The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 26, No. 23, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 11, 1915 Page: 3 of 12

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THE CLIPPER HENNESSEY. OKLAHOMA.
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THE MTTLKPY
A-CHAMIS NEVILLE BUCK
AUTHOR of "TKgCM.L oj'theCUMBERLAN'DS"
ILLUSmTIONS C.D.RHODES
C OPY/VGf/rOV
CMJPLCJ •
nev/LLE •,*
BUCK
SYNOPSIS
Juanita Holland, a Philadelphia youn?
Wi-man of wealth, on her Journey with
toer guide. Good Anse Talbott, Into the
oeart of the Cumberlands to become a
.ac^er *he mountain children, faints
tne door of Fletch McNash's cabin.
While resting there she overhears a talk
oatween Bad Anse Havey, chief of his
wan. and one of his henchmen that ac-
Sualnts her with the Havey-McBriar feud
uanlta has an unprofitable talk with Bad
Ansa and they become antagonists. CaS
JJouglas of the Havey clan is on trial In
for the murder of Noah Wyatt, a
McBriar. In the night Juanlta hears
feudists ride past the McNash cabin.
Juanlta and Dawn McNash become
mends. Cal Douglas Is acquitted. Nash
- i1aft,,,at,te.mp,s to km h'm b« Is him-
iH ,, Ij^ 'he Haveys. Juanlta goes
to live with the Widow Everson, whose
S°y5 ur® ,OL"slde the feud. Milt McBrlar,
Bead of his clan, meets Bad Anse there
•pd disclaims responsibility for Wyatt's
Attempt to kill Douglas. They declare a
trucc under pressure from Good Anse
Talbott. Juanlta thinks she finds that
Bad Anse Is opposing her efforts to buy
land and build a school.
CHAPTER VII
done been admonished not ter make
no trades with strangers."
"Oh!" she exclaimed In a low voice, ,
and her face flushed wrathfully.
"Whom does your land belong to?" she
demanded after a moment's silence, j
"Are you a bondman to Bad Anse Ha-
vey? Isn't your property your own?" i
He looked away and rummaged In
his pockets for a few crumbs of leaf
tobacco, then he commented with the
dreary philosophy of hopelessness:
"Hit's a God's blessed truth thet a
feller hyarabouts is plumb lucky es
long as his life's his own."
So, she told herself, Bad Anse had
begun his war with boycott! She
could not even buy a foothold on which
to begin her fight. Back there In the
Philadelphia banks lay enough money,
she bitterly reflected, to buy the coun-
try at an inflated price, to bribe its
courts, to hire assassins and snuff out
human lives, yet, since the edict of one
man carried the force of terror, she
could not purchase a few acres to
teach little children and care for the
sick. At least it was a confession that,
for all his fine pretense of scorn, the
man recognized and feared the poten-
tiality of her efforts.
As days grew into weeks Bad Anse
Havey heard nothing of the establish-
ing of a school at the head of Tribula-
tion, though all the gossip of the coun-
tryside which might interest a dicta-
tor filtered through the valleys to his
house.
He smiled a little over the copy of
Plutarch s "Lives," which was the com-
panion of his leisure mbments, and
held his counsel. While he thought of
Juanita herself with a resentment
which sprang from hurt pride, he felt
tor her, as a menace to his power, only
contempt.
But Juanita's resolve had in no wise
weakened. She had seen that her
original ideas had all been chaotic and
horn of ignorance, so she occupied her-
self, like a good and patient general,
In pulling all the pins out of her little
"war map and drafting a completely
new plan of campaign.
With Good Anse Talbott she rode up i ,, „
dwindling watercourses to the hovels I - Suffer her to g0 forward with
of the branch-water folks" and across
"! hain't nuver astonished," retort
ed McBriar. "Who war he?"
Very cautiously the second man
looked around and then bent over and
whispered a name. There w as a short
pause, after which the chief comment-
ed: "Wall, I reckon I don't need ter
tell yer what ter do now."
