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Show Copyright by Donbleay, Par A Co. g " " jait niMiiMm ifc nn in i feet, and you cnu go to sleep at th table. Don't fail us. Put wants to thuuk you for 'casting her aside' at the altar." Dale laughed boyishly. .McLnunn went on : "There's more news. Your father has been trying hard to tlnd you. lift sent a man to Atlanta to look for you. He told me he'd give me a house uud lot if I'd Had you and If there was u little more of the highway robber In me, I'd call his luuid!" "And mother huve you seen her?" Dale muttered. "I've seen her twice since the near-wedding." near-wedding." "Did she have anything to say about me? Tell me the whole truth, Bobby. I can take it, old man. I'm big enough." Mcl.aurln frowned. "Since you've asked me, Bill, your mother I overheard over-heard her telling your father that she would never forgive you for the 'utterly 'ut-terly shameless, disgraceful scene' you made lu church." "I see," said Dale. He brightened and went on, "As soon as I can get my two friends down to the dining room, Bobby, you're going with me to father. We're going to claim that house and lot for you." "For Patricia's sake, I've a thundering thunder-ing big notion to take you up," laughed McLaurln. "l'our dad would novel miss It." "That's it take me up for Pat' sake," said Dale, rising. "You'd !' foolish If you didn't. You should b- willing to do anything, almost, for Pat She's a jewel, Bobby." Half an hour later they caught passing car that soon carried them to a palace of granite and stone uud cream-colored brick the home of tliC old coal king, John K,. Dale. At the wide front gateway youut Dale drew back. "Bring father out here," he said II a low voice. "From what you told me 1 guess mother wouldn't want me to come in. But you can lind out about that" He hoped his mother would want tc see him. While she had never seemed i to care for him as other mothers cured, for their boys; while she hadn't bees j quite so dear to him as she might have-been have-been i "And if she wents to see me. BvYby j let me know." ! McLaurln smiled a somewhat tear i ried smile, and went up to the frWl door. A moment later he wns shown ; in. Yet another moment, and .lohA K. Dale, his florid face beaming tItt gladness, hastened out to the gatPiray. Young Dale was Instantly ton -IkhI bj his father's new attitude townro him; then he remembered the long ntuht of David Moreland's people, and he stiffened stif-fened a little and drew back u pace. "You've come home to stay, haven't you, Unrlyle?" said the older man, and his voice was tilled with pleading. "What you did Is all right; we'll nevef mention it again. You'll stay, won't you, Carlyle, my boy?" "No." answered the son, a trifle cold' ly In spite of himself. "I've spent all the Idle, useless years I'll ever spend. I'm getting ready to develop the coo' In David Moreland's mountain." v"David Moreland's mountain !" The retired coal magnate breathed the three words In a husky tone. He put forth a hand and rested it against pone of the huge stone gateposts, as though to steady himself, and some of the color went from his face. "You say David Moreland's mountain, moun-tain, Carlyle?" Jerkily. "Yes." "And you you learned nbout David Moreland?" "Yes." Bill Dale folded his armi and stood there looking at his falne-with falne-with eyes that accused. "You know who kllled him?" old Dale muttered. "I do, and it was a shame a black shame." "Yes, it was a shame. Nobody kuowi that half so well as 1 know It" said John K. Dale. His mouth quivered. He looked downward, looked up again "Son, you can never say o' think worse things about me than 1 have said am' thought about myself because o lhat." Dale the younger glanced toward the house. Kobert McLaurln was con lng slowly down the veranda steps Mrs. Dale was nowhere in sight. She didn't want to see her son ; sh didn't even want him in the house. BI l Dale read It all In his friend's downcast countenance, and it was somehow great disappointment. "You'll need money Ir jou're go'uk to develop that coal property," Da'e the elder was saying. "You haven" any money-, and those mountain folk haven't any. I'll give you ail that's needed. I'll send you mining machinery, machin-ery, and