The vidette. (Iuka, Tishomingo County, Miss.) 1912-1967, 1915-10-21

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For an instant, the mountaineer
stood looking at his host and with eyes
that bored deep, but whatever was in
his mind as he made that scrutiny
be kept to himself At last, he took
the magazine pistol, turned it over in
his hand. and put it into his pocket.
"Mr. Farbish," he said, I've been in
places before now where men were
drinking who had made threats against
me. / think you are excited about
this thing. If anything starts, he will
start IL"
At the dinner table. Samson South
and Wilfred Horton were introduced,
and acknowledged their introductions
with the briefest and most formal
mods. During the course of the meal,
though seated side by side, each ig-
nored the presence of the other. Sam
son was, perhaps, no more silent than
usual. Always, he was the listener ex-
cept when a question was put to him
direct, but the silence which sat upon
Wilfred Horton was a departure from
his ordinary custom.
He had discovered In his college
days that liquor. instead of exhilarat-
ing him, was an influence under which
he grew morose and sullen, and that
discovery had made him almost a total
abstainer Tonight, his glass was con-
stantly filled and emptied, and, as he
ate, he gazed ahead, and thought re-
sentfully of the man at his side.
When the coffee had been brought,
and the cigars lighted, and the serv-
ants had withdrawn, Horton with the
manner of one who had been awaiting
an opportunity, turned slightly in his
chair, and gazed insolently at the Ken
tuckian.
Samson South still seemed entirely
unconscious of the others existence,
though in reality no detail of the brew
ing storm had escaped him. He was
studying the other faces around the
table, and what he saw in them ap-
peared to occupy him. Wilfred Hor-
toms cheeks were burning with dull
flush, and his eyes were narrowing
with an unveiled dislike. Suddenly,
silence fell on the party, and, as
the men sat putting their cigars, Horton
turned toward the Kentuckian. For a
moment, he gIared in silence, then
with an impetuous exclamation of dis
gust he announced:
See here, South, want you to know
that il I'd understood you were to be
here, / wouldn't have come 1t has
pleased me to express my opinion of
you to number of people, and now l
mean to express it to you in person."
Samson looked around, and his feat
ures indicated neither surprise nor in
terest. He caught Farbish's eye at
the same instant, and, though the plot
ter said nothing, the glance was subtle
and expressive. 1t seemed to prompt
and goad him on, as though the man
had said:
You mustn't stand that. Go after
him"
Il ACCOMPLISHMENTS voice was
pleasant drawl--"it doesn't make any
particular difference, Mr.. Horton"
Even if what said didn't happen
to be particularly commendatory? in
CURED Horton, his eyes narrowing.
so long" replied the Kentuckian,
"as what you said was your own opin-
ion, don't reckon it would interest
me much"
I'm point of fact"-Horton was gag.
ing with steady hostility into Sam
sons eyes-'1 prefer to tell you. |
have rather generally expressed the
belief that you are damned savage,
unfit for decent society"
Samson's face grew rigid and trifie
pale. His mouth set itself in straight
line, but, as Wilfred Horton came to
his feet with the last words, the noun
taineer remained seated.
And" went on the New Yorker,
flushing with suddenly augmenting
passion, what said l still believe to
be true and repeat in your presence
At another time and place, I shall be
even more explicit l shall ask you to
explain-certain things"
Mr. Horton" suggested Samson in
an ominously quiet voice, Il reckon
you're a little drunk. If l were you,
I'd sit down"
Wilfred's face went from red to
white, and his shoulders stiffened. He
leaned forward, and for the instant
no one moved. The tick of the clock
was plainly audible.
South" he said, his breath coming
IN labored excitement, defend your
self"
Samson still sat motionless.
Against what?" he inquired.
Against that" Horton struck the
mountain man across the face with
his open hand. Instantly. there was a
commotion of scraping chairs and
shutting feet mingled with chorus
OF inarticulate protest. Samson had
risen, and, for second, his face had
become thing of unspeakable pas
sion. His hand instinctively swept
toward his pocket-and stopped half
way He stood by his overturned
chair gazing into the eyes of his as
sailant, with an effort at self-mastery
which gave his chest and arms the
appearance of a man writhing and
stiffening under electrocution. Then,
he forced both hands to his back and
gripped them there. For a moment,
the tableau was held, then the man
from the mountains began speaking,
slowly and in a tone of dead-level
monotony. Each syllable was portent.
ously distinct and clear clipped