Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1915-11-11

Bad Anse Hayey where grist could be
ground TO meal. and sometimes when
Jeb came over to the brick house he
would volunteer to throw upon his
shoulders the sack OF corn and plod
with 1t up across the ridges. He would
sit there in the dusty old mill while
the slow wheel groaned and creaked
and the cumbersome millstones did
their slow stint of work.
So inc day, toward the end of Au-
gust, ~Juanita, who had climbed up the
path to the poplar to look over her
battlefield and renew her vows, saw
Jeb sturdily plodding his way in long,
%resolute strides through the woods
toward the mill, a heavy sack upon his
shoulders and a rife swinging at his
side.
That day chance had it that no one
else had come to mill and Bob Nc
Greegor had persuaded the boy to
drink from the "leetle blue kag" until
his mind was ripe for mischief. While
the mill slowly ground out his meal
Jeb McNash sat on a pile of rubbish
in the gloomy shack, nursing his
knees in interlocked fingers. Old Bob
drank and stormed and cursed the in
ertia of the present generation. The
lads lean fingers tautened and gripped
themselves more tensely and his eyes
began to smolder and blaze with a
wicked light as he listened.
"Ye looks like a right stand-up sort
of a boy, Jeb," growled the old fire
eater who had set more than a few
couples at each others threats. "An'
reckon hits all right, too, fer a fell
Ter ter bide his time, but hit pears ter
me like ther men of these days don't
do nothin' but bide thar time"
Il won't bide mine no longer than
what I has ter" snapped the boy.
"Apse lows ter tell me when he finds
out who hit var tibet got my pap.
Thets all / needs ter know"
Old Bob shook his head knowingly
and laughed in his tangled beard.
Il reckon Anse Havey'll take his lei
sure. He's got other fish to fry. He's
a-thinkin' bout bigger things than yore
grievance, son."
The boy rose, and his voice came
very quietly and ominously from sud
denly whitened lips. what does We
mean by thet, Uncle Bob?"
"Mebby l don't mean nothin' much.
Then ergin mebby l could give We a
pretty good idee who kilt yore pap.
Mebby l could tell we bout a Teller
a Teller tibet hain't fur removed from
Old Milt hisself-thet went snoopin'
crost Their ridge Their same day yore
pap died with a rifle-gun 'crost his
elbow and his pockets strutty with
cartridges"
"Who war he?" came the tense de-
mand with the sudden snap of rifle
fire. who war tibet feller?"
Old Bob filed and lighted his pipe
with fingers that had grown unsteady
from the ministration of the 'leetle
blue kag." He laughed again in a
runKe IaSnlOn.
EFF Bad Anse Havey don't low ter
tell We, son." he artfully demurred, 81
reckon hit wouldn't hardly be becomin'
fer me ter name his name"
The boy picked up his battered hat.
Give me my grist," he said shortly.
He stood by, breathing heavily but
silently while the sack was being tied,
then, putting it down by the door, he
wheeled and faced the older man.
Now ye're a-goin' ter tell me what
I needs ter know" he said quietly, "or
I'm a-goin' ter kill We whar We stands"
Uncle Bob laughed. He had meant
all the while to impart that succulent
bit of information, which was no infor-
nation at all, but misunderstanding sus-
picion. He had held off only to infu-
rate and envenom the boy with the
cumulative force of climax.
"Hit warn't nobody but" After a
pause he went on, "but old Milt Nc
Briar's own son, Young Milt."
"Thet's ALL" said Jeb soberly; I'm
obleeged ter ye."
He went out with the sack on his
shoulders and the rife under his arm,
but when he had reached a place in
the woods where a blind trail struck
back he deposited his sack carefully
under a ledge of overhanging rock, for
the clouds were mounting and banking
nov in a threat of rain and 1t was not
his own meal, SO he must be careful
Of its safety.
Then he crossed the ridge until he
came to a point where the thicket
grew down close and tangled to the
road. He had seen Young Milt going
west along that road this morning and
by nightfall he would be riding back.
The gods of chance were playing into
his hands.
So he lay down, closely hugging the
earth, and cooked his rife. For hours
he crouched there with ~unspeakable
patience, while his muscles cramped
and his feet and hands grew cold I'M
der the pelting of a rain which was
strangely raw and chilling for the sea-
son. The sun sank in an angry bank
Of thunder-heads and the west grew
lurid. The drenching downpour blind
ed him and trickled down his spine un-
der his clothes, but at last he saw the
figure he awaited riding a horse he
knew. 1t was the same roar mare that
Bad Anse had restored to Milt Nc
Briar.
When young Milt rode slowly by,
fifty yards away, with his o at a
walk and his reins hanging, he was
~untroubled by any anxiety, because he
was in his own territory and was al
heart fearless. The older boy from
Tribulation felt his temples throb and
the rife came slowly up and the one
eye which was not closed looked point