"I reckon 1 knows," confessed Luke
with a somewhat surly expression.
But Milt McBriar was paying no
attention His face waB darkening.
"I wish I could afford ter git the
real man'" he exclaimed abruptly. "1
wish I durst hev Anse Havey kilt."
"Wall"—this time it was the un-
derling who spoke casually—"I reck-
on I mought as well die fer a sheep as
a lamb. Shell I kill Anse Havey fer
yer*
The chieftain looked at him during
a long pause, then slowly shook his
head.
"No, Luke," he said quietly. "I
hain't quite ready ter die myself ylt.
I reckon if I hed ye ter klH Bad Anse
thet's 'bout what'd happen. Jest git
ther lamb this trip an' let ther old
ram live a spell."
So, one unspeakably sultry morning,
a few days after that informal session.
Good Anse Talbott arrived at the
Widow Everson's house. As Juanita
Holland appeared at the door to greet
him he came at once to the point.
"Fletch McNash hes done been
kilt," he said. " 'Bout twilight last
night, es he was a-comin' In from ther
barn somebody shot one shoot from
ther la'rel. I reckon hit'd be right
smart comfort ter his woman an'
little Dawn ef ye could ride over thar
an' help 'tend ter ther buryin'. Kin
ye start now?"
Go! Juanita would go if it were
necessary to run a gantlet of all the
combined forces of the Haveys and
McBriars. Her heart ached for the
the latter ro*e and laid one hand on
do liken you to Milt McBriar.
the shoulder which had begun to trem- j What in heaven's name is the dlffer-
ble Man and boy looked at each
other, eye to eye, then the elder of the
two began to speak.
"Jeb, I don't want ye to think 1
don't feel for ye, but ye don't know
who the feller is. an' ye can't hardly
go shootin' ptrmiscuous. Ye've got
to bide your time."
"But," Interrupted the boy tensely,
"you knows You knows everything
hyarabouts In heaven's name, Anse,
1 hain't askin' nothin' out of ye but
Jest one word. Jest speak one name,
thet's all I needs."
The mother had dropped back into
her stupor again, and her son stood
there, his broganed feet wide apart
and his whole body rigid and tense
with passion.
Anse Havey once more shook his
head.
"No, Jeb," he said quietly: "1 don't
know—not yet. The McBriars acted
on suspiciou—an' they killed the
wrong man. Ye ain't seekin' to do
likewise, be ye? Ye ain't quite "wenty-
one. Jeb, an' I'm the head of the fam-
ily I reckon ye'd better take counsel
of me, boy. I ain't bent on deludln'
ye, an' ye can trust me. Ye've got to
give me your hand Jeb. that until
As the bright greens of June were i wido.w and the boys, but for Dawn the
scorched into the dustier hues of July | aclle was as deeply poignant as it
and the little spears of corn grew could have been for a little sfster of
taller, she began to feel conscious of a her own So wlth set fnce and hot ln'
certain drawing back, even of those j d'gnation Juanita mounted for the
who had been her warm admirers, and j J°urney.
At last they reached the McNash
to notice scowls on strange faces as
they eyed her.
Somewhere a poison squad was at
work. Of that she felt sure, and her
eyes flashed as she thought of its au-
thorship. Each day brought her new
warnings offered under the semblance
of kindness and friendship.
"Folks hereabouts liked her power-
ful well, but hit warn't hardly likely
thet Bad Anse, ner Milt McBriar.
hills wheresoever the cry of sickness
or distress called him, and since his
Introduction was an open sesame, she
found welcomes where she went.
And soon this figure, that walked
with an almost lyric grace, yet with a
boyish strength and litlieness, became
familiar along the roads and trails.
Instead of asking, "Who mought thet
be?" mountaineers nodded and said:
"Thet's her," and some women added:
"God bless thet child."
She had been into many gloomy
cabins that repelled the brightness of
the summer sun, and she had been
more like sunlight than anything that
had ever come through their narrow
doors before.
