The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1921-03-10

THE BLUE MOON
A TALE OF THE FLATWOODS
BY
BY DAVID ANDERSON



Otherwise he would have trusted to
that. The meeting behind the Mud
Hen had fizzled.
Second. He had no stomach for
going into court.
Third. 'Queerin' his "game." What
did he mean by his game? He couldn't
have meant the Blue Moon, for he
didn't know the Pearlhunter knew he
had it. His game. That tense scene
at the fence the evening before flashed
up clear Is the river bed under the
jack light: a girl with a basket;
frightened eyes; yellow curl that rose
and fell upon startled bosom.
'Tll stay where am" he answered,
crisp and cold. 'The law put me in;
the law can get me out"
The other shrugged his shoulders,
furious at the battling GOODNESS he en-
countered. And yet he couldn't afford
to give up his plans, or spoil them by
any untimely show of his real feel
ings. The easy smile came back.
'sThose questions you were expect
ing to ask--I might answer them to
boot
The Pearlhunter's fingers frightened
on the bar. He breathed deep. Those
questions! His life through, they had
haunted him. And the man before him
knew the answer. His face set hard.
Answer or not, as you please, ne
said; "but I'll not bolt the Flatwoods.
l was expectin' to ask about my-fa-
ther."
The other whipped curious look at
him.
"Your fatheri" he snarled. The
scowl on his face became it better than
the smile. GAS like you as two peas;
with the same lot of fool, Sir Gaiahad
notions about the women-angels and
white lilies, and all that rot. He
crossed my path once too often. and
for the last time, seven years ago. He's
in hell now. And your mother"
The fist that stabbed out of the win
dow fell almost short, landing with a
snap instead of crash, like a lash that
can reach only so far. 1t stung the
man on the point of the cheek and shot
his head back.
He staggered and threw up his hand
to his face. His other hand involun-
tarily dropped toward his hip. Well
for him that it stopped before 1t got
there. The Pearlhunter had snatched
the revolver from under his blouse and
held it just below the window ledge.
The man on the outside backed
away, his face stung to flame by the
blow. He felt for his knife; seemed
to remember where he had left it-be-
tween the ribs of man. Anyhow, it
would have been as useless as the re-
volver. Noise precluded the use of
the one; walls and bars the other.
"Pd kill you," he retorted finally, his
tones steady, though strained, like the
current that plays across the top OF
whirlpool, "only haven't time. There's
a flock OF yellow curls and devilish
trim pair of ankles waitin' for me
down the road"
He had so framed the taunt as to re-
fleet on the girl his very thought dis
honored Without another word he
turned and walked away.
The Pearlhunter seriously debated
whether to shoot him dead and trust
to fate for the rest. The revolver
crawled up over the window sill. He
grasped one of the bars to steady his
hand. AZ start of surprise came to his
face. The revolver went back below
the window sill. The bar was loose.
It was almost unbelievable, but it
was so. For some reason or other it
had not been fixed very firmly in its
auger hole sockets There was play
heartening amount of it-between
the upper and lower auger holes. His
blood missed a beat; then leaped the
higher.
He damned the bar into the lower
socket. The bottom of the hole was
soft. The rain had probably rotted 1t.
He jammed the bar again and the wood
gave. He put all his strength to it.
Each effort drove the bar little deep
err; gave it little more play at the
top. If ne could only drive 1t far
enough so that the top would clear he
was working like wild man.
Gearing down With all his strength,
he rotated the bar. The tremendous
exertion opened the cuts and scratches
on his neck Ind breast until they bled
afresh. He jammed the bar down
again; bore upon 1t with all his
strength; rotated it again and again.
Less than half an inch still held at the
top.
His exertions brought the sweat out
upon his face Another effort; ire
mendous; to the last ounce Of his
power.
His hands were like fire-but the
bar cleared. He could move it tiny
mite to the side Of the upper auger
hole. The clearance was ever so little
but it cleared. Bracing his knee
against the wall and grasping the case
ment with his left hand for anchorage,
he bent and worked and twisted the
bar outward. At last, by final su-
preme heave, it cleared the upper log.
There remained only to lift it out OF
the lower auger hole.
The Pearlhunter dropped back pant
ing and mopped the sweat from his face
with his sleeve. The effort had been
tremendous.
A minute to get his breath; another
spent in listening; and he worked the
loosened end little freer; lifted out
the bar; crawled outside; put it back
oh xxvf< II