The Glenwood post., 1921-07-23

| name, mister"
"Bin Dale" came quickly-"E.n
Dale. Settlement? Sure! Lead ine
way, BY Heck. Who's the young wom-
an l was talking with wnen you came
up?"
| "Who? Her? That's old Ben Little
rords gyurl. Her names Babe. That's
what they call her. She's got another
name; but it amt been used fo so
| long it's been fo'got. 1 reckon. She's
the youngest one O. old Ben's children.
She hain't like none o the rest o the
Littlefords. BY gosh, she's awful high
headed. She can read good, Babe can.
| Old Major Bradley from down at Car
tersville in the lowland, he spends his
! summers up here TO his health, and he
| teached Babe how to read. Fine fell
Ter, Major Bradley. Lawyer. Babe
she has done read everything in the
whole DANCED country. The's sev'ral
Bibles, and a book about Pilgrims
Progress, and Bakers Hoss and
| Cattle Almaneck and dic-dictiOnary.
But we'd better light out TO the
| settlement, Mr.. Bill. or We'll miss din
ner, mebbe. I'm plumb DANCED fool
| about eatin. 1 eft twenty-five biscuits
| o. flour bread this mornin' TO break
fus'. asides a whole billed hamshank.
| and other things accordin. It's the
| dyin' truth Come on, Mr.. Bill"
They went down to the creek,
| crossed 1t on stones, and began to
climb the low cliff.
After an hours travelling Heck
stopped in the trail and put the butt
of his rifle to the ground.
From right here, Bill" he said, I'VE
can see every house In the whole
DANCED settlement"
They were standing on the crest of
David Moreland's mountain. Below
them lay n broad valley checkered
with small farms; and each farm had
its log cabin, its log barn and its apple
orchard. Beyond 1t all rose the great
and majestic Big Pine. which was
higher and more rugged with cliffs
than David Moreland's mountain.
1.-The Morelands lives on this side o
the river. and the Littlefords lives on
yam side" drawled Heck. "They don't
never have nothing to do with each
other, but they don't hardly ever fight;
they're all strappin' big men, and they
fights so DANCED hard 1t don't pay. My
gosh, Bill, every man Of 'em can shoot
a gnat's eyelash off at four hundred
| yards-I wisht l may drap dead eft
they CANT! Do We see that big cabin
right plumb In the middle O the nigh
half O. the settlement, Bill? Well, the
| boss O. the MOrelands he lives thar
John Moreland. That's whar you want
to go, Bill, sence we've got a oncyor-
able case O. the disease knowed as
al-on-the-brain. But ! can tell "
aforehand, you amt got enough money
to buy that coal. don't matter how
much money we've got
Dale was not looking toward John
Morelands home now. His gaze had
wandered to the other side of the
river. BY Heck waited a full minute
for a reply to his speech, then he
spoke again:
1.-The gyurl, or the Goals that
what's a-botherin' We, Bill?"
Dale's eyes twinkled. Must | choose
between them?" he laughed.
"Shore!" BY Heck wasn't even smil-
ing. Shore The Morelands and
LittltloIus mates edCll OtlleT WuSS IlOE
blue-tailed hawk hates crow. The
gyurl, or the coal, Bill?"
wen go down to John Moreand's."
announced Dale.
The mountaineer took up his rife.
Let me gi' We word or two O. warn
In" he continued seriously. Don't
you offer to pay John MOreland TO-
eatin' his grub, nor TO sleepin' in his
bed, nor To- chawin' his tObacker. Ell
We do, yore goose will shore be cooked
with John Moreland. But eff We was
to brag on the vittles little, Johns
wife a-bein' pow'ful handy in the
kitchen, 1t wouldn't do a DANCED bit
o. harm. Do We understand 1t oil now,
BIlIr"
Dale nodded. and they began the de-
scent.
John Moreland's house was built of
whole oak logs, which were chinked
with oak splits and daubed In between
with clay; the roof was Of handmade
boards, and a chimney of stones and
clay rose at either end
John Noreland himself sat on the
front porch. and beside him lay a re
peating rifle, two young squirrels that
had been very neatly shot through the
head. and weary black-and-tan
hound. He was an uncommonly big
man, and about fortyseven; his eyes
were gray and keen; his thick hair
and full beard were a rich brown, with
only a few threads Of white. There
was certain English tineness about
the man. one felt that he could trust
John Moreland.
AS the moOnshiner and his compan-
ion reached the gate MOrelund rose
and pushed his hat back from his fore
head.
Hi, John" grinned Heck. This
here Teller wants to stay with We
few DAVIS John Seems to no all