She sometimes rode over to the
cabin of Fletch McNash and brought
little Dawn back with her to spend a
day or two. The "furrin" girl and the
mountain girl wandered together in
the woods, and Dawn's diffidence gave
way and her adoration grew. Twice
Juanita found another visitor at the
McNash cabin—Bad Anse Havey. He
recognized her only with a haughty
nod, like that of an Indian chief, and
she gave him in return a slight incli-
nation of her head, accompanied by a
glance of starry contempt in her violet
eyes. Yet, in the attitude of the moun-
taineers to the man, she saw such
hero-worship as might have been ac-
corded to some democratic young
monarch walking freely among his
subjects.
Once Fletch said: "Ma'am, how's
yore school a-comin' on? Air ye git-
tin' things started ter suit ye?"
Juanita flushed.
"Not yet," she answered. "I'm try-
ing to get acquainted first. When I
do start, I hope to make up for lost
time."
"I reckon thet school will be a right
Rood thing over thar; don't ye 'low
so, Anse?" Fletch's good-natured
density had not recognized the hos-
tility between his two guests.
Anse laughed quietly.
"I reckon," he said, "so long as the
lady Just keeps on sayin' 'not yet' thar
won't be no harm done. I don't quar-
rel with dreams." .
The lady flushed, and a hot retort
rose to her lips, but she only smiled.
"I'm biding my time, Fletch," she
assured him. "My dream will come
true."
But for this dream's fulfillment she
must have land. There must be dormi-
tories for boys and girls, and play-
grounds where muscles and brains,
grown slow from heavy harness, could
be quickened. She fancied herself
listening to the laughter of children
cabin and found gathered about it
score of figures with sullen and scowl-
ing fhces.
From the barn came the screech of
saw and rat-tat of hammer, where
those whose knack ran into carpentry
were fashioning the box which was to
serve in lieu of a casket.
There was no fire now, and the
cabin was very dark. In a deeply
shadowed corner lay Fletch McNash,
her projecks. They'd done beeb hold- made visible by the white sheet that
in' off 'cause she war a woman, an' covered him.
she'd better quit of her own behest." [ Juanita had come in silently, and
So they were willing to let her sur- for a moment thought that no one
render with the honors of war! Her | L''se was there. The younger children
lips tightened. had been sent away, and the neigh-
In answer to detailed questioning ! bors remained outside with rough
her informant would shake his head sense of consideration.
"Fletch McNash Hes Rone Been Kilt."
ye're plumb, everlastingly sartain
who got your pa, ye won't raise your
gun against any man."
The boy sank down into his chair
j ence between you? He kills your vas-
sals and you kill his. Both of you do
11 by the proxy of hirelings and from
I ambuscade. In this house a man lies
| dead—dead for no quarrel of his own,
; but because of your quarrel with Milt
McBriar. But it seems that's not
i enough. You must enlist the son of
the dead man into a life that will have
the same end for him. You bind him
i apprentice to your merciless code of
murder."
j Her hands were clenched and her
| eyes burning with her tempest of rage.
When she stopped speaking the man
inquired once again "Are ye through
now?" But Juanita threw both her
j hands out and continued:
I "You have taken the boy—very
j well. I mean to take the girl. I
I shall try to undo in her and ln her
children the evil you will do her
brother. I shall try to give the fam-
: ily one unblighted branch. Unless
i you kill me. 1 shall stay here and light.
I'll fight you and your enemy Mc-
Briar alike, because you are only two
. sides of the same coin. I'll try to
take the ground out from under your
| feet and leave you no standing room
outside a state's prison Dawn shall
I learn the things that will, some day.
set this coutnry free."
| Mrs. McNash was looking up vague
ly, but her thoughts were still far
away, and this outpouring of speech
near at hand meant little to her.
