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Show Cvprrtgfel ay Doabl4a,7, Pagv M Co. I BABE IS SHOT. Synopsis. Tount Carlyle Wilbur-ton Wilbur-ton Dala, or "BUI Dale," as he alects to b known, son of a wealthy coal operator, John K. Dale, arrive ar-rive at the Halfway Swtt.-h, In astern Tennessee, abandoning a life of Idle eaae and Incidentally a ride. Patricia Claerlng at the altar al-tar determined to make hla own way In life. He meeti "Babe" IJt-tleford. IJt-tleford. typical mountaineer g-lrl. "By" Heck, a character of the hills, takee hlin to John More-land's More-land's home. Moreland la chief of hla "clan," which haa an old feud with the Uttleforda He telle Dale of the killing of hla borther. David Moreland, yeara ago, owner of rich coal depoalta, by a man named t'arlyle. Moreland'a deacription of "Carlyle'' cauaea Dale to believe the man was hla father. Dale arranges ar-ranges to make his home with the MorelQnd fam!l. Talking with "Babe" IJttleford next day, Dale la ordered by "Black Adam" Ball, bully of the district, to leave "his girl" alone. Dale replies spiritedly, and they fljrht. Iate whips the bully, though badly used up. He arrangea with John Moreland to develop David's coal deposits. Ben Uttleford sends a challenge to Jehn Moreland to meet him with his followers fol-lowers next day, In battle. More-land More-land agrees. During the night all the guns belonging to the Little-fords Little-fords and the Morelands mysteriously mysteri-ously disappear. Dale arrangea to go to Cincinnati to secure money for the mining of the coal. The two clans find their weapons, which the women had hidden, and line up for battle. A LUtleford fires the first shot. CHAPTER V Continued. Then came a puff of white iraoke and a report from one of the More-land More-land rides, then shoti from both sides and the battle wai on. Dale heard the nasty whine of a bullet In full night ; lie beard the coarse "zzz" of a half-spent ricochet. He knew that he was In some danger now, and he was surprised to rind that he was not frightened. When he halted again It was on his knees behind the big white sycamore (hat sheltered John Moreland. "Hack, are ye?" frowned the mountaineer. moun-taineer. And with the grimmest humor, hu-mor, "1 reckon ye bad a tine, large time In Clnclnnaty. Yore friend Harris Har-ris was well, 1 hope. Git that money from him?"' "Cut that out," said Bill Dale. "It doesn't get us anywhere " A bullet threw particles of sycamore bark to his face, Interrupting. John Moreland pointed to a green furrow In the side of the tree. "Ben LUtleford hisself," said More-land. More-land. "He's ahlnd o' that water oak acrost thar. Don't stick yore head out !" The mountaineer turned his gaze over Dale's shoulder, and his countenance counte-nance seemed to freeze. Dale looked around quickly and saw Babe Little-ford, Little-ford, less than ten feet behind him ! She had crept up through the tall grasses and weeds. In one hand she carried a white flag made of a man's handkerchief and a willow switch. She halted and sat up. "Babe!" Dale cried out. "What are you ifo!ng here?" Bab gave him a pale smile. "Kf pap'd shoot me, a-tliinkln' 1 was a Moreland. mebbe it'd stop the e-ver-Instlu' tightln'," she said. John -Moreland stared, and Bill Dale stared. They were In a 1'resence. and they knew it. Babe went on: "I've come to save all o' yore lives ; but eC 1 do it, ye ll haf to make yore men quit a-hghtln' right now jest order or-der 'em to stop a-sliootin', and hold up this here and i promise ye on a Littleford's word 'at pap'll call ye a better man 'an him 'cause ye done it " She tossed the white lias to him. "The' ain't no time to lose. John More-lantl; More-lantl; hold u the Hag! Kf ye don't, ye'll every of. be killed, 'cause ye're every one in a trap !" "1 don't bel'eve ye. Babe!" snapped the -Moreland chief. "Yore people can bold up a white rag jest as well as we cau !" Babe weut paler. There was a sudden sud-den burst of tiring from the Moreland Titles, and she crept a little neat' to John Mercian.' lu order that he alight hear plainly ilu" which she had to tell him next. "I'm it-goli' to ell ye o' this danger," dan-ger," she said, "and ust to you a-hein" man enough to do hat 1 used ye to. Jlack Adam ball, he's got a new-fashioned rltte and smokeless cartridges and steel bullets ; and In a few mln- tes he'll be hid in clum o' sassafras back thar In yore meadow, whur he means to set and pick off you More-lands More-lands "tie by one and you ind Bill DaJ Aist. 