Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1921-07-14
CHAPTER III
Goliath of the Hills.

GObdtH OI tF1G
Dale awoke little after daybreak
arose and dressed himself, and went
out by way of the door beside the
huge stone-and-clay chimney.
The mountain air was bracing. Dale
threw out his chest and started eager
ly for a walk.
The road led past the cabin of
Grandpap Moreland. When Dale was
directly in front Of the log house, he
saw the aged mountaineer standing on
a rickety sawhorse beside the stone
step at the narrow porch; Grandpap
Moreland was helping gray ca down
from the roof.
"Mornin'! / was jest a-takin' that
thar cussfred old pest down often the
roof. I've took him down every morn
in as reg'lar as l make fires, fo' three
year or more. Eff it wasn't bad luck
to kill cat, L shoot him, mebbe."
After breakfasting with John More
land. Bill Dale borrowed fishing-tackIe
from his host, and set out alone for
the little river.
There were many shoals and rapids.
and he went almost half a mile before
he found place to his liking. 1t was
beautiful spot. Above, the water
poured between two great boulders
with gentle roar; below, 1t Swallowed
out over round stones. Overhead
lowered tail white syeamores.
Not until he had put minnow on
the hook and cast it out did he see
that he was not alone at the pool. On
the other side. less than sixty feet
away, Babe LittiefOrd sat on a stone
the size of small barrel; she held
cane fshing-rod In her hands, and
her bare feet We're In the water to her
ankles. She was looking squarely to-
ward Dale. and there was something
akin to reproachfui anger Ia her long
brown eyes.
Good morning" called Dale, lifting
his hat.
There was no reply. There was not
even a change of countenance. Again
Dale called his friendly greeting, and
again there was no reply. 1t piqued
Dale.
A few yards down the stream the
white body of a sycamore lay from
one bank to the other; it had been
blown there by recent storm. Dale
wound his line, went down and crossed
| by means of the PROSTATE tree.
She didn't even look around when
he walked up to her and spoke again
1t struck him as being decidedly odd
81 say" he told her, you're as
chatty as q set of stencils You
mustn't talk so much, y'know."
| Her eyes smiled at the river, but
Dale couldn't see her eyes.
do you like violets, Miss Little.
ford?" he asked next.
In the black, mica-starred soil al
his feet grew carpet of the finest
violets he had eveI seen. Babe let the
| tip of her cane rod fall into the water
and looked around.
1T sounds funny to hear man talk
o sech little things as vi'lets," she de
clared. Most O. men don't think o
nOthin' but fwOrkin'. huntin', hghtin
| anu edllH. III n tiIIle Inau at you
l went home yeSte' 'day-and l think
l run might nigh the whole six mile
and fixed up dinner TO you. cause
understood you was a-comin' to our
house-and you went to them low
down MOreIandS ~
Il beg pardon " he said cOntritely
didn't know you We're especially eX'
necting me. had business" he added
with John MOlr and"
Th.re came Ia his ears from some
whe.e down the river the chorus OF
a rakish old hill song, and the voice
was that of the lanky moonshiner, BY
| Heck
"ch. when l die. don't-a bury me deep.
! Put no tombstone at my head and feet
Put bears jawhone in my right hand
On my way to tn Promised La-a-and
Oh! On my way to the Promised
Land!"
A few minutes later there appeared
Oh the MOrelaEh side of the river the
singer of the Ia.iish old song; he had
- m;nnow pail IN one hand and a white
hickory rod in the other
Hi, thar, BIZ, old bOy!" he yelled