Garber Sentinel. (Garber, Okla.), Vol. 23, No. 5, Ed. 1 Thursday, October 27, 1921 Page: 3 of 8
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
THE GARBER SENTINEL, GARBER OKLAHOMA
by Doubladay . Poqe & Co-
Soon the thunder of the many rifles
became almost a steady roar. The
eir was filled With the pungent odor
of burning powder. Bill Dale emptied
the magazine of his repeater, and
sank behind the big chestnut to fill
It again with cartridges from bis belt.
Hullets now whined on both sides of
him; tliey cut greenish white furrows
In the bark of both sides of the tree,
and knocked up little spurts of black
earth to his right and to his left;
they cut off twigs within an arm's
reach of him. A dozen Balls were
now firing at him, seeking to avenge
the death of the ir kinsman, the
Goliath. John Moreland's strong voice
came to him through the din and roar:
"Don't show no part o' yoreself now,
Bill; ef ye do, ye'U shore be hit!"
Dale fired again, pumped a fresh
cartridge into the chamber of bis rilie
and slipped another into the magazine,
and arose behind the chestnut.
"Down, Bill!" cried John Moreland.
If Dale heard, he gave no sign of
Jt. He fired four shots rapidly, and
>efore the wind had carried away the
fclinding smoke he was behind another
tree and shooting toward the Bulls
again. Soon there came a short, loud
peal of laughter from his left; lie
turned his head and saw Ben Little-
ford taking a careful aim at a long
angle toward the side of a boulder.
Then Littleford fired, and a puff of
stone dust showed that his bullet had
£one true to its mark.
"What's that for?" demanded Dale.
"We haven't any ammunition to throw
"Why, Bill," replied Littleford,
"didn't ye never bounce a bullet often
a rock and make it go toward a man
ahind of a tree?"
It lasted hotly for two hours, but
the casualties were comparatively
few, because there was so much cover
available. From the beginning the
Balls and the Turners had the worst
of it, which was due to uphill shoot-
ing, white whisky, and lack of the
Iron that makes real fighting men.
The cartridges of tliose below were
giving out; they had fired too many
"It's about time to rush them," Dale
said to John Moreland, who had crept
up beside him.
"Jest give the word," Moreland
A few minutes later, Bill Dale sent
the wings of his line down the moun-
tainside, forming a half-circle of his
force once more; then the whole line
rushed, surrounded the enemy and
called for a surrender.
But the Balls and their kinsmen
■wouldn't give in yet. They left their
cover and started to run, found them-
selves facing Morelands and Little-
fords In every direction, clubbed their
rifles and fought. It was not true
courage that prompted them to offer
resistance thus: It was utter despera-
tion ; they had never been givers of
mercy, therefore they did not expect
mercy. Dale's men forebore to fire
upon them, which was at Dale's com-
mand, and met them with clubbed
rifles. The woodland rang with the
sound of wood and steel crashing
against wood and steel. Everywhere
there were groans and threats and
curses from the losing side, victorious
cries and further demands for a sur-
render from the winners.
Dill Dale, ever a lover of fair com-
bat, threw down his repeater to grap-
ple with a big North Carolinian whose
clubbed weapon bad been knocked
from his hands. The two fell and
rolled down the mountainside, locked
In each other's arms.
And then one of the Balls struck
Bill Dale across the head with the butt
of his empty gun, and Bill Dale slack-
ened his arms and lay as one dead.
He was lying under cover In a hand-
carved black walnut fourposter, and
It was night, when he opened his eyes
again. Above him he saw the bearded
faces of Ben Littleford and John
Moreland, and they looked haggard
and anxious In the oil lamp's yellow
light. Suddenly Moreland spoke:
"Dead—nothln' I" jubilantly, "Look,
Ben; he's done come to! Ye couldn't
put him in a cannon and shoot him
ag'inst a cllft and kill him, Ben! I
hope ye're a-feelln' all right, Bill,
Dale realized everything quite clear-
ly. He put a hand to his head; there
•was a wet cloth lying over the swollen
"He shore give ye a buster of a
lick," drawled a voice that Dale In-
■tnntly recognized as that of his wor-
shiper, By Heck. "Danged ef Cale
Moreland didn't might' nigh It beat
him to death, BUI!"
