Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1922-03-23
CHAPTER lll
Goliath of the Hills

arose and dressed himself. and went
out by way Of the door beside the
huge stone-and-clay chimney
The mountain air was bracing Dale
threw out his chest and started eager
ly for walk.
The road led past the cabin OF
Grandpap Moreland. When Dale was
directly in front of the log house, he
saw the aged mountaineer standing on
rickety sawhorse beside the stone
step at the narrow porch Grandpap
Moreand was helping Il gray cat down
from the roof.
"Mornin'. l was jest a-takn' that
thar cusSfired old pest down often the
roof. I've took him down every morn
in as regular as l make fires. TO three
year or more. IF it wasn't bad luck
to kill cat, L shoot him, mebbe."
After breakfasting with John More
land. Bill Dale borrowed fshing-tackle
from his host, and set out alone for
the little river.
There were many shoals and rapids.
and he went almost half n mile before
he found place to his liking. It was
a beautiful spot. Above, the water
poured between two great boulders
with gentle roar; below. it Swallowed
out over round stones. Overhead
lowered tall white sycamoreS.
Not until he had put n minnow on
the hook and cast 1t out did he see
that he was not alone at the pool. ON
the other side, less than sixty feet
away, Babe Littleford sat on a stone
the size Of small barrel she held
cane fishing-rod in her hands, and
her bare feet were i'm the water to her
ankles. She was looking squarely to-
ward Dale. and there was something
akin TO reproachful anger in her long
brown eyes.
Good morning." called Dale, lifting
his hat.
There was no reply. There was not
even change of countenance. Again
Dale called his friendly greeting, and
again there was no reply. It piqucd
Dale.
A few yards down the stream the
white body of a sycamore lay from
one bank TO the other; ii had been
blown there by recent storm. Dale
wound his line, went down and crossed
by means OF the PROSTATE tree.
She didn't even look around when
he walked up to her and spoke again.
IL struck him as being decidedly odd.
II say" he told her, you're as
chatty as set of stencils. You
mustn't talk so much. yknow."
Her eyes smiled at the river, but
Dale couldn't see her eyes.
do you like violets, Miss Little
ford?" he asked next.
In the black, micastarred soil at
his feet grew carpet of the finest
violets he had ever seen. Babe let the
tip of her cane rod fall into the water
and looked around.
1T sounds funny 10 hear a man talk
o. sech little things as vi'lets," she de-
clared. Most o men don't think o.
nothin but workln'. huntin fghtin'
and eatin'. I'm a little mad al You
l went home yeste' day-and / think
run might nigh the whole six mile
and fixed up dinner 70 you, cause
understood You was a-cOmin' to our
house-and you went to them low
down Morelands
IL beg pardon" he said contritely
didn't know you were especially ex-
pecting me. ] had business he added
with John Moreland."
There came 10 his ears from some
where down the river the chorus ol
a raksh old hill nng, and the voice
was that of the lanky moonshiner, BY
Heck
"Oh. when die. don't-a bury me deep
Put no tombstone at my head and feet
Put a bears jawbone in my right hand
on my way 20 the Promised La-a-and
Oh, on my way to the PROMISED
Land"
A few minutes later there appeared
on the Moreland side of the river tho
singer Of the rakish old song; he haC
minnOw pail in one hand and whit,
hickory rod in the other.
"Hi. thar, Bill, old boy!" he yelled
"HI, thar, Babe Either of ye'uni
ketched anythingT
Ben I.ittleford's daughter held up {
fish proudly. Heck slapped his thigh
with his SLOUGH hat.
Good TO you" he exclaimed. Blu
they amt a-bitin' jest right. The
moons wrong, and the signs is wrong
70 fishin"
At that instant John Moreland ap
peared at Heck's side. PIE seemed very
serious about something.