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Show nHni;inMimmmiimmmmiiiimmimiiiimnmmmiiiiiiiiiimimHmmiiiimm ItHE BLUE MOON' I A TALE OF THE FLATWQODS I f Xy DAVID AJVDE'RSOJV I r: Copyright by the Bobbs-Merrill Company E niiimiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiii.miiii "YOUR FATHER " Synopsis. Never having knnn his futlier. and llviiiK with his mother on a houseboat on the Wabash Wa-bash river, Pearlhunter the only name he has learns from her a part of the story of her sad life. The recital is interrupted by a fearful tit of coughing and he hurries hur-ries ashore to seek a root that affords af-fords relief. He meets a young girl whom he mentally christens the Wild Rose. She eludes him before be-fore he can make her acquaintance. acquaint-ance. A vacant cabin on the shore has attracted the attention of the ailing woman, and they move into it. Their first meal is interrupted by a stranger who resents their presence. The youth drives the man from their home. His presence pres-ence has strangely affected the mother. That night the youth finds within a mussel the largest pearl that has been found on the1 river, the Blue Moon. r CHAPTER II Continued. A "Thnt pearl's lntirely too valuable to take chances on," he muttered, laying lay-ing his coat in the bow, with the shotgun shot-gun across It, giving the final shove to the boat and leaping in. "I reckon I'll jist stick around till y'u git it in th' bank t'morrow. Thnt hell-hound, Hi' lied Mask, stuck up th' Mil ford stage down th' river last week. Your Wue Moon would he nuts t' him ; an' we did make a right smart fuss when y'u found it." lie shifted the six-shooter In his pocket from between the edge of the seat and his hip, picked up the shotgun shot-gun and examined the caps on the tubes. "You c'n all talk about these newfangled new-fangled six-guns that wan' t', but they cayn't nothin' come up with a good ol' scatter-lock when things git tight." The young man at the oars made no reply to these remarks, lie was thinking think-ing of that bit of flaming cloth behind the chink at the cabin. For a moment the impulse came on him to tell the Boss, but he decided to keep his own counsel. The moon had poked her round face up over the hills by the time tl y landed at Fallen Rock. The Pe;l-hunter Pe;l-hunter picked up the big bass and led the way to the cabin up under the cliff. The candle was still shining out through the one small south window, the dimmer for the moonlight, a little square of luminous yellow set in the gray and ragged logs. Full of the big news he bore, the young man hurried up the slope. The pearl almost seemed to become a creature of sense and sympathy; to feel warm against him; the luster of it to shine through his pocket. When within a few feet of the door he heard his mother cough hissing; whistling; choky. He dropped the fish and darted in at the door. She stood stooped in front of her chair, clutching the table. Her hand moved over the cloth as if trying to write. Blood was pouring from her mouth and falling to the floor. He sprang at her. She clutched his arm ; hung to him. He would not have believed be-lieved it possible she had such force in her fingers. She straggled painfully painful-ly to choke back the blood ; then strove pitifully to speak. No word came only that awful whistling hissing hiss-ing gasp. He saw the luster die In her eyes the eyes that in their day had been so wonderful. They were trying hard to tell him something words her lips were not able to frame. He strove to read their message. mes-sage. In vain! There came a last gasp; her brxlv suddenly stiffened, quivered, relaxed and he eased her back into the chair. The Iron-Gray-Woman was dead. The Pearlhunter raised her hands to cross them on her lap. Some object ob-ject fell from the lax fingers .to the floor. It was n soldier's glove, stiff nd mildewed with age. Turning to lay It upon the table, he stood startled and staring. His cry brought the old Boss to his side. Two words, scrawled in blood on the elih, glared up at them : "Your father " 'There had he a further attempt to write, but the effort had only resulted re-sulted in u scrawl, impossible to decipher. CHAPTER III. A Man Vithout a Nam:. The Pearlhunter sat on the doorstep door-step of the cabin, his face bowed in his hands. It whs June upon tin; slope under the trees; June in Wolf Kon chuckling nnd chirking along on It i way from spring and waterfall to the river; June in the heart of a cardinal car-dinal rocking upon the top twig of a tall hickory; In-r.einbor in the heart of the Pearlhunter. Half-way down the slope, beyond the tangled underbrush and in the edge of the grass-covered open strip that bordered the river shore, the green was broken by a mound of fresh earth. Ho had rimmed It round with Hhell.s brought up from the river; upon the head had planted a cluster of orchids, the lady's-slipper of the Flatwoods. They were like her, the orchids u lonely flower; one to a ;;;iiiiimiii!!iiiiiiiiiiii:i!iiiimiiiiiiini!iitiii wide stretch of solitude. Nobody but he could have found so many, because nobody knew the woods so well. As he looked hack over the years, he found himself pondering the contradictions con-tradictions of bis mother's life, in the light of the story he had heard that memorable afternoon the refinement in the midst of mean surroundings, the