expert mining men ; I'll She turned her fare tt oth-fck oth-fck way, "I wil "ft inom, Bill Dale." TO BE CONTINUED.) i ihi'iiu'h Iut hair, uud she crumpled at ' Hill Dale's knees, totally unconscious. I Mile giivu a bourse cry and gathered her limp figure into his arms. John .Moreland waved aloft the white hund-Uerehief hund-Uerehief and bellowed to his kinsmen to slop tiring. Then silence came. "Come over here, Hen Littleton! '." shunted John Moreland. "Ye've shot yore own gyrul !" And to his brother Abuer, whose right forearm was wrapped In a bloodstained blood-stained blue bandana: "lUuek Adam is hid som'eres in this meadow ; go and ketch him, and don't take no chanst with him. Shoot him like a dawg ef he tries to trick ye 1" A dozen men run to look for the would-be sniper. The Littiefords, still armed, came dashing across the river. Hen Littlel'ord threw down his rifle and knelt beside his daughter; he wrung his big hands and cursed the day that had seen him bom. Dale held her close. His fnce wns as white ns hers, and his eyes were llrunlng. "Why don't you shoot all your womenfolk?" wom-enfolk?" he said to the Llttleford chief, and every word cut like a knife. "It's by far the simplest way; it's merciful, mer-ciful, y'know. See, she Isn't breaking her heart over your murderous lighting light-ing now. No, keep your hands awuy you're not fit to touch her!" Thoy brought water and wet the young womun's face, uud bathed the red streak across her temples. They "Hold Up the White Flag, John More-land More-land Hurry!" did all they knew how to do to bring her back to consciousness, but, except for her beating pulse and her breathing, breath-ing, she remained as one dead. Hours passed, leaden hours, and her condi-tion condi-tion was unchanged. Dale beckoned to John Moreland, who had just returned from having seen Adam Ball caught, disarmed, and Imprisoned in an old tobacco barn. Moreland hastened to Dale, the new master. "When does the next south-bound train pass the Halfway switch?" !sle wanted to know. Moreland looked toward the sun. "We could make it, all right, but It's a fust train, and it don't never stop at the switch." "Then we'll hold it up," declared the new master in a voice of iron. "This Is a case for a surgeon. Uet a blanket and two poles and make a litter." John Moreland hastened away obediently. obe-diently. Dale turned to Ben Little-ford, Little-ford, who sat in a motionless heap beside be-side the still figure of his daughter. "It was only a few hours ago," he said accusingly, "that this poor girl told me she'd be glad to give her life to stop your fighting, and now, perhaps, per-haps, she's done it I You're a brute, l.ittleford. I like to BgUt, myself, but not when it costs women anything." The conscience-stricken hillman gave no sign that he had heurd. There was silence save for the low murmur of the river and the tragic song of .i bird somewhere in the brauches ot' the big white sycamore. CHAPTER VI. Back Home. h'very mother's son of the feudists was numbered in the party that tiled across Datld Moreland's mountain to intercept the next south-bound train. The old enmity was for the time being forgone. Members of one clan rubbed eiiwers with members of the other clan, and thought nothing of it. John Moreland himself curried one end of the crude litter that held the limp form of Babe Littleford ; BUI Dale carried the other end. Close behind the litter walked Babe's father, seeming old and broken with remorse for the thing he had done. The grief of Ben Littleford was touch-iS touch-iS now, and Dedt was a liiLl masj that he hud spoken so bitterly to him. They reached the Halfway switch ten minutes before the arrival of the fust mail. A short passenger traiu was on the long siding, waiting for the south bound to pass. Dule gave his end of the litter to Culeb Moreland, and strode up to the locomotive. The engineer sut quietly smoking in his cab. Dnle wanted the fast mall stopped, and guve his reasons. The engineer smoked and considered. consid-ered. It was against rules. Dale swore at rules. The engineer said he would see the conductor. He did, and the conductor stepped to the ground and began to consider. "Better put her on my train," he suld finally, 'and take her to