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Show $$JM HajmglLiebs K'?W Illustrations fcu ' ' gg J!L Ir win Aly erj -grn ' nm" Copyright by Doubltda , Paqe v C-o. c , ei "WHO HID 'EM?" .SynojmlH Youmk f'urlyle WilUur-ton WilUur-ton iaile, or "Hill D:ilr," a he ftleclt) to be known, Hon of u wealthy coal opemlor, Jilin K. I'ule, arrives ar-rives at tho Halfway Swltcli, In euHtern TenneHHw, ahaiiilonln a i life of Idle e.'is: and Incidentally a bride, l'alrlela Claverlnf, ut the altar al-tar deU'riiiln'-d to make his own way In lite, lie meets "Babe" l.it-tb-ford, typical mountaineer girl. 1 "Ify" Heck, a character of the i hlH-H, takes him to John More-lnnd'a More-lnnd'a home. Moreland la chief of hlH "clan," which has an okl feud with tho J.lttlctonls. lie tell.H Dale of tho killing of his brother, David 1 Moreland, yeara uko, ownei- of rich coal deposits, by a man named Carlylo. Morebuid's csi riplion of "t'urlyle" caus,-a iJale to believe the man was hla father. iuile arranges ar-ranges to jnake his home with the Moreland family. Talking with "Babe" ;Littletonl next day, Uale Is ordered by "Black Adam" Ball, bully of the ,diMi let, to leave "his Klrl" alone. Dale replies spiritedly, anil they light. Dale whips the bully, though badly used up. lie arranges with .John Moreland to develop Pavld'-a ,coal deposits. Ben lattloford sends1, a challenge to John MoreLand to wei-t hlro with his followers fol-lowers next day, In battle. More-nnd More-nnd agrees. During the night all the guns belonging to the Uttle-forda Uttle-forda anil the Morelanda .mysteriously .mysteri-ously disappear. Dale arranges to go to Cincinnati Lo secure money for the mining of the coal. The two .clans tlnd their weapons, ,whlch the women had hidden, ajid Jttie tup for battle. CHAPTER IV Continued. "To disarm the Morelands so that when the enemy comes they will have nothing with wliicli to defend themselves?" them-selves?" Dale didn't know much uhout tliese hill feuds, "No. Miss Llt-tleford, Llt-tleford, I enn't say that tliink it was a kind thing" to do." Miss Dlttlefonl arose nml facet! l'ale. Her cheeks were rtuslicd. "Has the Ineniy come?" she demanded de-manded Icily. "No, but" "AH right," the young woman broke in sharply. "If the Inemy hain't come, what're you rt-kickin' about?" Her brown eyes were full of tire. They delicti, and they withered, and Bill Dale suddenly felt that lie was smaller and ot- lesu account in the scheme of things- than that uneducated, uneducat-ed, wildly superb creature that stood before him. "I beg pardon," Dale said evenly. "1 didn't mean to offend, y'know." His quick contrition struck the girl. Her mouth quivered. She dropped her tishlug-rod, and began to toy absently ab-sently with the end of her loug, thick plait of brown hair. "I've seed so much o' this tightin'," she murmured tremulously, "that It makes me go to pieces. I ought to beg yore pardon, mebbe, and 1 d-tlo. . . . I've seed a good many tine, strong men brought home dead or a-dyin' from the Moreland bullets. And the J-lttlefords has killed Morelands, too. One side about as many as t'other, I reckon. I'd be glad to give my life to stop it !" " I "I'll help you, if I can," Dale told her. "I'erhaps we can make friends of the Morelands and your people." i "1'ou don't know what a hard thing lt'd be," she replied tearfully. "The two sets has hated each other ever sence I can rickollect. And you won't be here very long, I reckon." "I may be here for the rest of ray life," said Dale. - "Is It the coal?" Inquired Babe. "Partly yes, tt's the coal. I'm going go-ing to develop It for the Morelands." Babe looked at him with a tiny her-id her-id of hope la her eyes. Before she could 6 peak again there came from ocnewbere back la the meadow the sound of her father voice "Babet O-oh. Babel" "Comln" I" cried 'the girl, half turu-ln. turu-ln. "Well try to make 'em friends ; we'll try. Old Major Bradley, he'll be p here afore long to spend the summer, sum-mer, and he'll help us. He's a mighty food man; you're shore to like him. He gen'ally stays with us when he's here. You go easy with John More-land More-land 1 But when ye git him, ye'll have 'em all. I'll work on pap. The' ain't po danger o' trouble right now, anyways. any-ways. Goodby, Bill Dale!" "One moment. Miss Llttleford," and he took a step after her. "Are you sure there's no danger right now?" Babe halted, faced about nervously, and smiled a little. "Don't call me 'Miss' no more." said she. "It makes me feel old. Call me what