Many men crowded to the bedside
and smiled at him, and he smiled back
at them. Soon he asked:
"Did you capture the outfit?"
"Everv d timed one of 'em," answered
John Moreland. "They're all shet up
tight in the downstairs o' the oliice
buildin', onder gyard. The' ain't but
one of 'em plumb teetotally dead, fo'
i wonder; but the's a whole passel of
em hurt. I've done sent Luke to town
on hossback, atter a doctor fo' you
and Saul and Little Tom; and he can
'tend to them crippled Balls, too, I
reckon, ef you think It's best. What're
we a-goin' to do with them fellers, Bill ?"
"We're going to take them to the
Cartersville jail," Dale answered
"I had a different plan 'an that
planned out, John," said By Hock,
winking at Ben Littleford. "I had it
planned out to hang 'em all on a big
green hemlock as a Christmas tree fo'
Bill! Some devilish rough Christmas
eve ye're n-havin', Bill, old boy, ain't
"Rather," smiled Dale, ne closed
his eyes. His head aclied, and he was
somehow very tired.
Within the hour he went to sleep,
and when he awoke it was daylight on
Christmas morning. Ben Littleford,
l.alf dressed, was stirring the coals
to life in the wide-mouthed stone fire-
place. Dale felt better than he had
expected to feel; he greeted Little-
ford with the compliments of the sea-
son, arose and dressed himself.
Littleford had just gone with a
handful of kindling wood toward
I lie kitchen, when there was a low,
light tapping at the outside door of
Bill Dale's room. Dale arose from
bis sheepskin-lined rocker before the
cheery log fire, went to the door and
opened it. Before him stood a slim,
barefoot boy in the poorest of rags;
in the pitifully slender arms there was
something wrapped rather loosely in
crumpled brown paper. Dale did not
remember having seen the lad before,
but he knew it was no Littleford.
"Come In, son," he invited cordial-
ly—"come in and warm yourself. My
goodness alive, It's too cold to go
barefooted like that! Haven't you any
"Shoes?" muttered the boy, queeriy.
He was shivering from the cold. His
thin face looked pinched and blue, his
eyes big and hollow. Dale stooped,
picked him up bodily, carried him to
the old rocker lie had just vacated,
and put him into it with hands as gen-
tle as any woman's.
"H—1," began the boy, staring
"Now stick your feet out and warm
them, son—that's it," and Dale chafed
the poor little, dirty, half-frozen feet
"Son," he went on after a moment,
his heart throbbing out of sheer pity,
"you go to the commissary clerk and
tell him to dress you up like tiie
crown prince of England, if he's got
it, and charge the same to the account
"So You're Bill Dale. Well, D— My
of Bill Dale. It will be my Christmas
gift to you, little boy. What's your
The lad turned Ills surprised black
eyes upon the face of the big and sun-
"Are you Bill Dale?"
That which the boy said next struck
the big and sunbrowned man with all
the force of a bullet.
"So you're Bill Dale. Well, D— my
"Don't, buddy, don't!"
The boy went on: "My name, It's
Henery. I came here with a Omni-
ums git' fo' you." tie pointed a airty
forefinger toward the bundle In his
lap. "But you ain't a-goin' to git It
"Why?" Dale asked smilingly.
"Why I Shoes —'at's why. II—11,
did I ever have any shoes afore? Bare-
footed as a rabbit. That's me. Bare-
footed as a d—n' rabbit!"
"Son," protested Bill Dale, "you're
entirely too small to swear. You
mustn't do It. y'know."
"Yes," quickly, "I'm small. I'm sinnll
to my age. I'm done twelve year old.
I've been measured fo' the go-backs."
"Measured for the go-backs,"
laughed Dale, "what's that?"
