The Southern herald., 1916-02-25

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 1t 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 rife 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
MS mind was 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 right stand-up sort
OF boy, Jeb," growled the old fire.
eater who had set more than a few
couples at each others throats. "An'
reckon hits all right, too, fer a fell
ler ter bide his time, but hit pears ter
me like ther men of these days don't
do nothin' but bide thar time"
i won't bide mine no longer than
what has ter" snapped the boy.
"Anse lows ter tell me when he finds
out who hit war thet got my pap.
Thet's all needs ter know"
Old Bob shook his head knowingly
and laughed in his tangled beard.
i reckon Anse Havey'll 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 thet, Uncle Bob?"
"Mebby l don't mean nothin' much.
Then ergin mebby / could give ye
pretty good idee who kilt yore pap.
Mebby | could tell ye bout TELLER
feller thet hain't fur removed from
Old Milt hisself-thet went snoopin'
crost ther ridge ther same day yore
pap died with rihe-gun 'crost his
elbow and his pockets strutty with
cartridges"
Who war he?" came the tense de-
mand with the sudden snap of rifle
tire. who war thet 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 a
drunken fashion.
Ell Bad Anse Havey don't low ter
tell ye, son." he artfully demurred, T
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
needs ter know" he said quietly, "or
I'm a-goin' ter kill ye whar ye 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 mischief-making sus-
pieion. He had held off only to infri-
riate and envenom the boy with the
cumulative force of climax.
"Hit warn't nobody but" After a
pause he went on, "but old Milt Nc
Briars 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 place in
the woods where a blind trail struck
back he deposited his sack carefully
under ledge of overhanging rock, for
the clouds were mounting and banking
now in a threat of rain and 1t was not
his own meal, so he must be careful
of its safety.
Then he crossed the ridge until he
came to 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 nightfall 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 rife. For hours
he crouched there with unspeakable
patience, while his muscles cramped
and his feet and hands grew cold un-
der the peltlng Of a rain which was
strangely raw and chilling for the sea.
son. The sun sank in an angry bank
of thunder-heads and the west grew
lurid, The drenching downpour hind.