The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1915-02-10

But, an nOur later, Wnlle tne Doy
was still working industriously and
the artist was lying on his back, with
pipe between his teeth, and his half
closed eyes gazing up contentedly
through the green Of overhead
branches, their peace was broken by
a guffaw of derisive laughter. They
looked up, to find at their backs semi
circle of scoffing humanity. Lescott's
impulse was to laugh, for only the
comedy of the situation at the mo-
ment struck him. A stage director.
setting comedy scene with that most
ancient OF jests, the gawking of booos
at some new sight, could hardly have
improved on this tableau. At the front
stood Tamarack Spicer, the returned
wanderer. His lean wrist was stretched
out of ragged sleeve all too short, and
his tattered Jimmy" was showed back
over face all a.grin. His eyes were
blood-shot with recent drinking, but
his manner was in exaggerated and
cumbersome imitation Of a rural mas
ter Of ceremonies. At his back were
the raw-boned men and women and
children of the hills, to the number OF
dozen.
Ladies and gentlemen" announced
Tamarack Spicer, in q hiccoughing
voice, Swing yo' partners an sashay
forward. See the only son OF the late
Henry South engaged in his mar-Ve-
lous an heretofore undiscovered occu-
patton of doin' fancy work. Ladies and
gentlemen, after this here show Is
concluded, keep your seats for the con-
cert in the main tent. This here ia
nous performer will favor ye with q
little exhibition Of plain an fancy
sock-darnin'."
After the first surprise. Samson had
turned his back on the group. He was
mixing paint at the time and he pro-
ceeded to experiment with g. fleeting
cloud effect. which would not outlast
the moment. He finished that, and.
reaching for the palette-knife, scraped
his fingers and wiped them on his
trousers legs. Then. he deliberately
rose. s..
Without word he turned. Tama.
rack had begun his harangue afresh.
The boy tossed back the long lock
from his forehead, and then,. with
an Unexpectedly swift movement,
crouched and leaped. His right fist
shot forward to Tamarack Spicer'.s
chattering lips, and they abruptly
ceased to chatter as the teeth were
driven into their flesh. Spicer's head
snapped back, and he staggered against
the onlookers, where he stood rocking
on his unsteady legs. His hand swept
instinctively to the shirt-concealed
holster, but, before 1t had connected.
both of Samson's fists were playing a
terrific tattoo on his face. The in.
glorious master of the show dropped,
and lay groggily trying to rise. .
The laughter died as suddenly as
Tamarack's speech. Samson stepped
back again, and sea&ched the faces Of
the group for any lingering sign OF
mirth or criticism. There was none.
Every countenance. was sober and e1-
pressionless, but the boy felt weight
OF unuttered disapproval, and he glared
defiance. One of the older onlookers
spoke up reproachfully.
Samson, ye hadn't hardly ought ter
a-done that. He was jest funnin'
with ye." ~. ~. IT.. .
"Git him up on his feet. I've got
somethin' ter say ter him." The boys
voice was dangerously quiet. 1t was
his first word. They lifted the fallen
cousin, whose entertainment had gone
astray, and led him forward grumbling,
threatening and sputtering, but evinc-
ing no immediate desire to renew hos
tilities. '..,.
"Whar hev ye been?" demanded
Samson.
"Thet's my business" came the ia
miliar mountain phrase. q"
"Why wasn't yer hyar when them
dawgs come by? Why was ye the
only South thet ruined away, when
CQSy WAS Sucliiu AouAd lCl JSSSe
Purvy's assassin?" ...
81 didn't run away" Tamafack's 3
blood-shot eyes fiared wickedly. 81
knowed thet ef stayed round hyar
with them damned Hollmans stickin'
their noses inter our business, I'd hurt
somebody. So, went over inter the
next county fer a spell. You fellers
mout be able to take things often the
Hollmans, but hain't."
1"Thet's a damned lie," said Samson,
quietly. "Ye ruined away, an ye
ruined in the water so them dawgs
couldn't trail ye-ye done hit because
ye shot them shoots at Jesse Purvy
from the laurel-because ye're truce
Dustin, murderin' bully thet shoots off
his face, an is skeered to fight" Sam
son paused for breath, and went on
with regained calmness. 1--WE knowed
all along ye was the man, an I've kept
quiet because ye're my kin. If ye're
got anything else ter say, say hit. But,
ef ever ketches yer talkin' about me,
or talkin' ter Sally, I'm a-goin' ter take
ye by the scroff of the neck, an drag
ye plumb into Hixon, an stick ye In
the jailhouse. An I'm a-goin' ter tell
the high sheriff that the Souths spits
ye outen their mouths. Take him
away" The crowd turned and left
the place. When they were gone, Sam
son seated himself at his easel again,
and picked up his palette.