The Mena weekly star., 1921-08-04


 with empty hands.
 The one kneeling by the body seemed to be the leader. He felt care fully inside the pocket where the pearl had been pinned; searched the other pockets; felt carefully over the cloth ing. He rose after the fruitless search and faced the Pearlhunter.
 "Where iss itT'
 The Pearihunter shook his head.
 With snarled word of Yiddish, doubtless curse, and flourish of his clenched hand that came uncom- fortably close to the young mans face, the Jew began to search him: pockets; hens; waist-band; socks; even his hatband, ears and hair. Of course the search again proved fruit less. The Jew drew his revolver, cooked 1t, and thrust it into the Pearl hunters face.
 'Where iss itf"
 The bearded lips were drawn so tense that the yellow teeth were bare. The Pearlhunter knew the yellow teeth meant exactly what they seemed to mean. Louie Solomon's three guardsmen had reputation along the Wabash. The reward for the Red Mask was the same whether dead or alive. Still, his death would not bring them any nearer finding the pearl. He pinned his hope there, and shook his head.
 I'm not the Red Mask. didn't kin Louie Solomon. And I don't know where the Blue Moon is"
 The answer was not convincing Nothing he could have said just then would have been. Whether the Jew believed it, or any part of it, his face gave no sign. He backed away two steps and leveled his revolver full at the Pearlhunter's breast, like a man about to pistol another and deliberate ly planning to make clean job of It. The instant came when the Pearl hunter believed the grimy finger was about to press the trigger and he was almost in the act of diving beneath the muzzle when the Jew motioned to one of the others and said something in Yiddish.
 The man spoken to darted away through the bushes toward the boat landing. The Pearlhunter breathed again.
 The man soon reappeared. carrying a piece of rope. One at time, he took the Pearlhunter's hands. drew them behind his back, and bound them securely together. Even then, so great was their dread of the man he was supposed to be, that one of them constantly held a gun on him.
 With the knife still sticking in the dead mans breast, they carried him down to the boat, driving the Pearl hunter before them. There they load ed them in, the dead and the living, and rowed back up the river to the village-the second time that day; the same trip; the same boat; the same five men. Then. great day opening; the greatest trade ever made among pearl fishers along the Wabash in prospect; now. the day nearly done; the pearl lost; one of the men dead; another likely soon 10 Del
 What a difference in the crowd that met them at the wharf Again driv- iffg their prisoper before them, the three grim henchnefi carried the dead man up the hill to small plot of open ground west of the Mud Hen and laid him down upon the grass.
 For the second time that day the village emptied its houses to meet them. Women came this time-old women with scared faces; girls with blooming cheeks; and children. Hard men that had drunk to the Pearlhunt- CT barely two hours ago came out of the Mud Hen and stood staring at him Tn sullen silence. Men from the stores and shops came running. Men that had neither stores nor shops strag- gled in from every quarter of the viii lage and jostled about in the ever growing, omincusly muttering circle.
 Suddenly, and unexpectedly, two of the henchmen caught the Pearlhunter and held him while the third tied the red mask over his eyes. Bound as he was, he had flung them loose in an in- stant and raked the mask off against his shoulder. But that one brief mo- ment was enough. The mischief was done Women screamed; men nut tered and swore; but all shrank back, widening the circle.
 Who started 1t, who said it first, will never be known. Nobody knows how the mob forms-a low humble; quick flare into frenzy; mild eyes grown wild; stolid faces afire; a rab- bie; clamor; reason down, blood lust up.
 Hang 'im Hang imp
 Even the women took up the cry, so great was the terror of his name-the Red Mask--a name that might have stampeded the village. The mob charged him. Bound as he was, he dashed at them. A butt of his shoul- der caught the foremost man, buriy blacksmith, on the jaw. He went down like beef under the mallet. A drive or his head to the pit ef the stomach crumpled up another. A we'll directed kick laid out third.
 He fought as the men of his blood had always fought But what can one man, with his hands tied, do against many7 They had his blouse ripped of, his shirt in shreds, and hundred hands still itching to get at him. They beat his face; his body wherever a fist or a club could reach