Juanita, as she finished her wild
peroration, fell suddenly to trembling
Her strength seemed to have gone
out of her words. Her knees seemed
too weak to support her, and for the
first time in her life, as she looked
into the face of Anse Havey, ominous-
ly blanched with rage, she was physi-
cally afraid of a man.
His eyes seemed to pierce her with
the stabs of rapiers, and in his quiet
self-repression was something omi-
nous. For a moment he did not permit
himself to speak, then he thrust a
chair forward and said In a level,
toneless sort of voice: "If ye're all
through now, mebby ye'd better sit
down. Such eloquence as that's liable
ter tire ye out right smartly."
The girl made no move to take the
chair, and Anse Havey took one Btep
forward and pointed to it. This time
his voice came quick and sharp, like
the crack of a mule-whip.
"Sit down, I tell ye! I've got Just
a few words ter say my own self."
CHAPTER X.
For a few moments Bad Anse Havey
did not speak, atid Juanita dropped al-
vaguely and suspect that "hit warn't
rightly none of his business nohow;
he Just 'lowed"hit war a kindly act ter
give her timely warnin'."
CHAPTER IX.
There, in a squat chair near the
cold hearth, sat Mrs. McNash, her
back turned to the room. She was
leaning forward and gazing ahead
with unseeing eyes. Dawn was kneel-
ing at her side with both arms about
her mother's drooping shoulders.
One afternoon, while old Milt Mc- Juanita bent and impulsively kissed
Briar was sitting on the porch of his ; the withered face, but the woman only
house,^ a horseman rode up and "light- stirred a, little, like a half-wakened
ed." The horseman was not of pleas- sleeper, and looked stolidly up. After
ant expression, but he knew his mis- [ a while she spoke in the lifeless, far-
sion and was sure of his welcome. I away tone of utter lethargy.
" 'Evenin', Luke," welcomed the Mc-1 *'Ef
Briar chief, and as the visitor sank
into a chair with a nod, he laconically
announced:
"I've done found out who kilt Nash
Watt."
Old Milt never showed surprise. It
was his pride that his features had
banished all register of emotion. Now
ye'd like ter see him, Jest lift
| up ther sheet. He's a-layln' thar."
j Then once more she sank back into
! the coma of her staring at the hearth
j with its dead ashes.
| Then the door opened, letting in two
j men, and in them Juanita recognized
! Jeb McNash and Bad Anse Havey.
| At their coming Dawn looked up.
j drawing away from the embrace of
J the older girl, and retreated silently
to a corner, as though ashamed of
having been discovered in tears. For
a few moments there was silence in
the room, complete except for the rap
of Jeb's pipe when he knocked out its
ashes against tlje chimney.
Bad Anse stood with folded arms in
the dim light and gave no sign that he
had recognized the presence of the
"furrin" woman.
The boy Jerked his head toward the
hearth and said in a strained, hard
voice: "Set ye a cheer, Anse," and
after that no one spoke. Jeb's thin
but muscular chest rose and fell to
the swell of heavy breathing and his
face was wrapped black in a scowl
that made his eyes smolder and his
lips snarl. Juanita had dropped back
to one of the beds with Dawn's face
buried in her lap.
Then, as if rousing from a long
dream, Mrs. McNash looked up, and
for the first time appeared to realize
that her Bon and his companion had
entered the place.
The dead blankness left her pupils,
and into them leaped a hateful fire.
Her voice came in shrill and high-
You a Bondsman to Bad Anse P'^ed questioning: "Wall, Jeb, hev
Havey?" ye got hlm yit?
The boy only shook his head and
he merely leaned over and knocked glowered at the wall, while his moth
the ash from his pipe against the rail- er's voice rose almost to a scream.
