The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-01-09


 man seized the giants hand and wept like a child.
 "My dear ole frien'," said Lige, ''thinh uv me ez well ez yer ken, fur thar vii come CT time-but no matter. Tell lem all at home that love lem. Tell lem that would die fur 'em. Tell Millie tha, -that-she mustn't think too hard uv poor Lige. Goodbye an' God bless yer. ,
 CHAPTER III.
 A year slowly dragged itself away Every night, when the weather was cool old man Petticord placed a pile of corr in the corner where Big Lige's chair had always stood. People said that Millie was dying of broken heart because he, husband persisted in throwing himself away. Brezentine would not work, and many morning, when the snow lay deer on the ground, old man Petticord was seen carrying meat and corn meal to his daughter and her worthless husband.
 One evening in December, old man Pet. ticord and his wife sat by the great log fire. The pile of corn was in its place, and the great chair, with its raw-hide bottom stood in the corner.
 :" Last Chris'mus Big Lige wuz with us, , said the old man.
 "Yas," his wife responded, an wush he wuz with us now. Somehow 1 never did think he wuz guilty. lie allus loved Millie, an"
 "Wall, wall," said the old man, "why the hell didn't you .let her marry him ? Hush now, hush. We won't argy. We've been livin' together too long ter argy at this late day. Who's that at the door Come in. Why, it's Scott Patterson. Come in, Scott"
 Eve got some putty bad news," said Patterson, as he advanced and placed his hands on the back of chair. les airier dinner ter day linn Polk Brezentine come out ter the cross roads an got putty full Long toward evenin', he got on his mule an gAlloped of, but he hadn't gone fur tell the mule flung him agin tree. We tuck him home an' the doctor says he kain't git well. Yer'd all better come over ter his house."
 They hurried over to Brezentine's house. The wretched man, meaning and grooming, was, the physician said, beyond all hope. When the medical man told him that he could live but few hours longer, he howled like wild beast
 "Oh, God will send my soul to he'll" he cried. "Millie, Millie, come here Lige did not steal the money. stole it, and he went to the penitenti ary to shield you. God forgive me for"
 He became speeches.. Tears strea ned down Petticord's face, but they were not in sympathy for Brezentine. Mus. Petit cord, taking Millie into her arms, whis- pered:
 "B'ar up ez well ez yer ken. The Lord will bring all things right"
 A profound sensation was created when the people heard of Brezentine's confes- sion, and when they turned away from a new grave ia an old orchard, one of the Dye boys remarked:
 II never throwed dirt on a trifiin'er man."
 The night was bitterly cold. It was the night before Christmas, and old 6 Quinzy" Petticord, his wife and his sat by the blazing fire. Millie had just placed Lige's chair in its accus. toned position when the old man re- marked:
 "I reckon that pertition we sent down ter the guv'ner will do ther work. He kain't keep Big Lige in thar day airter he knows the truth. Now, Millie, don't cry round here. I'spize ter see people a snufflin'. know in reason he-open the door, Millie, don't yer hear some bodyr"
 Millie opened the door. Big Lige stepped into the room. The old man seized the giant; the old woman, as her husband afterward remarked, Au,- tered like duck, and Millie, after she had shaken hands with Lige, wiped her eyes on her apron and took her old seat, just across the hearth from Lige's chair. Lige sat down, took up an ear of corn, as though he had just come in from the stable, and began to shell it.
 Millie," the old woman cried as she wiped her eyes, go an fix Lige's supper, fur know he ain't had nuthin' ter eat sense he left here. Poor Lige."
 "Don't pity me-" Lige replied.
 "Why," the old m an asked, ain't they nearly worked yer to death down thar"
 "Shar, no; 1t want no trouble tall to keep up with them fellers." "While Millie's gettin' supper ready let me tell yer the news," said the old udH. oln PuLupuS dn Oalllc F6tter- | son is married. Squire Boyle is down with the rheumatiz. He has been on the | lif for three months. We have been all l we'll, 'cept myself. I've been putty stretchy time or two, but ain't been bed sick sense yer left us. Thank God, Big Lige, that yer air with us wunst m ore. | reckon Millie's get yer snack about ready. All she had ter do wuz ter put it | on ther table. Come"
 Big Lige," said the old woman as the | giant arose fro n his seat, (" couldn't | mink no mo- uv yer ef yer was my natril | bornd son."