Belding banner. (Belding, Mich.) 1889-1918, 1908-10-15

Ey ROBERT II. LANGF0RD
Ey ROBERT II. LANGFORD
(Copyright. by shortstory Pub. COP


white folks cloes." shufIled and
plowed her way along through the
deep. yellow dust of the big read that
led to the river bottom. The sweat
fell from her narrow, wrinkled face in
great drops, and she STUCK her claw
like hands into the heavy bundle OF
clothes to keep it from falling OF of
her head to the ground. She straight
ened her back but once during the last
half mile TO her cabin (Which stood in
the edge of the Great Cane Brake)
and looked keenly ahead down the
road. de Gawd know, | know widout
lookin,' she said fiercely. under her
breath.
She plodded on, never raising her
head again, but she muttered strange
ly and menacingly, and CULVER shot
through her and she drew her breath
shudderingly as she passed across the
shadow cast by the dead tree. A long
\ time ago-years before-she had fol-
lowed IA body of men, a grim. silent,
terrible, masked band of Ku Klux,
down the big road 10 this tree and had,
alternately, shrieked her prayers and
curses, while they hanged by his
/ long, yellow neck the only child she
had ever had. The boy had borne an
4 unmistakable stamp-he was tall and
well-featured, quick TO think and to
\ act, rebellious and devilish in both.
But the mother love was all the deeper
and more vehement because of what
she alone knew-his pitiable begin
ming, and Lis ruthless, well-nigh inevi-
! table ending. Therefore she had
grown to hate the ruling race with a
passion almost demoniacal in its bitter
/ intensity.
When she at last reached the shade
/ of the beech tree that stood in her
cleanly swept yard, and had sucked
long from the gourd of cold water
/ from her well-that was also beneath
! the tree-she sat down on a bench,
| almost spent, too tired 10 open the
bank of smouldering embers beside a
half-log at the corner of the cabin and
/ cook a corn-pone and "brile a strip o.
middlin'"
! When she had been sitting on the
bench a while she turned around and
4 looked furtively toward the cane
brake that grew clear up TO the garden
! fence. After a long survey of the
thick. lush cane, she seemed 10 be
satisfied. Then she looked quickly up
and down the road, united the faded
red turban on her head and extracted
several small pieces of money from
the closely folded rim These she
counted. again and again, and at last,
sure that her calculations were cor.
rect, united a second handkerchief
from her head. a black silk one that
had belonged to her son-one that she
always wore under the red turban. 1t
was curiously quilted and stitched
until il was stiff with coins-a few OF
/ them gold-the accumulation Of years
4 of her hard earnings and rigid self.
denial. She added the money she had
I just counted, and taking a threaded
needle from her hair, sewed ii into
the handkerchief securely Then she
tied both handkerchiefs back on her
! head, turban fashion, as they We're be.
fore.
4 Taking up slip Of green cane she
leaned forward and began to scratch
on the hard ground in front of her
After awhile the scratches took the
form of a rude obelisk.
Oats bout de way ole Moster's is
-en OATS bout de way I'm gwine hab
his'n. Jes' as big, an ies' as white
an ebbery bit as gran lookin '-cas'n,
cas'n, TO de Gawd dat know it oughteg
\ be-"
For years and years all her life in.
terest had centered around what she
had at last accomplished-the accumu
lation of enough money to place at the
4 head of the lone, Stunned grave back
in the little clearing, that bordered the
roadside above her cabin, a tomb.
stone that should be in every way the
I counterpart of her "ole Moster's, "
Judge Jacob Morton. Aunt Lilly sat
1 there and furrowed the earth with her
cane until the sun was sinking down
below the tall trees of the swamp be.
hind her. and the air was becoming
heavy with the odors of the marsh
UlOOlilo Nt6CN'tAOii illlRltu Will
the scent of cypress burning some
where across the lake.
The old woman had added by
slow degrees TO the fund in the
curiously stitched handkerchief. Trudg
ing back and forth, back and
forth, with indomitable persistence
laden with chickens, or carrying
pail after pail of luscious blackberries
from the swamp--or a market basket
filled with old-time ginger-cakes or
one arm and her demijohn full oil
sweet cider swinging from the other
to be sold from the courthouse steps
on First Monday"
In winter, the pals held I've, hom
my and various toothsome things
made out of the fat, mast-fed hogs oil
hers that lived in the bottom. Count
less were the pones of corn-lightbreat
she had baked and shcats she haC
barbecued, for the hack loads of boys
who came out to the river on Satur
day afternoon with cases of beer
Many were the bundles of clothes she
| Nod hr,ttohf the thraa ruflea from