The Mobridge news. [volume] (Mobridge, Walworth Co., S.D.) 190?-1917, 1912-08-16

still lingering on the horizon, the little
party slowly wendell their way back.
down the steep trail into the one Ions
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 ap-
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. IL
was a mos surprisin' circumstance.
saba mos surprisin' circumstance"
We'll, go on; where did you see
them? DO you mean they were to-
gether?"
The negro took a long breath, evil
IDENTIFY overcome by the Importance or
his message, and unable to conJure
up words wholly satisfactory to his
ideas.
1T sho' am de strangest ting.
Massa Jack. ebber | prognosticated. |
was Jest comm roun' de corner OBJ
Sheeny Joe's shebang, back dar by do
blacksmith shop, when-de Lawd
save me!-yere come OF Massa Waite,
a ridin' long on a cream colod pinto
lust as much aliba as ebber he was.
Vas. sab; he's whiskers was blown
round, an | could eben yeah him
cussin' he boss, when he done shy at
a man what got up sudden like from
n cart wheel he was settin' on. | done
took one look at dat secon' fellar, n
seed it was dat black debble from
down Carson way. Den | ducked lnta
de blacksmith shop out 'er sight.
sho' didn't want Mister Hawley to git
no chance at dis niger shod ldn
Did they speak to one another?
Keith asked. a~nxiously. Did you hear
what was said?"
"Sho' dey talked. Massa JAG /
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 I'm. Vi
Massa Waite he Mas mad from de
first Jump off, an | could heah most
eberyt'ing ne said. but Mr.. HaWley
ne grin de same way he do when he
deal faro, an speaks kinder low. De
OF man he swear fine at him. he all
him eberyt'ing-a damn liar. a damn
scoundrel-but Mr.. Hawley he jest
grin. and say ober de anne ting"
Whit was that. Neb?"
"Som't'ing bout a gal. Massa Jack
an a law sultan how de oil mar
better settle up widout no fightin'.
| jest didn't git dc whole OBJ it, 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 90 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, 1
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 OIL mar swearin' at him, an lie
grabbed q picter out oh he's pocket,
an says. Damn you; look at dat!
What kind oh a fight can yo' make
against dat face?' De OF man stared
at it a while, sorter chokin' up; den
he say softer like: It's Hope; where
did go 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 I'll put her
before any jury yo're mind to get-oh,
I've got yo' nailed. Waite. dis time"
CTO BE CONTINUED