Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1915-12-18

brother was more solemnly being
nodded by the Havey chief
The water-mfu OF old Bob McGreegor
was the nearest spot to the dwelling of
Bad Anse Havey where grist could be
ground to meal. and sometimes when
Jeb came over to the brick house he
would volunteer to throw upon his
shoulders the sack of corn and plod
with it up across the ridges He would
sit there in the dusty old mill while
| the slow wheel groaned and creaked
and the-cumbersome millstones did
their slow stint of work
So one day, toward the end of Au-
gust. Juanita, who had climbed up the
path to the poplar to look over her
battlefield and renew her vows. saw
Jeb sturdily plodding his way in long.
resolute strides through the woods
toward the mill, heavy sack upon his
shoulders and a rifle swinging at his
side
That day chance had it that no one
else had come to mill and Bob Nc
Greegor had persuaded the boy to
drink from the "leetle blue kag" until
his mind was ripe for mischief. While
the mill slowly ground out his meal
Jeb McNash sat on pile of rubbish
in the gloomy shack, nursing his
knees in interlocked fingers. Old Bob
drank and stormed and cursed the in
ertia of the present generation The
lads lean fingers tautened and gripped
themselves more tensely and his eyes
began to smolder and blaze with a
wicked light as he listened.
"Ye looks like right stand-up sort
of boy, Jeb.'' growled the old fire
eater who had set more than a few
couples at each others threats. AN
1 reckon hits all right, too, fer fell
Ter ter bide his time, but hit pears ter
me like Their men of these days don't
do nothin' but bide thar time
81 won't bide mine no longer than
what 1 has ter" snapped the boy
"Anse lows ter tell me when he finds
out who hit war tibet got my pap.
Thet's all needs ter know"
Old Bob shook his head knowingly
and laughed in his tangled beard
Il reckon Anse Haveyll take his lei
sure. He's got other fish to fry He's
a-thinkin' bout bigger things than yore
grievance, son."
The boy rose, and his voice came
very quietly and ominously from sud-
denly whitened lips. What does ye
mean by tibet, Uncle Bob?"
"Mebby 1 don't mean nothin' much
Then ergin mebby 1 could give We
pretty good idee who kilt yore pap.
Mebby 1 could tell we bout Teller
Teller tibet hain't fur removed from
Old Milt hisself-thet went snoopin'
crost Their ridge Their same day yore
pap died with a rife-gun 'crost his
elbow and his pockets strutty with
cartridges"
r. do
mand with the sudden snap of rife
fire. who war tibet feller?"
Old Bob filled and lighted his pipe
from the ministration OF the '1eetle
blue kag." He laughed again in
drunken fashion.
EFF Bad Anse Havey don't low ter
tell we, son. he artfuI1y demurred. 81
reckon hit wouldn't hardly be becomin'
fer me ter name his name"
The boy picked up his battered hat.
Give me my grist," he said shortly.
He stood by. breathing heavily but
silently while the sack was being tied.
then, putting it down by the door, he
wheeled and faced the older man.
Now ye're a-goin' ter tell me what
1 needs ter know" he said quietly. "or
I'm a-goin' ter kill ye whar We stands"
Uncle Bob laughed. He had meant
all the while to impart that succrFent
bit of Information. which was no infor-
nation at all, but misunderstanding sus-
picion- He had held off only to infu-
rate and envenom the boy with the
cumulative force of climax.
Hit warn't nobody but After a
pause he went on, but old Milt Me
Briar's own son, Young Milt"
"Thet's ALL" said Jeb soberly; I'm
obleeged ter ye.'
He went out with the sack on his
shoulders and the rife under his arm
but when he had reached a place i'm
the woods where a blind trail struck
back he deposited his sack carefully
under a ledge of overhanging rock for
the clouds were mounting and banking
now in a threat of rain and it was not
his own meal. SO he must be careful
of it's safety
Then he crossed the ridge until he
came to a point where the thicket
grew down close and tangled to the
road He had seen Young Milt going
west along that road this morning and
by Rightfall he would be riding back
The gods of chance were playing into
his hands
So he lay down, closely hugging the
earth, and cooked his rifle. For hours
he crouched there with unspeakahle
patience, while his muscles cramped