'count o' the beutin s you two ut on him ! But pap hud nothin' to do with If. and rickollect that ! Now I've saved all o yore lives, cause ye couldn't hu' heenl the sound o his rltle In all o' this noise; and ye couldn't ha' seed the siiMke 0 his gun. 'cans? It don't make no smoke. Hold up the white Mag. John Moreland hurry !" Babe thoughtlessly arose to her feet, and one tide ot het hrowu head ap-pei ap-pei ri d hetoie Hi,- ;gtilsot liei father s n It- her :in-i need quu-kiy. too Ullk'hlJ f;r 4 lH-lie(l mill ,le- lilll'-t 'MiT I' Wil nCT r ,fir- iawl through her hair, and she crumpled at Bill Dale's knees, totally unconscious. Dale gave a hoarse cry and gathered her limp figure Into his arms. John Moreland waved aloft the white handkerchief hand-kerchief and bellowed to his kinsmen to stop firing. Then silence came. "Come over here, Ben Littleford !" shouted John Moreland. "Ye've shot yore own gyrul !" And to bis brother Abner. whose right forearm was wrapped in a bloodstained blood-stained blue bandana: "Black Adam is hid som'eres In this meadow; go and ketch him, and don't take no chttust with him. Shoot him like a dawg ef he tries to trick ye !" A dozen men ran to look for the would-be sniper. The Llttiefords, still armed, came dashing across the river. Ben Littleford threw down his rifle and knelt beside his daughter; he wrung his big hands and cursed the day that had seen him born. Dale held her close. His face was as white as hers, and his eyes were flaming. "Why don't you shoot all your womenfolk?" wom-enfolk?" he Bald to the LUtleford 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 fighting fight-ing now. No, keep your hands away you're not fit to touch her !" They brought water and wet the young woman's face, and 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. new-master. "When does the next south-bound train pass the Halfway switch?" Dale wanted to know. Moreland looked toward the sun. "We could make it. all right, but it's a fast train, and it don't never stop at the switch." "Then we'll hold it up," declared flu.' new master in a voice of iron. "This is a ease for a surgeon. (.Jet a blanket and two poles and make a litter." j John -Moreland hastened away obr-. obr-. (liently. Dale turned to Ben Littleford, Little-ford, who sat iu a motionless heap beside be-side the still figure of his daughter. "It was only a few hours ago." lit said accusingly, "thai this poor girl told me she'd be glad to give her life to stop your fighting, and now, perhaps, per-haps, site's done it! You're a brute, Littleford. I like to fight, myself, but not when it costs women anything." The conscience-stricken hilluian gave no sign that he had heard. There was silence save for the low murmur of the river and the tragic song of i bird somewhere In the branches of the big white sycamore. CHAPTER VI. Back Home. Every mother's son of the feudists was numbered in the party that Hied across David Morelands mountain to Intercept the next south-bound train. The old enmity was for the time being forgotten. Members of one clan rubbed elbows with members of the other clan, and thought nothing of It. John Moreland himself carried one end of the crude litter that held the limp form of Babe Littleford; Bill Pule carried the other end. Close t-ehind the litter walked Bube's lather, seeming old and broken with remorse for the thing he hod done. The griel ot Ben Littleford was touch-is touch-is m L'al ' a little sorry that he had spoken so bitterly to him. They reached the Halfway switch ten minutes before the arrival of the fast mall. A short passenger train was on the long siding, waiting for the south bound to pass. Dale gave his end of the litter to Caleb Moreland, and strode up to the locomotive. The engineer sat quietly smoking In his cab. Dnlp wnnteri the ftrnt mull sfnnneri and gave 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 said 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 and u surgeon, sur-geon, anyway? Dale became angry. "You'll stop the fust mall for us," he snapped, "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 !" j The conductor was obdurate. The mountain men were too hot-headed to bear with him longer. The positions of a dozen rifles 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 tralu's whistle came to their ears. The filer 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 