The spectator., 1922-03-17
CHAPTER xlI-Continued.


 John Moreland turned up the light little, and cracked worn but time ly joke; then he looked toward one of the men whom he had fought throughout many years, and muttered into his thick brown beard:
 Saul, friend, will ye do us the fa- vor O ax!n' the blessin, ef ye pleaseT "Shore, John, O course.'
 Saul Littleford, the very illiterate, laced his big fingers together across his plate, bent his head, and told the good Almighty that they were all very much obliged to Him for the fine supper they had before them, for Ad- die Moreland who had cooked it, for peace, and for Bill Dale.
 It was almost midnight when the visitors left. They had been sitting outside, on the honeysuckle-scented front porch and in the cabin yard. At last Bill Dale and John Moreland were left together on the porch.
 "There's a thing that has puzzled me since the moment I got here this evening"" said Dale. "Why is it that nobody seems to be grieving over Caleb's being in jail?"
 The big hillman's answer came al most sharply: No Moreland ever grieved over sacrifyce, Bill"
 Dale sat up straight. "A sacrifice !! What do you mean?"
 This time the big hillman's answer came slowly. T mean at Gale he's a-takin' all O the load off O yore shoulders at he can. Gale he's a-takin yore place in jail ontel the trial comes of, whichll be at the October term O cote. He trusts you to come back and set him free on the day O the trial. O course you'll do it; we hain't never doubted that fo' one little min ute, Bill. But it wasn't all done fo' yore sake. You're the hope O the Morelands, and you can do heap more here 'an Caleb can.''
 He leaned toward Bill Dale and went on in a confidential tone:
 And I can tell ye this here. eff you're found guilty O killin Adam Ball. and sentenced fo' even one year, the MorelandS and the Littlefords is a-goin' to take ye from the officers and turn ye loose with a good, long start on the law"
 "Woudn't that be rather-'
 Dale broke off because he had seen the tall figure of a man appear in the open gateway. It was By Heck, and he spoke.
 Hello. John MoreIand VI
 Hello yeself." growled Moreland terruption.
 Heck advanced, carrying his rife by it's muzzle. He halted with one foot on the stone step.
 ''Tve got news fo' ye, Bill" he said, recognizing Dale even in the dark ness. i've been a-eayesdrappin un at old Balls house, and l had to choke about ten dawgs to do it. Blu, old boy, them Balls has done swore by everything on earth and in Heaven and in Torment at they'll kill you ef the law don't. Igod, ye'd better watch out, Bill"
 John Moreland rose from his chair.
 Much obleeged to ye By. And good night to ye. Les go into the house, Bill. l didn't think them d-d pole cats had that much narve-and don't hardly believe it yit. It might ha' been white Ticker a-talkin. Their kind O white Ticker ain't hawnest, like By Hecks is. though hisu is bad enough. Their kindll make a man resurrect his dead inemes out O the graveyard and shoot em up all over again. It ain't a-gon' to do great deal O harm, Bill, ef ye don't light no lamp when ye go 10 bed. A man cain't never tell jest what's a-goln' to happen"
 And the Bal-Torrey outfit" Dale began. when the Moreland chief cut in ::
 Eff the Ball-Torrey outfit posters you, they're every one purity turned apt to die with what is knowed gen'al- ly in this section as the rifle-bullet dis ease"