„ "Hain't ye a goin' ter do nothin'?
a"' he commanded curtly, "let's Thar lays yore pap what nuver harmed
hev yore tale." no maDt shot down cold-blooded. Don't
- I,, i They picked out a man fer ther Job I ye hear him a-callin' on ver ter settle
who had not before learned to laugh. thet hain.t been mlxed up ,u nQ feU(, skeered' Ther
But as she made Inquiries of land heretofore," pursued the other ! spirit of him thet fathered ye's a
holders whom a price might tempt to wlth unruffled calmness. "He's a fel- j pleadln' with ye-an' ye sets still in
soli, she was mot everywhere with a |er thet nobody wouid„.t BU8pect; hlni yore cheer!.. y
bein' peaceable an' mostly sober. But | Juanita felt the slender figure In her
he shoots his squirrels through the j embrace shudder at the lashing lnvec-
head every time he throws up his j tive that fell from the mother's lips
gun. Thet war ther kind of man they she saw the boy's face whiten: saw
wanted."
Milt McBriar shifted his position a
little He seemed bored.
"Who war this feller?"
and bowed his head in his hands, j most limply into the chair he had
while Iris finger-nails bit into his tem | pushed forward. Havey paced the nar-
ples. Even Juanita Holland had felt i row length of the room, pausing once
the effect of Havey's wonderfully | to gaze down at the rigid body of the
quieting voice. Finally Jeb McNash j dead man. At last he came and took
raised his face. his place squarely before her by the
"An' will ye give me yore hand, j hearth, both hands thrust deep into
Anse Havey, thet If ye finds hit out j his coat-pockets. A long black lock
afore I do, ye'll tell me thet man's j fell over his forehead and he impa-
'Are
reserve which puzzled her until a bare-
footed and slouching fnrmor gave her
a cue to its cause.
This man rubbed his brown toe in
the dust and spoke In a lowered voice.
"I don't mind tellln' ye thet I'd be
plumb w1111 ii' ter sell out an' move."
His eyes shone greedily as he added:
"Fer n fair flggur, but 1 moughtn't live
ter mova ef 1 sold out."
"What do you meant" sha asked,
much puzzled.
"Wall, I wouldn't hardly like ter hev
this travel back ter liad Auhu, but I've
him rise and turn to Bad Anse Havey,
half in ferocity, half ln pleading.
"Maw's right, Anse," he doggedly
declared. "I kain't tarry hyar no
The bearer of tidings was reserving j longer He b'longs ter me. I've got
his climax and refused to be hurried. | ter go out an' kill him. Thar hain't
I reckon ye'll be right smart as- i but one thing a-stoppin' me now," he
tonlsbed when I names his name, but j added helplessly. "I don't know who
tlur hain't no chanst of bein' mistook did It; I hain't got no notion."
l'v« done run ther thing down." | He stood before the clan chief, and
name?'
"I ain't never turned my back on
a kinsman yet, Jeb," said Anse grave-
ly.
The boy nodded his acquiescence
and hurriedly left the room. Juanita
gently lifted Dawn's head from her
lap and went forward to the hearth.
She had listened in silence, out-
raged at this callous talk and this
private usurpation of powers of life
and death. Now it seemed to her
that to remain silent longer was al-
most to become an accomplice
Something in her grew rigid. She
saw the bent and lethargic figure of
the bereaved wife and the stark, sheet-
ed body of the feud's last victim. Be-
fore her stood the man more than
anyone else responsible for such con-
ditions.
"Mr. Havey," she said, as her voice
grew coldly purposeful with the ring
of challenge, "I have been told that
you did not mean to let me stay here;
that you did not intend to give these
poor children the chance to grow
straight and decent."
She paused, because so much was
struggling indignantly for utterance
that she found composure very diffi-
cult. And as she paused she heard
him Inquire in an ironically quiet
voice: "Who told ye that?"
"Never mind who told me. I haven't
come here to answer your questions
I came too these feud-cursed hills to
fight conditions for which you stand
aB sponsor and patron saint. I came
here to try to give the children re-
lease from ignorance—because ig-
norance makes them easy tools and
dupes for murder lords—like you."
Again her tumult of spirit halted
| tiently shook it back.
"In the first place," he began in his
I deliberate voice, "ye've said some
I things thet I doubt not ye believe to
be true, but they're most all of 'em
lies."