hie son Luke to pass him hlg rifle, and Luke obeyed promptly. There was a shriek from the whistle, and the brakes were released ; the train began to gather momentum. A baggageman approached John More-land More-land and asked why the rifle. More-land More-land 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," he 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 northbound. north-bound. When he bad 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 as though to himself. .... "She will have to undergo an operation," he told Dale. "The bone there is broken in slightly, making a compression; she will doubtless be unconscious until the pressure is relieved. Bui she has tine chan.es lor a quick and entire recovery, recov-ery, wiili a good surgeon on the job. so there's not much ground for worry.' Dale was glad. They were ail glad. Ben Littleford laughed nervously in his sudden joy. He went down to his knees beside his daughter, toot; up one ot her limp bauds and stroked it in a way that was pitiful. When 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 McKenzle was leaving the train at the next town of importance, and he would wire Doctor Braemer to meet them with an ambulance, if Dale wished. "If you please." said Dale. They reached ihe city shortly before midnighl. and were prouptly ruel by the surgeon. Ura-iner took elnirge ot the patient, put ner into his ambulance ambu-lance and hurried her ,to his private hospital. Bill Dale and the two clan chiefs followed iu an automobile. The hlllmen had never before seen an automobile au-tomobile ; but they asked no questions about it. and the only word of comment com-ment was this, from John Moreland: "I doo'l like the sn.ell." fciverything had been made ready for the operation, and Babe received surgical sur-gical aid without deluy. The two mountaineers and Dale waited In another room. Dale hud Induced In-duced John Moreland to nnload his rifle, bolh cliHmber and magazine. Babe's father oaced the floor auxlouu-Iv auxlouu-Iv now and then. Uorelund sat like a stone, with his empty rifle between his knees, and 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 was all over and that the girl was then coming from under the effects of the ether. She would be all right soon, he was reasonably certain. No, they'd better not see her Just then. But perhaps they could see her at some time during the afternoon of the following day. Dale escorted his two companions to a modest hotel and then put them In a room that had but one bed ; by thus throwing them together In a strange land, 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 wordltus agreement not to sleep together they divided the pillows and linens evenly, tore the odd coverlet exactly In half, and slept on the floor. When Dale went down to the lobby the following morning an alert-eyed young fellow sprang from a chair and hastened up to him. "By George, Bobby !" Dale exclaimed, ex-claimed, as they began to shake hands. "How did you know 1 was here, anyway? any-way? Your boasted nose for news, eh?" "Guilty," smiled McLaurin. "1 got word last night that a mountain girl had been brought to Braemer's, accidentally acci-dentally shot, and I 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 soun after the operation, they said, for her to see me; then one of the nurses whispered to me that you had brought her, and said that I would Hnd you here. So here I am, Bill, and 1 want the story. I'll phone It In, and then I'll give yon some news." "The story mustn't be published, Bobby," Dale replied. "Kor one reason, rea-son, there is a feud ; and If the law knew, It might take a hand you see, I think there Is a better way to take care of that feud. And 1 am of the opinion that the girl wouldn't like the publicity. Suppose you forget all about It, Bobby. If McLaurin was disappointed, be kept It well to himself. "They said she was handsome, sort of primitive Venus," he winked. "Is there a romance connected, Bill?" "Not yet," smiled Dale. "But soon?" "Who can tell?" Dale shrugged a little. "Tell mejthe news." "All right." McLaurin drew his friend toward a pair of empty chairs. "I married Patricia 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 suburbnn bungalow, furni-tjre furni-tjre on the installment plan. Her M ft i f ' 4vW ' ' v i teg 5P' : -vs "Perfect t-hyMue," He Said, as Though to Himsilf. people won't eeti look at us. Bill! But do we