Barton's station. There's a good doctor at Barton's Bar-ton's " "But this is a case for a surgeon !" impatiently Interrupted Bill Dale. They disagreed. The old trainman was a close friend of the doctor at Barton's station. What was the difference dif-ference between a doctor aud a surgeon, sur-geon, anyway? Dale became angry. "You'll stop the fast mall for us," he snupped, "or we'll take your d d red Hag and hold her up long enough to put the girl aboard, and you've got only half a second to decide which I" The conductor was obdurate. The mountain men were too hot-headed to bear with him longer. The positions of a dozen rilies underwent a sudden change. The conductor immediately went pale and mentioned the law but he agreed to stop the southbound. As he ordered his flagman up the tracks, the sound of the fast train's whistle came to their ears. The tiler came to a screeching halt with sparks streaming from Its wheels. Bill Dale and John Moreland passed the litter and its burden into the baggage bag-gage car and followed It hastily, and Ben Littleford climbed in after them. John Moreland leaned out of the doorway door-way and ordered his son Luke to pass him his ' rifle, and Luke obeyed promptly. There was a shriek from the whistle, and the brakes were released; the (rain began to gather momentum. A baggageman approached John More-land More-land and asked why the rifle. More-lund More-lund half closed one keen grey eye and patted the walnut stock of bis repeater. "Oh, 1 Jest brought it along to see 'at everybody has a straight deal," be drawled "go on about yore business, mister." The baggageman went about his business. The conductor of the fast train was very unlike the conductor of the north-hound. north-hound. When he had learned something some-thing of the circumstances, he insinuated insinu-ated that Dale had done exactly the right thing. He would see whether there was a doctor aboard. Within five more minutes he returned re-turned In company with an elderly man wearing a pointed beard and nose glasses. "Doctor McKenzle," he said politely polite-ly ; "Mr. " "Dale." The two nodded, and the physician knelt beside the litter, which had been placed with Its ends on boxes to allow the center to swing free. He made as thorough an examination as was possible pos-sible under the conditions, then arose and stood looking down upon the young woman with something like admiration ad-miration In his sober, professional eyes. "Perfect physique," he said a though to himself. . . . "She will have to undergo an operation," he tolrt Dale. "The bone there Is broken In slightly, making a compression; she ' will doubtless be unconscious until the pressure is relieved. But she has tine chances for a quick and entire recovery, recov-ery, with a good surgeon on the Job. so there's not much ground for worry." Dule was glad. They were all glad. Ben Littleford laughed nervously In his sudden Joy. He went down to his knees beside his daughter, took up one of her limp hands and stroked lc In a way that was pitiful. Wheu he arose he spoke cordially to Moreland. But Moreland didn't reply. re-ply. He still looked upon his old enemy en-emy with contempt. Doctor McKenzie was leaving the train at the next town of importance, and he would wire Doctor Braemer to meet them with an ambulance, it Dule wished. "If you please," said Dale. They reached the city shortly before midnight, and were promptly met by the surgeon. Braemer took charge of the patient, put her into his ambulance ambu-lance and hurried her to his private hospital. Bill Dule and the two clan chiefs followed in an automobile. The hilliuen hud never before seen an automobile; au-tomobile; but Lhey asked no questions about it, and the only word or" comment com-ment was this, from Jolui Moreland: "I don't like the sir.ell." Everything had been made ready tor the operation, and Babe received surgical sur-gical aid without delay. The two mountaineers and Dule waited in another room. l.C Viad induced in-duced Jciui Moreland to unloa-fl his rifle, both chamber and magazine. Babe's father paced the Moor anxiously anxious-ly now and then. Moreland gC like a stone, with his empty ritle between his knees, uud watched his old enemy queerly. It seemed a long time