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Show g j : - 5Jj Coprlfrht by Doiibleday, Pa(f A Co. H CHAPTER XV. -13 Tried. Two days lii-fiii-c Hill Oiilo ua- tric.l u conn ai (.'urh-fsvil!)', I hi new Kli.a-iclli Kli.a-iclli l.iirli'fonl alijhl'-d from Mil afier-moil afier-moil (mill at the Halfway .switch. She ua ilns.siil in u smart mnl noally-Itllmr noally-Itllmr - 1 1 i I or dark blue, with lai-cy while at her lhruat ami at her wrists. TJit wre liar of dark hint relieved fiy loiicji of whiti'. In one of her xiJroii'i and weil-slutped, gloved iiands uhr f-arricd u traveling bag of black illlllT A lii and sunburned ycmig man in tfwti and I'ordnroys hastened to her. IU raised liis broad-rimmed hat. smiled, took tin1 hag. and pressed Iter timid as though hu was very .dad to w.- lll-r. "f'iH Onle!" shii cried Joyously above ftiir roar of the passing train. "Hill J)ale. It's you !" w3iir it's tne !" laughed Pale. "How piCxl you look! I can hardly believe Il'b you." "Hut it is." she smiled. "Tell ine : vvhaf do you think tin- outcome ' your frbil Is going to he?" (Hil noted that her Kurdish had ini-(rovwl, ini-(rovwl, and it was gratifying to hint. Aa fur the trial "I don't know," lie said, "lint Major Ma-jor firsidley thinks I'll come clear. He ViidU'Vt'S that somebody that was hid-liin hid-liin on the moutuinside above us shot J'.ull to save me. By Heel; hinted that fie. knew that this was the case; and tie Jnliinated that I would stand a bet-fur bet-fur cliaiiw of aciiuittal than anybody ;lst would stand, and that if I re-iwhed re-iwhed a sentence the right man vindd eome forward with :i confession. confes-sion. I have an idea that By Heck MniHolf killed Adam Ball that is. If didn't do it." "And (.'ale Moreland wasn't it fine for him to do what he done for ymt. Hill Dale? llow tire you getlin' along with the mine?" "First rate," Dale answered, bright --nlng at once. "We're shipping now. Anil we're getting a smashing price for every ounce of it." "I see." said the young woman. He went on : "All of the hoys nnd girls of the Morelands, except the very little ones, .are In school at Cartersville. anil lliey're learning fast. When our borrowed bor-rowed capital is paid hack, (he More- . land families are going to buy farms lying near Cartersville and go to them. A big lowland farm close to good .schools; and a good little town well, there are worse places on earth. I'ity ior David Moreland can't know about lb" "I'd say !" She hung her head. She was thinking, think-ing, as she had so often thought before, be-fore, of her own benighted people. "And the Littlefords?" she murmured. mur-mured. It Had slipped past her lips. Pule nnd the Morelands owed the I-.it-llefords nothing. Palo understood, and he gave her ii 8yuithetic glance. "A few of the boys and girls of the J. i It le fords are going to school in Cartersville, Car-tersville, perhaps one from each faifl-Jly," faifl-Jly," be told her. "It is rather expensive, ex-pensive, you know, on account of the ;lKi.yding, and they can't afford to mpik! Jill their children. However, I tblnlt ultimately your people will have their chance for education, too." "But it won't do much good to educate, edu-cate, one out o' each family," said Eliz-jilifilJt. Eliz-jilifilJt. "They'll eome straight back -here when the5" got through with their sehoolin', and soon fo'git I mean for-tet! for-tet! it all. If they make their learn-lu' learn-lu' pay 'em anything, they'll have to riliiy w here they can use it." She began to stare absently toward her weil-snoil teet. "Are you ready to go?" Dale asked. Elizabeth Liltleford raised her bead with a slight jerk and said rather awkwardly awk-wardly : "Has the valley changed much?" "Nut very much." answered Dale. "There's a new log church, where an old minister named Ashby Cross preaches the gospel of straight walking walk-ing and human kindliness every Sunday. Sun-day. Henderson tlolT isnt here any more, but he sent me bis address in cms-.- we wanted to sell the mine! The Torreys have gone back to Jerusalem oivi' and Ilalton's hell, and the Balls are as ipiiet as mice. These. 1 believe. :ire all the changes worth mentioning." Tnge'.her they set out and waiked. vWlhntit saying much, to the crest of Pat, Id Moreland's mountain, and there I hey halted. The autumn sun. a great ;vd ball of lire, was just setting beyond (he iimjestie Big Bine. Pale pointed to a long, moss-covered Blab of brown sandstone. "Bet's sit down there and rest." he xuggested. "You're tired. Babe. 1 know. Don't laind my calling you Babe,' do you ?" She looked at him as though she were surprised at his asking that. They mt down. Bill Dale suddenly leaned toward her nnd took one of her hands; and be didn't take it as Jimmy Bayne had done as though he were afraid of it. "You know I love you, don't you Babe?" "I've been believin' It," she told him . lifter a moment of painful silence. She