He flung back his head and looked
squarely down at her, his eyes nar-
row and snapping, but with his voice
pitched to a low cadence. "Ye've said
things that, since ye're a woman, I
ain't got any way of answerin'. The
only thing I asks is thet ye harken to
what I want to say."
"Go on; I'm listening with humble
attention."
"Ye've called file a murderer an' a
hirer of murderers. That's a lie. I've
never killed no man that didn't have
his face t'ords me, nor one that wasn't
armed. I've never hired any man
killed.
"Ye've likened me to Milt McBriar.
Thet was a lie, too. Ye've said some
right bitter things, an' I can't answer
ye. If ye was a man I could."
"And if I were a man, what would
you say to me?" she Inquired.
"I reckon"—his words came with an
Icy coldness—"I'd be pretty liable to
tell ye to eternally go to hell."
"And if I were a man," she promptly
retorted, "I'd endeavor with every
ounce of manhood I had In me to see
that you and the others like you did
go there. I'd try to see that you went
the appropriate way—through the
trap of the gallows."
She saw his attitude stiffen and his
face flush brick-red to the cheek-bones.
But after a few seconds she heard him
speak with a fair counterfeit of amuse-
ment.
"Wall, It 'pears like we've both got
her and she heard Dawn sobbing with i to be right smart disappointed—on ac-
grief and fright on the bed j count of your bein' a woman."
"Are ye through?" inquired Anse j And this time It was she who
Havey. His voice had the flinty quiet j flushed.
of cruelly repressed passion, and his ! "I don't hardly know why I'm tak-
face had whitened, but he had not j In' the trouble to mal.e any statement
moved. j to ye," Havey went on. "It ain't hard-
"No, I'm not through," she went on | ly worth while. Ye came up here with
with rising vehemence. "I came here [ your mind fixed. Ye've read a lot of
ought to know. Ye dlun't Know t&at
they'd ruther have ignorance than
charity. Ye think that you an' Al-
mighty God have gone ln partners fer
the regeneration of these mountains,
where no woman has ever been in-
sulted an' no man has to bar his door
against thievery; where all we ask is
to be left alone. I reckon every day
ye're wondcrln' is my halo on
straight?' It's nat'ral enough that ye
should be right scornful of a man that
some new spaper reporter has called a
murderer."
His voice fell away, and Juanita
heard again the beating of the ham-
mers out ln the barn.
"Is that all?" she asked, but the
man shook his head and stood there
looking down on her until under the
spell of his unusual eyes she felt like
screaming out: "Talk If you want to,
but for heaven's sake don't look at
me. I enn't stand It!"
"Mebby ef ye'd Btopped to think
about things," he resumed, "ye'd have
seen that I didn't have no quarrel with
your plans. Mebby I mought even
have been able to help ye. I could
have told ye for one thing that
wnether the ways here be right or
wrong, they've done stood fer two
hundred years. Ye've got to go slow
changin' 'em. Ye can't hardly pull up
a poplar saplln' with one Jerk. Thar's
a tap-root underneath It thet runs
down half-way to hell.
"If people hyarabouts Is distrustful
of furrin teachers an' ways, it's be-
cause of the samples they've had. A
feller came here once from the settle-
ments to teach school. Ho was a
smart, upstandin' feller an' well
liked A man by the name of Trevor.
"When folks found out that he was
locatin' coal an' buyin' their land fer
next to nothin'—robbln' them of their
birthright—it looked right smart like
somebody might kill him. I warned
him away to save nis life. Ye've got
to make folks forget about Trevor
afore ye makes 'em trust you."
"Thank you," said Juanlta coldly
"I'll try to show them that I'm not an-
other Trevor. Are you warning me
jway to save my life?"
"I'm tol'able ignorant," went the
man, "but I've read a few books, *a'
of 'em told the story of tile Trojcw
hoss. I wanted ter see what kind of
a critter you was a ridin' into these
hills. 1 come to this cabin the night
ye got here to find out."
