The Adair County news., 1921-10-04

whipped to the other side Of their
sheltering timber.
The answer came at once: I'm Bill
Dale, and I'm peevedI You're at the
mercy of the finest hill clan that ever
looked along rife barrels; will you
surrender, or fight it out?"
You said it-we1l fight 1t out"
cried a burly cousin of Black Adam
Ball, deceased.
you're ont" growled Bill Dale,
slipping his rifle out beside the tree.
"Give 'em HI, bOys!"
He was unused to this sort Of thing,
and he was incautious. He showed a
little too much of himSelf-there was
a sudden keen report from below, and
a bullet hole appeared In the rim of
his hat! John Moreland fired the next
shot, and he broke the right arm of
the man who had just fired at Bill
Dale. This opened the battle in earn
est.
Soon the thunder of the many rifles
became almost a steady roar. The
air was filed with the pungent odor
of burning powder. Bill Dale emptied
the magazine Of his repeater, and
sank behind the big chestnut to fill
it again with cartridges from his belt.
Bullets now whined on both sides Of
him; they cut greenish white burrows
in the bark Of both sides of the tree,
and knocked up little spurts Of black
earth TO his right and to his left;
they cut off twigs within an arms
reach of him. A dozen Balls we're
now firing at him, seeking to avenge
the death of their kinSman. the
Goliath. John Moreland's strong voice
came to him through the din and roar:
Don't show no part O. yoreself now.
Bill; eff ye do, yell shore be hitI"
Dale fired again, pumped a fresh
cartridge into the chamber Of his rifle
and slipped another into tie magazine,
and arose behind the chestnut.
Down, Bill! !" cried John Moreland.
If Dale heard, he gave no sign Of
it. He fired four shots rapidly, and
before the wind had carried away the
binding smoke he was behind another
tree and shooting toward the Balls
again. Soon there came a short, loud
peal of laughter from his left; he
turned his head and saw Ben Little
ford taking a careful aim at a long
angle toward the side of a boulder.
Then LittlefOrd fired, and a puff of
stone dust showed that his bullet had
gone true to it's mark.
whats that for?" demanded Dale.
I'VE haven't any ammunition to throw
away!"
"Why, Bill" replied LlttIeford,
didn't We never bounce a bullet often
a rock and make it go toward a man
ahind Of tree?"
1t lasted holly for two hours, but
the casualties were comparatively
few, because there was so much cover
available. From the beginning the
Balls and the Turner'S had the worst
Of it, which was due to uphill shoot
ing. white whisky. and lack of the
iron that makes real fighting men.
The cartridges of those below were
oh'a''5 Jul hiCy uou GU wv A1ohJ
shots needleSSly.
Its about time to rush them" Dale
said to John Moreland, who had crept
up beside him.
jest give the word" Moreland
nodded.
A few minutes later, Bill Dale sent
the wings of his line down the noun
tainside. forming half-circIe of his
force once more; then the whole line
rushed, surrounded the enemy and
called for a surrender.
But the Balls and their kinsmen
wouldn't give in yet. They left their
cover and started to run, found them
selves facing MoreIands and Little
fOrdS in every direction, dubbed their
rifles and fought 1t was not true
courage that prompted them to offer
resistance thus: it was utter despera-
lion; they had never been giyers of
mercy, therefore they did not expect
mercy. Dale's men forebore to fire
upon them, which was at Dale'S COM
mand, and met them with dubbed
rifles. The woodland rang with the
sound Of wood and steel crashing
against wood and steel. Everywhere
there were grOans and threats and
curses from the losing side, victorious
cries and further demands for a sur
render from the winners.
Bill Dale, ever a lover Of fair COM
bat. threw down his repeater to grap-
pie with a big North CarOlinian whose
p dubbed weapon had been knocked
from his hands. The two fell and
rolled down the mountainside, locked
iI each others arms.
And then one of the Balls struck
Bill Dale across the head with the butt
of his empty gun, and Bill Dale slack
ened his arms and lay as one dead.
He was lying under cover in hand
carved black walnut fourpOster, and
it was night, when he opened his eyes
again. Above him he saw the bearded
faces of Ben Littleford and John
MOreland, and they looked haggard
and anxious in the oil lamps yellow
light. Suddenly MOreland spoke:
"Dead-nothin' jubilantly. Look,