was a tritle pale now. "But it Bill Dale, it somehow don't seem just right for you to love rue. Because I'm such a pore little? nobody. I'm as ignorant as sin ; anil I hain't haven't even got good manners. But but if you love, if you're sure you do, tell me why! There came another minute of painful pain-ful silence. "Because." saiil Dale, speaking slowly, slow-ly, "you have always seemed to he one of my own kind. You seem real, to me. I was so sick of artificialities in women that 1 loved you the moment I s.hw you. I know you are primitive, hut 1 'am primitive, too. And you weren't calling yourself 'Ma-a-am-inah' to a d d poodle. . . . "Major Bradley," he went on, "feels sure that I will he act ill tied. If it turns out like that, I want you to marry tne at once. Tell me will you. Babe?" How boyishly Impatient he was. Was he afraid he would lose her by waiting? wait-ing? "You love me, don't you, Babe?" he pursued. She faced him with the sudden, queer light of u tragedy in her eves. : A ft 1 "Will You Always Think of Me as the Finest and Most Beautiful Woman in the World?" She Asked. But she didn't speak He pressed her band until it hurt and demanded: "You do, don't you. Babe?" "Y"es," she told him, in a voice that he barely heard. "Then why won't you marry me?" She didn't answer. She wouldn't answer. The day of the trial dawned clear, with the snap of autumn in the air. The courthouse was tilled to Its capacity within tifteen minutes after the doors were thrown open. Every man who had a rifle was forced to leave it behind with the sheriff's deputies; depu-ties; a company of the state's militia was there, and each member of It had a hundred rounds of ball cartridges In his belt the authorities were taking no chances. Amid a breathless hush, the wheels of the law began to move. Caleb More-land More-land quickly told what he had to say, and backed it up with proof; he brought out a perfect alibi. The iudi-'o and the inrv frowned and smiled in the same instant. Dale went forward for-ward and tool; his place. lie pleaded "Not Cuilty." A little later the state introduced its evidence and rested. The counsel for the defense, patrician patri-cian and soldier-like, immaculate fnjm his ies to the crown of his head, went eagerly to his feet. He had fully prepared himself, and he delivered his argument with an eloquent and forceful force-ful swing. It was plain that the jury was favorably impressed by the words of this man who never accepted a case unless he was absolutely sure that his client was in the right. Major Bradley hinged his argument on the mystt"iuus third shot. If Dale's bullet had killed Adam Ball, would not Adam Ball have been shot squarely or at least nearly squarely from the front? As it was, rhe Coliath had been shot straight through the temples' That third shot hail been tired by soini hidden friend of Pale's, the major de chireil,' and it had been done for tin? purpose of saving Dale's lite. Ball had been in the act of playing a cowardly cow-ardly trick; he had killed a man in .North Carolina by just such a trick and he had boasted of It. The attorney for the state made a rejoinder that almost favored the defendant. de-fendant. Then the court charged the Jury, and the twelve good men retired. The jury was out not more than twenty minutes, but to Elizabeth Lit-lleford Lit-lleford it was an age of torture. The twelve men filed slowly In and faced the judge, who turned austere eyes upon theiu and asked : "Centlemen of the Jury, have you reached a verdict?" They bad. Elizabeth l.iltleford's head swam as she bent forward to catch the foreman's words ".Not guilty!" A wild shout rose from the leathery throat of the happy A.Sy Heck. The .Morelands and the Littlefords cheered until they were hoarse. Sheriff Tom Flowers had difficulty iu qu. cling the tutnult. Bill Dale shook hands until his shoulders ached. The Balls and their relatives, bitter with resentment and hatred, stole out. were given their ritles, and went toward the big hills with the eye of the tniltia hard upon t hem. Then the .Morelands and the Little-fords Little-fords and the lleeks. with Dale and his mining man Hayes, came out. and they, too, started for the big hills. Lale had hired a horse and a side saddle for Ben Littleford's daughter, and the two rode in each other's company com-pany on the journey home. When they were well into the mountains. Dale drew his horse over close to that of his companion. "As soou as I can build and furnish " he began, when Elizabeth interrupted inter-rupted : "We're ridin' too fast. We're too much ahead o' the others. One o' them Balls might try to pick you off with his rifle gun." "Not much danger of that." Dale replied. re-plied. "The Balls have already been warned about sniping; your father told them that their very name would be scoured off the earth if there was any sniping. Besides, By Heck is acting as advance