Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1921-09-30

cunning and wicked. Dale loosened
in it's holster the big revolver that
Major Bradley had persuaded him to
carry for his own protection. John
Moreland had taught him how to use
firearms
At point near where the little
stream that flowed past the Halfway
switch emptied into Doe river, where
Doe river turned almost squarely to
the left, Dale halted abruptly. He had
seen man dart behind scrubby oak
some thirty yards ahead of him; quite
naturally, he concluded that the fell
low meant to waylay him, and he, too.
stepped behind a tree, big hemlock.
A silent minute went by. Then Dale
put his hat out on one side OF the tree
and peeped from the other side; it
was an old trick that Grandpap More
land had told him about. rifle
cracked promptly and sharply, and
bullethole appeared in the rim OF his
hat!
Following it, there came the coarse,
bass voice of Black Adam Ball, the.
mountaineer Goliath:
You CANT fool me. | jest shot to,
put a hole in yOre new hat and to
show We AT l amt no bad shot. You
CANT hit my hat!"
Dale's temper, the temper that had
always been so hard to keep under
control. rose quickly. He tried to rea-
son with himself, and couldn't; his
passion mastered him. He snatched
the big revolver from its holster and
cooked it. With as steady hand as
ever held 4 weapon trained. he began
TO take aim at Balls SLOUGH hat, the
half of which was in plain view at one
side of the scrubby oak.
81 fooled you once, back there in
the middle of the river" he cried hot
". "and now I'm going to fool you
again :"
There was in his voice that old, old
primitive rage, which frightened him,
and puzzled him too, in his better mo-
ments.
He let down the bead until it was
barely visible in the notch, and eased
off the trigger. The revolver roared
and spat forth a tiny tongue Of flame
and little cloud of white smoke. Ball
sprang erect, wheeled, and fell crash
ing to the leaves!
Dale dropped his weapon. He went
as white as death, and his two hands
clutched uncertainty at his throat. He
was murderer! No, he wasn't-his
bullet had gone wild; it had struck
Balls head on the other. side of the
tree, by accident. But how could he
prove that it had been an accident!
Would any jury believe him? 1t was
far from probable.
He stepped from behind the hem.
lock and went toward the writing
Goliath, whose legs only were visible
now.
Then a third shot rang out on the
morning stiffness. 1t had been fired
| from a point some little distance
away. and Dale's condition of mind at
| the moment was such that he didn't
even note the direction from which
the sound had come He was unhurt
and he had not heard the whine of q
bullet or the pattering of shot on the
| leaves. When he looked about him.
he saw no one; neither did he see any
telltale smoke Perhaps, he thought
| dimly it had been squirrel-huntef
that had fired that shot. He forgot
about it very quickly for the time be-
ing, and went on toward Adam Ball
who now was lying perfectly still.
| There was a bullet-hole through and
through the great, shaggy head. The
| face behind the short, curly black
soapstone. The giant hillman was
| dead.
| Bill Dale knelt there beside Black
Adam. Again he clutched at his throat
i with his two shaking hands, and this
time he tore his blue flannel shirt. All
the agony and all the remorse in the
universe seemed to be gathering there
in his heart. Never before had he
seen death. It's grim presence terrified
him. That the deplorable thing had
been an accident, due to his faulty
craftsmanship, mattered little. He
had killed a man, and the bloOd-red
brand of Cain was burning away on
his brow; he was a man in hell OF
his own making. And kneeling there
Bill Dale sobbed great sob that
shook his broad shoulders as violent
ague would have shaken them.
He tried to look at the blue-edged
hole in the shaggy head at the cruel
british face that was of the cOlOrleSs
hue of soapstone. Merciful tears