before Braemer Brae-mer came to them and told them smilingly smil-ingly that it wns all over and that the girl was then coming from under the effects of the ether. She would be all right soon, he was reasonubly certain. No, they'd better not see her Just then. But perhaps they could sec her at some time during the afternoon of the following day. Dale escorted his two companions to a modest hotel aud then put them In a room that had but one bed ; by thus throwing them together In a strange laud, he hoped to do something some-thing toward making them friends. Then Dale went to another room, undressed un-dressed and went to bed. It may be noted, parenthetically as It were, that John Moreland and Ben Littleford quickly reached a wordlws agreement not to sleep together they divided the pillows aud linens evenly, tore the odd coverlet exactly ii half, aud slept on the floor. When Dale went down to the lobby the following morning an alert-eyed young fellow sprang from a chuir uud hastened up to him. "By George, Bobby I" Dale exclaimed, ex-claimed, as they began to shake hands. "Mow did you know I was here, anyway? any-way? Your boasted nose for news, eh?" "Guilty," smiled McLaurln. "I got word last night that a mountain girl had been brought to Braemer's, accidentally acci-dentally shot, and 1 smelled a feud ; so I hurried over to get the story. You had just left, and Braemer's didn't know much about It. It was too son after the operation, they snld, for her to see me ; then one of the nurses whispered to me that you had brought her, and said that 1 would find you here. So here 1 am, Bill, and I want the story. I'll phone It In, and then I'll give you some news." "The story mustn't be published. Bobby," Dale replied. "For one reason, rea-son, there is a feud ; and If the law-knew. law-knew. It might take a hand you see, 1 think there is a better way to take care of that feud. And I am of the opinion that the girl wouldn't like the publicity. Suppose you forget nil about it, Bobby. If McLaurln was disappointed, he kept it well to himself. "They said she was handsome, a sort of primitive Venus," he winked. "Is there a romance connected, Bill?" "Not yet," smiled Dale. "But soon?" "Who can tell?" Dale shrugged n little. "Tell me the news." 'All right." McLaurin drew his friend toward a pair of empty chairs. "I married Pntrlcia Claverlng the day before yesterday. We " "Bully ! Go on." "We were married In an automobile, with her father and 'poor dear Harry' chasing us like wildfire in another car. Yesterday we went to housekeeping in a cute little suburban bungalow, furniture furni-ture on the installment plun. Her "Perfect Physique," He Said, as Though to Himself. people won't even look at us, Bill! But do we care? Bill Dale, 1 ask you. old dear, do 1 seem to be worrying? Honest, I'm so happy I'm afraid something some-thing is going to happen to me. I'm to have a lift in salary soon, and we won't be long in paying for the furniture; furni-ture; and when that's done, we'll buy the bungalow. "And I'm Informing you now, old savage," he continued, "that you're having dinnor with us this evening. You'll find it piensunt. We do us we please, you see. If you like, you may stir your coffee with your finger, eat with your knife, reach clean across the table, and pick your teet.. ttI" your fork. Yo can eat with ;o.i hat on. and you may have your desuvt first, lou can nave an extra cbuir icw your fV 1 -nrvi ' n BABE IS SHOT. flynO,H.B. Youiik Carlyle Wilbur-; Wilbur-; Ion I)al. or "mil !;tle." as lie ' alexia to te known, son of a wealthy coat opeialor, John K. Dale, arrives ar-rives at the Ittilfway Swit h, In aa.atern Tftnneaaee, atiandunln k a Itfa of lille ease-anil Inclilen'aily a bride, fatrk-ia Claverlnic. at the altar al-tar (leterirlned to make his own way in dfe. He meets "Llah.i" I.lt-tieord, I.lt-tieord, typlral mountaineer gtrl. "By" Heek. a character uf the hllla, takea him to Jihn More-land's More-land's home. Morelaml Is ehlef nf hla "flan," which has an old feud with the Utlleforda. He tells Hale f tha killing of his borther. David Moreland, yeara ago, owner of rich coal depOHtta, by a man named Carlj'lo. Moreland's description of "Carlyle" causes Dale to believe the man was his