"Why," soberly, "when ye grow llt-
ler 'still o' bigger, ye've got the go-
backs. Maw, she measured me with
a yarn string out o' a stocking which
had been wore by a woman seventy-
seven-year old, and 'en she wrapped
the yarn string around tire door-hinge.
I'll 'gin to grow higher, or die, one or
t'other, afore the string wears out on
the hinge. Bound to."
Again Dale laughed. Mountain su-
perstitions always amused him. Ben
Littleford eaine into the room, and
Dale arose and faced him.
"Do you know this boy, Ben?"
"It's Lys.s Ball's boy," answered
Littleford, puckering his brows.
"What's lie a-doin' here?"
"He brought a Christmas present
for me," said Dale, "but he hus de-
cided that I shan't have it."
"The only Christmas present you
could git from a Ball would be a bul-1
let," frowned Ben Littleford.
He stepped to the rocker and took
the bundle from the boy's lap; he
took away the crumpled brown pa-
per—and there in his bands was a
loaded and cocked revolver!.
"By George!" exclaimed Bill Dale.
"Wliat'd I tell ye?" smiled Ben Lit-
An hour later Dale and a score of
Littlefords and Morelands entered the
big downstairs room of the office and
supplies building. The defeated Balls
and Turners lounged here nnd there,
sullen and silent, on the rough-board
floor of their temporary prison.
Dale walked into tlieir midst and
addressed them quietly.
"You'll admit, won't you, that I've
got what you fellows call 'the dead-
wood' on you? And that it lies in my
power to send every single one of you
to the state penitentiary?"
"I reckon -so," admitted Adam Ball's
father. Ho was pretty well cowed, and
so were the others.
But I've decided not to do It," went
on Bill Dale. "I can't forget that this
is Christmas day. You may have your
liberty as a present from the man
you've tried so hard and so unjustly
to kill. After the doctor gets through
with Little Tom and Saul Littleford,
he will come here to dress all your
wounds; then our guards will give you
back your rifles, and you may go
home. I'm not asking you to promise
me anything, you understand. I'm
simply trusting tile human heart, and
I don't believe I'll be disappointed."
Dale turned to John Moreland.
Aloreland's rugged face wore a puz-
zled, displeased smile.
"If your brother David was here,"
Bill Dale demanded with a bare shade
of anger in his voice, "what do you
think he'd do about it? It's Christ-
mas day, isn't it?"
The old Moreland chief's counte-
nance softened; his grey eyes bright-
ened. "Yes," he said, "it's Christmas
day, Bill." He looked toward the Balls
"Merry Christmas, gen'ienien!" he
Adam Ball's father immediately
asked him for a chew of tobacco.
A Perfect Cross.
On the floor of the ricliiy-funiished
library of the Dale home, near a west
window, Miss Elizabeth Littleford sat
reading by the fast fading light of an
early March afternoon. Somehow she
liked to sit on the floor, and always she
liked to read; for one thing, books
helped her to forget that she was
There were footsteps behind her,
soft footsteps because of the thick vel-
vet carpet; then a low voice inquired:
"Aren't you afraid you will Injure
your eyes, Elizabeth? Better have a
light, hadn't you, dear?" The old coal
king turned toward the switch on the
"No!" she answered quickly. "I'm
through reading for today, and I like
Her improvement in speech and in
manners had gone on at a surprisingly
rapid rate. She rarely spoke with any
but the simplest words, but she never
fell into anything more than bare seta-
blance of the old drawling hill dialect
unless It was while she was under the
stress of some strong emotion.
She closed the book and looked up
with eyes that were like the first stars
in a summer sky. Her beauty was
wonderful; it was finer and sweeter
than it had ever been before.
Old Dale stood looking thoughtfully
into her upturned face. He was a lit
tie pale, and he seemed troubled and
Elizabeth shook her head. "You're
He dropped into a nearby chair
leaned slowly forward and let one
hand fall gently on her thick and silky
"1 wish," lie said as though to him
seelf. "that I had a daughter like you."
