Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1916-02-13

lOT IdTiIlcT ISttT ITOpHctsCOWu.
Presumably it was from him that the
other three learned of Lowell and got
their knowledge of local topography.
But, as Lowell was staple subject of
countryside gossip in that part of Illinois,
they might have heard about him in any
one of hundred ways.
Having heard about him, they decided
to rob him-with or without homicide, as
circumstances might decide. They stole
the automobile at Fremont, thirty-fve
miles southwest of Prophetstown, and
drove up in the night.
Near Prophetstown they left the main
road and struck into rude wagonway
through the woods. The good timber had
nearly all been cut off. What now stood
was mostly small second-growth stuff, too
thick for good forestry and tangled with
underbrush. This road was hardly ever
used and just passable. Nevertheless, as
an extra precaution, they lifted the light
car off the road and pushed it into a
thicket. This was at spot about mile
and half from Prophetstown.
They slept there, and loafed most of the
next day. The trampled ashes of their
fire were discovered the day following.
Between two and three o'clock the man
whose real name was Wade Kelley set out
to reconnoiter. When saw him, several
years after this event, he was about forty
five, and not a man whose sinister appear,
ance would have attracted your atten-
ton on the street. He was lean and
broad-shouldered, with small, coldly twin
king gray eyes and an overshot lower
jaw that looked couple of sizes too big
for the rest of his face.
He followed the rude wagon-track until
it emerged from the woods on the side
toward Prophetstown, they having en-
tered the woods on the opposite side. At
his right, as he came out of the woods,
was long gently sloping hillside, over
grown with hazel brush and bearing few
oak trees.
This was October, with the leaves turn
ing yellow and crimson, haze in all dis
tant views, and a rare mellowness in the
air-all of which the big-shouldered man
probably didn't notice much. But he had
not gone far when he heard the call Of
quail in the brush.
You know, there is something both shy
and saucy about the call of a quail;
something cheerful with a sadness in it;
something that laughs a little and fits
away. A minute or two later he heard
the call again-nearer this time; and
again, mechanically, he looked up the
hillside.
This time he saw something-to wit,
chunky brindle cross-bred dog that stood
in little opening between two clumps of
hazel brush, with its mouth open and
tongue out, laughing at him. The yegg-
man frowned, having prejudice against
all dogs. A little later the hillside flung
volley of quail calls down at him-such
succession of them as only an inebriate
bird could have uttered Really sur
prised, Kelley looked up there once more.
In another opening in the brush, hardly
three rods away, the dog stood laughing
at him. Also, slim boy, with dancing
brown eyes, was peering at him from
bushy ambuscade, laughing silently like
the dog While Kelley stared, the boy
stood out from behind the brush-a bare
headed lad of six or seven. He pursed his
lips and gave the quail call. Apparently
he considered it sort of friendly joke on
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