everybody else calls tne, ef ye don't mind. Why, every one o' the J.ittlefonis lost their rilies last night the same as the .Mnrelamls did I .Meet me here at sundown, and I'll tell ye ebout it. tloodby. Bill Dale!" "tioedby. Babe!" he smiled. CHAPTER V. At the River Again. , John .Moreland met Dale at the cate. "What did ye 11ml out?" "I learned," was the answer, "that the I.lttlefords all lost their guns Just as the Morelands did." "The devil !" The mountaineers began to crowtl about Dale. "And who," asked their leader, "do ye tliink done it?" Bill Dale shook bis head slowly and threw out Ins ha mis. "How should 1 know?" He went on: "Babe told me about the Llttleford guns disappearing. I saw her down al the river; she was fishing." "Did she say anything," pursued John Moreland, "'at sounded like she knowed whar tbein guns went to?" "She told me," said Dale, "she would give her life to stop the lighting. She seemed raliier badly worked up over II." I-'roni the cabin's front doorway came a woman's sorrowful voice: "And me, too; I'd give my life to slop this here lightin'. 1 had a boy, a big, struppin' hoy " John Moreland frowned toward his wife and interrupted, "Xow, Addie, honey, don't do that." It ended the talk. Mrs. Moreland dried her eyes on a corner of her freshly Ironed gingham apron, and announced the noonday meal. The mountaineers dispersed, (irandpap Moreland went away clawing claw-ing at his long white beard and grumbling grum-bling over the loss of his beloved old Lancaster. An hour later Dale cornered the Moreland leader on the vine-hung front porch and suggested that they look over the coal property that afternoon. after-noon. He was eager to go to work, eager to be doing something worth while, he told Moreland. The hillman stood very still for what seemed to the other a very long time, and had no word to say. Evidently the feud bad all his mind now. When he did speak, he said simply: "All right, Bill." After half an hour of fighting their way through thickets of blooming laurel lau-rel and ivy, they drew up before an old and mildewed cabin at the north end of David Moreland's mountain. Moreland led the way In and pointed to a spot under a small, paneless window. win-dow. "Thar," said lie, "is whar we found my brother David." The two men turned for the point at which the coal vein ran out to the light of day. Dale picked up a piece of the shining shin-ing black stutf. Judging by the little lie knew and the great amount of description de-scription be had heard, the vein was very large and the coal itself of the finest grade. "It was a big find," he told his companion, com-panion, "a big find. It was a pity to let it lie here untouched for so long; and yet it's wortli more today tlMin it was ever worth before." His enthusiasm ran warm, and More-land More-land caught it quickly. Together they hastily planned out the little railroad that was to wind its-way through the wilds and connect with the big railroad rail-road at the Halfway switch. "1 know I'm a-doin' right about It," the mountaineer said twice for the benefit of his conscience. "I know pore David h' would want me to do" this ef he could know." "I'm sure of It," agreed Dale. "I'll start for Cincinnati tomorrow. I've got enough money to take me there and back. I have a very wealthy friend there his name Is Harris; 1 think 1 can borrow enough from him to finance the beginning of this thing. And I'll buy a locomotive and cars, and all the other necessary machinery, while I'm In Cincinnati unless I fnll to get the money from Harris. When I get back, which should be within eight days, we'll start the work. At a guess, I'd say well need twenty men. Can we get them?" "Shore," nodded the mountaineer. "And all Morelands at that." They turned homeward. At last BUI Dale was happy. He had something some-thing to do now an aim in life. He had difficulties to overcome, obstacles to remove, barriers to surmount It was his big chance ! It was almost sundown when Dale returned from his visit to the coal vein Big Bine mountain hid the sun at a little after three In the afternoon. He borrowed a fishing rod and a minnow min-now pail, which made his going to the river seem proper enough to Jo.. Moreland. and set out to meet Babe Littleford. He was glad that nobody expressed a desire to accompany him. ne found Ben Llttleford's daughter where he had found her twice before sitting on a stone the size of a small barrel. She was fishing with an un-haited un-haited hook, which was equal to fishing fish-ing not at all. anil she seemed pleased when she saw him coming. He sat down on the stone at her sid- She moved over a little shyly, and tried to cover her feet with ner calico skirts. "Needn't bothty to hide them,' j h: tithed Bill Dale. "They're :-.