stern pride that had held her so long in exile because of a word that had, mayhap, been long repented. The muck and grime of the river had never smudged her. Through it all she had kept as pure, as white, as a (lake of snow and as cold. "What air y'u calc'latin' t' do with fhein wild roses here in th' tumbler in the winder keep 'em 'r chuck 'em out? I cayn't find but one more tumbler." The voice of the old Boss half startled the man on the doorstep. The gruff old fellow had never left him, night or day. The Pearlhunter had forgotten him, the rumpled house, the dishes, everything. every-thing. He lifted his face from his hands, rose, nnd entered the cabin. The Boss was pointing to three wild roses a red, a pink, a white in a tumbler of water in the window. The vision the Pearlhunter had seen on the rock at the pool came again. A vision it had been just that, only that; an exquisite picture flashed before be-fore his face and Instantly snatched away a picture he would never see () J ' oC if! to Her Hand Moved Over the Cloth as if Trying to Write. again. It seemed unreal as he looked back upon it in the light of another day. But no, there were the roses. He beni his face down and caught the arona of their breath. "Let them he," he said. "They will Inst another day." The Boss made no reply. To him they were merely faded rose,s. He was sitting on the doorstep about to light his pipe when the younger man called him. With the freshly filled pipe in one hand, the unlighted match In the other, he rose and stepped back Into the cabin. The Pearlhunter was standing before a small hair-covered trunk, scarcely bigger than an ordinary ordi-nary suitcase of the present day. It stood open, with the lid thrown hack, exactly as It had stood two nights lie-fore lie-fore when he came up from the river nnd found his mother dvlng. Its contents con-tents seemed to Indicate that they had been rummaged through by some one -whose haste had been great doubtless doubt-less by his mother. It hurt him to recall re-call the cause of that haste. The bloodstained glove she had held In her hand Iny uppermost, probably tossed there by one of the river men. "It's time to know what's in this trunk." A certain tenseness In his voice escaped es-caped the Boss. "Don't y'u?" "I've never seen Inside of It before-." The Boss was In the act of scraping his match. He stopped; looked around out of the tall of his eye. but whatever bis thoughts, he made no comment. "First of all, hero's this glove." the young man went or,, lifting the glove from tie trunk. "You know where we saw It first." The Boss threw away the stub of his n:;:!''h and felt the tlme-slalned and mildewed article. "West Point," he muttered. "Hit's th' kind them sprigs wears officer's, I'd say, offhand." The olher stood considering it; laid It aside; and lifted the next article from the trunk. It proved to be n woman's dress of rich brocade. I. Mile as the two men knew of such matters, It Impressed even thein as being of the very finest material anil of finished fin-ished workmanship. Under It lay other articles of woman's wear, all equally rich, though Jiow yellow with iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii:iniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiMiii the stain of time. Down beneath everything else lay a small box which the Boss, from an experience which befell him as a soldier in the far South, knew to be satinwood. The young man stood with it In his hand, afraid to raise the lid afraid to put it to the test. So far, the trunk had given up nothing. He was still nameless. What If this, too. should prove a blank? At last the Pearlhunter raised the lid some baby clothes, clean nnd neatly folded; a plain gold ring wrapped in a handkerchief of the finest cambrSc; nnd, under all. a picture pic-ture wnat the Iron-Oray-Woman must have been In her girlhood. He snatched it up. carried it to the light of the door and looked long upon it. After a time he came hack to the trunk. The satinwood hnx was the last article In it, and it had told him nothing. He laid the picture in it, replaced re-placed the baby clothes and ring, closed the box and put it back. He even took a sort of melancholy satisfaction satis-faction in replacing, with studied neatness, the glove, the dress and other articles, after which he closed the lid, locked It, pocketed the key, and turning to the window, stood staring star-ing out over the river. He was still a man without a name. The Boss stepped back from the door. f "The Blue Moon." he said. "Hit orta be putt away safe." As if the statement recalled thoughts that had strayed far, the young man reached In his pocket nnd drew forth the pearl, still rolled In the bit of cloth. The two days of ripening nnd the chafe of the cloth had greatly enhanced en-hanced its brilliance. Quietly rolling the pearl up in the cloth again, he left the cabin and, followed by the Boss, strode down the slope through the trees to the boat, nnd together they rowed away toward the village. The fame of the Pearlhunter had preceded him. As he came up from the wharf into the town, the Mud Hen, the one saloon of the place, disgorged dis-gorged a swaggering, swearing population popu-lation that gathered round him. The Boss' crew, camped half a mile below Fallen Hock, and the crew of Bull Masterson, camped three miles above, were