The spectator., 1922-03-07

| IHe HiSHt pdsSeu, anu aHOlneT DTlSnL summer day dawned. and in the Car tersville jail there was one prisoner who had not slept at all. Each of those long and heavy black hours had been an age to this prisoner to whom jail was so new.
 At noon furious windstorm. ac- companied by much vivid lightning and blinding rain, sprang out of the west and began to sweep the country side and out of the lowering wet gloom there came one to deliver Bill Dale. He was mountaineer, young and stall wart and strong, and about him there was much of that certain English fine ness that was so striking in his father
 He entered the low, square building of brick and stone and stopped in the center of the corridor, where he stood while water ran from his wet clothing and gathered in little pools at his feet, and looked to his right and to his left Dale saw him, and cried out in sur prise:
 "Caleb!"
 Caleb Moreland walked straight. his head up and his shoulders back, a splendid picture of virie young man. hood, to the end of the corridor. He gripped two of the doors hated bars, bars that had long been worn smooth by other human hands; he pressed his smoothly shaven, sunburned face against the iron, and smiled.
 How are ye a-feelin' by this time. | Bill? It's some h-l of place, ain't itf"
 Dale took a step toward him. "Well, q queens boudOir Is nicer. What are you doing here, Cale?"
 Eve come to set you free" said Caleb Moreland.
 Dale stared unbelievingly But that Is impossible, Gale. How could you set me free?'
 Gall Tom Flowers, and I'll sight ye"
 Dale called. and the officer came i'm mediately. Caleb Moreland turned from the cell door and faced him.
 I've come here to own up to the killin' O Black Adam Ball." began the young hillman.
 He swallowed. went a trihe pale un- der his tan, and continued bravely:
 Bill Dale thar, he never done 1t. I am the one at done 1t. Bill he shot at Adam. but he missed-Adam had done shot at Bill fust, y'onderstand, Tom But didn't miss. l don't never miss. I'm a plumb tombstone shot. They allus rules me out at any shootin match. I'd ha' owned up to it yeste'- day, but the thought O jail had me skeered bad. l jest cain't let as good a man as Bill Dale thar suffer fo' thing l done myself. So you let him out, Tom, and put the right man in thar"
 Flowers had good heart, and this touched 1t. But he was not very much surprised.
 "Tell us about 1t. Caleb" he re- quested
 Caleb looked toward Dale, then he faced the lord of Cartersvllle's little prison again.
 "Well. shuriff, when l seed Bill Dale go off toward the trustle by hisself and alone, knowed right then he was in danger O bein' laywayed by some O them thar lowdown Balls and Cherokee Torreys. So I decides to foller alter him and gyard him. with out him a-knowin' anything about 1t, which same l done. When he met Adam Ball."
 He broke off abruptly.
 "Go on." urged Flowers.
 "I reckon l won't" smiled Caleb, and his eyes were still twinkling "I reckon l won't do no more talkin' jest now. Yes, l reckon the proper place fo' me to do my big talkin' is in the co'tehouse at my trial. Lock me up will ye Tom?'
 wen see," said Flowers. | Forthwith he dispatched deputy for Judge Carter and Major Bradley. who hastened to the Jail
 An hour later Caleb Moreland was the occupant of the cell at the end of the whitewashed corridor, and Dale was mounting his bay horse Fox to ride back into the heart of the ever lasting hills. He arrived two hours after nightfall. The Morelands were | glad to see him, and the Littlefords were glad to see him. There was re- joicing there in the broad valley that | lies between David Moreland's noun. tain and the Big Pine Everybody had been expecting him, and many were the pairs. of eyes that had been watch. ing for him. He found himself sud denly wishing, with tightening at his throat, that his father could know how much bigger and how much bet ter 1t was to be thus esteemed than to be wealthy.
 Luke took charge of his tired horse and led 1t away to the old log barn and to some fifteen ears of yellow corn. Luke's father escorted him proudly, the guest of honor. in to one of Addie MOreland's incomna ra hIn ala