"I thought so," she quietly answered,
"I was to be inspected like an immi-
grant, and the lord of the land was to
decide whether or not I should be sent
back."
"Put It that way if ye've a mind to,"
he answered. "Ye was comla' to be a
schoolteacher here. Well, T.1 done
been a schoolteacher here 1 youf
smile—ye're wonderin' what 1 /"juld
teach. Maybe, after all, It's a rigM
good Idea to teach A B C's before ye
starts In with algebra an' rhetoric. Y«
wouldn't have me as a friend, an' K
reckon that won't break my heart."
"Then," said the girl, looking
and meeting his eyes with a flash at
challenge, "I shall endeavor to get
along without your favor. We could
hardly have met on common ground
at best. I shall teach the ten com-
mandments, including 'Thou shalt not
kill.' I shall teach that to lie hidden
behind a bush and shoot an unsuspect-
ing enemy is cowardly and despicable.
I would not be willing to tell the&i
that they must live and die vassals to
feudal tyranny."
"No," he agreed, "ye couldn't harO>
ly outrage your holy conscience by
tryin' to teach 'em things in a way
they could understand, could ye? If
Jeb had come to ye, like he came to
me, askin' the name of the man he
sought to kill, ye would have said ter
him, 'It was so-and-so, but ye mustn't
harm him, because somebody writ in
a book two thousand years ago that
killlii* is a Bin.' An' the hell of it is
ye'd 'low such talk would satisfy him.
"Ye couldn't do no Buch wicked
thing as to stop an' reflect that he's a
mountain boy, an' that for two hun-
dred years the blood in his veins hes
been a comin' down to him full o!
seeking to interfere with no man's af-
fairs—wishing only to give your peo
pie, without price, what they are en-
titled to—the light that all the rest
of the world enjoys. I found the com-
munity bound hand and foot in
slavery to two men of a like stripe
I found their hirelings murdering each
other from ambush. I'm only a worn
an. but I carry the credentials of de-
cency and civilization. You two men
have everything else—everything ex-
cept decency and civilization. You
and Milt McBriar!"
He had listened while the muscles
of his jaws stood out in cramped ten- ' ted
sity and the veins began to cord them- "I
hearsay stuff in newspapers, an' facts
ain't hardly apt to count for much. 1
reckon afore ye decides to hang me
ye'll let me have my day in court,
won't ye?"
"Before your own judge and your
own Jury?" she naively asked him.
'That's the way you usually have your
day in court, isn't It, Mr. Havey?"
"It's you that's settin' as the court
Just now," he reminded her. "I reck-
on ye can judge for yerself how much
I owns ye."
In spite of herself she smiled.
"I rather think I can," she admit-
"Approximately, at least."
think I understand ye better
selves on his temples. Now he said than ye do me," he went on slowly, "I
in a low voice, between his teeth: "By think ye're plumb honest in all the
heaven, don't liken m« to Milt Mc- , noticms ye fotched up here, despite
Briar!" i the fact that most of 'em are wrong.
The girl laughed a little hysterically : Ye've done come with a heap of aoney
and wildly, then swept on: j to teach folk* whti you 'low they'd
"You Have Taken the Boy—Very Well,
I Mean to Take the Girl."
grudge-nursin' an' hate, \'e couldn't
make allowances for the fact that he
wasn't hatched in a barnyard to peck
at corncobs an' burries, but ln an
eagle's nest—that h 's a bird of prey.
Ye couldn't consider the fact that the
killin' Instinct runs in the current of
his blood an' was drunk in at his moth-
er's breaot. Ye'd Just teach barnyard
lessons to young eagles, an' that's w&y
ye might as well go home."
(XO B£ CUNTUNU 1611.1
f-

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The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 26, No. 23, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 11, 1915, newspaper, November 11, 1915; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc105998/m1/3/ocr/: accessed September 21, 2021), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.

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