The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-07-08
CHAPTER Vli-continued.

CHAPTER VIi-Continued.
Lescott stayed on O week after that
simply in Difference to Samson's insist
ence. To leave at once might SAVIOR OF
Iight under fire, but when the week
was out the painter turned his horses
head toward town, and his train swept
aim back to the Bluegrass and the
East.
A quiet Of unhroken and deadly
routine settled down on Misery. The
SOnduct Of the Souths in keeping hands
OF, and acknowledging the justice of
Tamarack Sptcer's Jail sentence, had
been their answer to the declaration
Of the Hollmans in letting Samson ride
into and out Of Hixon. The truce was
established. When, a short time later.
Tamarack left the country to become
. railroad brakeman. Jesse Purvy
passed the word that his men must.
until further orders, desist from vio-
leBce. The word had crept about that
Samson, too. was going away, and, IL
this were true. Jesse felt that his fu-
past. Purvy believed Samson guilty.
despite the exonerAtion Of the hounds.
Lescott had sent box Of books, and
Samson had taken a team over b
Hixon, and brought them back.
He devoured them all from title
page TO finis line, and many of them
be went back to, and digested again.
He wrestled long and gently with
his uncle, struggling to win the old
mans consent to his departure. But
Spicer South's brain was no longer
plastic. What had been good enough
for the past YVES good enough for tho
future. Nevertheless. he arranged AZ
sairs so that his nephew should be
able to meet financial needs, and to go
where he chose in a fashion betting
\ South
November came In bleakly. with a
raw and devastating breath of fatality
The smile died from horizon to hori-
Eon, and for days cold rains beat and
dashed the forests. And. toward the
end Of the month, came the day which
Samson had set for bis departure.
At the threshold, with the saddle
bags over his left forearm and the rife
On his hand. he paused His uncle stood
at his elbow and the boy put out his
hand.
'Good-by, inc Spicer," was all he
said. The old man, who had been his
second father, shook hands. His face.
too, was expressionless, but he felt
that he was saying farewell to a SOL
der of genius who was abandoning the
field. And he loved the boy with all
the conferred power Of an isolated
heart.
4 half-mile along the road, Samson
halted and dismounted. There, In a
small cove. surrounded by a tangie Of
Ariers and blackberry bushes. stood a
email and dilapidated meeting house"
and churchyard, which he must visit
He made his way through the rough
nndergrowth to the unkempt half-acre,
end halted before the leaning head
stones which marked two graves. With
q sudden emotion, he swept the back
Of HIS hand across his eyes. He did
mot remove his hat, but he stood in the
drizzle OF cold rain for a moment Of
silence. and then he said:
Pap, l hain't forgot. don't want
ye ter think tibet I've forgot"
Before he arrived at the Widow Mil
Ner's, the rain had stopped and the
clouds had broken.
Sally opened the door, and smiled.
She had spent the day nerving herself
tor this farewell, and at least until
the moment OF leave-taking she would
be safe from tears. The Widow MIL
Ter and her son soon left them alone,
and the boy and girl sat before the
blazing logs.
For a time, an awkward silence fell
between them. At last, the boy rose,
and went over to the corner where be
had placed his gun. He took it up and
laid 1t on the hearth between them.
Sally" he said. II wants ter tell ye
some things tibet I hain't never said
ter nobody else. In the fust place.
wants ye ter keep this hyar gun fer
me"
The girls eyes widened with sur
prise.
~Hain't ye a-goin' ter take hit with
~. Samson!"
HE shook his head.
81 hatn't a-goin' ter need hit down
below. Nobody don't use 'em down
thar. I've got my pistol, an reckon
Ghet will be enough
"Pn take good keer Of hit" she
promised.
The boy took out Of his pockets q
box of cartridges and a small package
tied in a greasy rag.
"Hit's loaded, Sally, an hits cleaKed
hn hits creased. Hits ready fer USE"
Again, she nodded In silent assent.
and the boy began speaking in slow.
careful voice, which gradually mount
ed into tense emotion.
Sally, tibet thar gun was my pap's.
When he lay a-dyin', he gave hit ter
me, an he gave me a job ter do with
hit. When / was little Teller, used
tar set up most al day. polishin' thet