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Show STORIES OF THE OZARKS. SOME OF THE WAYS OF THE NATIVES. aiitilra fur a Whlteraa Baad-A Uat The lint Blrirle Keea I IhadwIfS They Brrioa DUtaace bj the 3 Appetite for Flrenatrr. We stopped for the night at a small Christian county cabin one evening last August and the host appeared to be very glad to see us. After silting out in the open air for an hour past dusk, listening to the quaint melody of a jewsharp in the hands of the oldest boy, we were invited to go to bed in the loft. We complied and In ten minutes my companion and I were fast asleep. It was about inia night, that a slight noise from below awak- ened me, and distinguishing voices apparently from the outside of the cabin, I listened intently. "You make er noise on ther inside." I heard one of the voices say, "an' when they jump from up thar I'll shoot" The horror of the situation struck me in an instant We were probably taken for revenue officers by desperate bald knobbcrs who resolved that we should never get away. I lay perfectly perfect-ly still, however, and awaited the noise from the inside. Pretty soon it came. I awakened my companion, and at the same time put my hands upon him and commanded him to lie still. A long silence followed and after some more whispering that was not clear to either of us, the terrific rncket inside the house resumod. Still we remained quiet A moment later two shots rang out and there followed a shout in a voice that I recognized as being that of my host "We gottom, boys, eh?" he yelled. "Dead sure," was the reply; "thoy's dead as a raackcril." We hastened down from the loft and out into the moonlight night. The mountaineers had killed two raccoons that they had run to the roof of the little house. Who Hon the ltrt? Tho first bicycle had reached Chad-wick, Chad-wick, nnd as it stood in its crate on the little depot; platform, everybody in town came up to examine it "Yer don't mean to say that 'er man kin ride thot thing?" questioned old Silas Prink. "Thet's whut thoy say," said long, lank young Simpson. "I ain't seed hit done, but ther agent says hit's eusy." "An' only thom many wheels?" "Two's er nulT." "I'll bot you my hat hit kaint be did." "All right," responded Simpson; "Putter up." Just at the moment tho arrangements arrange-ments of the wagor were completed, a dappor young man cauaa- uj, and With n strong nrm pulled tho sluts from the crate. Ho took the glittering machine out gave its pedals a few whirls, nimbly jumped into the saddle and was off like the wind, down the gravel road. 'There!" exclaimed Simpson, before be-fore the bicycle had got thirty feet away, "gimme that hat." It was ill-luck or pride or something else that made the young man run into a small rock, and nature did the rest The machine stopped and the ftder went ovor into the road. When the doctor got through and put him on the train for home, old Si and Simpson Simp-son were arguing over who won the bet. He had shown his ability to rido, Simpson said, but the old man still declares that bicycles are a failure. fail-ure. , |
