The Greenville times. [volume] (Greenville, Miss.) 1868-1917, 1903-08-22
: A Knight Of the Highway
I BY CLINTON scoLLARD,
Author Of Manat ""Ths son Of aTory," Etc
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Continual
By CLINTON SCOLLARD,


After his plunge out of the bushes
Rossiter hurried up the field, crossed
into the upper orchard, and made
his way to the sleeping quar-
tiers of the men. What he had just
seen and heard had suddenly dis
solved the resolution and purpose
that had been daily taking frmer
and more definite shape since he left
the freight-train that night at Illica.
| Life never would, never could, hold
aught for him. What he had recent
IL experienced proved this but TOO
plainly. He was fool to think
| that he could ever be anything but
n vagabond. He would take to the
road again. Hastily he put his few
belongings together and strobe to
the door. There he paused. Should
he leave without a word to any one?
IT,. love in his heart flooded over him
Ike a great wave as his mind revert
ed to Miss Densmore. No. he would
somehow contrive to send a good
by to her. 1t was a browning piece of
folly, perhaps, doubtless, for it would
mean nothing to her, but he would
indulge in it nevertheless. 1t would
be his final tribute on the now shat
tered altar of hope-the shrine which
he had so unwittingly reared.
He remembered to have seen Joe
Becraft that morning slip a small
pencil into a vest hanging upon a
chair near his cot. The garment was
still there. He took out his brothers
letter, tore off at the crease a little
| strip upon which there was no writ
ing, and in the dim light traced his
words of adieu. He then replaced
| the pencil thrust the folded mes
sage into his pocket, and rending in
scraps the remainder of the letter,
scattered the fragments upon the
grass as he stepped from the door.
There's an end of that!" he said.
In the hop-kiln, by dull lantern
light, some of the pickers were hav-
ing a last impromptu merry-making
to the wheezy music of mouth-or-
gan played by one of their number.
Among the dancers was Joe Becraft.
II had been Rossiter's intention to
bid him good-by, but he saw that he
could not do so without encountering
| many others, so with consciousness
of real regret he turned away. AS
he came to the end of the barn he
deserted Jack Parmelee's familiar
figure moving towards the house.
Here was the very man for his pur-
pose. He hailed him.
"Mr. Parmelee!" he called.
The farm manager halted.
"Oh. it's you!" he said, as Rossiter
drew near. whats up?" He had re-
marked the pole-puller's bundle.
"I'm off," said Rossiter. 1--WE
changed my mind about waiting till
morning. If l hurry 1 think l can
catch the Hintonville train, but
can't wait to say good-by to every
one. Won't you make my adieus
to Mr.. and Mrs. Merton and Miss
Merton and to the Becrafts,-I'm
very sorry not TO see them all,-and
would you be kind enough to give
this to Miss Densmore?"
He held out the slip of paper with
its penciled words. Parmelee took
II.
"Why, certainly, to be sure" he
said. "But you'd better wait. In
deed, wish you'd stay right on. We
need just such a man as you. Mr..
Merton'd give you good wages. you
know"
IT'S very kind Of you. Mr.. Mer-
ton spoke about it, but l must CO."
answered Rossiter, holding out his
hand.
well. you'll come next year?"
said Parmelee, giving him hearty !
grip. "I'n keep a place for you. II
yoA, say So"
II can't promise" Rossiter replied. i
"Thanks just the same" s&F
Parmelee watched Rossiter stride |
out Of the gate and take the Hinton
Vile road. s&Ega /
There's a chop can't make out"
he muttered as he walked towards
the house. A
Rossiter recalled that half way 10 |
Hintonvillc there was highway |
branching towards the west. When
he reached this he took IL without |
hesitation. He had no intention Of |
trying to catch the train, but had |
spoken Of doing so as plausible ex-
cuse for his hasty departure. Plans
he had none, needed none. He ives |
TO drift again, waif, a vagrant, 9
common vagabond. Now nothing
mattered. Money he had, more than |
he had possessed that year, but Of |
what special avail was it? In the
life to which he was returning he |
could manage quite as easily with
out 1t. he trudged on steadily, HIS |
mind a babel of emotions. One by |
one he reviewed the scenes of his |
hop-yard life, in which Miss Dens-
more always appeared as the central |
figure, but chiefly he dwelt upon his |
return to consciousness after the en-
counter In the dip of the Blue Creek J
Road. 1t must have been pity not |
love that he had seen in Miss Dens- |
more's eyes as she had bent above |
him. Yes, it must have been that, |
end yet the look haunted him, and |
continued to do so.
By and by he found himself near
ing the valley of the Oskenonto. AS
he halted an instant before seeking |
the lower level. fierce pulsating !!
flame leaped up into the hollow of |
the night, and he knew that he was |
not far from the blast furnace of |
Harkana. Descending. he chose q
road that led him past the faring |
stacks. and paused to watch the fiery |
waves of molten iron pour into the |
moulds of sand. lie crossed the fur |
mace slag-heaps, hideous even in the |