Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1915-09-17

cropped muSLdcn6. 1udI ne sui wore
had worn 1t chiefly because he liked
to hear Adrienne's humorous denuncia-
ton of it. He knew that, in his pres
emit guise and dress, he had an excel
lent chance of walking through the
streets of Hixon as a stranger. And,
afteS leaving Hixon, there was a mis-
sion to be performed at Jesse Purvy's
store. AS he thought of that mission
a grim CLINT came to his pupils.
All journeys end, and as Samson
passed through the tawdry cars of the
local train near Hixon he saw several
faces which he recognized, but they
either eyed him in inexpensive silence
or gave him the greeting of the fur
riner."
Then the whistle shrieked from the
trestle over the Middle fork, and at
only a short distance rose the cupola
of the brick courthouse and the scat
tered roofs of the town. Scattered
over the green slopes by the river
bank lay the white spread of a tented
company street, and, as he looked out,
he saw uniformed figures moving to
and fro and caught the ring of a bugle
call. So the militia was on deck;
things must be bad, he reflected. He
stood on the platform and looked
down as the engine roared along the
trestle. Thereywere two gatling guns.
One pointed it's muzzle toward the
town, and the other scowled up at the
face of the mountain. Sentries paced
their beats. Men in undershirts lay
doing outside tent flaps. 1t was all
a picture of disciplined readiness, and
yet Samson knew that soldiers made
of painted tin would be equally effec-
tive. These military forces must re-
main subservient to local civil authori-
ties, and the local civil authorities
obeyed the nod of Judge HOLMAN and
Jesse Purvy.
AS Samson crossed the toll bridge
to the town proper he passed W
brown-shirted militiamen, lounging on
the rail of the middle span. They
grinned at him, and, recognizing the
outsider from his clothes, n of them
commented:
"Ain't this the hell of a town."
TITS going to be-" replied Samson,
systematically, as he went On.
Still unrecognized, he hired a horse
at the livery stable, and for two hours
rode in silence, saw for the easy
creaking of his stirrup feathers and
the soft thud of hoofs.
The silence soothed him. The brood
ing hills lulled his spirit as a grooming
song lulls a fretful child. Mile after
mile unrolled forgotten vistas. Some
thing deep in himself murmured:
"Home!"
It was late afternoon when he saw
ahead of him the orchard of Purvy's
place, and read on the store wall, a
little more weather stained, but other
wise unchanged:
Jesse Purvy, General Merchandise"
The porch of the store was empty,
and as Samson flung himself from his
saddle there was no one to greet him.
This was surprising, since, ordinarily,
two or three of Purvy's personal
kudIQ6lA6A lOdlC0 dI LAO IAOAI W WobCA
the road. Just now the guard should
logically be doubled. Samson still
wore his eastern clothes-for he want
ed to go through that door unknown.
AS Samson South he could not cross
its threshold either way. But when
he stepped up on to the rough porch
flooring no one challenged his advance.
The yard and orchard were quiet from
their front fence to the grisly stock
ade at the rear, and, wondering at
these things, the young man stood for
a moment looking about at the after
noon peace before he announced him
self.
Yet Samson had not come to the
stronghold of his enemy for the pur-
pose of assassination. There had been
another object in his mind-an utterly
mad idea, it is true, yet SO bold OF
conception that it held a ghost of
promise. He had meant to go into
Jesse Purvy's store and chat artlessly,
like some inquisitive "furriner." He
would ask questions which by their
very impertinence might be forgiven
on the score of a strangers folly. But,
most of all, he wanted to drop the cas-
ual information, which he should as
sumo to have heard on the train, that
Samson South was returning, and to
mark, on the assassin leader, the effect
of the news. In his new code it was
necessary to give at least the rattler's
warning before he struck, and he
meant to strike. If he were recog-
nized, well-he shrugged his shoulders.
But as he stood on the outside, wip-
ing the perspiration from his forehead.
for the ride had been warm, he heard
voices within. They we're loud and
angry voices. 1t occurred to him that
by remaining where he was he might
gain more information than by hur-
rying in.
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