Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1916-02-11

mOlueu by the HaNey ChleI.
The water-miu 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 n 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
job sturdily ~plodding his way in long,
resolute strides through the woods
toward the mill, a heavy sack upon his
shoulders and a rifle swinging at his
side.
That day chance had II that no n
else had come to mill and Bob Nc
Greegor had persuaded the boy to
drink from the "leetlc blue kag" until
his mind IA ripe for mischief. While
the mill slowly ground out his meal
Jeb McNash sat on a 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 a right stand-up sort
Of a boy, Jeb," growled the old fire.
eater who had set more than a few
couples at each others Threats. An
| reckon hits all right, too. fer a 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"
Il won't bide mine no longer than
what | has ter" snapped the boy.
"Anse lows ter tell me when he finds
out who hit var tibet got my pap.
Thets all l needs ter know"
Old Bob shook his head knowingly
and laughed in his tangled beard.
II reckon Anse HaveyIl 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 we
mean by tibet, Uncle Bob?"
"Mebby l don't mean nothin' much.
Then ergin mebby | could give ye a
, pretty good idee who kilt yore pap.
} Mebby | could tell we bout a Teller
a Teller tibet hain't fur removed from
/ Old Milt hisself-thet went snoopin
crost Their ridge Their same day yore
/ pap died with a rile-gun 'crost his
elbow and his pockets strutty with
| cartridges"
!, "Who war he?" came the tense de-
, mand with the sudden snap Of rife
r fire. who wal tibet feller?'
, Old Bob filled and lighted his pipe
with fingers that had grown unsteady
from the ministration Of the "leetle
blue kag." He laughed again in
drunken fashion.
"Ef Bad Anse Havey don't low tel
: tell We, son." he artfully demurred, 81
7 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 nan
Now ye're a-goin' ter tell mt what
needs ter know" he said quietly, "or
I'm a-goin' ter kill we whar we stands
Uncle Bob laughed. He had meant
all the while to impart that succulent
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 q
pause he went on, but old Milt Nc
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 In
the woods where a blind trail STRUCK
back he deposited his sack carefully
under a ledge of overhanging rock, FOL
the clouds were mounting and bankint
now in a threat of rain and 1t was no
his own meal, so he must be careful
of its safety.
~ Then he crossed the ridge until h,
came to a point where the thicke
grew down close and tangled to tn
road. He had seen Young Milt goin,
k west along that road this morning AM
by nightfall he would be riding back
The gods of chance were playing int,
his hands.
8 So he lay down, closely hugging tn
g earth, and cooked his rife. For hour
n he crouched there with unspeakabl,
e patience, while his muscles crampet
O and his feet and hands grew cold TN
II der the pelting Of a rain which wa
strangely raw and chilling for the sea
son. The u sank in an angry ban
Of thunder.heads and the west grew
e lurid. The drenching downpour blind