The Red Cloud chief., 1901-04-05

| him to pieces without compunction.
| As he did not they would FIX his punish
ment and administer that-no more, no
less. Therefore. with judicial solemnlty,
! they led him to q brushwood fire. and be-
gan to discuss his fate.
The leaping flames cast grotesaue,
dancing shadows upon the dark fronts
| OF the cabins, and the pale moon and the
tiny wlnking stars looked down quietly,
sadly perhaps. upon the unusual scene
Beyond the fences the tethered horses
snorted and stamped impatiently: far out
In the deep recesses of the wood a
soreech owl voiced its eerie cry: and in
the tops Of the great old dying oaks the
western breeze moaned softly az if tell
Ing OF the. old days when such things
were not.
But those around the FIRE heard moth
Ing OF all this. Their interest was con-
centrated on the scene before them. and
they were listening rntently to Moses,
the little Jewish clothier from Keowee,
who had no Interest at stake, but whose
Oriental blood was boiling with the ex-
citement of the moment. He was demand :
Ing the death penalty volubiy. Middleton
smiled a. he contrasted the round, excited
features Of the speaker with the stern. ret
icent faces of the lean, tough -muscled
farmers who surrounded him. He knew
Moses and he knew these: and II was
with these silent men that the prisoner
had to reckon. They had endured much
and this man had had his chance. OF
course. they would not kill him, but they
would punish him terribly; and Middle
ton thought It was just. lie knew his
own influence-knew that he could save
the man If he would. but he said not
word. THE way OF the transgressor is
hard" he thought to himself.
In the meantime the prisoner sat list
less. lie did not seem dangerous
man. His white hands looked pltlfully
thin, and his sallow face was worn and
haggard lie was not afraid: he was
not even listening to the heated words
that they banded about him
Suddenly he began 20 speak.
Men," he said, with that subtle in
tonatlon OF voice which tells of thoughts
that are far from the matter in hand, II
hardly reckon you'l kill me- but. honest
to God. I wish you would. | was born
right back there about twenty miles
born and raised there. I know how you
feel. | felt that way, too-once. Well
we started life there. my wife and I, but
4
me not to do it-but sold out and went
1t wasn't like | thought IL would be, and
I got homesick, kind OF lost my grip like:
and things went from bad to worse. until
at last we had nothin but the two little
cared for myself. I would rather have
given up and died right there. But they
were there. and | couldn't give up. Then
some one. the devil, ] reckon. told me to
try gettin' up hands-out here--for the
big plantations. It's not popular busi-
ness. but a man can always get the job
II he wants It, Commission, you know;
no nggers, no money. Well, | came.
and you fellows sent me Off. | didn't
mean to come back: | meant to stay
away as I'd promised. So I went back
there, and went to work for a man-share
crop-one horse. 1t was down In
swamp: chills all the time-and fever.
Then the drought came and there wasn't
any crop to share. I was too sick to try
again. even II I'd had the chance, and
we'd nothing to eat or TO wear. lie
paused "rhem little fellows are bare
foot right now" he added, refectively.
The crowd had grown silent, and were
listening. Middleton rad children HIM
self
No one spoke. and the man went on.
"Wel 7 knew they'd give me money
10 get here on II I'd try again for the ne
groes, so I offered to try When l got
the money I gave 1t to my wire ana
tramped here. I can see her now IN that
old shack down by the bayou scrapin',
and pinchin', and savin' trying 10 make
that money last till get home again ana
the little ones at sundown comm OH
niece TO meet me. an then when the stars
come out can see 'em turn slowly back
again tryin' hard to walt with patience
for the chance Of another day.
The crowd kept silent. and the pris-
oner continued:
"Iye two dollars here" he said. "and
an old watch want some or you TO
take EN- and send 'em back to her. Tell
her I'm dead: you needn't mention this:"
he waved comprehensively at the
crowd-"but tell 'em I'm dead, her and
the children, whether I am or not; and
tell 'em''-he hesitated stared fxedly at
the fire, and his voice choked little
tell 'em I said good-by."
For a moment all was silent. Then
the man sprang to his feet, and turned
to Middleton fiercely.
"Do you reckon, now, that I care what
YOU do? Do you reckon I care II you
kill me?" he asked. desperately.
But Middleton wasn't thinking OF that.
He was thinking OF the corn In his cribs
and the cotton In his sheds. and OF little
children who were hungry.
He turned suddenly and thrust some
thing in the agents hand
"You take that" he said, sharply
"and go back to those folks"'-Independ-