The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-07-07
'" KIVERED."
BY NJ. QUAD.

Were I asked to name the races of the south, 1 should answer: "White, black and the mountaineer." The lat ter belongs to distinctive race. While he may be classed with the white as far as color goes, his tastes, habits, characteristics and mode of life are pe- culiarly his own. If he likes you be will make any sacrifice to oblige you. If he hates you he will seek your life with determination which nothing can damp. The great world beyond his mountain home is q sealed book to him. He lives in himself, by himself and for himself.
 was riding over that spur of the Cumberland mountains which General Morgan (FederaD held so gallantly while Buell. and Bragg were driving each other by turns over Kentucky, when lost my way. The mountain trails of the south are dangerous pug zles to stranger. They run up and ddown-twist-turn-dodge-los 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 and keeps every sense alert. Every rod ot the trail has its ambush, and every quarter of mile it's cliff, seemingly ready to fall upon you. I came to a spot where three trails branched away. It was luck and chance. l took one which led me into a long, dark ravine, where the summer sun has never yet touched the icicles or the rugged rocks, nor cooled the mountain rivulet pouring over the moss grown lodges. After going a mile l felt that I was wrong, and was about to turn back, when a voice sud denly called out through the semi darkness
 Stranger, you ar kivered! Throw up your hands !"
 If that command ever reaches your ears, obey it at once and do your ar- guing subsequently,. It means that your head or heart is in point blank range of bullet or buckshot, with 8 finger resting on the trigger and ready to pull if you don't obey the summons.
 Up went my hands.
 After a long half minute noun taineer, who had dead sight on me with double barreled shotgun across a point of rock twenty feet ahead stepped in view on the trail and said
 Stranger, slip downw
 slipped off the saddle.
 'Now lead yer mule up that ravine to the right!"
 simply saw a man six feet high, straight as an arrow, long haired whiskers unkempt, dress that of 6 mountaineer. Yes, I saw more. He held the gun fair for my breast. One suspicious move on my part and was a dead man. He spoke in 6 low voice but there was that in his tones which chilled me. Without second look at him 1 took the mule by the bits and led him up the ravine. We had not gone twenty rods before I scented a whisky stiA. At the end of five rods more we were in 6 rude camp. Two moonshiners sat on log, guns across their knees, and. back of and below them still was running of its ex- tract of corn.
 "One O them spies P said the man who had followed me as l let go oi the mule and sat down on a stump.
 A good ketch !" growled one of the sitters.
 Mighty kind in him to come yere !" chuckled the other.
 They were moonshiners, and they took me for spy sent out by the government official of that district. ] looked from one to the other. There was a determination in each look-an implacable sternness of expression which would have warned a genuine spy that his hour had come. Not one glance of pity-not one line of mercy. A prisoner at the stake among the Apaches would have had more hope.
 These men were law -breakers-out- laws-being hunted after every day in the year. Why? Because they were making 8 living-keering soul and body together-in the only way open to them. The bits of valleys in the grim old Cumberiands will grow corn and potatoes. The potatoes arc wanted for the table. If there is more corn than the razor- backed hog or the