The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1909-02-18
CHAPTER l..
THE AFFAIR AT TREssLER's

n AFFAIR AT TRESSlER'S
FARM.
When the great architect had fin
ished building h earth. he dumped
the chips n debris into the center of
Pennsylvania, and men called the heap
the Seven Mountains.
They are not mountains at all, but
long ridges like giant burrows plowed
deep into the very sandstone and left
ragged and chaotic. Straight on they
go for leagues. making a right line Of
the horizon, the second and third
ridges following as If drawn with a
~pantegraph. Here and there is a wild
slash across the furrow. a rip Into the
very foundations of the range n
through the rock-snarl at the bottom
worms a scared little stream. 1t is a
gap-so they call it-and if n can
wriggle through the Jagged litter and
the r~hed0dendron, spiked like q wire
tangle, 1T will lead him into the next
valley, which is often a narrow gut full
of torn sandstone and matted scrub,
where only the fattlesnake may freely
go. Often there is a bend in the fur
rows, a mad swirl as If the primal
dough had been stirred with a giant
mixer. Then the burrows run straight
again.
Thus the Seven Mountains, a ragged
hole in the heart of the east, where
he wild turkey still wakes the morn
ing, where the bear and the deer still
flourish. and where the eagle and the,
buzzard wing undisturbed. The ridge
Sides, rising sheer, and as steep as rock
debris will lie, are like the tailingS of
mighty stone quarries. A few dead
Scrags of trees break The sky line; here
M there in the rock chaos are scrub
oak thickets blasted by fire, and in the
angle of the V always a little brook
filtering through the rhododendron tan
gle. Then comes ridges and mighty
breaks and Jagged cliffs and right
angle turns, and sometimes there are
the ruthless track, Of lumbermen-val-
leys choked up with hemlock tops
snarled into the rhOdodendron, ram
shackle sawmills long since deserted,
winding "dinky" roads rusted out long
ago and half buried in the fire growth,
and the effect of it all is indescribably
lonely and wild.
But the valleys are not all of them
V-shaped and Uttered. There are places
where the riders leap far asunder leav-
ing a ribbon OF bottom land, the seat
of prosperous farms. Sometimes there
are small, shut-in valleys, like pockets
in the range. the homes of secluded
communities coy bunch of farms
strung on a winding road and bounded
sharply by two gaps and the stone line
at the foot of h ridges. And of these
might be counted the alluvial banks
of Heller's Run. better known on the
local maps as Hell Bottom.
So much fors geography.
It was December the fifth, Dan
Tressler's butchering day, as anyone in
the preceding June. The sign was
right and the was Sin the up
Squire Hartswick, lord of the Bottom,
had butchered on Thanksgiving day;
Jake Kisterbock a duly followed, and
now by every valley right it was Dan
N~p L l~-r a. - Ll~--
by chance among the thrifty Dutch"
Baer's almanac and the tradition of the
fathers rule central Pennsylvania with
despotic sway.
There was no lack OF help. A meet
in" on Sunday at the Bottom church
weather be fine; a funeral gathers the
old people; a "schnittin'" in the fall,
the young; but a "butcherin'" calls
for everybody not "~bed-fast,' be the
weather what it may. MOI that all the
inhabitants, hit or miss, are called.
Invitations
For your '1ations'
goes the valley proverb, but the rule
bars no one; for another valley saying
is to the effect that nobody can fire
q stone" at random in any of the
Dutch" valleys and not hit his second
cousin.
It promised ideal butchering weather.
AS early as foul in the morning
lanterns We're dancing like fire1ies. All
Ing in copper kettles-the valleys sup
ply of kettles; scalding tubs were roll
ing upe temporary bookings; scrap
Ing tables We're arising; knives We're
grinding, the sound coming up a dull
creaking from behind the corncribs:
and the boys. eager and excited, were
scurrying hither and back in the half
light, shouted at and commanded until
they were like hens with their heads
off" In the kitchen the housewife.
calm but pale, was presiding like a
general at the outset of a campaign,
for the valley eaters, like a flock of
buzZards, We're to descend at noon, and
she we'll knew that her dinner, good or
bad, would be a topic fora year to
come.
1t was one of those clear, crisp morn
fngs when there is a steel ring In the
air and ones breath fioats out like
whiffs of smoke. An inch Of frowsy
snow had Whisked yer everything the
day before, and it had grown colder
during the night. In the east over the
black silhouette OF Nance mountain,
hung long iron bars of cloud, untouched
as yet by h approaching dawn. From
the valley there came up a faint MUIR
mur. which On the vibrant air, soon
became d~istingufshable as the grumble
OF wheels over q frozen road. Dan
TreSSler caught 1t and Strengthened III
over his grindstone.
BET yeh that's old Milf still. Yass
Hear them wheels Chunk ??' He ran his
thumb critically over the knife edge
then stopped the stone with water from
a gourd. "Old Milf ID set up all night
fore he'd let anybody get to a butch
erin fore he did wunst. Turn ,er right
up smart, Jakey."
He was a picturesque figure as he
crouched over the flying stone in the
uncertain light, his grizzled beard al.
most w ping the knife In his hands
and his eyes blinking small and sharr
behind icon-bowed spectacles. AZ
wore awarmus, which fitted
tightly at the waist, and a wool.
en- q pulled down over hi.
ears. He vas an eager little man. who
OF; great occasions like this went abou,
On the dog-trot. "a wagon drove heay.
lily into the yard, and with al neryou
ljerk he wheeled about to meet it. III,
long knife f1ourishing In his hand.
Wal, now, who'd a thought /
Wunst? It's you sure enough, amt i
now, Milf? And you here, Maria9 WA
by Chimminyi How gents? Juml
right out now; ths woman's in ther.
crazy's q bedbug still. Better 20 rieh
IN n help 'er out. Here. puht Ne
boss right In the barn, Milf. Their
you be- He was busting jerkily abou
t the wagon