Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1915-02-05
ESTABLISHED 1855.
CHAPTER w.

He haQ Deen tne NOuiLco Seis' "
places of fashion. He had been the
guests Of equally famous brother art
lists in the cities Of two hemispheres,
and, since sincere painting had been
his pole star, he had gone where his
arts wanderlust beckoned. He mad
followed the lure Of transitory beau
ty to remote sections Of the world.
The present trip was only one of the
many like it, which had brought him
into touch with varying peoples and
distinctive types Of life. He told
himself that never had he found men
at once so crude and so courteous as
these hosts who. facing personal
perils, had still time and willingness
to regard his comfort.
The coming Of the kinsmen. who
would stay until the present danger
passed, had filled the house. The four
beds in the cabin proper were FULL
and some slept on floor mattresses.
Lescott, because guest and wound
ed, was given a small room aside.
Samson, however, shared his quarters
in order to perform any service that
an injured man might require. 1t
had been a full and unusual day for
the painter, and its incidents crowd
ed in on him in retrospect and drove
off the possibility Of sleep. Samson,
too, seemed wakeful, and in the iso-
lation Of the dark room the two men
fell into conversation, which almost
lasted out the night. Samson went
into the confessional. This was the
first human being he had ever met to
whom he could unburden his soul.
The thirst to taste what knowledge
lay beyond the hills; the unnamed
wanderlust that had at times brought
him a restiveness so poignant as to
be agonizing; the underlined attuning
of his heart to the beauty Of sky and
hill; these matters he had hitherto
kept locked in guilty silence.
In a cove or lowland pocket,
stretching into the mountain side,
lay the small and meager farm or
the Widow Miller. The Widow Miller
was a South" that is to say, she fell.
by tie Of marriage, under the protec-
ton of the clan head. She lived
alone with her fourteen-year-old son
and her sixteen-year-ol daughter
The daughter was Sally.
The sun rose on the. morning after
Lescott arrived, the mists lifted, and
the cabin Of the Widow Miller stood
revealed. A tousle-headed boy made
his way to the barn to feed the cattle.
and a red patch Of color, as bright
and tuneful as a Kentucky cardinal,
appeared at the door between the
morning-g glory vines. The red patch
Of color was Sally.
She made her way, carrying q
bucket, to the spring, where she knelt
down and gazed at her own image In
the water.
Before going home she set down her
bucket by the stream, and, with a
quick glance toward the house to
make sure that she was not observ-
ed, climbed through the brush and
was lost to view. She followed a
path that her own feet had made,
and after a steep course upward came
upon a bald face rock, which stood
out storm battered where a rift went
through the backbone Of the ridge.
This point of vantage commanded the
other valley. Down below, across the
treetops, where a roof and a chimney
from which a thread Of smoke rose in
an attenuated shaft. That was
Spicer South's house and Samson's
home. The girl leaned against the
gnarled bowl Of the white oak and
waved toward the roof and chimney.
She cupped her hands and raised
them to her lips like one who means
to shout across a great distance,
then she whispered so low that only
she herself could hear:
Hello, Samson South"
She stood for a space looking
down and forgot to laugh, while her
eyes grew religiously and softly deep,
then, turning. she ran down the
slope. She had performed her morn
ing devotions.
That day at the house Of Spicer
South was an off day. The kinsmen
who had stopped for the night stayed
on through the morning. Nothing was
said of the possibility of trouble. The
men talked crops and tossed horse
shoes in the yard; but no one went
to work in the fields. and all remain
ed within easy call. Only young
Tamarack Spicer, a raw-boned neph-
ew, wore a sullen face and made a
a great show Of cleaning his rifle and
pistol.
Shortly after dinner he disappear
ed, and when the afternoon was we'll
advanced Samson, too, with his rifle
on his arm, strolled toward the stile.
He sauntered down the road, but,
when he had passed out Of vision, he
turned sharply into the woods, and
began climbing. His steps carried him
to the rift in the ridge where the
white oak stood sentinel over the
watch tower Of rock. AS he came
over the edge from one side his bare
feet making no sound, he saw Sally
sitting there, with her hands resting
on the moss and her eyes deeply
troubled. She was gazing fixedly
ahead and her lips were trembling.
At once Samson's face grew black.
Some one had been making Sally un-
happy Then he saw beyond her a
standing figure. which the tree trunk
had hitherto concealed. 1t was the
loose-knitted figure of young Tam
arack Spicer.
I'm course" Spicer was saying,
I'VE don't low Samson shot Jesse
Purvy, but them Hollmans II 'spicion
him, an I heered just now thet them
dawgs was trackin, straight up hyar
from the mouth Of Misery They'll
git hyar against sundown."
Samson leaped violently forward
with one hand he roughly seized his
cousins shoulder and wheeled him