Evening star., 1909-09-05


picture of Indian home customs, which had
been universally praised by the press of the
country. would follow Immediately the close of
his discourse, and the ladies who were beg inning
to move out were doing so at their own cost.
Willie Calker wanted to see that last act: but
he felt that he must be up and doing. He did
not care for medical science, and he had
money, anyway, with which to buy bottle of
the Miracle. The time might come when he
would have anyone of the countless diseases it
was guaranteed to cure; but he would not bor-
row trouble. Pausing at the flap of the tent.
he had a last look at his mother. as she sat
watching the lecturer with the breathless inter-
est of a woman who is finding out for the first
time Just what is the matter with her; then
he slipped away.
THE preparations for the fight were simple;
for the boy had made up his mind not to
hamper himself Of the march with unneeded
luggage. He had to have his revolver of course
with the two remaining cartridges. Into his in
side pocket he slipped the tintype of his mother
and himself that had been taken at the last
county fair. and about his neck he tied his best
bandana. When he had stuck the note into the
coffee pot where it would be found at supper
time, the last tie was broken and he was off on
the trail of the Tallapoosas.
He knew the way they must go when the
show was over; SO he kept to the big road as far
fields. and following the creek to the buckle
berry path that led him to the mountain S crest
and the pike again. Here he could await their
coming. now watching the quiet valley of his
past below him, now turning to the rolling
kishikoquillas country and the broad white
trail that led over it to the river, beyond that
to the rivers source. to the Alleghenies on to
Pittsburgh, thence to the plains and the future.
How slowly the minutes passed. Willie
Calker began to wish the parting could have
hardly deigned more than glance at Black
Log; but posted himself on the southern slope
with his eyes fixed on the great trail and his
mind busy with its wonders. Then he turned
again to the northward and his past watching
the distant clump of naples from which the
mill lifted its broad back. If he could only hear
the rumble of the wheels once more!
How slowly the hours passed. Dark clouds
were sweeping over Thunder Knob, and the
grumbling of storm could be heard away down
in the west. The growing clouds came on till
the valley was in their shadow and the lightning
was playing nearer and nearer along the noun
tains Night alone would have been fearful
enough for the sun was fast sinking to its rest
among the hills: but light coming at the heels
of storm would have driven the boy back to
the village in hurry, had not the creak of
wheels sounded round the bend below him.
They brought him all he had been dream
ing of The nasal tones of Colonel Candy cut
sharply through the stiffness that followed a
crash of thunder. Jim answered, swearing at
his mules.
A shout of welcome was on Willies lips. He
stayed it. The long looked for Tallapoosas
were here; but they had come upon him SO sud-
denly! 1t was hard to break away from home
all at once this way. Out in the sunshine it
would be easy; but now the trees were thresh-
ing wildly overhead, and he could hear the
swishing of the rain it raced toward him
through the woods. There was not much adj
venture in Black Log; but off there by the
clump of trees where the mill lifted its broad
back there was lasting shelter. How. fine
storm when you could look it in the face
through window! Distant danger has its
destinations. The boy began to suspect that
it might have its delusions too and he crawled
into bush to think it all over for the last time.
He wanted to convince himself irrevocably
that it was best. But was it best9
The Tallapoosas clattered by; they reached
the crest of the hill and turned to the slope
that led away to the west Willie ran to the
road and stood there looking after them. 1t
might be best at any other place than this, at
any other time than now-except for the
letter! Happy are they that read but cannot
write! He had burned his bridges behind him
when he left that dreadful paper in the coffee
pot: for all Six Stars must even now be ringing
with his story.
He had to go! The Tallapoosas were lost
to view in the rain, and he ran down the HILL
calling loudly. A few steps, and he ran back
again, for just last look at Black Log
The storm was on him. 1t drenched him;
but he did not mind it. In its full fury he