The Adair County news., 1921-10-11

not have struck John h. Dale with
greater force. He grew weak, as
though with fatal sickness. He sank
to his knees in the snow, and his iron
gray head fell forward to his breast
Elizabeth LittlefOrd knelt in the snow
beside him. She tried to find comfort
ing words, for she loved him and was
sorry for him, but no words would
come.
There was a slight sound, the muf-
fed breaking Of a dry twig in the
snow just beyond the pslings In front
Of them. Elizabeth Littleford looked
up to see the giant figure Of John
Moreland, whose face was white and
whose eyes were filed with the fire Of
hate and anger, who held a rifle in his
cold, bare hands. The rifles hammer
came back, and the fine trigger caught
it with faint click.
Moreland took another step forward
and leveled the weapon across the
palings.
EFF it was any use fo' ye to pray,
Carlyle" he said, and his voice was
shaking and hoarse and choked, I'D
give We time. But it amt no use at all.
Look up. Face it. Try to be man TO-
one second in yore lowdown life"
Old Dale raised his head, saw David
MOreland's brother, and realized all
there was to realize. His eyes widened
a little; then a look of relief fitted
across his heavy cOuntenance.
"ShOot and even up the score" he
said bravely, and his head was high.
According to your code, it is just. And
I'll be able to forget at last, at last. So
shoot and settle the account"
MOreland WINGED perceptibly. The
big, crooked finger came way from the
hair-fne trigger. He had never expect
ed to hear the man whom he knew as
John X. Carlyle say that which he had
just said. 1t had never entered his
mind that John X. Carlyle could be
sorry.
Then the great and bitter desire for
revenge rushed into his brain again,
and his head went down, and his keen
right eye looked along the sights and
to the kneeling mans breast. His trig.
ger finger began slowly to crook
Until this instant Elizabeth Little,
ford had been as one frozen, had been
as a figure carved in stone. Now she
sprang to her feet and went between
Moreland and his ancient enemy.
"Put at gun down-wait ontel 1 tell
We, John Moreland, what I've got to tell
ye!" she cried tensely, lapsing into the
old dialect in her excitement. While
MOreland stared, she went on:
1T wasn't Newton Wheatley AT put
up the money to start yore coal mine
a-goin'; it was this man here And the
Alexander Crayfield Coal corp'ration-
which has been a-payin' you two prices
70, yOre coal-that was this man here
Mr.. Hayes was his-his ally through II
all. And he's sorry, John Moreland
this man $50 sorry that he wants t.
die; and CANT We see it. John More
land?"
She caught her breath again anG
continued tearfully: "Oh, he DOM
desarve to be killed, and eff he did
you're too good a man to kill him
He's done paid-you don't know, like
do, how he's paid. You mustn't
fO'get that. And you mustn't fo'get
Bill Dale, his son. Put down that gun
John MorelandI Yore people is saved
as David wanted 'em saved Nov
d-d-don't go and s-s-spoil it all, 70
Gods sakep'
The big mOuntaineer's eyes were
wide with amazement, for Elizabeth
Littleford's every word had borne the
ring Of truth. He was too dazed tt
understand her allusion to Bill Dale
as his old enemy's son. The rifle came
back from across the palings, and its
steel-shod butt found a place in the
snow beside John Moreland's foot.
Slowly John K. Dale arose ant
drew close to him, and then from
John K. Dale's soul came pouring the
pent-up anguish of remorse that hat
scared it through the years. The tor
rent of words flowed on, while the
mountaineer stood rigidly regarding
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