The Atlanta constitution. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, 1888-07-03
"KITERED. -
n. Quad. In Detroit Free Press.

was ndlnS over that spur OF the CumDer-
land mountains which General Morgan feder-
all held SO CALAMITY while Buel and Bragg
were driving each other by turns over KeIf-
lucky, when l lost my way. The mountain
trails of the south are dangerous puzzles to q
stranger. They run up and down-twist--
turn-dodge-lose themselves in dark ravines
and seem to suddenly end in dark and lonely
gaps. There Is feeling of loneliness which
you cannot shake off, and feeling of anxiety
which rides with you ana keeps every sense
alert. Every rod of the trail has its AMBUSH,
ready to fall upon you. came to aspot Where
three trails branched away. 1t was luck and
chance, took one which led me into long,
dark ravine, where the summer sun has.never
yet touched the icicles on the rugged rocks,
nor cooled tho mountain rivulet pouring over
the moss-grown lodges. After going a mile I
felt that | was wrong, and Was about to turn
back, when a voice suddenly called out
through the semi-dGrkness:
Stranger, you ar kiYeredl Throw up your
handsi"
II that command ever reaches your ears,
obey it at once and do your arguing SUISSE
qucntly. 1t means that your head or heart is
in poiift-blanl range of bullet or buckshot,
with finger resting on the trigger and ready
to pull if you don't obey the summons
Up went Ey hands.
After long half minute mountaineer,
who had dead sight on me with double
barreled shotgun across point of rock tweI-
ty feet ahead, stepped into view on the trail
and said:
STRANGER slip DOWN."
/ slipped off the saddle.
f'Now lead yer mule up that ravine to the
right"
I simply saw a man six feet high, straight as
an arrow, ong-haired, whiskers unkempt, dress,
that of mountaineer. Yes, saw more. He
held the gun fair for my breast. One sospici-
GUS move on my part and was dead man.
He spoke i'll low voice, but there was that in
his tones which chilled me. Without a second
look at him l took the mule by the bits.and led
him up the ravihe. We had not gone twenty.
rods before scented a whisky still. At the
end of five rods more we were in q rude camp.
Two moonshincrs sat on q log, guns across
their knees, and back of and below them
still was running off its extract of corn.
cone O. them spics!" said the man who had
followed me as l let so of the mule and sat
down on stump.
ga good sketch!" growled one of the sitters.
"Mi9hty kind in him to come yere W
chuckled the other.
They were mconshiners, and they took me
for spy sent out by the government official of
that district looked from one to the other.
There was determination in each look-an
would have warned a genuine spy that his
hour had come. Not one glance OF pity mot
one line of mercy. A prisoner at the stake
among the Apaches would have had moro
hope.
ing hunted after every day in the year. Why?
because they were making a living-keeping
soul and body tcgether-in the only way open
TO them. The bits of valleys in the grim old
Cumberlands will grow corn and potatoes.
The potatoes are wanted for the table. If there
is moro corn than the razor-baoked hog or the
Stacking mulc can consume it is q dead loss.
Convey it to market-two days to go and two
to come and sell it for two bits a bushel and
the owner and seller would starve on the way.
Mako it into barrel or two OF whisky and it
will bring cash on the spot, or very near it. 1t
is not to grow rich--not hoping to better his
condtion-but simply to live. 1t is against the
law of the land. The mountaineer may go
ragged and hungry, but he must not distill. 1t
closer than most of us to all the command
ments. He breaks it because grim necessity
forcessity forces him to. He is outlawed and
hunted that officials may make fees.
/ knew all this before | looked into the stern,
set faces around me, and knew why looked
in vain for CLEAN of mercy.
Il am no spy" said, as looked about me.
II am q traveller making for Cumberland
Gan, and I've lost my way"
$50 up that path!' commanded the man
who had captured me.
mot until L satisfy you that am not
spy
one of the others, and shotgun covered my
breast again.
The leader ran back down the ravine to be
sure that no one had followed us. When he
returned he said;
Say yer prayers, stranger Joe, when riz
my hand do you plug himl"
ibid any of you ever hear of Joe Rickaby?"
L asked, trying hard to keep steady voice.
oval, what if we had?" asked the leader.
about year ago L found him in Jail in
B. He had been there for several months.
He was sick and out of money, and l aided
him. Here's his name in my note book.
See?"
The man with the gun lowered his weapon
and came closer and asked:
"Was anybody else in the jail with Joe?'
"Yes-half dOZen-all moonshincrs. / sent
in 81 worth of pipes and tobacco, and got one
of them some quinine."
"Hes the chap, sure s shooting!" exclaimed
the man as he turned to the others
"On my soul he is'' added the leader as he
came up and removed my hat.
"Durn our buttons" whispered the third
In a minute moro it was all right, and they
were shaking my hand 50 vigorously that my
shoulder ached The humble cabin quarter
of a mile away was open to me forever more,
and it was two days before they would let 20
Of me to resume my journey. The wife at the
cabin had more perception than the men. She
looked me over and then said
"Oh! sassafrax, but you felers is all blind
Hain't he yank all over and all through
Whar's tie sunbuPn! Whar's the lingo2
Whar's the hoss-pistols2 Purity mnss you'd
hey got yerselyes in to KILN a yank, who
don't keer if every branch in Tennessee runs
cl'ar whisky! Better not be 80 handy with
them guns arter this"
The leader walked with me for five miles
when left, and as We parted he said:
Stranger, when / told We to say yer prayers
meant they should be mighty short. I'd hey
given ye about ten seconds Tor / wanted to git
yer body outen the way. Yer couldn't hoY
told us nuthin' else to prove the you wasn't
spy. Give this paw farewell squeeze, aud
don't lay it up agin me-"