-t 1 -ii' ti l li. Must few, y'know, an- ni-n-s-wry evils, like chimneys met rain- J !" Babe Llttleford blushed. He went on. to hide let- cimt'uMun, "Teil uie about the rllles." "You must shiire k.-vp it a S'.crvr," she told him. "1 promise." "le-tt.-r put yore hixjk in, sa's ef anybody any-body comes along Dale threw out an emptj lavjk. T want to tell ye some olher things fust, so's ye'll onderstuml better when I come to the part about the rifles," Babe began, hiking thoughtfully across the water to where a Mnglisber sat In watchful waiting. She continued contin-ued slowly, choosing Iter words carefully, care-fully, "1 was brought up to bate them Morelands, but I don't think I do. My Pvple is Jest like the Morelands. The biggest difference ye can find Is that one side mosrly has grey eyes like you and t'other side mostly has brown eyes like me. All but their everlaslln' tightin", they're good people. Bill Dale. "Karli side, ye see. is brought up to hate t'other side. I'm ashamed to tell It, but I onderstand the fust plain words my Uncle Saul Littleford's last baby said was these here: 'D n John Moreland!' It started a long time ago, and It started over nothln". (.irandpap Littleford and John Morelands pap got In a dispute over whether Kain-tucky Kain-tucky was In Virginity or Nawlh Ca'-liner, Ca'-liner, and went to lightin' about It. Party soon my I'ncle Saul and Abner Moreland happened along, and they went to hgluin', too. Thank goodness, it was on Sunday, and none of 'em didn't have their rilies with 'em. Whatever What-ever else we are or ain't up here. Bill Dale, we gen'ally respects the Sabbath day to keep it holy. . . ." "I see," Dale muttered sympathetically. sympathet-ically. "I've seen my own mother set down in the floor and take her boy's head in her lap oh, such a big, Hue boy he was! while the blood run through her dress from a Moreland's bullet. He tlied with mother's arms and mine around him. It was all we could do fo' him, was to love him. I've seen sisters sis-ters watch their brothers die from Moreland bullets, and young wlmmen watch their sweethearts die, and wives watch their husbands die "I tell you, Bill Dale, them More-lands More-lands never -misses when they have even half a fair shot. You'd be puf-fectly puf-fectly safe in a-Iettin' any of 'em shoot dimes from atween yore finger and thumb all day. And it's the same way with the Llttlefords. They're fighters, too, every one, and they don't give in any more than the Morelands does. "Addie Moreland knows what it is to take her dyin' boy's head in her lap, whilst blood run through her dress to her knees. His name was Charley, and he was bad ; he'd drink, and oncet he shot up Cartersville. But Addie, she alius loved him better'n Cale or Luke. Wimmen like her alius loves the worst boyj the best ; 'cause they need it the most, the worst boys does. "It's the wlmmen that pays, Bill Dale, when the's tightin'. The wimmen wim-men o' this valley is. right now on needles ; they're afeard the men'Il Hurt their rilies. You can guess whar the guns went to now, cain't ye? The wimmen wim-men hid 'em last night after the men had gone to sleep ! By good luck, they hail almost a whole night fo' it. You must be shore to keep it to yourself but I know ye will. Addie Moreland, she started the idee. She got Granny Moreland to spread the word amongst the wimmen o' my people. When the tightin' fever sort o' dies down the guns'Il all be brought back and put whar they belong." She arose and stood there smiling down upon him. He was staring at the swirling water without seeing it at all. Her voice brought him to himself. "What're you a-thinkin' about, Bill Dale?" - Dale went to his feet. He saw that she wtis smiling, and he smiled, too. "1 was thinking," he said, "of the difference between you and som-e other women I know." Her clear brown eyes widened. "And I reckou 1 seem purty no 'count, don't 1?" "No, not at all. It Is er. quite th opposite, Babe. You make them appear ap-pear unreal, artificial." Babe Llttleford's countenance brightened. bright-ened. She did not doubt that he meant It. He was not of the sort that flnt-tered. flnt-tered. She began to like Bill Dale at that same moment. And Bill Dale told himself aa he went homeward that