The Blackfoot optimist. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1907-1918, 1915-07-22


der the Holman faction of this feud'
l am instructed to take my orders
from yod. Will you kindly tell me my
| masters real manner"
Smithers turned pale with anger,
his fighting face grew as truculent as
a bulldogs, while Callomb stood glar-
ing back at him like a second bulldog,
but the judge knew that he was being
honestly and fearlessly accused. He
merely pointed to the door. The cap.
tain turned on his heel and stalked
out of the place, and the judge came
down the steps and crossed the street
to the courthouse. Five minutes later
he turned to the shirt-sleeved man who
was leaning on the bench and said in
his most judicial voice:
Mr.. Sheriff, open court"
The next day the mail carrier
brought in a note for the temporary
Judge. His honor read it at recess and
FASTENED across to Hollman's Nam
moth Department Store. There, in
council with his masters, he asked in
structions. This was the note:
THE Hon. Asa Smithers.
Sir: l arrived in this county yes
terday, and am prepared, if called as
a witness, to give to the grand jury
full and true particulars of the murder
of Jesse Purvy and the killing of Aaron
Hollis. am willing to come under the
escort of my own kinsmen, or the mill
tiamen, as the court may advise.
"The requirement of any bodyguard
l deplore, but in meeting my legal OBJ
legations. do not regard it as neces-
sary or proper to walk into trap
Respectfully,
SAMSON SOUTH"
Smithers looked perplexedly at
Judge Holman.
Shall have him Gomez" he in
quired.
Holman threw the letter down on
his desk with berst of blasphemy:
Have him %" he echoed. Hell
and damnation, no! What do we want
him to come here and spill the milk
for? When we get ready, we'll indict
him. Then, let your damned soldiers
go after him-as a criminal, not a
witness. After that, we'll continue this
case until these outsiders go away,
and we can operate to suit ourselves.
We don't fall for Samson South's
tricks. No, sir; you never got that
letter! 1t miscarried. Do you hear?
You never got it."
Smithers nodded grudging acqui-
escence. Most men would rather be
independent officials than collar-wear-
ers.
Out on Misery Samson South had
gladdened the soul of his uncle with
| his return. The old man was mending,
| and, for a long time, the two had
talked. The failing head of the clan
looked vainly for signs of degeneration
in his nephew, and. failing to find
them, was happy.
"Hev We decided, Samson" he in
quired, tibet We was right in yer no.
ton, bout goin' away"
Samson sat reflectively for while,
then replied:
1--WE we're both right, Uncle Spicer-
and both wrong. This is my place,
but if I'm to take up the leadership it
must be in different fashion. Changes
are coming. We can't any longer stand
still"
Spicer South lighted his pipe. He,
| too, in these last years, had seen in
the distance the crest of the oncoming
| wave.
II reckon there's right smart truth
to that" he acknowledged. 1--WE been
studyin' bout hit considerable myself of
late. Thar's been sev'ral fellers
through the country talkin' coal an
timber an railroads-an' SIGH like"
Sally went to mill that Saturday,
and with her rode Samson. There, be-
sides Vile McCager, he met Caleb
Wiley and several others. At first,
they received him skeptically, but they
knew of the visit to Purvy's store, and
they were willing to admit that in part
at least he had erased the blot from
his escutcheon. Then, too, except for
cropped hair and white skin, he had
come back as he had gone, in home
spun and hickory. There was nothing
highfalutin in his manners. In short,
the impression was good.
Il reckon now that ye're back.
Samson" suggested McCager, IAN see
in how yere Uncle Spicer is gettin'
along all right, I'll jest let the two of
We run things. I've done had enough"
1t was simple fashion of resigning
regency, but effectual.
Old Caleb, however, still insurgent
and unconvinced, brought in minor
ity report.
I'VE wants fightin' men," he grum-
bled. with the senile reiteration of his
age, as he spat tobacco and beat rat
tat on the mill floor with his long
hickory staff. I'VE don't want no de-
serters."
Samson amt deserter," defended
Sally. There isn't one of you fit to
tie his shoes" Sally and old Spicer
South alone knew of her lovers letter
| to the circuit Judge, and they were