The Green Forest tribune., 1915-03-05

 a woman buying a card of buttons and a fair-haired clerk waiting on her. they found the building empty.
 Back beyond, the hills were impene- trable, and answered no questions.
 Old Spicer South would ten years ago have put bandage on his wound and gone about his business, but now he tossed under his patchwork quilt, and Brother Spencer expressed grave doubts for his recovery. With his counsel unavailable Vile McCager, by common consent, assumed something like the powers of regent and took upon himself the duties to which Sam son should have succeeded.
 That Holman should have been able to elude the pickets and penetrate the heart of South territory to Spicera South's cabin was both astounding and alarming The war was on without question now, and there must be coun- cil. Vile McCager hS.d sent out sum- mons for the family heads to meet that afternoon at his mill It was Sat urday-"mill day"-and in accordance with ancient custom the lanes would be more travelled t-an usual.
 Those men who came by the wagon road afforded no unusual spectacle, for behind each saddle sagged sack of grain. Their faces bore no stamp of unwonted excitement. but every man balanced rifle across his pom mel None the less, their purpose was grim, and their talk when they had gathered was to the point.
 Old McCager, himself sorely per plexed, voiced the sentiment that the others had been too courteous to ex- press With Spicer South bed-ridden and Samson a renegade, they had no adequate leader. McCager was solid man of intrepid courage and honesty, but grinding grist was his vocation, not strategy and tactics. The enemy had such masters of intrigue as Purvy and Judge Holman.
 Then a lean sorrel mare came jog ging into view, switching her f1ybitten tail, and on the mares back, urging him with a long, leafy switch, sat a woman. Behind her sagged the two loaded ends of corn sack. She was 1.-the and slim, and her violet eyes were profoundly serious, and her lips were as resolutely set as Joan of Arcs might have been, for Sally Miller had come only ostensibly to have her corn ground to meal. She had really come knew that she would be met with deri- sion. The years had sobered the girl, but her beauty had increased, though it was now chastened type, which gave her a strange and rather exalted refinement of expression.
 Vile McCager came to the mill door as she rode up and lifted the sack from her horse.
 "Howdy, Sally?" he greeted.
 "ToPable, thank ye," said Sally. I'm goin' ter get off
 As she entered the great half-lighted room, where the mill stones creaked on their cumbersome shafts, the hum of discussion sank to silence. The girl nodded to the mountaineers gath cred in conclave, then, turning to the miller, she announced:
 ''I'm going to send for Samson"
 The statement was at first met with dead silence, then came a rumble of indignant dissent, but for that the girl was prepared, as she was prepared for the contemptuous laughter which followed.
 T reckon if Samson was here," she said, dryly, you all wouldn't think it was quite so funny"
 Old Caleb Wiley spat through his bristling beard, and his voice was a quavering rumble.
 What we wants is a man. We hain't got no use fer no traitors thet's too al mighty damn busy doin fancy work ter stand by their kith an kin