He took his hand from her head, lay
hack wearily In bis chair and closed
his eyes. Then he bent forward again
"The Morelands, Elizabeth—they've
moved away from the settlement
"Yes; Bill Dale has done wonderfu
Ihlngs for th<'in!" the girl answered.
John K. Dale was sileut for a mo-
ment, after which ne suid suddenly: "J
want 10 see my son; there Is something
I must tell him. Will you go with me,
"Of course. I'll go with you."
She thought she knew what It was
that stirred him. By intuition, supple-
mented by Bill Dale's occasional cryp-
tic utterances, and pieced out by hill
tradition, Elizabeth Littleford gradu-
ally hud come into possession of the
old coal man's grim secret.
Neither of them knew that John
Moreland was then visiting his beloved
old hills for the sake of some shooting.
The following day John K. Dale and
Elizabeth Littleford alighted from a
northbound passenger train at the
Halfway switch. The mountains were
covered with three Inches of snow, ami
the hemlock afid pines bore heavy bur-
dens of the beautiful white stuff; but
the air was still, and it wasn't very
"You'd get your clothing all black
on the coal train," Dale said to his
companion, "so you'd rather walk over,
wouldn't you? Anyway, the train isn't
here. I'm good for six miles, I think."
"Yes," smiled Ben Llttleford's
daughter, "I'd rather walk—If you're
sure that six miles won't be too much
Together, with the girl leading the
way, tliey set out across David More-
land's mountain. The old trail showed
mountaineer's code of tioi.-jr iteuiuudi
that ti e mountaineer himself collect
that which is due him.
"Tell me," he said in tones so low
that Elizabeth barely beard, "where Is
David Alorelund burled?"
lie hud turned, and stood facing her
She pointed to the southward.
"They buried him out the crest o'
the mountain a little ways, on the
highest place, by the side of his
wife. That was always a touchln'
tiling to me, that he buried his wife on
the very highest point of his own
mountain. You know why, don't yout
David Moreland believed in God and a
hereafter, and he believed that heaven
was up. He wanted to get even Ills
wife's ashes as close to heaven as he
"I—I'd like to go out there," John
Dale said, his voice almost a whisper.
"I'd like to see the place."
"I wouldn't," replied Ben Little-
ford's daughter. For she knew—oh,
"Yes, yes, my dear—I must see tho
place," declared John K. Dale, hoarse-
ly whispering—"let's go out there."
There was never any disobeying him
when he was determined, and he was
determined now. It is strange, that
dread human thing that drew him—
, by the great campaign that they do
Elizabeth turned and started out not nm, U)e consiUeration that dogs
the snowy crest of the mountain, wend-
ing her wuy here and there between
lumps of snow-heavy laurel and ivy
and under snow-lieavy pities. After a
quarter of an hour of this somewhat
difficult traveling, the two drew up be-
fore a small inclosure made of round
oaken posts and round open railings
and hand-split and pointed oaken pal-
ings as high as a man's shoulders, all
of which were gray and weatherbeat-
Elizabeth knew the spot well. She
swung the gnte stlfliy open on its wood-
en hinges ud stepped Inside. Old Dale, | (1m,h ,.tlt(,he(1 trough |„ parallel rows
about one and a quarter Inches apart.
This gives a rigidity and resilience not
to be attained by any other method.
Weight for weight, it is the strongest
material yet Invented. It Is made in
sheets of any size or shape up to eight
feet wide by CO feet long and from
one-eighth of an Inch to five-eighths of
an inch thick, thus doing iiwuy with
waste in the conversion—London Tit-
Great Gladness Filled Elizabeth's
not one footprint ahead of them; it
w as not so much used now. They said
little. Each thought their own thoughts,
nnd neither cured to speak them to
Just before they reached the moun
tain's crest, they passed a group of
snow-laden pines that concealed a big,
brown-bearded man who had been
stealthily following the trail of a lone
wild turkey. He wore klinki hunting-
clothes and high laced boots, and there
was a certain English fineness about
him. In his bare bands he carried a
repeating riile, which marked him as
one born in the hills; a lowlamler
would have had a choke-bored shotgun
When lie saw John K. Dale be
stopped suddenly. It might have been
intuition, or it might have been sheer
curiosity, the average hillman being a
stranger to neither—he followed and
watched the two, unseen by them.
