The Belding banner-news., 1922-01-25

DAM HIS
SOLE
1t was living curse, breathing
curse--a terrible anathema. If dead
David Moreand himself had arisen
from the tomb and uttered ii, it would
mol have struck John X. Dale with
greater force. He grew weak, as
though with IA fatal sickness. He sank
10 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 10 find comfort
ing words, for she loved him and was
Sdrry for him. but no words would
come.
There was slight sound, the muf-
fled breaking of dry twig in tho
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 Nere filled with the fire OF
hate and anger. who held rifle in his
cold. bare hands. The rifles hammer
came back. and the fine trigger caught
it with Il faint click.
Morcland took another step forward
and Ieveled the weapon across the
paings.
''Ef il was any use fo' ye to pray
Carlyle" he said, and his voice was
shaking and noarse and choked, I'D
give We time. But it amt no use at all.
Look up. Face #. Try ~ be Il nan TO-
one second In yora loW-fown E.r"
Old Duic raised his head, saw David
Moreland's brother, and realized all
there was To realize. His eyes widened
a little; then look Of relief fitted
across his heavy countenance.
"Shoot and even up the score" he
said bravely, and his head was high.
According to your code, it is just And
I'll he able to forget at last, ut last. So
shoot and settle the account"
MOreand WINGED perceptibly. The
big, crooked finger came way from the
hair-fine trigger. He had never expect
ed 10 hear the man whom he knew as
John X. Carlyle say that which he had
just said. 1t had never entered his
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
fin Sln fn
Until this instant Elizabeth Little
ford had been as one frozen. had been
as 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
ye!" she cried tensely, lapsing into the
old dialect in her excitement While
Moreland stared, she went on:
1T wasn't Newton Wheatley at put
UP the money to start yore coal mine
a-goin' ii was this man here And the
Alexander Crayfield Coal corp'ration-
which has been a-payin' you two prices
70, yore coal--that was this man here
/ Mr.. Hayes was his-his ally through il
all. And he's sorry, John Moreland,
this man is-so sorry that he wants to
die; and CANT ye see 1t, 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
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 Moreland Yore people is saved,
as David wanted em saved. Now
d-d-don't go and s-s-spoil 1t all, 70
Gods sakel"
The big mountaineer's eyes were
wide with amazement, for Elizabeth
Littleford'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
hack from across the palings, and its
steel-shod butt found a place in the
snow beside John Moreland's foot.
Slowly John X. Dale arose and
drew close to him, and then from
John X. Dale's soul came pouring the
pent-up anguish of remorse that had
scared II through the years. The tor
rent of words flowed on. while the
uponpsaineer stood riSidiv -s~s~dins