he was beginning to like Babe Llttleford. He did not tight the feeling, because It somehow made the world seem a better place. Early the following morning Dole made ready for his journey to Cincinnati. Cincin-nati. Having learned the evening before be-fore that he was going, By Heck had come to accompany him to the Halfway Half-way switch. The two set out. They had three hours In which to cross David More-land's More-land's mouutaln before the arrival of Dale's train, and they walked leisurely. lei-surely. They had not gone a dozen rods when there came from somewhere down near the river the sound of a rifle shot. Both stopped and faced about quickly. "I'll be dadgummed ef the Llttle-' Llttle-' fords ain't found their woepons!" exclaimed ex-claimed By Heck. "Tin v have, igod, as shore as dangit !" "How do you know?" Dale's voice was troubled. "I shore know," am1 Hock narrowed his gaze. "'At was r.i-n Littleford's old .4o Winch. I'd l.u.-w that gun ef I heered it at the in. ih pole. The bar'l it's been cut . :. and it don't sound like other Wit- I: siers." "Caleb Moreland v. ..s d.ovn near the river cleaning o springl'.ousr ditch," Dale mullr ! .aii.ig Ms coin ' I -union. "I '.Lia! .i ueUor fo back.' j Together they vv-t.'U UacU to the cabin.- Jijlai Mon-laiid nud his wife and tln-ir s-.n Luke were standing at the w eatlierbealeu front gale, with their t-yt-s turned anxiously toward the river. Olieb was coming up through the uieudow, und he carrii d his hat in his hand. "Who tired that shot?" asked Dale. "Bei Littleford." John Moreland answered an-swered readily. Two minutes later Caleb leaped the old rail fence on the other side of the road and approached them hastily. He was breathing rapidly and his strong young face was drawn and pale with the old hate. "Well," Miid his iron father, "what is it?" Caleb held up his broad-rimmed black hut and ran a bnger through a hole in the upper part of the crown's peak. "He didn't miss!" snapped John Morelund. "No," quickly replied Caleb, "he didn't miss. He don't never miss. You know that, pap, as well as ye know-God know-God made ye. He done It Jest to show me he meant what he said, lie told me to go and tell you to gether up yore st't o' rabbit-hearted heatherns and come down to the river fo' a lead-and-powder picnic, onless ye was a-skeered a-skeered to come! lie said to tell ye the wimmenfolks had hid our guns, and we'd tind 'em onder the house floors." John M-f?laud took It with utter calmness, though his face was a little pale behind his thick brown beard. He turned to his wife, who looked at him squarely. "Addie, honey," said he, "I'm mighty sorry." "Kf ef you was much sorry, John," Mrs. Moreland half sobbed, "ye wouldn't go down thar to the river." "Me a coward?" Moreland appeared to grow an inch in stature. ".Me let a Littleford send me news like this here which Cale brings, and not do nothin' at all about It? 1 thought you knowed me better'n that, Addie." He faced Ills two stalwart sons. Always Al-ways he was the general, the leader of his clan. He sent Caleb In one direction di-rection and Luke in another, to arouse his kinsmen. Then he beckoned to Dale, who had been trying hard but vainly to think of something to do or say that would be of aid to the cause of the women. "I don't want you in this here mix-up," mix-up," he said decisively. "You must stay clean out of it. You ain't used to this way o' tightin'. Asides, you're our hope. More'n that, nlebbe, you owe yore life to Babe Littleford; you cain't get around that, Bill Dale." He went on, after a moment, "Ef 1 git my light put out today, I w-ant ye to do the best ye can with the coal." Wmmmm They Dropped to Their Hands and Knees and Began to Crawl Through the Tall Grasses, the Ironweed and the Meadow Clover. But o' course ye will. I want ye to do me two favors, Bill Dale, ef I have my liglit put out today. Will ye do 'em fo' me, my friend?" "(Jertainly," Dale promised. "Much obliged to ye, shore. The fust Is this: 1 want ye to take good pay out o' what the coal brings, pay fo' yore work. The second Is this: 1 want ye to go to Ben Llttleford Btter I'm done pervided he Is yet alive and tell him about fhe end o' my bedtime bed-time prayer; I want him to know I went him one better, 'at I was a bigger big-ger man Inside 'an him. Kemember, Bill, you've done promised me. Now you go ahead to Cinclnnaty, and do Jest like ye didn't know the least thing about this trouble we're a-goin' to have. So long to ye, an' good luck I" "I don't like the Idea" Dale began, when the big hillman Interrupted sharply : "Go on! You cain't do no good here !" Heck started. Dale turned and followed fol-lowed the lanky moonshiner; there seemed to be nothing else to do. When they had reached a point a little way above the foot of David Moreland's mountain, the pair halted and looked back. They saw the Little-fords Little-fords and the -Morelands, every one of them armed, going toward the river. It had a strange an subtle fascination fascina-tion for Bill Dale, a fascination that he did not then try to understand. As the tighter?