The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1915-03-09
At PLACE OF PEACE
BY GEORGE FoxHALL.


(Copyright.)
Gangs OF yeggmen were invading the
freight yards Of San Andora. There
was war-real war-the yeggmen on
one side and the employees on the
other. A mans life was cheaper than
a barrel Of apples in San Andora at
that time, for the yeggman has neith-
er code nor conscience. He gives no
quarter, and he gets none.
Four men met in the Office Of Yard
master O'Curran. They had met there
the previous evening, joking with the
grim humor of men whose lives are
suspended on hair between two
worlds.
Tonight there was no humor in their
grimness. Tonight there were four Of
them. The previous night there had
been six.
Tom Clarkson, brother and chief as
sistant of the chief. snapped the maya
zine Of his automatic into place and ex-
pressed the sentiment Of them all.
There's only one way to beat these
murderers.," he said, "and that is. IL
you see your man before he sees you,
shoot him first and warn him after"
"'Tis the only way" agreed Yard
master O'Curan. "and It's the plan I
shall use myself If get into anything.
My brother Martin is on his way home,
an l want his welcome to be more
fitting than funeraA@'
The two Clarksons turned in quick
surprise to the big yardmaster.
That's good news, Tim" said the
chief; when do you expect him?"
Within the week." answered O'Cur-
ran. smiling happily.
Tom Clarkson put out a hearty hand.
tits a long and lonely trail he's been
on. Tim," said he. II hope he doesn't
bear any grudge against me for his
starting on it."
Never q grudge did Martin bear In
his life. / know you were rivals In
pretty near everything, and by some
luck you generally managed TO beat
him, but / reckon the winner felt
more enmity than the loser, even when
you beat him for the GIRL"
A momentary frown showed that
the elder O'Curran at least felt that
there was some cause for grudge.
A wet mist was drifting over the
yards as the men sought their vari-
GUS patrols. No man was more glad
than Tom Clarkson that Martin O'Cur-
ran was coming home, for 1t was when
he had married the girl both had court
ed that Martin had left San Andora on
his aimless, restless tramp; but the
elder brothers attitude toward him de-
pressed him in spite of himself.
He was aroused to the need of
watchfulness by the sound of scuf-
fie at the end of box car, and as he
advanced with drawn pistol, q man
with a bludgeon in his hand sprang to-
ward him.
He fired. He fred with the intent
and skill that takes no chances. A sur
prised, frightened sob gasped from the
stricken mans lungs. For a second
he stood upright, then sank to the
ground-dead.
From beyond the car came the sound
of fleeing footsteps. Clarkson sprang
past the inert figure and stumbled over
another man slowly struggling to his
feet between the rails. He was evil
IDENTIFY dazed, and Clarkson, still work.
ing on the principle of taking no
chances, snapped a pair Of handouts
on him before he could recover.
"All right, bo," said the man re-
signedly. you can't prove nothin' on
me morn trespass. Did you get the
guy you fred att"
you bet / did. It's the only way
to make sure of you numbering
thieves"
Huh! Then I guess there'll be
somebody to pay an no birthstone hot.
He warn't no yegg."
He made pretty good imitation
of one when he came for me with his
club"
The yeggman laughed sardonically.
Say, boz he said, Il reckon you shot
the yardmaster's brother. That's who
he said he was. He dubbed me on the
head when l tried to make him go In
with u.s.
The sickening horror Of that minute,
and the ordeal Of the next few days
wrote haggard lines upon the face of
Tom Clarkson.
Sad Of soul, he went back to duty,
and the big yardmaster, Tim O'Curran,
with a pitiful ache in his heart, read
and reread the letter in which his
brother had told him that his fit of
wanderlust had passed and he was
coming home.
Two days after the funeral Tom
stepped softly into the yardmaster's
office and closed the door after him.
The yardmaster, bending unseeingly
over some papers, looked up as the
shadow fell across the light
"Tim," said Clarkson, Il don't know
exactly what I've come to say, but
somehow / want to add my sorrow to
yours and to know that you bear me
no enmity."
O'Curran stared at him with hard
eyes and grimly set lips without say
ing word, and Clarkson knew that
the hope that he had felt was vain;
but pity for the sorrow he had brought
was in his heart
Il hope you bear me no enmity,
Tim" he said gently.
The thin, grim line of O'Curran's
lips parted. He spoke In his low, rich,
Irish voice, with the faint suggestion
Of brogue.
"'Tis the family feud, Tom." said
he. Il guess It's the family feud. Me
an Martin, an you an Jim have been
arrayed against each other since we
were In knee pants, an l guess we
shall be till one of us ends the feud
forever. Me an Jim, the two eldest,
were pretty even matched, an 1t was
more game of give an take.
But Martin was soft an gentle
kind, an you beat him at pretty near
everything. Finally you beat him out
for the woman he loved as only the
tender heart Of him could love, an
that sent him wandering on his lonely
quest for peace.
ssVUh afhor~ x,anna OIL.