The Adair County news., 1921-09-13
teoNTINUED-FRo PAGE Z


Indian blood in them. They looked
cunning and wicked. Dale lOosened
in its holster the big revolver that
Major Bradley had persuaded him to
carry for his own protection. John
MOreland had taught him how to use
firearms.
At a point near where the little
stream that flowed past the Halfway
switch emptied into Doe river, where
Doe river turned almost squarely to
the left, Dale halted abruptly. He had
seen a man dart behind a scrubby oak
come thirty yards ahead of him; quite
naturally, he concluded that the fel-
low meant to waylay him, and he, too,
stepped behind a tree, big hemlOck.
A silent minute went by. Then Dale
put his hat out on one side of the tree
and peeped from the other side; it
was an old trick that Grandpap More
land had told him about A rifle
cracked promptly and sharply, and a
bullethOle appeared in the rim of his
hat!
Following it, there came the coarse,
bass voice of Black Adam Ball, the
! mOuntaineer Goliath:
You cain't fool me. jest shot to
put a hole in yore new hat and to
show We at amt no bad shot. You
CANT hit my hat!'
Dale'S temper. the temper that had
always been so hard to keep under
control, rose quickly. He tried to rea-
son. with himself, and couldn't; his
passion mastered him. He snatched
the big revolver from its holster and
cooked it. With as steady hand as
ever held Il weapon trained, he began
to take aim at Balls slouch hat, the
half of which was in plain view at one
side of the scrubby oak.
II fooled you once, back there in
the middle of the river" he cried hot
ly, land now I'm going to fool you
agsin!'
There was in his voice that old, old
primitive rage, which frightened him,
and puzzled him too, in his better mo-
mentS.
He let down the bead until it was
barely visible in the notch, and eased
| off the trigger. The revolver roared
and spat forth tiny tongue Of flame
and little cloud Of white smoke. Ball
sprang erect, wheeled, and fell crash
ing to the leaves!
Dale dropped his weapon. He went
as white as death, and his two hands
clutched uncertainty at his throat. He
was a murderer! No, he wasn't-his
bullet had gone wild; it had struck
Balls head on the other side of the
tree, by accident. But how could he
prove that it had been an accident?
Would any jury believe him? 1t was
far from probable.
He stepped from behind the hem
lock and went toward the writhing
Goliath, whose legs only were visible
now.
Then a third shot rang out on the
morning stiffness. 1t had been fired
from a point some little distance
away, and Dale'S condition of mind at
the moment was such that he didn't
even note the direction from which
the sound had come. He was unhurt,
and he had not heard the whine of a
bullet or the pattering of shot on the
leaves. When he looked about him,
he saw no one; neither did he see any
teltale smoke. Perhaps, he thought
dimly. it had been a squirrel-hunter
| that had fired that shot. He forgot
about it very quickly for the time be-
ing, and went on toward Adam Ball,
who now was lying perfectly still.
There was a bullet-hole through and
through the great, shaggy head. The
face behind the short, curly black
| beard was of the colOrlesS hue of
SOapstone. The giant hillman was
dead.
Bill Dale knelt there beside Black
| Adam. Again he Clutched at his throat
with his two shaking hands, and this
| time he tore his blue flannel shirt All
the agony and all the remorse in the
in his heart. Never before had he
seen death. Its grim presence terrified
him. That the deplOrable thing had
| been an accident, due to his faulty
craftsmanship, mattered little. He
| had killed a man, and the blOOd-red
| brand of Cain was burning away on
his brow; he was a man in a he'll OF
| his own making. And kneeling there
| Bill Dale sObbed a great sob that
| shook his broad shoulders as violent
| ague would have shaken them.
He tried to look at the blue-edged
hole in the shaggy head; at the cruel,
british face that was of the colorlesS
hue of SOapStOne. Merciful tears
blinded him, and he couldn't see. 1t
was a compensation, a pitifully beaHti-
| full compensation. E.
| Five minutes passed, five minutes
that were as FIVE years to this man
who had never been in the presence
| of death before. Then he realized that
| he was being surrounded by kinsmen
| Of the dead mOuntaineer. He looked
| up into their ashen, angry faces, and
| they cursed him. Big and gripping
brown hands were placed upon him !;
several rifles we're turned upon him.
He arose and spread out his arms, and
offered his breast to the frowning muz-
! zles. They could give him, at least,
oblivion.