The Chesterfield advertiser. [volume] (Chesterfield C.H., S.C.) 1884-1978, 1921-07-14

man enough TO DO what axed We to.
Black Adam Ball, he's got new-fash-
Toned rifle and smokeless cartridges
and steel bullets; and In few min-
utes he'll be hid in q clum o. sassafras
back thar In yore meadow, whar he
meaxS - set and pick OF you More
LANDS aAe BY De-snd you and Bill
Dale fust, 'c0lQt o. the beatin's you
two put on hak But pap had nothin'
to do with 1t, and riShsalect that Now
I've saved all o. yore lives, cause ye
couldn't ha' heerd the sound o. his rifle
In ah o. this noise; and ye couldn't
ha' seed the smoke O. his gun, cause
1t don't make no smoke. Hold up -
white flag, John Moreland-hurryl I"
Babe thoughtlessly arose to her feet,
and one side Of her brown head ap-
peared before the sights OF her fathers
ARe-her father fired quickly, too
Quickly for q pSu1sct aim-the bullet
burned it's way across her temple and
through her hair, aud a>e crumpled at
Bln Dale's knees, Nes4v unconscious.
Dale gave a hearse cry and gathered
her limp figure into his arms. John
Moreland waved alOft the white hand
kerchief and beloved to his kinsmen
to stop firing. Then silence came.
"Come over here, Ben LittlefordW
shouted John Moreland. "Ye've shot
yore own gyrul"
And to his brother Abner, whose
right for .arm was wrapped In a blood
stained blue bandana:
"BlRck Atium Ii hid sOAl'eres In this
meadow; go and ketch him, and DOM
take no chanst with him. Shoot him
like dawg eff he tries to trick YER
A dozen men ran to look for the
would-be sniper. The Littlefords. stu
armed, came dashing across the river.
Ben Littleford threw down his rife
and kneit beside his daughter; he
wrung his big hands and cursed the
day that had seen him born.
Dale held her close. His face was
as white as hers, and his eyes were
flaming.
why don't you shoot all your wom-
enfolk?" he said to the Littleford
chief, and every word cut like knife.
Its by far the simplest way; it's mer-
ciful, y'knOw. See, she isn't breaking
her heart over your murderous tight
ing now. No, keep your hands away
you're not fit to touch herl"
They brought water and wet the
young woman's face, and bathed the
red streak across her temples. They
did all they knew how to do to bring
her back to consciousness, but, except
for her beating pulse and her breath
ing, she remained as one dead. Hours
passed, leaden hours, and her condi.
ton was unchanged.
Dale beckoned to John MOreland,
who. bad just returned from having
seen Adam Ball caught, disarmed, and
imprisoned in an old tobacco barn.
Moreland hasteued to Dale, the new
master.
when does the next south bound
train pass the Halfway switch?" Dale
wanted TO knew.
Moreland looked toward the sun.
we could make 1t, all right, but it's
a fast train, and it don't never stop at
the switch"
"rhen We'll hold it up" declared the
new master I'm "a voice Of iron. This
is case for surgeon. Get "a blanket
and two poles and make q litter"
John Moreland hastened away obe-
dlenuy. Dale turned to Ben Little
FORD, who sat in motiOnless heap be-
side the still figure of his daughter.
1T was only few hours ago" he
SAID accusingly, that this poor girl
told me she'd be glad to give her life
to stop your fighting. and now per-
haps. she's done It'll You're brute,
Lltueford. i like to fight, myself, but
not when Ii costs women ANYTHING"
lhe cOnScience-Stricken hillman
gave no sign that he had heard There
was silence save for the low murmur
OF the river and the tragic song OF =
bird somewhere In the branches -
the big white sycamore.
(To be >.cu,t.nued Newt Waei.,