The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1924-01-31
A Tale of the
BIZ DAVID ANDERSON
Arthor OF The Blue Moon"
Copyright by The Bobbs- Merrill Co.

uunHO, COuutefIlan pursued.
Hes a bad lot. Their amt a worse
man the length o. the Wabash. An
then there's Loge Belden they say
moved in the OF cabin up Eagle holler
last week with Is sister.
"Cordwood-huh-he amt no more a
wood chopper than l be. He's a river
man. Come f'om the K'ntucky noun
tains in the first place, an use'n t be
a pearl fisher till they run i'm Offn
the river. | never knowed Loge, that
is, what y'u might say pers'nly. |
seed i'm till e tangled with Big
Jack in the post office t other %evenin',
but / knowed is sister, not the n
that's with i'm now but the-other
one-the one that's-dead-"
The fisherman Dent his head and his
voice fell low, finally stopped.
"Black Bogus is an old pal o.
Wouldn't wonder he's harbOrin' up
thar, an if e is, why is e? An what
are they bOth-'r either one of EN-
dom up hyur in the Flatwoods? Hit
looks T. me"-he bent toward his COM
paniOn-"they've got Their eye on oil
Slime Colin"
Uncle Nick sat thoughtfuIly FUN
bling his chin.
"That'd leave Ken out" he unused.
"He wouldn't "A fell that low. Any
how, theirs lots o. folks that looks Ike
other folks" Counterman thought a
momen before he spoke again.
BLACK Bogus game is counter
f'itin', but he's got the CUTS fr any
thing; an Loge's or'n'ry enough FIR
any dirt. Their amt nothin' I'd put
a-past i'm. He's done time twice't
already, an, would be DOM it right
10Y If 1t werdn't FIR is sister. Thar's
one good gaI-as different f'om Loge
as the devil f'om Sund'y. Hits Loge's
one good p'int-he thinks a heap Of is
sister,"
"Well," commented Uncle Nick with
his slow drawl, as the other paused,
hit might be the maxim of Of Slime
If somebody could manage t pry a
dollar r two off'n him, an as FIR Big
Jack, | low Their amt none of 'em
honein' FIR more truck with him."
He chuckled complaisantly, pos
sibly fancying that he had put a
particularly neat and unanswerable
finish to the argument.
THAT amt it," Counterman pur-
sued, BLACK Bogus an Loge are both
the kind that strikes in the dark"
Thunder"
Uncle Nick's shoulder .jerked away
from the porch post, and the fisher
man caught the glitter of his deep-set
eyes in the twilight.
They cayn't come nothin' like that
on the boy r I'll strike the warpath
m'self. Dunno but what I'll peel an
eye on that cabin up the crick."
The old ranger sat erect and rest
less, drumming with his fingers on
the porch floor and looking away
across the narrow mouth Of Eagle
hollow to where Black rock poked his
tumbled ramparts up against the
eastern sky.
The clatter in the kitchen ceased,
Aunt Liza's still sprightly, vastly posi-
| i've SlSp III dIlpSS lhc NdDlh ubOI,
and a moment later the creak Of her
rocking chair joined the droning cho.
rus of the beetles.
wonder what Big Jack thinks o.
the way the parsons a-cuttin' around
is gal?" Counterman unused. AN her
the best prize in the Flatwoods, even
If she didn't have a cent"
Uncle Nick fumbled out his pipe,
knocked il on the edge of the porch
floor, and filed and lit II.
81 knOwed is father, Col. David
Warhope, when e first come { the
FlatwOods up'rds of eighteen years
back, an | knowed is grandfather,
Old Col. David Warhope. ! fit Te-
cumseh an the Prophet under the
grandfather. The homestead wus a
present t him f'om Gen. Andrew Jack
son. OF Colonel David an young
Colonel David, they wus both fine. up
standin' men, soldiers every inch, an
Big Jacks like EN-. Hits too bad the
homestead had t be lost L Of Slime,
an the hoy bound out to i'm. But even
so, he'd make a heap sight more ittin'
man fr a Flatwoods gal than that
~hump-backed, squinty-eyed parson.
Beats the devil the Roadway he's
a-makin' with 'er. / wouldn't "a
thought"
mo goodll come Of It," broke In
the acid tones of Aunt Liza. Didn't
y'u see is carryih's on with 'er at the
sociable las night? Big Jack Amt
go'n' t be a bound boy f'rever. She'll
rue the day she draps a fine lad like
him an takes up with a furriner."
"Aw, Liza drawled Uncle Nick,
"the parson amt no ,furriner hes a
college pr'fessor."
Don't talk to me-" snapped the tart
voice. II reckon l know what / see
with m own y Mind what I tell
y'u, she'll rue II. an SOIL Slime Colin
a-lettin' i'm harbor around like that,
don't keer if e did go t school with
Ken.
II bet y'u II 'er mother wus livin'
Their wouldn't be no SIGH. goins-on. |
dunno what oil Slime can be tninkln'
abort-nothin' but money hoardin' an
lam grabbin', I reckon. If / had a
gal. I'd no more think o. lettin' 'er be
harbored up with a teetotal furriner
that-a M mara thIuk n,