guard somewhere ahead of us." He continued. "As soon as I can build and furnish a little house out near the mine, I want you to marry tne. Babe. Will you?" Elizabeth Littleford seemed not to have heard. "Will you, Babe?" She faced him sadly. He saw in her hazel eyes I lie same queer light of tragedy that he had seen there a day or two before; and now. as then, he wondered what it could mean. "Tell me. Babe!" Her head fell forward. The sunlight found glints of gold in her thick chestnut-brown hair. She was silent for a moment; then her voice came dully: "I'd better not marry you. Bill Dale." Dale sat up straight and rigid in his saddle and stared hard at her solemnly sol-emnly beautiful profile. lie could hardly believe that he had heard correctly. cor-rectly. He knew she loved him. She had told him that she loved him. Then why wouldn't she marry him? He tried to reason it out, and the attempt made his brain ache; he was unable to reason. He knew only that she was all of the future to him, all of the world to him. and that she had refused re-fused to marry him. When they were within two miles of home, Dale went suddenly white and caught her almost rudely by a wrist. "Is it Jimmy Fayne?" he demanded hotly. She gave him a reproachful glance and said nothing. lie fiung her hand from him angrily. Dale did not speak again until they had entered the broad valley that was home to him. Somehow he felt limp now. ' The great wave of anger had passed. "I guess you are too good for me " he said. There was weakness in his voice, and it was the first weakness she had ever known in him. "Will you always think of me as the finest and most beautiful woman In tlie world?" she asked. "Always." "It's the best I can hope for," murmured mur-mured Elizabeth. "What do you mean?" "It's the best I can hope for," Elizabeth Eliza-beth repeated as though she were talking talk-ing to herself. They rude on in silence. There was no sleep for B.ill Pale that night. The sweetness of his liberry had all been taken away by Babe Ln-tleford's Ln-tleford's refusal to marry him. He became hitter toward her again. She had been exceedingly unfair to him ; while she really loved him. she was going to marry Jimmy Fa. ne because he had so much money. She was ungrateful un-grateful to him: it was iliroiiL.'li htm that site was being educated, heim: lifted out of her uncouth and illiter-tfe illiter-tfe self and set on a higher social aim intellectual plane. All he had ever heard of the so-called unfathomable mystery of womankind he now believed, be-lieved, and more. All this, of course, was unworthy. But Bill I'ale was intensely in-tensely human, and to he human is to be unworthy. , It turned cold that night. A little before noon of the next day. By Heck stepped into tin? Moreland Coal company's com-pany's ollice. Dale looked wearily up from his littered lit-tered desk. - "I am very much obliged to you for shooting Adam Ball, By." "It's h 1. Bill, ain't it?" "What?" Heck leaned over and rested his knotty hands on the mu.zi.; of the in-I in-I evitable riP.e. "Whatever it is you're a-grievin' about, o' course. Babe Littleford she went back tit yore home town this mornin'. Bill. Sort o' quare, I thought, 'at you never went with her over to the switch. Sort o' quare. too. 'at she never rid over on the little ingyne instid o' walkin'. But mehhe she was afeard o' gittin' her tine city do es all smutted up. Say, Bill, old hoy. 1 wish! I may drap dead in my tracks ef you don't look like a d d corpst, igod. It haf to be h 1. or yon wouldn't grieve about it. 'Smaller? Babe?" Dale rose and glared at By Heck. "I'm going to have the truth, By; now get that. Did you. or did you not, kill Adam Ball to save me?" By Heck realized that he would have to he very cunning If he evaded the question now. Bill Dale, his god. would not he put off longer. So By Heck answered: "I wisht I may drap dead this minute and turn into a cross-eyed mink with a green tail and pink eyes; I wisht the devil may take me and spend ten thousand etarnities a-sticking' red-hot, pepper-coated pepper-coated pitchforks in me and not let me have any tohacker; I wisht I may he struck blind and deef and dumb and paralyzed and ha' my tongue cut out and my ears and toe-nails tore off ef I killed Adam Ball to save you or anybody else." And then, having answered, he favored fav-ored Dale with an odd look, took up his rifle ami strode out of the office humming: "When I die, don't bury me deep Put no tombstone at my head and feet Put a bear's jawbone in my right hand " "But he's the biggest liar in the state." muttered Dale, turning back to his desk. He closed his desk, and be didn't work any more that day. Babe Littleford Little-ford had gone without even bothering to tell him good-bye ! ' CHAPTER XVI. Confession. If the impulsive, fighting Bitr Pale could have heard across the intervening interven-ing miles the conversation