The Mena weekly star., 1911-10-19
words wholly satisfactory to hi.

up words wholly satisfactory to hi
 ideas.
 Tt sho' am de strangest tYns
 Massa Jack, ebber prognesticsted
 was jest comin roun' de corner al
 sneeny Joe's shebang. back dar by q,
 piacksmith shop, when--de Taw, save me!-yere come ol' Massa Waite
 a ridin' long on cream colo'd nints
 Just as much alibe as ebber ha waa
 tas. sab; he's whiskers was b,ow,n, round, an I could eben yeah him cussin' he hoss, when he done shy at man what got up sudden like from 8 eartwheel he was settin' on. done LOOK one look at dat secon' fellar. and seed 1t was dat black debble from 0oWn Carson way Den 1 tucked inta oe blacksmith shop out 'er sight. [ sno' didn't want Mister Hawley to git no chance at dis nigger--I sho' didn't |"
 Did they speak to one another?- Keith asked, anxiously. Did you hear what was said?"
 Sno dey talked, Massa Jack. 1 sorter reckon dey was dar for dat special purpose. Sutt'nly, sah, dey went right at talkin' like dey had somting on dey minds. or Massa Waite was sittin straight up on de hoss, an dat black debble was a standin' dar in front ob him. or Massa Waite he was mad from de nrst jump of, an I could heah most eberyting he said, but Mir. Hawley he grin de same way he do when he deal faro, an speaks kinder low. De ol man he swear fine at him, he call him eberyt'ing-a damn liar, damn scoundrel-but MT. Hawley he lest grin, and say ober de same ting"
 What was that, Neb?"
 Som mt'ing bout a gal, Massa Jack --an' law sultan how de ol' man better settle up widout no fightin'. l jest didn't git de whole ob 1t, he talked so low like"
 What did Waite say?"
 Well, mostly he Jest cussed. He sho' told dat black debble bout what he thought ob him, but he didn't neb- Der call him Hawley-no sah, not once; he done call him Bartlett, or somet'ing or odder like dat But he Euttnly read dat mans pedigree from way back to de time of de flood. 1 reck'n. An he done swore he'd fight for whateL Ter 1t was, papers or no pa psrs. Den Hawley, he got plumb tired ob de ol man swearin at him, an Ire grabbed picter out ob he's pocket, an says, Damn you; look at datl What kind ob fight can yo' make against dat iace?' De ol' man stared at it while, sorter chokin' up; den he say softer like: It's Hope; where did yo' ebber get dat?' and de black eebble he laughed, an showed de pie ter back into he's pocket. Hope, hell!' he say, It's Phyllis, an I'll put her before any jury yo're mind to gst-oh, I've got yo' nailed, Waite. dis time
 Was that all?"
 De ol gin'ral he didn't seem ter know what ter say; he done set dar lookin off ober de prairie like he was clar fumegasted He sho' did look like dat black debble he'd hit him mighty hard. Den he says slow like, turnin' his hoss round: Bartlett, yo' am putin up good bluff, but, by Gawd, I'm goin ter call yo'. To don't get a cent ob dat money less yo put up de proof I'll meet yo' whar yo' say, but ef can git hol' ob some pa pers dat's missin I'll take dat grin off yo' iace. De odder one laughed, an de ol' ginral started fo' ter ride away, den he pull up he's hoss, an look back. 'Yo' sorter herd wid dat kind ob cattle. Bartlett, he say, sharp like, maybe yo' know gambler roun' yere called Hawley?' De black debble nebber eben lose he's grin. Do yo' mean Black Bart Hawley?' Oats the man, where is he? Dealin' faro fo' Mike Kenna in Topeka week ago. friend ob yours? Oats none ob yo' damned business, snorted de ol gin'ral, givn' his hoss de spur Sho', Massa Jack, he nebber knowed he was talkin' ter dat same Hawley, an dat black debble jest laughed as he rode off"
 When was all this, Neb?"
 Bout de time yo all went up on de hill. I reckn. done come right yere, and waited"
 Keith walked across the room, se- lected cigar. and came back, his mind busy with the problem. Hawley had in some manner, then, got into communication with Waite, and was