both there. Besides these, the Obenchain, a small steamer plying between be-tween the ports of the Wabash, had come in that morning, bringing other river men. Canrht in the swirl of the crowd, the Pearlhunter and- his companion were swept into the Mud Hen. A hundred hun-dred voices clamored to have the pearl laid upon the bar where all could tile by and see it. There fell a few minutes min-utes of comparative quiet while the 1 hungry eyes of the river men were de-; de-; vouring it. Then followed drinks all round at the expense of the finder; nnd what followed Is not a pleasant task to describe. The Pearlhunter. remembering that mound of fresh earth at Fallen Rock, kept his head and drank but little. The Boss, on the oilier hand, "cut th' dog loose," as the river men say. By noon he was singing snatches of half-forgottcn half-forgottcn songs anil fighting the Indian In-dian wars all over again. Coming to where his young friend leaned against the bar. In easy reach of the pearl, still lying upon its hit of cloth, he threw an arm about his neck and leant hard upon him, something he couldn't have been hired to do when sober. "Come 'ere, you fellers. Thls'n'son me. an' it's to th' Pearlhunter, th' whitest man along th' Wabash an' be d d t' th' man what says 'e ain't 1" The rabble swarmed about the bar nil that were able. Bottle necks gurgled; glasses clinked; red whisky sizzled down hot throats; n few shouted; some swore ; others merely laughed foolishly. That last drink was the Boss' finish. fin-ish. He willed down Inlo the nearest chair; lurched heavily over upon a table ta-ble and lay there mumbling, or laughing laugh-ing In high, shrill key; occasionally shouting out n note or two of a heating heat-ing song thnt had been old on the river riv-er '.'or fiuarler of a century. ?.( was early afternoon before the ItmrlhvtTitor dared to think seriously n d"p--sil ing the pearl before river etiquette permitted him to remove It fioni ( bar. He tried to rally the Boss. All be got was a further Installment In-stallment of the Indian wars. ' Half disgusted with It all. hi' turned hack to the bar and stood leaning his chin upon his hand. A door opened ft i iinolhef part of the building the Mud lien being an Inn, the only one In the place. A man entered. Crossing the lloor with as Utile attention atten-tion to the crowd as if the place had been descried, he swaggered up to the bar. Perhaps he secretly wished that somebody would get In his way. lie had Just that air about him. The Pearlhunter heard the door open; felt the hush that fell the hush that always falls upon the rabble rab-ble at the coining of a masterful presence. pres-ence. He turned his eyes slowly toward to-ward Ihe newcomer. His nerves were as steady as the woods make them, but they were not quite proof against liiiiiiiiimiiiiiumtiiiiiiijiiiiiiim Jill i nun what be saw. It was the Man-in-the-Fancy-Vest. A look Hashed between them. The Pearlhunter fancied the other stiffened, stif-fened, and he was quite conscious of a tightness creeping into his own spine. The Blue Moon was still lying on Its bit of cloth upon the bar, where, among the river men, it was as safe as anything of value ever gets to be in this avaricious world. He deliberately deliber-ately picked it up and thrust It Into his pocket. It was a distinct affront. ' Blood had run in the Flatwoods for less. The man facing him started; flushed; his right hand dipped toward his hip. The Pearlhunter's body became like Iron electrified; his eyes like flecks of steel in the fireglow. His hand had closed upon the pistol butt while the other's hand was still on its way. "Draw!" he hissed. "Draw! I'd give the Blue Moon if you would! There's a twenty-year-old score to settle set-tle between your blood and mine !" A dead hush fell. The more sober men of the crowd jammed doors and windows, others huddled against the walls; some had dived under the tables. ta-bles. It was a moment of keen tension. ten-sion. Not a man breathed. The line between life and death Is a hair line when two gunmen stand face to face. The chances are split almighty fine. The Man-lu-the-Fancy-Vest evidently evi-dently decided they were split a little too fine. He slowly relaxed the pose to which the dangerous instant had strung him; lifted his hand; folded his arms; turned; leant against the bar; and stood coolly looking the other over. The Pearlhunter had been half crouched. He straightened and took his hand away from his hip. "When I get ready to leave Flat-woods Flat-woods I'm expectin' to ask you some questions and I'm expectin' to be answered." an-swered." His voice crisp as the snap of sleet against window glass, he stuffed the pearl deeper Into his pocket, in a manner man-ner that somehow had the effect of emphasizing the affront. The other shrugged his shoulders, barely perceptibly; his lip curled In a hard smile that carried all the force of a sneer, but he made no answer. With the air of a man bored unspeakably unspeak-ably he sauntered across the room to the door by which he bad entered ; paused an Instant ; glanced back over his shoulder; tossed up his chin contemptuously con-temptuously ; passed out, and closed the door. But, for all his easy acting, It did not escape the Pearlhunter that the blue in bis eyes was black. Pearlhunter rescues Wild Rote and gets acquainted. tTO BE CONTINUED.) |