The spectator., 1922-03-17

He cleared his throat. spat petween two fingers at the fire. and turned to the judge.
 "Gentemen O the jury" growled the ruling Ball, "have ye reached verdct?"
 'We have, yore honor," very prompt- ly answered the Torrey who was fore man. And we ha' found the pris'ner guilty O the wust kind O coldblooded, premeditated mudder in the fust de- gree, yore honor."
 old Ball leveled . knotty forefinger toward Bill Dale.
 "FO' the killin' O my son Adam" he pronounced sentence, you sh'll hang by the neck onte dead, from a limb O this here warnut tree, by gon- nies, at sunrise in the mornin'."
 Although he had well known what the sentence would be. Dale went sud denly ashen. Then he took firm grip on himself and began to reason.
 He could not hope, he decided, that the Morelands and the Littlefords would find him before the sun rose. They would miss him, of course. and they would suspect foul play and look for him; but finding him in that wild erness--it was impossible. It became plain 10 him that he would have to save himself if he were saved. He believed his best chance lay in his proving that he was anything but hn m hl knew. admired brave man.
 So he turned slightly toward the self-appointed judge and asked calm ly:
 "Is there anything really game about you:'
 "Shore, by gonnies" quickly. I'm all game. I'm the feler at showed wildcats how to fight. What about it?"
 "I'll see if you're all game" Ddle said, and he smiled when he spoke. "I'll make you this proposition: I'll fight any ten of you, two at time, with five minutes rest between fights; if I whip them all I go free and if I don't whip them all I hang immed- ately. All parties to be barehanded, no guns and no knives Are you that gamer
 Ordinarily, it would have been thing well nigh impossible to do much as Dale knew of the pugiliStic art, great as was his strength and endur- ance. But how most of those about Dale were drunk and therefore weak ened. and he believed he had chance if cid Ball accepted
 But Judge Ball didn't accept. Doubt less he remembered his son Adams fight with Dale.
 The cain't be no fghtin' in cote" he said. You sh1l hang by the neck ontel dead, Ut sunrise in the mornin.'
 There was humble of approval from the others. Doubtless they. too, remembered that the young man whom they held captive had once whipped Black Adam Ball, the mountaineer Goliath, with his bare hands. They did not have the one good trait that Dale had hoped they possessed; while they must have admired him for his courage, they were afraid to fight him without weapons Dale recalled the fact that the Balls were not originally hillfoik, but lowlanders who had taken to the mountains In order to avoid being forced to fight during the Civil war, people without a principle. The Cherokee Tbrreys. of course, were even worse.
 Kitty kitty. kitty" Walt Turner called tauntingly again. He walked into the trap like n pore little kitty"
 A plowline of half-inch cotton rope was produced, and the condemned man was securely bound, standing on his feet and facing outward, to the big walnut. Desperate as was his case, Dale couldn't help being trife amused at that part of il. It was '*~'" 'o'''S7 .e6lGW