Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1921-09-23
CHAPTER x-continued.
.


A little after work-time that day,
Bill Dale started alone on the way of
the narrow gauge railroad for the sid
ing. He wished to see for himself just
what the damage had been to the
trestie, and he hoped to meet Golf, or
a Ball, or Torrey, and learn some
thing that would be to bis advantage.
Before he had covered two miles, he
had seen two of the enemy skulking
through the woods, and he recognized
them for Torreys from Jerusalem
Cove and Hatton's He'll; he knew it
by their very swarthy skin, their high
cheekbones and their coarse black
hair, the outcroppings of the Cherokee
Indian blood In them. They looked
cunning and wicked. Dale loosened
in its holster the big revolver that
Major Bradley had persuaded him to
carry for his own protection. John
Moreland had taught him how to use
firearms.
At a point near where the little
stream that flowed past the Halfway
switch emptied into Doe river, where
Doe river turned almost squarely to
the left, Dale halted abruptly. He had
seen a man dart behind scrubby oak
some thirty yards ahead Of him quite
naturally, he concluded that the fell
low meant to waylay him, and he, too,
stepped behind a tree, a big hemlOck.
A silent minute went by. Then Dale
put his hat out on one side Of the tree
and peeped from the other side; it
was an old trick that G.randpap More
land had told him about. A rifle
cracked promptly and sharply, and a
bullethole appeared in the rim of his
hat
Following it, there came the coarse
bass voice of Black Adam Ball, the
mountaineer Goliath:
"You CANT fool me. jest shot to
put hole in yere new hat and to
show We AT l amt no bad shot, You
CANT hit my hatP'
Dale's temper, the temper that had
always been so hard to keep under
control. rose quickly. He tried TO rea-
son with himself, and couldn't; his
passion mastered him. He snatched
the big revolver from its holster and
cooked it. With as steady hand as
ever held a weapon trained, he began
to take aim at Balls SLOUGH hat, the
half of which was in plain view at one
side of the scrubby oak.
'T fooled you once, back there In
the middle of the river" he cried hot
ay. "and now I'm going to fool you
again r
There was in his voice that old, old
primitive rage, which frightened him,
and puzzled him too, in his better mo-
ments.
He let down the bead until it was
barely visible in the notch, and eased
off the trigger. The revolver roared
and scat forth a tiny tongue of flame
and little cloud Of white smoke. Ball
isprang erect, wheeled. and fell crash
l22G to the leaves!
Dale dropped his weapon. He went
as white as death, and his two hands
Eclutched uncertainty at his throat. He
was murderer No, he wasn't-his
bullet had gone wild; it had struck
Balls head on the other side of the
tree. By accident. But how could he
prove that it had been an accident?
Would any jury believe him? 1t was
far from probable.
He stepped from behind the hem
lock and went toward the writhing
Goliath, whose legs only were visible
Enow.
Then a third shot rang out on the
lmorning stiffness. 1t had been fred
IRON q point some little distance
away. and Dale's condition of mind at
the moment was such that he didn't
even note the direction from which
the sound had come. He was unhurt
and he had not heard the whine of a
bullet or the pattering of shot on the
leaves. When he looked about him,
he SAM no one neither did he see any
telltale smoke. Perhaps, hs thought