The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1915-12-23

nodded by the Havey chief.
The water.mill OF old Bob McGreegor
was the nearest spot to the dwelling of
Bad Anse Havey 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 II up across the ridges. He would
sit there I'm the dusty old mill while
the glow wheel groaned and creaked
and the cumbersome millstones did
their slow stint OF work.
So one 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
job sturdily plodding his way in long,
resolute strides through the woods
toward the mill. heavy sack upon his
shoulders and a rifle swinging at his
side.
That day chance had II that no one
else had come TO mill and Bob Nc
Greegor had persuaded the boy to
drink from the ''leetle blue kag" until
the mill slowly ground out his meai
Jeb McNash sat on 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
lad's lean fingers tautened and grlpped
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 boy, Jeb," growled the old fire.
eater who had set more than few
couples at each others throats. AN
| reckon hits all right, too fer fel.
Ter ter bide his time, but hit pears ter
me like thsr men of these days don't
do nothin but bide thar time
Il won't bidc mine no longer than
what ! has ter" snapped the boy.
"Anse lows ter tell me when he finds
out who hit war thet got my pap.
Thet's all needs ter know"
Old Bob shook his head knowingly
and laughed I'm his tangled beard.
Il reckon Anse Havey1l 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 ye
mean by thet, Uncle Bob?"
"Mebby don't mean nothin' much.
Then ergin mebby could give ye a
pretty good idee who kilt yore pap.
Mebby l could tell ye bout a feller-
a feller thet hain't fur removed from
Old Milt hisself-thet went snoopin'
crost ther ridge ther same day yore
pap died with a rifie-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 thet feller?"
Old Bob filled and lighted his pipe
with fingers that had grown unsteady
from the ministration OF the "leetle
blue kag." He laughed again In a
drunken fashion.
''Ef Bad Anse Havey don't low ter
tell ye, 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
l needs ter know" he said quietly, "or
I'm a-goin' ter kill ye whar ye 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.
riate 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."
"Thets ALL" said Jeb soberly; I'm
obleeged ter ye."
He went out with the sack on his
shoulders and the rifle under his arm
but when he had reached place in
the woods where blind trail struck
back he deposited his sack carefully
under a ledge of overhanging rock. for
the clouds were mounting and banking
now in threat of rain and It 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 pightfall 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 un.
der the pelting of rain whidh was
strangely raw and chilling for the sea
son. The sun sank in an angry bank
| Of thundpr-heada and tho u,as, o..o.