've got a pass but I ain't got none. We'll hev' good 'nough ridin' in 'bout ta mile mor'." "You are aiming for the cut-off?" "I be yer do kno' sumthin' of this lyere klntry, I reckon, but yer've got more eddicatlon than eny Cowan ' ever hooked up with afore. Yer don't talk none like mountin' folks." I drew a quick breath, sensing the return of suspicion. "That's true," I admitted readily "You see I went to school at Covington; Coving-ton; they were going to make a preacher out of me." Taylor stared into my face, his vague suspicion seemingly gone. "Well, I'll be d d a preacher." He rode on Into the dusk, chuckling, and I followed, smiling to myself, glad that the man's good humor had been 'so easily restored. We were fed at a hut back in the foothills, where an old couple, the man lame, were glad enough to exchange their poor food for the late news from the army, in which they had a son Then we rode steadily to the south When dawn came we were to the west of Waynesboro, in broken country, and all through those long night hours s.f- ly a word had been exchanged between us We camped finally iu the bend of a stmill stream, where higt banks concealed us from observation There was little to eat in our haver sacks, but we munched what we had and Taylor, his eyes on the horses broke the silence. "I reckon the critters don't neer more'u a coupie hours' rest." he said "They ain't been rid noways hard, an I'm fer gittin' through the gap durin daylight 'he road ain't overly gooc Just now." "Across the mountains? Is then a pap here?" "Ther road ter Hot Springs is 'bou two ni.les below yer. I cum over i ten days ago an' I reckon I kin find my way back. It's 'bout forty miles frum thar ter Lewisburg, mostly hills, but a good trail. I know folks et Hot Springs who will take good keer o' us, onct we git thar." We rested, dozing, but neither sound asleep, for nearly three hours. Whatever What-ever might be In Taylor's mind, the lonely night had brought to me a new thought relative to my companion. The fellow was evasive, and once he had frankly lied in seeking to explain his presence In the valley, and the reason rea-son for his secrecy of movement. By now we were decidedly at cross-purposes, each vigilantly watching the other Taylor In doubt as to what the bundle contained, which I never permitted per-mitted out of my grasp, and myself as deeply Interested In gaining possession posses-sion of a packet of papers, a glimpse of which I had caught in an inside pocket of the mountaineer's coat. His mission, whatever it might be, was secret se-cret and dangerous. Of this his ceaseless cease-less vigilance was proof. The light of a dying day still clung to the western sky when our wearied horses bore us Into the village of Hot Springs. It was like a deserted hamlet, ham-let, few houses appearing inhabited, and the shop windows boarded up, Taylor, glancing neither to right or left, rode straight down the main street, and turned onto a pike road, leading to the left. A mile beyond, a frame house, painted white, barely visible vis-ible through the deepening dusk, stood in a grove of oaks. The mountaineer moun-taineer turned up the broad driveway, and dismounted before the closed door. Almost at the same moment the portal opened Bllghtly and a black face peered out. CHAPTER III. The Body on the Floor. Taylor stood at the foot of the steps, pausing In uncertainty. "Is that you, Sam? Is Mister Harwood Har-wood yere?" 1 insensibly straightened In my saddle. sad-dle. Harwood? What Harwood, I wondered surely not Major Harwood of Lewisburg, my father's old friend! What was it I had heard about him a few months ago? Wasn't it a rumor that he was on General Ramsay's staff? And the daughter Noreen whatever had become of her? There was an instant's vision before me of laughing eyes, and wind-blown hair, a galloping horse, and the wave of a challenging hand. She had thus swept by me on the road as I took my mother moth-er southward. "I don't 'peer fer to recollect no such name, sah," replied the negro, scratching scratch-ing his wool thoughtfully. "1 done reckon as how you got the wrong house." "No, I reckon not," said the other drily. "Git 'long In, an' tell him Jem Taylor Is yere." The door opened wider. "Suah, I know you now, sah. Just step right 'long in, the both of yer I'll look after them horses. You'll fin' Massa Harwood in the dinln' room, sah." I' followed the mountaineer up the steps, and into the hall, utterly indif- ; , I Followed the Mountaineer Up th I Steps and Into the Hall. ' ferent as to whether my company was 1 desired or not. It was not yet dark - but a lamp burned on a nearby table 1 and a cheerful fire glowed at the far ther end But a brighter glow of ligh " streamed from a room beyond, and determined to miss nothing, I was s close behind Taylor that my quid eyes caught what I believed to be ; ' swift signal of warning to the mai within. This, however, was an ini pression born from my own suspicion rather than any real movement, fo Taylor took but a single step acros the threshold, and stopped, leaning oi ? his gun. The single occupant sat up right, before him the remnants of ; t light repast, his hand toying with i t sdoou. and his eyes shifting from Taj |