The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1915-04-22

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
wildfire along Misery and Crippleshin
that Samson South was back and that
his coming had been signalized by
these two deaths. The fact that he
was 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.
Dusk was falling when he hitched
his horse in a clump Of timber, and,
lifting his saddlebags, began climbing
to a cabin that sat back in a thicketed
cove. He was now we'll within South
territory and the need of masquerade
had ended
The cabin had not for years been oc-
cupied. Its rooftree was leaning
askew under rotting shingles. The
doorstep was UNCOVERED, and the
stones of the hearth were broken. But
it lay we'll hidden and would serve his
purposes. ...... -.
Shortly, a candle fickered inside,
before a small hand mirror. Scissors
and safety razor were for a while
busy. The man who entered in i'm
peccable clothes emerged fifteen min
utes later-transformed. There ap-
peared under the rising June crescent
a smooth-faced native, clad in stained
store clothes, with rough wooden socks
showing at his brogan tops, and a
battered felt hat drawn over his face
No one who had known the Samson
South of four years ago would fail to
recognize him now. And the strang-
est part, he told himself, was that he
felt the old Samson. He o longer
doubted his courage. He had come
home, and his conscience was once
more clear
The mountain roads and the noun
tain sides themselves were sweetly
silent. Moon mist engulfed the fats
in lake of dreams, and, as the livery
stable horse halted to pant at the top
of the final ridge, he could see below
him his destination
The smaller knobs rose like little
islands out of the vapor, and yonder,
catching the moonlight like scraps Of
gray paper, were two roofs-that Of
his uncle's house and that of the
Widow Miller.
At a point where hand bridge
crossed the skirting creek, the poy
dismounted Ahead of him lay the
stile where he had said good-by tH
Sally. The place was dark, and the
chimney smokeless, but, as he came
nearer, holding the shadows OF the
trees, he saw one silver of light at the
bottom of a solid shutter; the shutter
of Sallys room. Yet, for while, sam
son stopped there, looking and max
ing no sound. He stood at his RuDl
con-and behind him lay all the GIT
ter and culture Of that other world,
world that had been good to him.
That was to Samson South one O
those pregnant and portentous mo
ments with which life sometimes
punctuates It's turning points. At suct
| times all the set and solidihed strata
that go into the building of man.
nature may be uptossed and rear
! ranged. So the layers of mountain
chain and a continent that have FOL
centuries remained steadfast MAJ
break and alter under the stirring O
earthquake or volcano, dropping
heights under water and throwing
new ranges above the sea-
There was passing before his eye'
as he stood there, pausing, q pano
rama much vaster than any he nae
been able to conceive when last NJ
stood there. He was seeing in review
the old life and the new, lurid VIII
contrasts, and, as the pictures O
things thousands Of miles away ROSE
before his eyes as clearly as the ser
ried backbone of the ridges, he wat
comparing and settling for all tim'
the actual values and proportions o
the things in his life.
He saw the streets OF Paris ant
New York, brilliant under thel
strings of opalescent lights; tn
Champs Elysees ran its smooth, tree
trimmed parquetry from the Place d
Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, ant
the chatter and music of it's cafes RAM
in his ears. The ivory spaces of Rome
from the Pincian hill, where his fame,
saw almond trees in bloom, to tn
Piazza Venezia, spread their eterna
story before his imagination. He say
buses and hansoms string through
the mud and fog of London and tn
endless pot-pourri of Manhattan. Al
the things that the outside world ha'
to offer; all that had ever stirred nj
pulses to worship of the beautiful
the harmonious, the excellent, rose Il
exact value. Then he saw again tn
sunrise as it would be tomorrow morn
ing over these ragged hills. He say
the mists rise and grow wisp-like, an
the disk Of the sun gain color, and al
the miracles of cannoning tempes