On the pine-fringed crest. Elizabeth
Littleford halted to view that which
lay around and below him. Old Dale
stopped close at her side, and he, too,
looked at that which lay around and
below them; and to his mind also there
tame memories crowding.
The young woman brushed back
wayward wisp of brown hair and
turned to the man beside her.
"The Moreland part o' the settle-
ment looks lonesome, don't it?" she
said. "See, there's no smoke comin
from their cabin chimneys. . . ." She
went on absently, "But the Littlefords
are there yet."
Old Dale caught the meaning that
was In the latter sentence. It was not
a shallow meaning.
"We are going to take care of the
Littlefords, Elizabeth," be assured her
"I've thought much over it, and just
now I've decided. When I decide, it';
for all time! you know that, don't
A great gladness filled Elizabeth':
heart. It did not occur to her to ask
how, In what manner, he was going to
take care of her people; It was enoug!
to know that he w as going to take can
of them. He put a father's arm lightly
around her shoulders. She tried to
speak, choked, and couldn't utter
word. But It didn't matter. John K,
Dale understood perfectly.
Then he took his arm away, faced to
the right, and drew his hut rim low
over his eyes. For two minutes hi
stood there and looked for the little old
cabin down near the foot of the north
end of the mountain, and he failed to
find it. His mind had gone back once
more to that woeful night that had cut
Ills life in twain. He remembere
plainly waking in tho early morning
with an aching head and with the
rankling taste of much dead whisky
in Ills mouth. Remembered seeing Di
vld Moreland, with a bullet hole
through ami through him, lying on the
floor beside him. Remembered bis
horror, his smothered cries of auguisl
and Ills hurried flight. . , .
He had wondered, be remembered,
why the law made no attempt to track
him down. lie had not kuown tiiut the
SUNSHADES FDR LUCKY DOGS
Innovation That Was Brought About
by the Protracted Spell of Un-
usually Hot Weather.
One of the quaintest Innovations of
the recent heal wave in London was
the introduction of sunshades for
(logs. These nmsisted of light crepe-
de chine protections suspended over
the animals' necks by light wire
The "lucky* animals whose masters
or mistresses bought the sunshades
did not seem so pleased with them as
perhaps the donors hail hoped, re-
marked Lodi on Answers.
One dog found the beat so oppres-
sive that be sought the shelter of a
railway tu'ciie! on the Highbury tube.
Here he was, however, so frightened
by the continual passing of trains
that he shrank Into a dark corner and
remained there for two days, until
bis master, on the information of a
railway man, fetched him.
Although sunshades for dogs made
iheir first appearance, there was a
i strange absence of the straw hats
that horses used to wear before the
I war. Have horses been so hardened
There hus appeared in this country
recently a special plywood material
for ulrcraft construction.
This new material must not be con-
fused with ordinury plywood, which is
glued together. !t Is claimed to be a
super-plywood, and is actually sewn
First, the layers are cemented to-
gether with waterproof material, and
rembling In every fiber, followed her.
llis face was very. *ery pule.
