The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1914-04-02

years, refuted by the transparent skin
and color as soft as the cheek of an
apricot. 1t was solely in her dark
that one might see lurking the SOM
Der spirit of passion and of pain. But
they were eager and brilliant withal,
giving the lie to the cane whose crook
one pale delicate hand held with a
clasp that somehow conveyed sense
of exasperate IL semi-humorous re-
beliion.
She looked up at Shirley's voice, and
smiled brightly. "Off for your ride,
dear?"
Yves. I'm going with the Chal-
mers.''
"Oh, of course. Betty Page is visit
ing them, isn't she?"
Shirley nodded. "She came yester-
day. I'll have to hurry, for | saw them
from my window turning into the Red
Road She waved her hand and ran
lightly down the stair and across the
lawn to the orchard.
She pulled green apple from a
bough that hung over stone wall and
with this in her hand she came close
to the pasture fence and whistled a
peculiar call. 1t was answered by a
low whinny and a soft thud of hoofs.
and a golden-chestnut hunter thrust
a long nose over the bars. iaring
fiame-lined nostrils to the touch of her
hand. She laid her cheek against the
white thoroughbred forehead and held
tlra apple to the larger reaching lip,
with several teasing withdrawings be-
fore she gave it to its juicy crunching.
She let down the top bar of the
fence and vaulting over, ran to a
stable and presently emerging with a
saddle on her arm, whistled the horse
to her and saddled him. Then open
ing the gate, she mounted and can
tered down the lane to meet the on
coming riders-a kindly-faced, middle
aged man, younger one with dark
features and coal-black hair, and two
girls.
Chisholm Lusk spurred in advance
and lifted his hat. Il held up the
judge, Shirley he said, land made
him bring me along. He tells me
there's fox hunt on tomorrow; may |
Gomez"
"Pshaw! Chilly" said the judge. Il
don't believe you ever got up at five
o'clock in your born days. You've
learned bad habits abroad"
you'll see," he answered. III my
man Friday doesn't rout me out to-
morrow, I'll be up for murder"
They rode an hour, along stretches
of sunny highways or on shaded bride
paths where the horses hoofs fell muf-
fed in brown pine-needles and droop-
ing branches flicked their faces. Then,
by murky way gouged with brusk
gullies, across shelving fields and
"turn-rows" in long detour around
Powhattan Mountain a rough spur in
the shape of an Indians head that
wedged itself forbiddingly between the
fields Of spring corn and tobacco.
do let us get drink" said Chilly
Lusk. I'm as thirsty as cotton
batting camel"
ALI ElSuJ, We IL SSOps o6AOSN sAS
judge, land you'll have a chance to
see a local lion, Betty. This is
where Mad Anthony lives. You must
have heard Of him when you were here
before. He's almost as celebrated as
the Reverend John Jasper of Rich
mond"
Betty tapped her temple. Where
have All heard of John Jasper"
HE was the author of the famous
sermon on The Sun do Move He
used to prove it by bucket of water
that he set beside his pulpit Saturday
night. AS it hadn't spilled in the
morning he knew it was the earth that
stood STILL"
Betty nodded laughingly "Ah re-
member now. Is Mad Anthony really
mad?"
only harmlessly," said Shirley.
He's stone blind. The negroes all
believe he conjures-that's voodoo,
you know. They put lot of stock
in his 'prophecisms.' He tells for.
tunes. too. SSH" she warned. He's
sitting on the doorstep. He's heard
u.s.
The old negro had the torso of a
black patriarch. He sat bolt upright
with long straight arms resting on
his knees, and his face had that pc
culiar expressionless immobility seen
in Egyptian carvings. His age might
have been anything, Judging from his
face which was so scanned and crew
iced with innurerable tiny wrinkles
that it most resembled the tortured
glaze of some ancient bitumen pot
terry uDearthed from tomb Of Kor.
The Judge dismounted, and tossing
his bride over fence-pscket, took
from his pocket collapsible drinking
cup "Howdy do, Anthony" he said.
I'VE just stopped for drink of your
good water"
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