cure? Bill Dale. I asK you old dear, do I seem to be worrying? Honest. I'm so happy I'm afraid something some-thing is going to tmpperi 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 Ihe bungalow. "And I'm informing you now. old savage," he continued, "that you're having dinner with us this evening You'll Hnd it pleasant. We do as we please, you see. if you like, you may stir yojr coffee with your linger, eai with your knife, reach clean across the table, and pick your teeth with your fork. You can eat with -- li.u on and you may have your de-i-rt iirsi lou can have an ral.ru chair " vou feet, and you cun go to sleep at the table. Don't fall us. Bat wants to thank you for 'casting her aside' at the altar." Dale laughed boyishly. McLaurin went on : "There's more news. lour father has been trying hard to find you. He sent a man to Atlanta to look for you. He told me he'd give me a house and lot If I'd Hud you aud if there was a little more of the highway robber in me, I'd call his hand !" "And mother have yon seeu her?" Dale muttered. "I've seen her twice since the near-wedding." near-wedding." "Did she have anything to soy about me? Tell me the whole truth, Bobby. 1 can take it, old man. I'm big enough." McLaurin frowned. "Since you've asked me. Bill, your mother 1 overheard over-heard her telling your father that she would never forgive you for the "utterly "ut-terly shumelessi disgraceful scene' you made in church." "I see," said Dule. 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." "Kor Patricia's suke, I've a thundering thunder-ing big notion to take you up," laughed McLaurin. "Your dad would never miss it." "That's It take me up for Bat's sake," said Dale, rising. "You'd be foolish If you didn't. You should be willing to do anything, almost, for 1'aL She's a jewel, Bobby." Half an hour later they caught a passing car that soon carried them to a palace of granite and stone aud cream-colored brick the home of the old coal king, John K. Dale. At the wide front gateway youmg Dale drew back. "Bring father out here," he said in a low voice, "from what you told me I guess mother wouldn't want me to come in. But you can And out about thnt " He hoped his mother would want to sec him. While she had never seemed to core for him as other mothers careo for their boys; while she hadn't been quite so dear to him as she might have been "And If she wents to see me, Bobby, let me know," McLaurin smiled a somewhat worried wor-ried smile, and went up to the front door. A moment later he was shown In. Yet another moment, and John K. Dale, his florid face beaming with gladness, hastened out to the gateway. Young Dale was Instantly touched by his father's new attitude toward him ; then he remembered the long night of David Moreland s people, and he stiffened stif-fened a little and drew back a pace. "You've come home to stay, haven't you, Carlyle?" said the older man, and his voice was tilled with pleading. "What you did Is all right ; we'll never mention it again. You'll stay, won't you, Carlyle, ray boy?" "No." answered the son. a trifle coldly 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 coal In David Morelund's mountain." "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 one 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 about David .Moreland?" "Yes." Bill Dale folded his arms and stood there looking at his father I with eyas that accused. I "You know who killed him?" old ' la)e muttered. "1 do, and it was a shame a black ! shame." "Yes. it was a shame. .Nobody know1:, that half so well as I know it" said John K. Dale. His month quivpr.M.' lie looked downward, looked up again "Son. you can never say or think worse filings about me than 1 have said am' thought about myself liecaine '' i ual." I Dale the younger glanced towasT i the house. Robert McLaurin was com ing Slowly down the veranda steps. Mrs. Dale was nowhere in sig it. She didn't want to see her sou; sle- didn't even want hitn In the house. I'.l 1 Dale read it all In his friend's dovnesst countenance, and it was somehrw a great disappointment. "You'll need money if you're go'tig to develop that coal property." Da e the elder was saying. "Yon haveu -any money, and those moumuin folk haven't any. I'll give you all that t. needed. I'll send you mining machinery, machin-ery, and expert mining men ; I'll " SHe turned her fae tha other oth-er wny. "I wai .i.eiocoe. Bill Dale." j (TO BK CONTINUED.) |