Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1921-10-13

over his eyes. For two minutes he
stood there and looked for The little old
cabin down near the foot of the north
end of the mountain, and he failed to
find it. His mind hard gone back once
more to that woeful night that had cut
his life in twain. He remembered
plainly waking in the early morning
with an aching head and with the
ranking taste of much dead whisky
in his mouth. Remembered seeing Da-
vid MOreland, with a bullet hole
through and through him, lying on the
floor beside him. Remembered his
horror, his smOtlered cries of anguish,
and his hurried flight. =.
He had wondered, he remembered,
why the law made no attempt to track
him down. He had not known that the
mOuntaineer's code of honor demands
that the mOuntaineer himself collect
that which is due him.
Tell me-" he said in tones so low
that Elizabeth barely heard, where is
David MOreland buried?"
He had turned, and stood facing her.
She pointed to the southwark.
"They buried him out the crest o.
the mountain a little ways, on the
highest place, by the side of his
wife. That was always a tOuchin'
thing to me, that he buried his wife on
the very highest point of his own
mountain. You know why, don't you?
David Moreland believed in God and u
hereafter, and he believed that heaven
| was up. He wanted to get even his
| wife's ashes as close to heaven as he
could"
I'D like to go out there" John
Dale said, his voice almost whisper.
I'D like to see the place."
81 wouldn't" replied Ben Little.
fOrd's daughter. For she knew-Oh
she knew.
"YeS, yes, my dear--I must see the
place." declared John X. Dale, hoarse.
" whispering-"let's go out there"
| There was never any disobeying him
| when he was determined, and he was
| determined now. 1t is strange, thai
dread human thing that drew him
| Elizabeth turned and started out
| the snowy crest of the mountain, wend
| ing her way here and there between
| clumps of snOw-heavy laurel aud iv,
and under snow-heavy pines. After s
| quarter of an hour of this somewha
difficult travelling, the two drew up be
fore a small inclosure made of rounC
/ oaken posts and round open railing,
and hand-split and pointed oaken pal
| ings as high as a mans shoulders al
of which were gray and weatherbeat
en-. Elizabeth knew the spot We'll. Sh,
swung the gate stiff1y open on its wood
en- hinges and stepped inside. Old Dale
trembling in every fiber, followed her
His face was very, very pale.
Before them were two snOw-covere,
mounds bordered with the dead stalk
Of flowers of another year-marigolds
pretty-by-nights, zinnias. Near tn
two graves there grew bare-branche,
wild honeysuckle and redb1d. an,
green-leaved laurel, which in the sum
mer time were covered with beautiful
and fragrant blossoms Of golden vel
low, royal purple, and waxen white. A
the head of one mound great, rough
ly-shaped slab of brown sanGston
marked the last resting place of Davi'
Moreland's young wife; it had bee
lettered by David Moreland himself
and 1t was crude but sincere tribut
to wOmankind.
On the face of the other great sla!
of brown sandstone were chiseled othe
ill-shaped letters and misspelle
words. The hands of John Morelan
had done this. Old John Dale steppe
unsteadily closer and read:
HEAR LAYS DAVID MoRELAND