Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1921-08-25

t0Ae0 ~ u mat
away" he said.
That's the right way to look nj II. !"
declared Dale. But ron shouldn't
SELF the property as 70 Is"
The mountaineer turned nm inouir-
ing fsce toward his guest
How In thunder could I handle n
.ef dIdn'tY'
-Why not let me. develop II for
yous" Dale said earnestly, eagerly. u
wont eharge you anything above ex-
penses. and ! won't be extravagant. /.
It'd take considerable money TO start
things a-movin'. Have you got itYs
asked Moreland.
mo. but I can get Il. Almost any,
BODY would be willing 10 lend money
on 30 good thing as this. y'know."
For little while Moreland sat there
and looked squarely AZ Dale. who re-
turned his gaze without sign of
1inching. The hiliman was trying To
ind q motive.
How comes it at you. who amt
knowed rs but two days" he de-
manded. "can be so much interested
In usf'
The question demanded n straighr-
forward answer. Dale realized that
there was but one way In which he
could give a satisfactory explanation,
and that that was by telling the truth
but not the whole truth, as he
surmised IL. for then his efforts would
60 for naught.
Moreland was speaking again, and
his eyes were brighter now.
II agree at David would want Us
to develop the coal, ef he could know.
It's like light a-breakln' TO me. But
that coal Is sacred to US. Bill Dale,
and afore ye go any fu'ther III hat
to AK ye TO tell me all about yeseif.
a city man up here I'm the wilderness
IL don't look spicIous. Bin. mebbe.
but-well, ! hopes ye can pardon me
TO- akin 10. shore got TO be keer-
full about Brother David's coal. AddIe
and the boys'll go out and leave jest
US two In here; and when ye're a-talk-
In TO me it's the same as talkin' to a
tombstone so fer as tellin' Is con-
sarned. Addie. honey; Luke. you and
Gale"
Mrs. Moreland and her sons arose
and left the room, closing the door be-
hind them. Bill Dale paced the floor.
arms folded, brows drawn. Finally he
halted before the Moreland chief.
There's nothing I'm ashamed of. I
guesa" he said. II don't like to tell 1t
simply because I don't like to tell Il.
But-I'n do It."
he sat down In his sheepskin-lined
rocker, lay back and closed his eyes
as though to visualize the story, to
live II over.
Maybe It's not very much In my
favor. John MOreland," he began. II
never could get along with my parents,
or with the set was born into. Some
how. ] was different. Father and
mother wanted me to be a dandy; they
even wanted me to let a servant dress
me. The climax came when they tried
to marry me to young woman who
didn't want me any more than want
ed her"
He opened his eyes. looked straight
at Moreland, and went on:
"You see, they wanted to marry us
In order to unite old Ciavering's for
tune aud my dads; Patricia, like me.
was an only child. 1t had been all cut
and dried for us. for years. They put Ii
up 10 me Ike this: they said owed It to
them, that 1t was my duty; that / had
always been a severe trial to them |:
that my savagery had put gray into
my mothers hair, and lot of things
OF thar kind. fell for II at last; II
was sort Of a matter Of self-defense
With Patricia. 1t was a case of-well.
a case OF simple obedience. Pat Is q
good girl. :"
A minute Of silence; then:
"T'll hurry along with It, John More
land. had one fine friend back there.
II was Robert McLaurin, a reporter
on the city's leading newspaper. My
parents didn't take to him because he
was n worker, and not a fop. Mother
wanted Pats cousin, poor dear Har-
ry' Clavering. for my best man. Poor
dear Harry and I had q fight. once
upon a time, and II had whipped
him; and didn't like him. / chose
Bobby McLaurin for my best man, and
I wouldn't give him up.
eft was only when we met before
the chancei I'm a big crowded church
that fully realized the tragedy Of 1t
for Pat. I saw that her face was a
clean white. and that her eyes held
the shadow of something that was
very terrible. turned my head and
saw the same shadow In the eyes OF
my greatest friend, Bobby McLaurin.
! knew then. Bobby and Patricia loved
each other, John Morelandi Bobby
didn't have any money to speak of.
and that had held them apart.
eft had been the finest thing In the
world, McLaurin's acting as best man
for me. There was friendship for you
/ couldn't take from them their one
chance of happiness. =.
Il couldn't see anything else TO do,
so ran. went home, pulled of my
wedding rig and put on the clothes
I'm wearing now, threw some things
into a bag and hurried down TO the
union station. found that could
have my choice between a fiier for
Atlanta and the - the train that
brought me here. bought passage TO
Atlanta. but I never meant TO use it;
] meant 10 take the other train and
pay a cash fare. In doing that. 1
hoped 20 lose myself from them. !
wanted TO go unhindered TO some
country where I wouldn't be consid-
cred IA savage. y'know.
II went odt to the train-shed, and
hadn't been there a minute when
Bobby McLaurin came. asked him
how he knew where to find me. He
said:
81 thought you wouldn't care TO
stay here after doing what you did,
and I wanted to say good-by. BILL He
always called me that. and IL made
me feel like a man. Then I put my
bag down and took him by both Shout
ders and told him this:
Look here, Bobby. I'm going TO
give rnu enma adviaa and xar.., S~ta