Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1921-07-29
Dale nodded, and they began the de


with clay; the roof was of handmade
boards, and chimney of stones and
clay rose at either end.
John Moreland 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 forty-seven; his eyes
were gray and keen; his thick hair
and full beard were rich brown, with
only 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 Moreland rose
and pushed his hat back from his fore
head.
Hi, john" grinned Heck. This
here Teller wants to stay with We a
few days, John. Seems to be all
right
Come right in," invited the chief
of the Morelands. He indicated the
homemade chair he had just vacated.
'.Set down thar and rest, stranger. I'll
be back in a minute or So"
He FASTENED into the cabin, carrying
the squirrels with him.
He's went to tell his wife to hatch
up a extry good dinner, Bill" whis-
pered Heck. "Pepper-cyored ham,
young chicken hot biscuits fresh but
ter, wild honey, huckIeberry pie and
peach pie and strawberry preserves
Bill, cain't hardly stand it. Blast my
picture eff j couldn't eat two whole
raw dawgs right now, Pm that ding
busted hongry. Well, l got to ramble
on home. | live down the river half a
mile, we and my nav. Come to see
me, Bill, and We'll go a-fshin'. So
long, Bill old boy!''
John Moreland returned presently.
The man from the city rose and prof
fered his hand.
MY name," he began, old habit
strong upon him, lis Carlyle"
Before he could get any farther with
| it, John Moreland flung the hand from
| him as though it were a thing of I'M
| speakable contamination. His bearded
face went deathly white with the
whiteness of an old and bitter hatred.
His great fists clenched, and every
muscle in his giant body trembled.
whats the matter, man?" Dale
wanted to know.
"Carlyle!" Moreland repeated in a
hoarse growl. you say yore name is
Carlyle!''
YES wonderingly, "but that's only
a part of it. My name is Carlyle VIII
burton Dale-Bill Dale. What's the
matterg'
Ibid you come from West yir-
ginny" sharply.
Dale gave the name of his home
town and state.
.1That's difrent" The mountain
GERS countenance became lighter.
This man I'm a-tllinkin' about, he
was from West virginny. | hope you
won't hold nothin ag'in me TO- actin
up that away. couldn't hep it, Shore
1t seems. You'll know how felt when
| tell We about it, Mr.. Dale. | owe it
to We to explain. Jest minute"
He stepped into the cabin and
brought out another chair, sat down
heavily and crossed his legs. Dale
too, sat down.
".rhe mountain you had to come
over to come here, Mr.. Dale" More
land began, his big voice filled with
an old, old sorrow, us knowed as Da-
vid Moreland's mountain mostly be-
cause David Moreland is buried in the
very highest place on top of it, him
and his wife. He was my brother, and
was the best brother a man ever had
1t was allus the talk O. the neighbor-
hood how much we liked each other
Up ontel the time he was married
went with him whar he went, and he
went with me whar / went I'd fight
fo' him, and he'd fight TO- me. It's
hard to tell, even after this long
/ time. -.
David, he was a strappin' big man,
like all O. the Morelands. He was
about yore size, and grey-eyed like
you, and he had brown hair like you.
When you walked up to the gate, it
made me think O. him the day he was
married; he was all dressed up in
dark blue like you. !. :. Then David
he went up here one summer and
found this vein O coal. He got law
full p'session O. the mountain and
moved his wife up here The rest of
us lived over in the Laurel Fork coun-
try then.
zone day / got letter from David,
which said that man named John K.
Carlyle was a-goin' to buy his noun
tain and the coal, and said that his
wife was pow'ful sick. A week later
she died, and left a baby which died.
too, accordin' to old Injun by the
name O. Cherokee Joe, who knowed
! Inv pap and knowed David. And a
month later we was all dragged from
our beds by this same Cherokee Joe.
tellin' us that Carlyle had shot David.
Carlyle, Cherokee Joe said, was
a-drinkin' hard. The Injun seed the
shootin' through window.
"Is was might nigh to three DAYS
| later when we got here and found
pore David a-layin' whar he'd fell.
We secured the mountains fo' miles
and miles around in a s'arch fo' the
dawg who killed him, but we never
| found him. =. The land up here
looked purity, and it belonged to us
T0.-.:.ls, r7aofh 60 11,o III