Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1912-10-18

still lingering on the horizon. the little
party slowly wendell their way back,
down the steep trail into the one long
street of Sheridan.
At the hotel Neb was waiting. the
whites of his eyes shining with ex-
element, his patomime indicating i'm
portant news. AS soon as he could
leave Hope. Keith HURRIED down to
interview his dusky satellite, who APP
peared about to burst with restrained
information. AS soon as uncorked
that individual began to flow volubly:
Il sho done seed 'em. Massa Jack;
| done seed 'em BOTH"
Both? Both who?"
"Massa Waite, sab, an dat black
debble dat we was huntin' for. 1t
was a mos surprisin' circumstance.
saba mos surprisin' circumstance"
well, go on; where did you see
them? Do you mean they we're to-
gether?"
The negro took long breath, evil
IDENTIFY overcome by the Importance OF
his message. and unable to conjure
up words wholly satisfactory to his
ideas.
st sho' am de strangest ting.
Massa Jack, ebber prognosticated. |
was Jest comm roun' de corner OBJ
Sheeny Joe's shebang. back dar by de
blacksmith shop, when-de Lawd
save me!-yere come oil Massa Waite.
a ridin' long on a cream colo'd pinto
just as much alibe as ebber he was.
Vas, sah he's whiskers was BLOWN
round, an could chen yeah him
cussin' he boss, when he done shy at
a man what got up sudden like from
cart-wheel he was settin' on. done
took one look at dat secon fellar, and
seed 1t was dat black debble from
down Carson way. Den | ducked inta
de blacksmith shop out 'er sight.
sho' didn't want Mister Hawley to git
no chance at dis nigger-l sho' didn't"
did they speak to one another|
Keith asked, anxiously. did you hear
what was said?"
"Sho' dey talked, Massa Jack. l
sorter reckon dey was dar for dat
special purpose. Sutt'nly, sab. dey
went right at talkin' like dey had
som't'ing on dey minds. OF Massa
Waite was a sittin' straight up on de
boss, an dat black debble was a
standin' dar in front OBJ him. OF
Massa Waite he was mad from de
first jump off. an could heah most
eberyting he said. but Mr.. Hawley
he grin de same way he do when he
dealfaro, an speaks kinder low. De
OIL man he swear fine>at him, he call
him eberyt'ing-a damn liar, damn
scoundrel-but Mr.. Hawley he jest
grin, and say ober de same ting"
What was that, Neb?"
"Somt'ing bout a gal, Massa Jack
an law sultan how de oil man
better settle up widout no fightin'.
jest didn't git de whole OBJ 1t, he
talked so low like"
What did Waite say?"
We'll, mostly he jest cussed. He
sho told dat black debble bout what
he thought OBJ him. but he didn't neb-
Der call him Hawley-no, sab, not
once; he done call him Bartlett. or
something or odder like dat. But he
sutt'nly read dat mans pedigree from
way back to de time of de flood,
reck'n. An he done swore he'd fight
for whatebber it was, papers or no pa
pers. Den Hawley, he got plumb tired
OBJ de OF man swearin' at him. an he
grabbed a picter out OBJ he's pocket,
an says, Damn you; look at dat!
What kind OBJ a fight can yo' make
against dat face?' De oil man stared
at 1t while, sorter chokin' up; den
he say softer like: It's Hope; where
did yo' ebber get dat?' and de black
debble he laughed, an showed de pic
ter back into he's pocket Hope. hell!
he say, it's Phyllis. an III put her
before any jury yo're mind to get-oh.
I've got yo' nailed, Waite. dis time. -
(TO BE CONTINUEDJ
CcS ~