The Washington herald., 1906-12-09

Mr.. BIoke. and Slowed the rocker around
so as TO face his questioneT.
/ Didn't you ever hear about Codder?"
Not a word. though guess everything
/ else in the way Of historical romance has
been retailed to me. Did he die there2Y
In that vicinity" The postmaster ae-
tually smiled and rubbed his knees. The
late Mr.. COdder's demise conjured up
/ pleasing "reminiscences. Take an air line
say forty feet above the monument.
That's were he died And cooking his
head to one side, Mr. Dix winked.
i don't understand % Willie stammered.
Your talk is all to the hidden rebus. and
I'm no puzzle page editor"
The mysterious Mr.. Dix. leaning for
ward. drew an imaginary loop around
his neck with his finger. jerked it taut
behind. stuck out his tongue. gasped once
or twice and then lapsed into a violent
fit OF chuckling.
oh, ! see; you hanged Mr.. Codderr'
Not me alone" the p. VI. FASTENED TO
explain, his mirth checked for the moment.
No man hangs another slngIe-handed.
We strung Tom Colder up-au decent
business men. too-and nothing was ever
said. because society has a way Of max
ing laws for mUrderers where law Of any
kind is scarce. That's plain. isn't it?'
Certainly" Mr.. Bloke admitted. "but
why did you erect a monument TO mur-
derer?"
Again that droH smile distorted the
face Of the postmaster.
1t was my idea. I'm here a long while.
and Codder's was the first and last exc
cution to date. We always mark stirring
epochs. They hanged Colder to cocoa
nut tree in my front yard. which wasn't
a yard then. When the village grew and
the tree got in the way. / sawed it off
about a foot from the ground. Then I
placed a headless pork barrel over the
stump. filed her full Of cement and wa
ter, and when the stuff hardened I
knocked the slaves away. and there you
have IT. I cali that neat memento, and
cheap, too"
Indeed it is" replied Willie, regarding
with wondering curiosity the monument
and the man on whose mind the lynching
seemed to have left an impression. TO the
exclusion Of all else. ITS what I would
call neat. but not gaudy."
Come on and I'll show you the epitaph
of the man he killed Just step this
way"
Mr. Bloke followed the length Of the
narrow garden. expecting every moment
TO fetch up at the plaster cast Of another
pork barrel, but they crossed the beach
road and stopped at the door Of a public
house.
This is where it is" whispered the
mysterious Mr.. Dix. you had better
order some gin and bitters for two-the
folks in here are bit touchy-and while
were drinking I'll show you the epitaph
Watch my feet"
With his glance focused on the pipe
clayed shoes of Postmaster Dix, and
deeply awed by this subtle proceeding.
Willie trailed into the dingy bar Of the
pub. He was still lost in contemplation
of the feet Of Mr.. Dix, watching for the
epitaph TO apear there after the manner
Of a stereopticon view, when the publican
brought out the square gin bottle. Dix
loaded both glasses with a second mates
drink, took a sip Of the chemical nodded
at Willie Bloke and then backed the
length of man away from the counter,
where he tapped the floor meaningIy with
his foot.
In the muddy light of the oil lamps
Willie saw nothing at first. but he finally
made out the letter r, carved deeply in
the hardwood flooring. The inscription,
for such it seemed 10 be. was three inches
long, with the tail pointing to the bar.
That the epitaph had served there many
years was apparent from the rounded
edges Of the carving. 1t would have been