Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1915-03-30

magazine pistol. Samson South the
old, and Samson South the new were
writhing in the life-and-death grap-
pie Of two codes. Then, before de-
cision came, he heard sharp report
inside, and the heavy fall of a body to
the floor.
A wildly excited figure came plung-
ing through the door, and Samson's
left hand swept out and seized it's
shoulder in a sudden wise grip.
do you know me?" he inquired, as
the mountaineer pulled away and
crouched back with startled surprise
and vicious frenzy.
mo. damn ye! Git outen my road!"
Aaron thrust his cooked rifle close
against the strangers face. From its
muzzle came the acrid stencil Of
freshly burned powder. "Git outen my
road afore I kills ye!"
MY name Is Samson South"
Before the astounded finger on the
trigger could be cooked, Samson's
pistol spoke from the pocket, and. as
though an echo, the rifle blazed, little
too late and a shade too high, over his
head. as the dead mans arms went up.
Except for those two reports there
was no sound. Samson stood still, an
an uproar Of alarm. Now
he should doubtless have to pay with
his life for both the deaths, which
would inevitably and logically be at
tributed to his agency. But, strangely
enough, no clamor arose. The shot in
side had been muffied, and those out
side, broken by the intervening store,
did not arouse the house. Purvy's
bodyguard had been sent away by Hol-
lis on false alarm. Only the women
folks" and children remained indoors,
and they were drowning with a piano
any sounds that might have come from
without. The piano was the chief
Of Purvy's wealth. 1t repre-
sented the acme Of having things
hung up" that ancient and expressive
phrase, which had come down from
days when the pioneers worldly con-
dition was gauged by the hams hang
ing in the smoakhouse and the pep
pers, tobacco and herbs strung high
against the rafters.
Now Samson South stood looking
down, uninterrupted, on what had
been Aaron Hollis as 1t lay motionless
at his feet. There was a powder
burned hole in the butternut shirt, and
only slender thread Of blood trickled
into the dirt-grimed cracks between
the planks. The body was twisted
sidewise, in one Of those grotesque
attitudes with which a sudden sum-
mons so frequently robs the greatest
Of all its rightful dignity.
The sun was gliding the roadside
clods and furnishing the green's Of the
treetops. The breeze was harping
sleepily among the branches. and sew
eral geese -stalked pompously along
the creeks edge. On the top of the
stockade gray squirrel, sole witness
to the tragedy, rose on his launches,
firted the brush, and then, in a sud-
den leap Of alarm, disappeared.
Samson turned to the darkened door
way. Inside was emptiness, except
for the other body, which had crumpl-
ed forward and face down across the
counter. A glance showed that Jesse
Purvy would no more fight back the
coming Of death. He was quite un-
armed. Behind his spent body ranged
shelves of general merchandise. Box
es Of sardines and cans Of peaches
were lined in homely array above him.
His lifeless hand rested as though
flung out in an oratorical gesture on
bolt Of blue calico.
Samson paused only for a momen-
tary survey. His score was clean. He
would not again have to agonize over
the dilemma of old ethics and new.
Tomorrow the word would spread like
wild fire along Misery and Crippleshin
that Samson South was back and that
his coming had been signalized by
these two deaths. The fact that he
were responsible for only one-and that
in self-defense-would not matter.
They would prefer to believe that he
had invaded the store and killed Purvy
and that Hollis had fallen in his mas
ter's defense at the threshold. Sam
son went out, still meeting no one, and
continued his journey.
(To be Continued).