Before ti em were two snow-covered
mounds bordered with the dead stalks
of flowers of another year—marigolds,
prctty-by-nighi , zinnias. Near the
two gra\ "■ .ne e grew bare-branched
wild hon .ysuck e and redbud, and
green-leaved laui el, which in the sum-
mer time were covered with beautiful
ml fragrant blossoms of golden yel-
low, royal purple, and waxen white. At
the head of one mound n great, rough-
ly-shaped slab of brown sandstone
marked the last resting place of David
Moreland's young wife; It had been
lettered by David Moreland himself,
und it was a crude but sincere tribute
On the face of the other great slab
of brown sandstone were chiseled other
ill-shaped letters and misspelled
words. The hands of John Moreland
had done this. Old John Dale stepped
unsteadily closer and read:
HEAR LAYS DAVID MORELAND
THE BEST MAN GOD
BY JOHN K CARLILB
It was a living curse, a breathln#
curse—a terrible anathema. If dead
David Moreland himself had arisen
from the tomb and uttered it, it would
not have struck John K. Dale with
greater force. He grew weak, as
though with a fatal sickness. He sunk
to his knees in the snow, and his iron-
gray head fell forward to his breast.
Elizabeth Littleford knelt in the snow
beside him. She tried to find comfort-
ing words, for she loved him and was
sorry for him, but no words would
There was a slight sound, the muf-
fled breaking of a dry twig In the
snow just beyond the palings In front
of them. Elizabeth Littleford looked
up to see the giant figure of John
Moreland, whose lace was white and
whose eyes were filled with the fire of
hate and anger, who held a rilie in his
cold, bare hands. The rifle's hammer
came back, and the flue trigger caught
it with a faint click.
Moreland took another step forward
and leveled the weapon across the
"Ef it was any use fo' ye to pray,
Carlyle," he said, and his voice was
shaking and hoarse and choked, "I'd
give ye time. But it ain't no use at all. |
Look up. Face it. Try to be a man fo'
one second in yore low-ilown life."
Old Dale raised his bead, saw David
Moreland's brother, and realized all
there was to realize. His eyes widened
a little; then a look of relief flitted
across his heavy countenance.
"Shoot and even up the score," he |
said bravely, and bis head was high.
"According to your code, It Is Just. And
I'll be able to forget at last, at last. So
shoot and settle the account."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
How useful It. would be to watch-
makers und repairers to have a simple
wireless telephone outfit with which
lo rece've the daily time signals, Is
nought out by II. Gernsback In the
'-tndlo News, New York, lie says:
"If o .ice tiie Jeweler sees how simple
It Is to work a time-receiving radio
outfit be will soon become enthusiastic,
and, as many of Ills tribe have done,
will even go so far as to put the out-
fit in a show window in order to
attract trade. We know a Jeweler In
the South who uses a loud talker out-
side his window, where everyone for
half a block around can hear when
N. A. A. seconds out the time at noon."
A Day of Rest.
"Funny thing about Jackson; he
never motors his wife out to the
country any more on Sundays."
"There's a reason. He claims it's
bad enough to have to lug home stuff
from the city on week days without
having the wife pick up produce bar-
gains along tiie country roads on Sun-
days."—New York Sun.
"Why didn't you stop when I
naled you?" Inquired the officer.
"Well," replied Mr. Chuggins, "It
had taken me two hours to get tills
old flivver started, and it seemed a
shame to stop her merely to avoid a
little thing like being arrested."—Gate-
Ituli—Are you engaged to Mary?
Dub—No, but I'm on her waiting
list.—Kansas City Star.
California has more
acres planted in olives.
Kindness to Animals Pays.
There are four important places
from which purebred dairy cattle
come: The isles of Jersey and Guern-
sey In the English channel, the Ayr
country In Scotland, and the Frleslan
country In Holland. It is u charac-
teristic of the people In all the eight
regions from whkh pure'red cattle
coti.e that tliey are always kind to
one another and to all animals.
Kindness makes better beef, and more
World Calls for Service.
He serves best who serves most, and
he should serve most who Is be t
equipped for service. Unless he d)
serve, crooked paths will not be made
straight, or errors corrected. Todaj
service aione exalt* the man.—Ex
you will al-
ways want it
Here’s what’s next.
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Peters, S. H. Garber Sentinel. (Garber, Okla.), Vol. 23, No. 5, Ed. 1 Thursday, October 27, 1921, newspaper, October 27, 1921; (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc145206/m1/3/: accessed March 17, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.