Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-10-24

of his life He received them and always
acknowledged them with twitch
of his tail, and he would have missed
them had they not been forthcomingsIt
was in this wise. then, that Denny Me-
Herman Jared forth in quest of the slayer
of Tom Cleghorn. the man who had in
bygone year given him helping hand.
In early autumn the Kentucky noun
tains present formidable claims for ex-
ceedingly great beauty. The miles upon
miles of far-reaching ranges thickly set
with trees of sturdy growth, and the in
terrifying valleys just as heavily wooded.
all present a wealth and a variety of
color which it does not require the soul
of an esthete to appreciate. Mckiernan
was very much of the world. The max
ing of his daily bread had been accom-
panied by hard knocks, and some of the
bruises hadn't healed, but as he wound
deeper and deeper into the recesses over
the vague and uncertain trail which he
was pursuing he was conscious of a
feeling of restfulness There was all to
lull, nothing TO jar nor annoy. At times
he met buggy, wagon or pedestrian,
but no one addressed him beyond a brief
nod. 1t was mid afternoon when a strap
ping fellow on big horse pulled up in
front of him. barring his way.
"Whar yo' bound fur, OF MANI" was
his salutation, in a not unpleasant voice,
but with a keenly concentrated gaze
I'm a-headin fur Big Goose Crick,
stranger" replied Mckiernan, assuming
the vernacular of the locality. How fur
mought 1t be?''
Nigh to five mile. 1 reck'n. Whut's
YOU business thar, an whard yo come
frum?"
I'm frum Tennessee. Their damned
revenuerS air gittin' so sharp man can't
make Twin thar. heerd Nv Teller up
In these parts named Butcher. They say
he makes all the whisky he wants to, an
that ev'ybody's skeerd Wv i'm. That s
the man I'm huntin'; l wan to set down
right by i'm"
A mi hty laugh came from the broad
chest Of the man on the horse.
IN they've heerd Nv i'm in Tennessee,
hev they? I'm Seth Butcher, Of man.
Whuts yo name?'
Jim Hartley. Uncle Jim, Their boys
calls me at home. Air you the Teller I'm
lookin' fur?"
I'm him. an eff yo' can take yo' turn
at the still. we'll hang up. Yo needn t
be skeered wv no revenuers when yo re
with me. I've got business down the road
now, but I'll show yo' the way" The
burly form raised in its stirrups and turn
ed in Its saddle. ''Yo' jist keep a-goin'
till yo come TO crick-that's Big
Goose. Go UP it a mile or more till yo'
come to a shanty-that's mine. Tell my
woman l sent 20. an wait thar fur me.
I'll be back some time tonight
Without waiting for reply the horse
man frightened his rein, swerved his
mount to the left and was quickly en-
got his horse in motion with difficulty,
and as he logged along his mind was
busy. His quarry was fooled-completely
fooled-and of that he was confident. The
painstaking skill with which he had pre-
pared and assumed his disguise. coupled
with his natural talent for imitation, had
caused him to pass successfully the criti-
cal ordeal of this shrewd mountaineer S
inspection. Denny was inclined to pat
himself on the shoulder. but there was
too much ahead yet for self-congratula-
ton. He had passed only one of the dan
ger points: the names of the others were
legion. He was in the middle of the
feudist's country, where mans life was
scarcely considered at all and where the
strictest vigilance must be maintained at
every hour of the day and night. He
thought OF Butcher as he had seen him
astride his horse-big-lmbed, hairy. mus
cular and crafty. His undertaking was &c
bring him to justice single-handed. The
odds were assuredly with the man of the
woods. Then Denny thought of Tom
CIeghorr, great-hearted, generous loyal;
a man with the soul of woman. The
mortal remains of Tom were somewhere
in these hills Denny felt himself grow
ing revengeful and the old Mosaic law OF
IAN eve for an eye and a tooth for