father. Dale ar-; ar-; ranged to make hl8 home with the Vloreliind faniil. Talking with j "Baho-" Littleford next day. Dale Is ordered by "Black Adam" Ball, j bully of the district, to leavo "his ' girl" alone. Dale replies spiritedly, and they flht. Dale whips the bully, though badly used up. He . arranges with John Moreland to j develop David's coal deposits. Ben I Littleford sends a challenge to John ) Moreland to meet him with his fol- lowers next day. In battle. More-land More-land agrees. During the night all i the guns belonging to the I.lttle- fords and the Morelands mysterl- oualy disappear. Dale arranges to j go to Cincinnati to secure money ( for the mining of the coal. The I two clang tlnd their weapons, which t ihe women had hidden, and line up ( for battle. A LUtlofurd fires the first phot. .j CHAPTER V Continued. 5 Then enme a pun" of white smoke and n report from one of the More-Jam! More-Jam! rilies, then shots from both sides end the battle was on. Dule heard the nasty whine of a bullet in full flight; he hoard the course "zzz" of a linir-spent ricochet. He knew that he was in some danger now, and he was tv.irprised to find that he was not ' fril.lened. When he halted again It was on his 'kr.ces behind the big white sycamore that sheltered John Morelaud. "'Hack, are ye?" frowned the moun-ttHl.iewr. moun-ttHl.iewr. And with the grimmest hu-uiK.r. hu-uiK.r. "I reckon ye hud a fine, large iiiie In Ciucinnuty. Yore friend Har-. Har-. rin wns well, 1 hope. Git that money i wn him?" 'XJi:t that out," said Bill Dale. "It 'i -,:sn't get us anywhere " A bullet threw particles of sycamore it rk to hid fnce, interrupting. John i.'oretand pointed to a green furrow in ie side ot the t?M. ' "iien Littleford hisself," said More-1 More-1 .nd. "He's ahlnd o' that water oak ncrost thar. Don't stick yore head -lUtl" 'The mountaineer turned his gaze over Dale's shoulder, and his counte- . nance seemed to freeze. Dale looked around quickly and saw Babe Llttle-Sford, Llttle-Sford, less thaa ten feet behind him! -JShe bad crept up through the tall grasses and weeds. Id one bund she carried a white flag made of a man's feaadkerchief and a willow switch. She baited ami sat up. "Babe!" Dale cried out. "What are you do' tig here?" v T?d1 gave him a pale smile. "Ef pap'd shoot me, a-thinkln' 1 was a fMoreiand, uiebbe lt'd stop the ever-usln' ever-usln' Hghtln'," she said. John Morelaud stared, and Bill Dale (tared. They were In a Presence, and toey knew It. Babe went on : "I've come to save all o' yore lives ; ut ef I do It. ye'U hnf to make yore men quit a-IIghtlu' right uow jest order or-der 'em to stop a-shootlu', and hold .tip this here aud I promise ye on a ftLittleford's word 'at pap'll call ye a better man 'an him 'cause ye tione It" otte tossed the white Hug to him. 'The' ain't nf time to lose, John Morelaud; More-laud; hold uf) the flag! Ef ye don't, -ye'U every of.e be killed, 'cuuse ye're , every one lu a trap!" "I don't believe ye, Bube !" snapped -the Morelaud chief. "Yore people cuu . hold up a white rag jest as well as vwe can!" . l!abe weut paler. There was a sudden sud-den burst of tiring from the Moreland Titles, and she crept a little uearr to ohn Moreland in order that he might near plainly thpt which she had to tell Mm next. "I'm i-goltt' to tell ye o' this dun-Ker," dun-Ker," she said, "and trust to you n-bein' man enough to do what 1 axed ye to. .ilack idum .Ball, he's got a new-fashioned 1 tile and smokeless ca'tritlges and steo- bullets; aud in a few miu- U'S he'll be bid in ti clum o' sassafras tiack thar In yore meuilow, wbur he menus to set and pick oil yuo More-?aci- c? by one ami you snd Bill Knit jJjist, 'cotiit o' the beatin's you two put on him: But pap had nothin' to do with It, and rickollect that ' New I've saved all o' yore lives, cmcse ye conlin't hu' heerd the sound o' his rillc in all o' this noise; and ye couldn't ha' sejd the smoke o' his gun, 'cause K don't make no smoke. Hold up the white ting, John Moreland hurry :" BnTe thoughtlessly arose to her feet, ' kud one Jide of her brown head appeared ap-peared bef'ire the sights of her father's 41 lie her mher lired quickly, too iSulckly for a jerfect aim the bullet fcvrued lJ wo! net's faer: Wmple uuii |