The Greenville times. [volume] (Greenville, Miss.) 1868-1917, 1903-08-22

of red and blue and orange into the
night, illumining briefly and weirdly
the heaven and the earth. Occasion
ally cloud would reflect the glow
after the fame had died, mock sun
rise or sunset. Towards midnight,
when he had won high among the
uplands, the moon rose, crumbling
segment of pale gold.
Rossiter was now weary, and pres
emily a straw-stack in a field adjoin-
ing the highway suggested a desir-
able place of rest. He scaled the
fence and approached the stack, be-
coming conscious, as he did so, of the
sound of heavy breathing. Some
one, it was evident, had already
availed himself of a free nights lodg-
ing. Rossiter hesitated an instant
and then went forward. Doubtless
there would be plenty of accommoda-
ticn for two. On the eastern side Of
the stack, revealed distinctly by the
moonlight, was the huddled body of
man. There could be no harm,
Rossiter thought, in having closer
glance at his fellowlodger. He ad-
vanced cautiously a few PAGES and
peered down, to start back in amaze
ment and dismay, for he had gazed
upon the repulsive face of "Whis-
kers."
Swiftly and silently he retraced his
steps to the road, his mind swept by
a powerful reaction. Voluntarily he
had returned to the level of this de-
testable creature, had allowed the
first disappointment to overthrow
every firm resolve of the past weeks,
and had gone miserably down once
more into the, very slough of degen-
eracy. Out of the realization of his
instability, the Overwhelming sense
of his bitter shame. by some strange
and sudden revulsion his spirit rose
triumphant. He bowed his head.
with Gods help" he said, ut IL
the last time!"
valley, and a mile from the straw
stack found sleeping place in
shed. Slumber soon brought it's boon
of forgetfuIness, but before 1t did SO
he summoned from the depths of his
recollection the lovely contour of
Miss Densmore's face.
after ALL" he thought, musing
upon the sweetness of what might
have been, ''it is a blessing to have
known her!"
When he reused the following
the sun had scattered the
banked mists above the hills beyond
the Merton farm, and as he stood
in the doorway Of his rude shelter,
in the glistening light, a
farmer approached driving market
ward with heaped wagon-load Of
potatoes. The two men exchanged
chances and mods.
Bound for Hintonville?" inquired
Rossiter.
"Yep. That's where I'm goin'," was
the reply.
Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving
me lift, then?"
Mind? Certainly noti Jump
right up"
He checked his horses until Ros-
sitter had mounted to the seat be-
side him. He was of hearty, big
souled type; had a sandy beard, keen
yet kindly blue eyes, and voice that
expanded into a muff1ed roar at the |
close Of every sentence. His laugh,
too, was explosive.
Been hop-pickin'. s'pose, an now
startin' home?" he ventured.
eyes," returned Rossiter.
Like it?"
Yes. very much"
"Hain't heard, hev We, what hap |
pened to a hop-picker, er a tramp,
las night mp to Bob Pankhurst's on
the hill2"
~No: what was it2"
"Wen, ye see Bob's got-er had,
ruthcr--a straw-stack jest across the
road from his house that'd ketch
The eye o. anybody strollin' by am
In want O. a place to stow 'emselves
All daylight free O. charge. They's
plenty o. sech about these days"-j
this final remark with a sly glance
1T his companion, Il
The mention OF the straw-stack
had stimulated Rossiter's interest to
such a degree that he did not heed
The attempted pleasantly.
"Yesi yes!" he cried. what hap |
penedl" 4
WELL" said the farmer, "when Bob
got up this mornin' he was minus
The blamed thing
burnt in the night, and not dern
soul about the place seen it. When
they discovered it, and come to GO
near to look at it, there was a mans
boots sticldn' out o. the black, smok-
in mass. His upper part was done
TO crisp"
"If / recall rightly" said Rossiter,
which the other did not seem to no.
tice, "there is but one straw-stack
for some distance"
"Yep," said the farmer, that's
right! Bob's is the only one for at
least three miles, leastwise the only
one near the road. The Teller, who
ever he was, must ave been smokin'
an fallen asleep. He's had his las
smoke. that's dead sure, an mighty
big one it was, by the look o. it."
Rossiter had no comment to make.
The horror of the scene kindled in
his imagination by the farmers
words silenced him. And yet he could
but consider the dreadful doom which
had overtaken "Whiskers" as retribu-
tive. There was no one, he thought,
who would question the justice Of
this tragic Interpolation Of fate, but
the shocking end of Hart Dawson was
still heavy on his mind when. an hour