The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1886-06-23
They sat late that evening over the

| morning Cne'e was nuCCer OF cACltC-
ment all tirou III the farm. Even Mysie,
the h.n-wife, knew that "thc MASTER
was going on a journey of Importance.
1t was ride of Thirty miles, through a
desolate tract, part of the road running
along the ridge of an unnhabited range
of mountains, whirh were infested by
highwaymen.
Chief among these was one known as
the White Pedler, from the fact that he
rode gray mare, wore q white great
coat, and carried knapsack in shape
like peller's pack. Scarcely week
passed which did not bring tidings of
some traveller who had fallen victim to
this robber, who was as expert and polite
in his calling as Dick Turpin him self.
Tom, preparing to slut, hid the bag
of coin under the capcs of his great coat,
and put his pistol into the holsters.
Belle clung to him, begging him to take
one of the men with him.
"He may kill you, Tom, if you meet
him"
"Nonsense2 Kill poor dairy farmer"
''He may take the money, and we
shall have to begin all over ag.in."
For sharl,, Belle! I thought you
more of woman. No White Pedler
shall have the monev,-if there be any
such person, which I very much doubt. !"
1t was gray, cold day in December.
A light snow lay on the ground. Toms
road led him at first through villages and
| farms where he was wcll-known. Friends
and neighbors ran out to meet him, and
stopping to cha with each, the morning
slipped by. 1t was III hour past mid
day before he struck IN the lonely road
which led up to the mountains. Near
the foot of the first range of hills was .
bothy, or cabin, Tom dismounted, tied
his horse to the fence, and went in to
warm himself. When he came out, lie
noticed that gray mrre was standing
at the back Of the bothy.
"Somc cottter on his way to market,
thought Tom, as he mounted and rode on.
1t was an hour be- ore he reached the
top of the hill-range. The snow on the
road was unbrokcn except by his own
horses fe It. He had not passed single
house. "This is the Pedler'S hunting
ground" thought Tom, mechanically
taking out his pistols to examine them
again. The load was drawn, and they
were wet with liquid which smelled
like sour beer
"This was done at the bothy!" I am
to have q fight for it.! flashed through
his mind, just as he heard the soft foot
falls of horse in the snow, coming up
by-path. He had scarcely time to thrust
the unloaded pistols back, when man
mounted on gray mare quietly Joined
him. He was short, powerfully built
fellow. dressed in q white great coat and
low gray hat, beneath which looked out
pleasant, ruddy face and humorous
blue eyes
"Good morning, Mr.. Hardy"
"Good morning." said Tom, heartily.
He took in the situation at the glance.
The man was armed; he, unarmed. The
pedler was stronger man than he.
"My only chance is to try my wits
against his" He looked. The road for
a mile or two was wide enough for two
to keep abreast, then it narrowed. going
down the hill. so that they must ride
singly. "FIe will attack m, there"
thought Tom, while he exchanged the
news of the last market-day with his
companion.
The Pedler appeared to be as much in
need of society as money. He soon made
a Joke, after the usual Irish fashion of
those days. Tom replied with one of
his best stories, and nobody, tradition
states, could tell better story. The
Pedler enjoyed it, and retorted with an
oth'r, until their shouts of laughter rang
throug oh the hills. Never at any state
dinner had Tom Hardy so cxertcd HIM
self as now; anccdote followed anecdote,
and retort followed repartee. Never,
too, had he found more appreciative
companion. The Ped ers face flushed,
and his eyes twinklcd with enjoyment.
They had nearly reached the turn
where the road suddenly narrowed. In
a field, some twenty rods from the road,
stood another bothy. The highwayman
drew rein.
'I'm chilled to the marrow. The fel-
low has excellent whisky, Mr.. Hardy.
What do you say"
"I'm ready to dismount, said Tom.
dismounting quickly, without trace of
hesitation.
The Pedlcr threw himself from his
mare, and started briskly to the bothy.
Tom fumbled, as if tying his horse, until
the eh;ghwayman's back was turned then,
lcaping into his saddle, he seize | the
mares bride and ga'loped down the bill,
whipping the Teiler's horse until, when
he threw her loose, she fled wild with
terror before him.
He heard volley of curses from sew
eral voices near him. A bullet whizzed
past his ear, another tore the cloth from
his side. The Pcdler was good marks
man.
Then came the clattcr of hoofs behind.
The keeper of the bothy, who was an
accomplicc of the robbers, had horse
ready sa ldled.
Tom put spurs to his horse, shouted,
called to him, patted his neck. He knew,
and the horse seemed to know, that the
race was for life or death. The Pcdlcr
would never forgive the trick that had
been played on him.
Turning sharp corner, Tom was for
moment or two out of his pursuer's sight.
He jerked the canvas bag out from his
breast, and hurled it into tie bog, Eear,
as he noticel, to dead tree.
Then the mad race continued, the
highwayman still behind, yelling breath
less oaths. llalf an hour later, Tom