American Falls press. [volume] (American Falls, Idaho) 1907-1937, 1922-03-17

It was a living curse, a breathing
curse-a terrible anathema. If dead
David Moreland himself had arisen
from the tomb and uttered it, it would
not have struck John K. Dale with
greater force. He grew weak, as
though with a fatal sickness. He sank
to his knees in the snow, and his iron
gray head fell forward to his breast
Elizabeth Littleford knelt In the snow
beside him. She tried to find comfort
ing words, for she loved him and was
sorry for him. but no words would
come.
There was a slight sound, the muf-
fed breaking Of a dry .twig In the
snow just beyond the palings In front
Of them. Elizabeth Littleford looked
up to see the giant figure Of John
MOreland, whose face was white and
whose eyes were filled with the FIRE Of
hate and anger, who held a rife in his
cold, bare hands. The rifles hammer
anne back. and the fine trigger caught
II with a faint click.
Moreland took another step forward
and leveled the weapon across the
paliigs.
"Ef 1t was any use To- We to pray.
Carlyle" he said, and his voice was
shaking and hoarse and choked, "Td
give ye time. But it amt no use at all.
Look up. Face 1t. Try to be a man TO-
n second in yore low-down life"
Old Dale raised his head, saw David
Moreland's brother, and realized all
there was to realize. His eyes widened
a little; then a look of relief fitted
across his heavy e%ountenance.
"Shoot and even up the score" he
said bravely, and his head was high.
According to your code, 1t is just. And
I'll be able to forget at last, at last. So
shoot and settle the account"
Moreland WINGED perceptibly. The
big, crooked finger came way from the
hair-ine trigger. He had never expect
ed to hear the man whom he knew as
John X. Carlyle say that which he had
just said. lit had never entered his
mind that John X. Carlyle could be
sorry.
Then the great and bitter desire for
revenge rushed into his brain again,
and his head went down, and his keen
right eye looked along the sights and
to the kneeling mans breast. His trig-
ger finger began slowly to crook
Until this instant Elizabeth Little
ford had been as one frozen, had been
as a figure carved in stone. Now she
sprang to her feet and went between
Moreland and his ancient enemy.
"Put at gun down-wait ontel / tell
We, John Moreland, what I've got to tell
vel" she cried tensely, lapsing into the
old dialect In her excitement. While
Moreland stared, she went on
ut wasn't Newton Wheatley at put
up the money to start yore coal mine
a-goin' IL was this man here And the
Alexander Crayfeld Coal ~corp'ratiOn-
which has been a-payin' you two prices
TO, yore coal--that was this man here
Mr.. Hayes was his-his ally through 1t
all. And he's sorry, John Moreland,
this man is-so sorry that he wants to
die; and cain't We see it. John More
land?"
She caught her breath again and
continued tearfully. ooh, he don't
desarye to be killed, and eff he did
you're too good a man to kill him.
He's done paid-you don't know, like
/ do, how he's paid. You mustn't
fo'get that. And you mustn't fo'get
Bin Dale, his son. Put down that gun,
John MorelandI Yore people is saved,
az David wanted 'em saved. Now
d-d-don't go and s-s-spoil it all. TO-
Gods sakei"
The big m~ountaineer's eyes were
wide with amazement, for Elizabeth
Littleford's every word had borne the
ring Of truth. BE vas too dazed to