Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-09-05

The long lances Of the westering sun
,ound their way down the jagged scars In
the face of the cliffs of pink limestone
catching a like CLEAN of deeper pink that
appeared and disappeared, finally emerging
into the valley-a slip of girl on an old
white mule, that ambled along at snail
pace in response to the cluck-cluck OF the
rider. Turner's Bess" shaded her orows
with her little sunDurned hands, While her
blue eyes ranged down the valley to where
the gray roof of the country store cleaned
white beneath the oaks. On her arm huns
a splint basket of eggs and the family meal
sack was thrown across the mules w1thers.
OF the four men that were grouped at the
door of the store" not one offered her as
sistance as she slipped cautiously to the
ground, flung the bride over the hitchlng
post and entered The loafers droned on
In the sun, they talked of the crops, or the
new telephone line that was to link them
visbly with the outside world, of the last
storm and its effect on the peach crop
Old Jim Williams nodded his head toward
the open door, through which shrill sounds
of bargaining in the high-keyed voice of
the grocer's wife were issuing, broken by
q softer voice, sweet with the hush OF the
mountains: "Gittin' ter be likely gal; en-
they do say as how old man Turner air a
maxim sight of money outen that new
camp of engineers" and old Jimmie winked
at his audience. The "tradin' " had pro-
crossed to a point of settlement, for 'Tur-
ner's Bess'' flashed out and back with the
meal sack. and presently came dragging it
out, assisted by Mother Meigs, who, with
the assistance of old Jimmie, settled 1t
across the patient mule, and BesS clutched
a bundle of pink calico under one arm. The
men watched the girl as she sprang the
white mules back. and, clucking to
Nance" was soon lost among the poplar
and oak of the mountain side.
Up ana up, as the afternoon sun gletlmed
across the Devils Backbone, lower until its
struggling vanguard touched the tip of
HaSkinS Ridge, where the outcrop of pink
limestone reared its crest against the sky,
and the masses of laurel and purple rhodo-
dendron rioted against the rim of the world.
Up and up, to a sheltered ravine, where
the white mule snorted and stood still, her
forefeet planted stiffiy and ears pointed
forward, as stalwart figure rose up in
the path before them.
Turner's Bess' SHE'D too, The pink sun
bonnet dropped off the red curls and lay
back like halo, and the roll of calico tum-
bled to the ground; then she found her
tongue.
What yer doin,' Jack Haskins, alright
enin' of my muller Hain't you got nuthin'
better ter do than layin' in wait fer a
gal?"
The young fellow made no answer for a
moment only came a step or two nearer,
and shifting his Winchester to the other
hand, laid his right on the bride of the
now quiet mule-and the brown eyes met
the blue, that faltered and fell
"Bess Turner Gawd knos I hain't a
meanin' trouble. Your pap'd shoot me like
er houn' eff he caught me this side of Their
ridge, but it's morn half your fault, for
Bess. from Their very day yer came ter Their
schoolhouse over yander, with yer purity
curls a tanglin', yer blue eyes, en- KNOWN
no diffuns atween me en- Their other boys,
en- give me them sweetenins of yourn, till
right now. hain't never give up wshln'
that you want Silas Turner's gal or me
Jack Haskins' boy. There haint no mite
of reason why we two can't be friends"
She shook her head gently. and he went on
coming still closer. ''Bess there's sumthin
mighty wrong about this heah business of
your pap en- mine goin' roun' fixed ter kill
one another on sight, when there hain't a