Mrs. Grundy. (Tracy City, Tenn.) 1903-1930, 1921-10-06
Copyright By Doubleday. Page b %.
CHAPTER xvlIl-continued.

Soon the thunder OF the many rlneS
became almost steady roar. The
air was filled with the pungent Odor
Of burning powder. Bill Dale emptied
the magazine Of his repeater, and
sank behind the big chestnut to fill
1t again with cartridges from his belt.
Bullets now whined on both sides Of
him; they cut greenish whit burrows
In the bark of both sites of the tree,
and knocked up little spurts Of black
earth to his right and to his left |;
they cut off twigs within an arms
reach of him. A dozen Balls were
now firing at him, seeking to avenge
the death of their kinsman, the
Goliath. John Moreland's strong voice
came to him through the din and roar:
Don't show no part o. yoreself now,
Bill; eff We do, veil shore be hitI"
Dale fired again. pumped fresh
cartridge into the chamber Of his rifle
and slipped another into the magazine,
and arose behind the chestnut.
Down, Bill" cried John Moreland.
If Dale heard. he gave no sign Of
1t. He fired four shots rapidly, and
before the wind had carried away the
binding smoke he was behind another
tree and shooting toward the Balls
again. Soon there came short, loud
peal Of laughter from his left; he
turned his head and saw Ben Little
ford taking careful aim at long
angle toward the side of a boulder.
Then Littleford fired, and puff Of
stone dust showed that his bullet had
gone true to its mark.
whats that forY' demanded Dale.
1--WE haven't any ammunition to throw
away!'
"Why, BILL" replied Littleford.
didn't We never bounce bullet often
rock and make 1t go toward q man
ahind Of tree?"
1t lasted holly for two hours, but
the casualties were comparatively
few, because there was so much cover
( available. From the beginning the
Balls and the Turner's had the worst
Of 1t. which was due to uphill shoot
Ing, white whisky. and lack Of the
iron that makes real fighting men.
The cartridges of those below we're
giving out; they had fired too many
shots needlessly.
tits about time to rush them" Dale
said to John Moreland, who had crept
up beside him.
"Jest give the word" Moreland
nodded.
A few minutes later, Bill Dale sent
the wings Of his line down the noun.
tainside, forming half-circle of his
force once more; then the whole line
rushed, surrounded the enemy and
called for surrender.
But the Balls and their kinsmer
wouldn't give in yet. They left theil
cover and started to run, found them
selves facing Morelands and Little
fords in every direction, dubbed theil
rifles and fought. 1t was not true
courage that prompted them to offel
resistance thus: it was utter despera
ton; they had never been givers Of
mercy, therefore they did not expect
mercy. Dales men forebore to fire
upon them, which was at Dale's com
mand, and met them with dubbed
rifles. The woodland rang with the
sound of wood and steel crashing
against wood and steel. Everywhere
there were groans and threats ant
curses from the losing side, victorious
cries and further demands for a sur
render from the winners.
Bill Dale, ever a lover of fair com
bat, threw down his repeater to crap
pie with a big North Carolinian whose
dubbed weapon had been knocked
from his hands. The two fell ant
rolled down the mountainside, locked
in each others arms.
And then one Of the Balls strucl
Bill Dale across the head with the but
of his empty gun, and Bill Dale slack
ened his arms and lay as one dead.
He was lying under cover in hand
carved black walnut fourposter ant
1t was night, when he opened his eye
again. Above him he saw the bearde,
faces of Ben Littleford and JohI
Moreland, and they looked haggar,
and anxious in the Oil lamps yellow
hight. Suddenly Moreland spoke:
.Dead-nothin' !" jubilantly. "Look
Ben; he's done come to! Ye couldn'
put him in cannon and shoot hin
ag'inst a cliff and kill him, Benz
hope we're a-feelin' all right, Bill
shore"
Dale realized everything quite clear
y. He put hand to his head; Their
was a wet cloth lying over the swolle
Mace