that took place in his old home the next evening, he would probably have followed Ben Littleford's daughter by the next train if he had had to hold It up at the point of an honest blue gun in order to get aboard it. John K. Pale and his wife had gone into the library' with Elizabeth at her request. The three sat down facing each other. The younger woman was ill at ease; she was glad that the lights were subdued and soft. When the silence had become heavy, she straightened straight-ened in her chair and blurted out fal-teringly fal-teringly : "Bill asked me to m-mnrry him, and I wouldn't do it. I I thought maybe I I ought to tell you." The Pales exchanged glances; then they looked back at Elizabeth Littleford. Little-ford. Pale smiled a fatherly smile. Mrs. Pale's eyes narrowed. The otd MB 4 mm 7 1 W!i -VO Otil 7jtJl "Then." Said Mrs. Dale. "Why Did You Refuse ':o Marry stiffness rose within her and began to make stubborn war against her more recently acquired common sense. "Have you quarreled?" she asked. "No." 'Well." old Pale said bluntly, "what's wrong?" "It isn't his fault." Elizabeth told them. "I'm a savage." she went on desperately "and he isn't my kind." John K. Dale retired very early that night. When the sound of his footsteps foot-steps had ified away, his wife bent toward to-ward Elizabeth and said curiously: "Why did you call yourself a savage?" sav-age?" Elizabeth old of her early life iu the hills, of the feud between her people peo-ple and the Morelands and of how she had hated the bloodshed. She told of the coining of Major Bradley, of her burning thirst for education, of the old trainman who had thrown her a newspaper news-paper each day, and of the coining of Bill Dale. "I was lonesome." she continued, "and nobody ever seemed to understand under-stand how I felt. That Is. until Bill ' Liale came. After I met him. I couldn't see anything but him; he seemed to me like somethin' I'd had and lost. . . ." "Then." said Mrs. Pale, "why did you refuse to marry '.' "Wait you don't know it all," Elizabeth Eliz-abeth interrupted her. "There was the killin' o" that heathen. Adam Ball. I went to 'tend the trial because 1 knew I could clear your son if Major Bradley Brad-ley couldn't. You see, Mrs. Pale. I happened to know who did kill Adam Bali, and I meant to tell if it was necessary. nec-essary. "On the mornin' of the killin' Bill had started up the river by himself. It was dangerous for him to go off like that, on account o' them Balls and Torreys. Tor-reys. Back in the Big Bine country there is a tall, thin man named Sam Heck. He's a big eater, an awful liar, and a worshiper of Bill Pale. Sam heard my father say It was dangerous, and he whispered: 'I'll jest sneak through the laurels and gyard Bill from ahind him.' I heard him say it, Mrs. Pale. "So he went sneakin' along the foot o' the north end o' David Moreland's mountain, with his rifle in his baud, to guard your son. Bill didn't know he was bein' followed, because Heck is as crafty as a cat. I got nervous about Bill, so I went into the. laurels and followed fol-lowed Sam Heck. When I overtook him, he was standin' behind a clump o' sheep laurel and lookin' toward the river. "I whispered, 'Where's Bill?' "He said. TSe still, Babe!' And then he thumbed his Title's hammer back without a sound. "I looked toward the river and saw Bill Dale a-walkin' up the nearest bank, and I saw Black Adam slip behind be-hind a tree not far away. Bill saw Adam, and he slipped behind a tree, too. Adam shot at Bill's hat, and teased Bill. Bill shot at Adam's hat and then Adam Ball jumped up groan-in' groan-in' like he was done for, and fell, all a-twistin', a-twistin', to the ground. But he wasn't bit. He put his gun out by the tree to kill Bill as soon as he showed himself. It was one o' his old tricks." Elizabeth Littleford raised her head slow ly and went on in a voice that was much shaken : "I had always talked against killin'. and yet I stood there and begged Sam Heck to finish him. The rest happened in no time. Ball was already a-lookin' along his sights. Bill Dale was nearly out in the open, I " she faltered, and then came a rush of words: "I wouldn't marry him without tellin' him, because it wouldn't be fair to him; and if I told him, he he wouldn't have me. The woman he marries mustn't be a a s-savage." She stopped and stared at Mrs. Dale almost defiantly. Her head was high, and her hands were clasped in her lap so hard that they trembled. "I think you have made a mountain out of a molehill, nay dear," the older woman said gently. 'What you did was right, not wrong; any good woman would have done just what you did, Elizabeth, I am sure." Elizabeth Littleford faced Mrs. John K. Dale squarely. There was a strange glow in her eyes. "But I haven't told you everything," she murmured "I took Sam Heck's ritle from him, and killed Adam Ball myself." (TO BE CONTINUED.) |