Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1900-11-28
The Ring S Victory.
BY @. K. UNDERWOOD.
Author BLACK John" Etc.

Author BLACK john Etc.
Copyright 1900 Daily Story Pub Coz
1t was only speckled shote, but the
cream-colored pony thought it was
bear or something even more dreadful
He was a city-trained pony and was
without fear of steam engines electric
cars and other urban nerve wreckers,
but he had never had any experience
with the bogies of plantation life. SO
when the speckled shote darted across
the path with a terrifying "hough!
hough!" the cream-colored pony
SHE'D, and threw the girl who was rid
ing him, then tore off down the narrow
road through the cotton field at top
speed.
Being a robust young person with
good deal of pluck and a sense of
humor, however, she laughed almost
as soon as the first tears started down
the sides of her nose, and satisfying
herself that no bones were broken she
shook the dust from her riding habit,
and gave her hat q touch with her
gloved fingers to make it sit straight
on her brown locks
The big white mansion whore she
lived was mile and a half away. The
sun was behind bank of black clouds
in the west, and the rich purple of the
cotton blooms, which were a pearly
white in the morning, and delicate
pink at noon, bore evidence that the
day was dying all too fast for the
quiet of maid with a weary hour OF
walking ahead of her.
IT went down the new-cut road,
She went down the lane,
And she promised to meet me,
Goodbye, Liza Jane"
The sound of this classic, sung in a
melodious, though unframed voice, and
accompanied by the rhythmic beat of
horses hoofs on the sunbaked road,
caused the girl to draw to one side and
look back. 1t was the voice of
white man and welcome, for the girl
did not relish the long walk home
through the lonely plantation.
The man on the gray horse eyed the
girl curiously and respectfully. He
was sunburned and stalwart, and sat
In his saddle as one at home. He
would have passed without speaking
as is the custom in the home of King
Cotton, but for the evidence of the
girls apparel that she should be on
horseback.
beg pardon, ma'am," he said rails
ing his hat Can | do anything to
assist you?"
you are Mr.. Bradley, are you not?"
said the girl
"Yes'm."
Il am Jane Apperson."
The young man said he would be
pleased to be of service to Miss Apper-
son.
MY pony threw me and ran away"
said the girl.
DO you think you could ride my
horse?" said Bradley, who had dis
mounted.
Il couldn't think of depriving you.
Maybe the pony has stopped. Would
you mind riding ahead and looking
for him?"
Certainly not" and Bradley gal
loped away on the gray horse.
Old Mr.. Apperson was the riches.
person in that section of the state. and
probably the most unpopular. Why a
man of his temperament and preiudices
ever essayed to make his home on an
Arkansas plantation was q local mys-
terry His political faith was a griev-
Gus offenso to his neighbors and his
cold, hard insistence that all men
should live within their incomes and
abjure light pleasures was regarded
with deep disapproyal by the hospita-
bic, sport-loying planters. He lived
aloof and his only child, the brown
eyed brown-hGired Jane, knew none
OF her neighbors. Occasionally the Ap-
persons would be visited by severe
looking women and men of clerical as
pect from the East, but these never
fraternized with the community.
Ben Bradley wasn't a bad fellow.
Some daredevil feats of his youth had
given hV a reputation for racklaes-
ness tha ne had not quite lived down
vt the worst that could be truthfully
iid OF him now was that he kept fight
ing cocks and evinced a more intelli-
gent interest in a dog or horse or a
gun than he did in improved farm ma
chinery, or experiments in the line of
introducing white labor in the South.
Ben Bradley came back to her with
out the cream-colored pony. Pm
AFRAID there's nothing for it but for