The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1905-12-13

we. can whnetthe, daylight: lasts. We
| cannot follow them when the darkness
has hid the trail"
Simon Hart made no reply, but the
stern, determined look upon his coun-
tenance deepened, telling of the feel
ings which animated his breast, ana
how he longed to commence the work
of avenging his lost ones.
Swiftly, yet cautiously. they glided
along the trail, while the sun went
down behind the western treetops
and the shadows of the evening began
to gather thickly about them.
Drowning an eminence, they could
see through the twilight the hollow
oak, beneath the branches Of which
they felt sure of finding the saVages.
The trail led directly thither, and there
was little need of keeping upon 1t,
they thought, so certain were they that
they should. find there those they
sought.
t.. Thernightiwas'come whenaat length
| they stood close-to it. and saw shining
through the trees the light Of a camp
fire. aOnef portion Of their task. was
over: their work of death was soon to
begin.
Silently they crept nearer and nearer
until at last they stood as close to the
tree that they could count the savages
| clustering about the fire. They were
seven in number.
Simon Hart was so impatient for his
vengeance that he would have sprung
upon them at once, had not his COM
panion held him back. and at he same
time whispering in his ear:
Keep quiet, if you would not ruin
all. Wait until they are asleep, and
then our task will be an easy one. and
our vengeance sure. To strike nov
might ruin all. No II of those red
fends must on any account be suffered
to escape"
Simon Hart saw that his. friend was
right. He must possess himself with
patience as best, he could.
AS motionless as statues they stood
there, with their eyes fixed upon their
enemies. Slowly the minutes went by.
It seemed that the time for them to
strike would never come.
The light Of the camp fire grew
paler and paler, and at last only a
faint glow remained. The savages
huddIed about it, and to all appear
nee each and every Il was buried
in slumber.
The hour of vengeance had arrived.
Noiselessly the two hunters crept tow
ard their victims. In one hand they
held their rifles and in the other their
knives. A few steps brought them to
the side, OF the. nearest. savages.
"For my wife, my children" ex-
claimed Simon Hart. in a whisper,
as he, buried his knfe$t the hilt in the
heart Of a savage.
The blow of Dick White was no less
strong and sure, and two of the saw
ages lay weltering in their gore, their
career ended forever.
So silently and surely had the blows
been struck that neither had uttered
so much as a groan. Their comrades
still slept on, unsuspicious Of the
doom impending.
After the knives of the avengers
were raised, and true to their aim
they did the work assigned to them.
But three of the savages now re-
manned.
Another blow for my murdered
Ones" shouted Simon Hart. in a tone
of triumph which rang out like a
trumpet through the stiffness Of the
night.
The remaining savages sprang to
their feet, but before they could rise
and arm in. their defense a couple Of
bullets ended the career Of two OF
them forever. The remaining savage
turned to flee, but he had hardly
quilted his tracks before Simon Hart
was upon him, and one blow COM
pletd the work of vengeance.
For years thereafter the Hollow Oak
was known to the settlers of that re-
gion as the Tree of Death.-New York
! Weekly.