Carroll County democrat. (Huntingdon, Tenn.) 188?-1971, 1919-08-01
THE POACHER
By MILDRED WHITE

\ by MILDRED WHITE
Della brought her car to a stop
and sat up with a gasp Of surprise
There before her at the bend of the
road was the original of her favOrite
picture. She had not faneied, as she
often admiringly gazed at the beauti-
full water color Of quaint old house,
that the house could possibly be real,
More was 1t like an idealization Of an
artist.
The picture had drawn her from its
first hanging on the walls Of tile art
store. Since then, it occupied the Best
wall space in Delia's own room.
She had ridden far lost in her dis
appointed thought, far beyond the
well-kept state road into the rough
one of the outskirts. It's uneyenness
had passed by unn0ticed, as she Won
dered for the hundredth time, why
her latest story had failed to please.
Della had counted much upon that
story. Heretofore she had been for
tunate in selling, what did this story
lack? If she might go over 1t again,
wholly concentrating her thoughts.
Della smiled cynically; where in the
hubub of her society home might she
find concentration? Now she knew
what had caused her failure, the con
stant call to other things. And as IL
in answer to her conclusion before her
suggestiyely doomed the isolated
house.
She was out of the car in bound,
a shrewd old Scotswoman coming to
open the deep set door, waited to learn
Delia's errand,
ut Is so restful here" she explain
ed breathlessly. Il wonder II you might
be persuaded to take me for few
weeks as a boarder"
The neat Scotswoman considered.
"Well now" she said, "Tll ask
Sandy"
Sandy, her kindly old husband, was
quickly agreeable.
what harm,' he asked, ''when we
are alone?"
So arrangements were made for
Della to come upon the following day.
Installed in her hammock back along
the hollyhocks, the Scotswoman left
the girl with one injunction:
"If you see any trespassers," she
cautioned, whistle for Sandy. There's
been many lately, coming to fitch our
fruit or to fish in our stream. The
stream mustn't be disturbed"
"Pll whistle" Della promised, and
she left her hammock to examine the
stream.
The water color had given no prom
Use of this stream. 1t went ripping
merrily on beyond the furthest trees.
1t looked invitingly cool on this hot
summer day. Della was possessed of
an unruly desire herself to dangle a
line and to fitch the fine fruit. She
sat still instead, watching a "prize
catch" which came nearer and nearer.
And just as 1t came very near, mans
voice whispered roughly:
Don't startle him, I'm going to
throw line"
The man himself Immediately came
into view; his khaki trousers were
covered with mud, an old felt hat
shaded his bold, dark eyes,
Don't you dare!' cried Della; she
clapped her hands to brighten the fish.
The man turned on her impatiently,
then seeing her flushed cheeks and in
dignantly glowing eyes, he smiled.
"Well-" he began, what do you
mean by that"
II mean" Della answered steadily,
"that you are trespassing and that you
must have read the forbidding signs
outside the wall"
II did," the man admitted.
"And yet you deliberately came to
fish, She decided to whistle for
Sandy.
did you intend" she added sar-
castically, "to also help yourself to
the frult?"
ITO few of those choice plums
perhaps" the man replied He calmly
suited the action to the word.
"What right have you to object"
the poacher questioned, he was smil- |
ing.
az live here" Della answered brief.
~.
1t was the mans turn to stare. He
did so unrcservedly, while the per
plexity of his gaze gave way to frank |
admiration.
Live here| he repeated,
Sandy's burly figure came crashing
through the brambles.
"Girl" he muttered, ''what scare
We gave me; thought We needed help.
But If masters here"
Hello Sandy" pleasantly greeted
the man, ''who may ask, is this young |
lady who informs me that my house
Is her place of residence?"
Sandy flushed. "She's just bit of a
boarder," he said, "the wife and ]
thought it no harm to take her in for
a while sir, you not being expected
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