The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955, 1921-08-05

boy is a pow'ful hard thing to do. Tm
afeard We don't quite understand"
1T was a terrible thing, I know"
said Dale. "But 1t was the fortunes
Of war. The Littlefords have endured
the fortunes Of war in exactly the
same way. Come with me; let's go. I
need your help; l can do very little
without your help. Come, John More
land"
The hillman replied slowly: "Well.
I'll go with ye over thar. But Ben
he'll hat to make the fust break At
a-bein' friends, cause I'm purity shore
l never will. As soon as I git my
hat, Bill"
He went to the front porch and
took from q chairpost his broad
trimmed headgear. Then the two set
ont.
They crossed an ox-wagOn road, q
sweet-scented meadow, the river by
means Of the downtown sycamore,
another sweet-scented meadow and
another O1-wagOn road, and entered
the cabin yard Of the Littleford chief.
Here. too, many old-fashioned flowers
were In bloom; a can fshingpole,
slender and white, leaned against the
porch; it made Dale think Of
"You wait out here" whispered
Dale, with a hand on his companions
arm. "In go in and see If I can per-
suade LittlefOrd to make the advance.
I'm pretty sure 1 can"
He started forward when q hound
rose from the stone step and growled
%warningly. At that Dale halted and
sang cut:
"Hello, Benz"
The front door swung open, creak-
ing on wooden hinges, and Babes ia
Their, bareheaded and with a lamp In
He knew the voice that had summoned
him.
"Come right in, Mr.. Dale" he in
vited with the utmost cordiality.
"COme right In !"
He scolded the dog away, and Dale
entered the primitive home. He was
shown into the best room. where he
dropped easily into a rOomy old rock
er that was lined with an untanned
sheepskin. Ben Littleford put the
lamp on a crude table, drew up an
other chair, and sat down facing his
visitor.
II hope We amt jest happened owe
fO' a minute or two on business" he
drawled; II hope we've come to spend
the night wi me, anyway"
I'm here In the interests of peace"
Dale began. looking at the hillman
~squarely. 81 want you Littlefords to
be on good terms with your neigh
bors, the MOrelands. John Is out
there at your gate now; he is waiting
for you to ask him in and say to him: |
people and my people, you and
me- You want that, don't you, Ben?
Babe did, I'm sure"
Littleford frOwned, laced his big fin
gers together and twirled his big
thumbs. Now that he was nee more
at uOIue, WITH dSSuTuICc ludt Ills
daughter would entirely recover, he
was no longer weak; he had all his
old courage and all his old, stubborn
hill pride back.
"Tll ak John in," he finally de-
cided, but he'll hat to make the fust
break at a-bein' friends. Me AKIN
him into my house Is a purity burned
good start toward friendship, amt
itT'
He arose, took up the lamp, walked
to the front door and opened 1t, and
called into the night:
won't We come in, JOhn?"
81 reckon 1 will, Ben," was the lazy
answers $50 a minute, anyhow. But
reckon l CANT stay long"
Moreland followed LittlefOrd into
he best ROOM. Littleford put the lamp
beside the worn leather-bound Bible
m the table, and they sat down. They
OOked steadily at each other, and
Dale saw plainly that both were Ill
It ease. Surely, thought Moreland, he
lad done a great deal when he had
'ome into his old enemy'S house.
thought LittlefOrd, he had {
lone a great deal when he had asked {
ohm MOreland into his home. {