The Delta independent., 1915-08-20
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ticipating an uproar of alarm. Now
he should doubtless have to pay with
his life for both the deaths, which
would inevitably and logically be at
tributed to his agency. But, strangely
enough, no clamor arose. The shot in
side had been muffled, and those out
side, broken by the intervening store,
did not arouse the house. Purvy's
bodyguard had been sent away by Hol-
lis on false alarm. Only the women
folks" and children remained indoors,
and they were drowning with piano
any sounds that might have come from
without. That piano was the chief
emblem of Purvy's wealth. 1t repre-
sented the acme of having things
hung up" that ancient and expressive
phrase, which had come down from
days when the pioneers worldly con
dition was gagged by the hams hang
ing in the smokehouse and the pep
pers, tobacco and herbs strung high
against the rafters.
Now Samson South stood looking
down, uninterrupted, on what had been
Aaron Hollis as it lay motionless at
his feet. There was a powder burned
hole in the butternut shirt, and only
a slender thread of blood trickled into
the dirt-grimed cracks between the
planks. The body was twisted side
wise, in one of those grotesque atti
tudes with which a sudden summons
so frequently robs the greatest phe
nomenon of all its rightful dignity
The sun was gliding the roadside
clods and furnishing the greens of the
treetops. The breeze was harping
sleepily among the branches, and sew.
eral geese stalked pompously along
the creeks edge. On the top of the
stockade a gray squirrel, sole witness
to the tragedy, rose on his launches,
flirted his brush, and then, III a sud
den leap of alarm, disappeared.
Samson turned to the darkened door
way. Inside was emptiness, except for
the other body, which had crumpled
forward and face down across the
counter. A glance showed that Jesse
Purvy would no more fight back the
coming of death. He was quite un,
armed Behind his spent body ranged
shelves of general merchandise.
Boxes of sardines and cans of peaches
were lined in homely array above him.
HIS lifeless hand rested as though
flung out in an oratorical gesture on a
bolt of blue calico.
Samson paused only for a momen.
tary survey. His score was clean. He
would not again have to agonize over
the dilemma of old ethics and new.
Tomorrow the word would spread like
wildfire along Misery and Crippleshin
that Samson South was back and that
his coming had been signaiized by
these two deaths. The fact that he
was responsible for only one-and that
in elf-defense-would not matter.
They would prefer to believe that he
had invaded the store and killed Purvy
and that Hollis had fallen in his mas.
ter's defense at the threshold Sam
son went out, still meeting no one, and
continued his Journey
Dusk was falling when he hitched
his horse in clump of timber, and,
lifting his saddlebags, began climbing
to cabin that sat back in thicketed
cove. He was now we'll within South
territory and the need of masquerade
had ended
The cabin had not for years been oc-
cupied. Its rooftree was leaning
askew under rotting shingles. The
doorstep was Uncovered, and the
stones of the hearth were broken. But
it lay well hidden and would serve his
purposes.
Shortly, a candle fiickered inside,
before small hand mirror. Scissors
and safety razor were for while
busy. The man who entered in i'm
peccable clothes emerged fifteen min
utes ater-transformed There ap-
peared under the rising June crescent
a smooth-faced native, clad In stained
store clothes, with rough wooden socks
showing at his brogan tops, and a
battered felt hat drawn over his face
No one who had known the Samson
South of four years ago would fail to
recognize him now. And the strang-
est part, he told himself, was that he
felt the old Samson. He o longer
doubted his courage. He had come
home, and his conscience was once
more clear.
The mountain roads and the noun
tain sidea themselves were sweetly
silent. Moon mist engulfed the fats
in lake of dreams. and, as the livery
stable horse halted to pant at the top
of the final ridge, he could see below
him his destination.
The smaller knobs rose like little
islands out of the vapor, and yonder,
catching the moonlight like scraps of
gray paper. were two roofs-that of
his uncle's house and that or the
Widow Miller.
At point where hand bridge
hn olx fIo