The spectator., 1922-04-21
CHAPTER xIX-Continued.

big, crooked finger came way from the hair-fine trigger. He had never expect ed to hear the man whom he knew as John K. Carlyle say that which he had just said. It had never entered his mind that John K. 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 10 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 ye, 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:
 Tt wasn't Newton Wheatley at put up the money to start yore coal mine agoin'; it was this man here And the Alexander Crayfield Coal corp ration which has been a-payin' you two prices fo, yore coal-that was this man here Mir. Hayes was his-his ally through it all. And he's sorry, John Moreland, this man is-so sorry that he wants to die; and cain't ye see it, John More land?"
 She caught her breath again and continued tearfully: "Oh, he don't desarve to be killed, and ef he did you're too good a man to kill him. He's done paid-you don't know, like I do, how he's paid. You mustn't fo'get that. And you mustn't fo'get Bill Dale, his son. Put down that gun, John Morelandi Tore people is saved, as David wanted 'em saved. Now d-d-don't go and s-s-spoil it all, fo' Gods sake"
 ' The big mountaineer's eyes were wide with amazement, for Elizabeth Lttleford's every word had borne the ring of truth. He was too daZed to understand her allusion to Bill Dale as his old enemy's son. The rifle came back from across the palings, and its steel-shod butt found place in the snow beside John Moreland's foot
 Slowly John K. Dale arose and drew close to him, and then from John K. Dale's soul came pouring the pent-up anguish of remorse that had scared 1t through the years. The tor rent of words flowed on, while the mountaineer stood rigidly regarding him with a strange light in his pierc- ing eyes.
 "I can't ask you to forgive me- lyaie finished brokenly. 'I don't ex- pect forgiveness; my crime was too great. But can't you, for the sake of the boy, let me keep on trying to atone for my sin?'
 John Moreland looked long and searchingly Into the face of the plead ing man before him. The bitter struggle that was going on within him was mirrored on his rugged coun- tenance. But gradually the bitterness faded; his huge frame trembIed; he put a hand slowly down on the others shoulder.
 .'The boy" he muttered-"Bill Dale is he yore boy? Tore name was Car lyle then"
 My boy, yes-my boy, Bill Dale Carlyle is an old family name. My father was at the head of big coal concern; he sent me down here in. cognito to get line on the Moreland vein. Maybe he thought the price would be high if 1t were known that he wanted it; I don't know. I-I can, remember"
 Ben Littleford's daughter was watching closely, hoping against hope praying to heaven with all her heart and then she saw John K. Dale put his right hand up to John Moreland's hand, take it and press it-and sht saw John Moreland, his bearded mouth jerking, give the answering squeeze that meant something yer. akin to forgiveness.
 She ran out at the gate, ran up t( the giant hillman and put her arms around his neck; she drew his grea brown head down and kissed him or the cheek And John Moreland le his rifle fall unnoticed to the snow put his arms around her shoulders q. though she were his own daughter bowed his head and sobbed out { few words she did not understand.
 
 Night had fallen when they reached Ben Littleford's cabin home. The gir was welcomed with much joy; olt Dale was received with almost affcc .tionate cordiality. A roaring fire wa soon going in the best room, and olt Dale was given the cosiest of thu sheepskin-lined rockers. Ben Little ford, washed scrupulously clean o coal smut sat near the guest of honor John Moreland. who was so thought ful that he seemed to hear and se nothing. sat close to Ber. Littleford.
 Suddenly Dale looked toward hi host and asked ~Where Is my son
 At that moment Dale the younger