- readied dangerous ground they dropped to their hands and knees and began to crawl through j the tall grasses, the ironweed and the ' meadow eh ver. 'iliey were intent j ut-on reaching the shelter of the trees that lined the banks or the river without with-out being seen. The stream here was more than tii'iy yards wide; this was Blue Cat shoals. The two lines of trees stood hack a rod or so from the water, making the Until shooting distance dis-tance some seventy yards. Drawled Heck : "Le's set down here and watch it ; hey?" Dale was silent. The very air was filled with the spirit of tragedy. The faroff tinkle of a cowbell seemed tragic; tragic, too, sounded the song of a bird somewhere in t lie tree branches overhead. "Did ye bear me. Hill?" "I tliink," Dale muttered, "that I'd belter not go away until tomorrow. 1 can't leave mailers like this. Do you know of any way to stop that down there?" By Heck shrugged bis shoulders. "Do you know o' any way to stop the risin' ami settin' o' the sun?" he grinned. They went back to John Moreland's cabin. It was altogether by accident that the Littleford chief found his weapons. He had dropped a small coin through a crack in the floor. Babe 'was quick to say that she would crawl under the house and look for the coin, although She had Just put on a freshly laundered laun-dered blue-and-w bite calico dress. Her anxiety showed plainly in her face. Her father questioned her sharply, and she stammered In spile of hersvlf. Ben Littleford's suspicions were aroused. So he came out from under the cabin lioor with his hands full of the steel of ritle barrels, and with tho nionev forgotten. He placed the rilies carefully care-fully on the floor of the porch, turned and caught his daughter by (lie arm. "Who hid 'em?" he demanded grullly. "1 hid 'em," was the ready answer, defiant and bitter "1, me! What're you a-goiu' to do about it?" Littleford Hung his daughter's arm from him. He was king, even as John Moreland was king. His keen eyes stared at the young woman's face as though they would wither it. "What made you hide 'em?" he growled. "Say, what made ye do it?" "To try and save human lives, 'at's why !" Babe answered. "That man from the city what'll he think o' us a-doin' this-away, a-fightin' like crazy wildcats?" "Ef he don't like the way we do here, he can go back home," retorted the angry mountaineer. "He ain't tied, is he?" Babe smiled a smile that was somehow some-how pitiful, and turned off. "The' ain't no use In a-argyin' with you, pap," she said hopelessly. "1 I might' nigh wisht 1 was dead." At that instant the gate creaked open. Babe glanced toward it and saw coming that black beast of a man, Adam Bali the Goliath, and he was armed heavily ; in one hand lie carried a new high-power repeating rille, and around his great waist there was a new belt bristling with long, bright smokeless cartridges fitted with steel-Jacketed steel-Jacketed bullets. When Dale and his companion reached the cabin, ARdie Moreland met them. Anxiety was breaking her heart. . , . "Mr. Dale," she pleaded, "1 want you to go down thar to the river and see ef the's anything ye can do to stop It afore it begins. You jest walk out bold in the open and ye won't be shot at, and I'll be obleeged to ye. Oh, 1 know the' ain't but one chanst in ten thousand, but I'm a-prayin' ye'll strike that one chanst." Dale knew that he could do nothing toward bringing peace, and he knew that John Moreland would be angry at his interfering. Hut he nodded and went toward the river. He didn't have the heart in him to refuse. Tbeu there came the keen thunder of a rille shot. Dale halted for a moment. Between two sycamores on the nearer side of the river he saw a puff of smoke rising ris-ing lazily from behind a water oak on the farther side; a Littleford had fired first. Dale went on, moving rapidly and trying to keep himself always In plain view. The feud forgotten. r (TO BE CONTINUED.) |