Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1912-08-08
The Mountain Fiend.
A Tale of Tug River.
BY H. A. COMPTON.

GU uOWn MS cneek onto MS snow white
beard. 1t was at once seen. that he
was deeply greeved.
Too bad, too bad" sobbed the old
man as he bursted into loud, uncontrolla-
able grief. 'Ah, who could be so mean.
who could be so mean?" He continued
| between his sobs.
He was then told that everybody
supposed it to be the Copperhead.
The fiend whom we call julie Stiles,
: the noted feudist and outlaw, ah. yes it
has been he, for no one else would have
been so mean. He used to be a horror
to the settlers on lower Tug and Zig
Sandy, and they tell me he is right here
IN these mountains now; but can't be-
iieve a word of it, no can't believe it,
l know that he has gone to the torment
that was made for just such imps."
mot so, not so" shouted Simon Jump
ing from his chair, with his eyes bulg-
ing with excitement. "He is as much
alive as anybody here; for saw him no
longer ago than this morning with my
own eyes; and don't need a bit of
proof on it,
He then told of his little episode with
the outlaw, which his father had not be-
fore heard. His story was listened to
by the old man even, greater surprise
than the story of his old friends death
Supper now being ready, the four men
went quietly to the table, which groan-
ed under the weight of the mountain
delicacies. Nobody seemed to enjoy
their meal as usual, their minds being
too much absorbed over the past day.
The meal over, the men returned to
the sitting room. The moon was now
peeping over the eastern bluffs sending
stream of pale light through the open
window and across the room.
Pete and Moore sat back from the
others, while close together on the right
of the fireplace sat Simon and the old
man.
No one had yet spoken, and perfect
quiet pervaded the room. The old man
took his long-stemmed pipe from its &C.
customed place on the jam, crumbled
some tobacco between his hands and
made ready for his evening smoke. As
he dipped his pipe into the ashes he said:
All, many are the hours that John
Moore and l have passed in roaming I'D
and down the Tug, when houses were
miles and miles apart; and many the
nights we've slept together out on these
lonesome hills, with no other compan-
ions than our dogs and rifles. John was
my very best friend. Many deer have
seen fall at the crack of his rife. All.
am carried back to old times tonight
back to my youth when John and were
both young and travelled these track
less forests alone"
Here his voice faltered and dropped
almost to a whisper. Pete saw he was
greatly distressed over the death of his
old friend. and said:
Father, isn't it about time for YOU
to retire, you seem very much IA
tigued?"
Yes, son, l expect it is, 4" replied the |
old man, wiping tear from his eyes.
By this time Randolph's wife, little
daughter and baby son had come in from
the kitchen. Mrs. Randolph placed the |
boy upon his fathers knee, while the |
little girl ran and threw her arms about
he grandfather neck for a good night
kiss.
The old gentleman arose, knocked the
ashes from his pipe, and deposited it
with great care in its accustomed place
on the jam. This done, he knelt beside
his bed and bowed his head in devotion
to Deity. He then lay quietly down.
and despite his grief, was soon fast
asleep.
The rest of the family, together with
Simon and Moore, remained in the sit
ting room enjoying the warmth of the
hre. Pete and Ben Moore did most of
the talking, while Mrs. Randolph and
Simon were silent listeners. Just then
the clock struck ten, and Pete remarked
that it was time to retire.
Two beds in an adjoining room were
prepared-one for Simon and one for
Moore. Pete then led his brother and
Moore into the room, when to his aston
ishment Simon said:
See here, Pete, do you think I'd
sleep here in the dark all by myself
where the old Copperhead would haunt
me all night? Mol Iprefer sitting by
the fire tonight"
Moore then proposed that Simon oc-
cupy the bed with him, which was read
lily agreed to by the two brothers. Pete
then babe them good night and went
back to his own room, saying: /
That Simon Randolph Is the damnd-
est coward that ever wallowed a bed
for me-"
Simon and Moore were soon in bed,
the latter sleeping soundly, but not so
with Simon; there he lay wide awake all
night, listening to the moaning of wind
in the trees outside and the hooting Of
The OvVla On fha corrouxJ.-o-