The Mena weekly star., 1921-12-22

pecting me. l had business" he added, with John Moreland"
 There came to his ears from some where down the river the chorus of a rakish old hill song, and the voice was that of the lanky moonshiner. By Heck
 "oh. when die, don't-a bury me deep, Put no tombstone at my head and feet, Put bears jawbone in my right hand On my way to the Promised Le-a-and, ohl On my way to the Promised
 LAndl'
 A few minutes later there appeared on The Moreland side of the river the singer of the rakish old song; he had a minnow pail in one hand and white hickory rod in the other.
 "Hi, thar, Bill, old boyr he yelled. Hi, thar, Babel Either of ye'uns ketched anythingT
 Ben Littleford's daughter held up a fish proudly. Heck slapped his thigh with his slouch hat.
 "Good fo' you r' he exclaimed. But they ain't a-bitin' jest right. The moons wrong, and the signs is wrong. fo' fishin'."
 At that instant John Moreland ap. peared at Heck's side. He seemed very serious about something.
 "Bill Dale." he called, "come over here."
 Wondering. Dale put down his rod and turned to obey. Two minutes later he stood before John Moreland.
 T jest wanted to tell ye," and the mountaineer almost closed one alert grey eye, "'at we're purty shore to git into trouble over thar"
 I'm an able-bodied man." Dale re turned smilingly.
 "You shore are" frawned Moreland, but mebbe you ain't used to durned hard fightin'."
 Not used to hard hghtingl Dale's smile broadened. Once he had whipped a heavyweight pugilist; and he had fought as a matter of principle, and not for money or prestige.
 Moreland suddenly jerked one thumb toward the other side of the stream. Dale looked and saw, standing beside Babe Littleford, quite formidable man. He had the height and breadth, almost, of a Goliath. He was black eyed and black-haired, and his thick, short beard was curled like the hair between a bulls horns. In one hand he carried a repeating rife as lightly as though it were a mera straw.
 One of his great arms suddenly strengthened toward Dale, and voice as gruff as the growl of a bear said hotiy:
 "What was you a-doin' here a-talkin' to my gyurl?"
 Babe Littleford looked angry. Dale flushed, then went pale
 q have habit of talking with whom l please" he said evenly.
 Spoke like a man." drawled the Ianky Heck in a very low tone.
 Goliath of the hills stared unbeliev- ingly. Dale said In an undertone to John Moreland: 'Is it that Ball fel- low2"
 "Yes," answered the hIllman; "lfs Black Adam Ball."
 Ball dropped his rife to the vioIets. slowly clenched bis huge and hairy hands, and thrust his bearded jaw out progressively.
 T dare ye over here, ye pink cow ard ]" he challenged.
 "If you have any business with me. come over here and transact It." Dale retorted "1 won't run"
 'Thats Moreland terrytory." Ball objected. But I'll meet ye half way. and l dare ye to take me up. ye lace trimmed pink mollycoddle v
 Halfway would be the middle of the river, and no place for fight. surely. But Dale was nettled. His temper, the temper that he had never been able to keep wholly under control. was rising fast. He threw of his coat and hat and rolled the sleeves of his soft shirt to his elbows. Then he waded into tte pool. The slowly moving water was up to his waist at the half way point. and the bottom was of hard-packed sand.
 The Goliath stared unbelievingly. He was not accustomed to having his challenges thus accepted. He threw of his hat and went to meet the 1.-the young stranger.
 Bill Dale squared himself and put up his guard. Adam Ball came on. and he wes scowling wickedly.
 (To Be Continued)
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