The Adair County news. [volume] (Columbia, Ky.) 1897-1987, 1921-10-18
hear voices calling TO me. saying
"'Cain! Cainr

ground, from everywhere. You see, l
wasn't all bad, even in my Wildcats
days. Then thought of the law, and
] ran. >.
But the cry of a child from the
cabin was leaving halted me before
had gone thirty yards. David More
lands wife had left him with baby
only few weeks old, which l didn't
pay any particular attention to until
that morning, that black morning. At
that time there was no other house
for miles around couldn't leave the
child there to die Of starvation, after
killing its father. So l went back and
got the baby, and all its clothing, and
took it away with me. l left it at a
farmhouse down in the lowland, and
went to another city, and started life
afresh. -
But later l married, and shortly
after that l went to the farmer and
persuaded him to let me adopt the
child l brought it up as my own, and
educated it, as a sort of compensation.
And l came to love it. But it was
years before my wife loved it. She
didn't like children then. But she does
now. She is paying now, and am
paying. Don't you understand, Bill
don't you understand"
There was a choke in his voice to-
ward the last. Bill Dale went to his
feet. His eyes were wide, but he did
not seem unhappy; and for that Eliza
beth was grateful. John MOreland sat
as still, with his bearded, viking face
as expressionless as though he had
known it all along.
"And so 1 really am in my own
country" cried Bill Dale. 81 am a
Moreland, and the Morelands really
are my own people!"
Eyes, you are in your own country,
and you are a Newfoundland your
baby name was David" said John K
Dale.
1t was then that John Moreland
spoke.
Bill, when l fust seed you, you
made me think O. my brother the day
he was married l amt never fo'got
that | sartainly amt surprised none
lat all We didn't know about the
baby. Cherokee Joe told me the baby
had died"
"And now, son." pleaded old Dale.
his voice breaking, SAY that you for
give me-"
Bill Dale, David MoreIand's boy.
knelt beside the old SheepSkin-lined
rocker, took the old coal kings hand
in both his own and bent his head
over it.
Its all right" he said thickly. Its
all right"
Elizabeth LittIefOrd arose and stole
blindly out of the house. Her foot
steps led her, quite without her real
izing where she was going, across the
meadow and to the river above the
| downtown sycamore. And there on
| that sacred spot, where she had first
felt her heart leap at the sound of
| Bill Dale'S voice, she sank down in
| a heap in the snow and cried, and
! cried
Twilight was gathering rapidly, but
( SliG uiu IlOI IlOllCS IL. Ollc ulu llOl
notice, either, that the air was grow
! ing steadily colder with the approach
of the mountain night. To her a
warm sun was shining above in a
! bright blue vault; to her the spirit of
summer was everywhere; in her ears
there was the liquid song of a meadow
| lark, the sweet twittering of wood
thrushes, the low humming of wild
bees. The pouring of the crystal wa.
| tiers between the two boulderS above
the pool made music to her, and blend
! ed with it she seemed to hear the voice
of a big. clean, strong man
Il was thinking of the difference be
tween you and some other women
know"
Then a ray of hope shOne into hel
heart. Bill Dale was really a More
land and, therefore, of the hill blood
even as she was of the hill blood, ant
that should make them more nearly
equal. She told herself that he wOuldn'
be so apt to condemn her for beinG
able to take a human life easily a!
one of another blood would be; HI
would be more apt to understand. Ant
yet, the women he had known wert
gentle tender and refined, like, for in
stance, Patricia McLaurin. Soon thu
ray of hope died within her, and sh'
bent her head and sobbed again.
One Of her bare hands began L
grope idly in the snow at her side, an,
she did not feel the cold. Suddenl,
she realized that her hand was full
of shavings, WRITINGS. Some mai
!. had been sitting there whiting wit
a pocket knife-it must have been
man, for who ever heard of a woman
!; whiting? She felt in the snow wit
both hands, and found more whiting
there were bushels Of WRITINGS,
t seemed to her, lying there under tn
} snow.
] Then she wondered-wondered VIII
5 it could have been.
: 1t was quite dark now, but the moo
was not yet up. A great, bright sta
!, blazed above David MOreland's tom
!. like a beacon fire. She heard the mut