Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1925-11-13
MANS
HIDDEN
HEART
By HUBERT HAINEs
% by short story Pub. Coz

'gr0ut," as the reIuSe from
copper. mine is called, and glared
at each other with looks that
would kill if hate could be nodded into
| bullets. They were young miners, lean,
! deep-chested, iron-sinewed fellows in
their mid-twepties, with hands and
! faces stained by the reek of the mine,
| and perspiration from the fierce heat OF
! the noon sun flowing in little beds OF
white across swart cheeks and fore
heads. Carrying dinner-pails they were
| making for the shade of the engine
| house to eat luncheon, when here on
the grout pile they decided to have it
out
The quarrel began months before in
a trifling jealousy over their workman
ship; it had been kept alive and in
tensified by tale-bearers; and recently
| it had been infiamed to danger tenn
perature when into their field of
rivalry came woman. This very
morning they had fought down in the
mine, and the foreman, after he had
torn them apart and emptied on them
the Walls of his profanity, had assigned
them to different crews Within the
hour fate brought them together on
the grout pile.
Pears to me, Sam Glidden, like
you and me had better end this thing
wight now
Whenever you say the word Ned.
Terry. You won't have to call twice
when you want me. Tonight if you
say So"
NO. said Terry, mot tonight
now. When tonight comes it must be
settled for good and all. If you're
man get your rifle and drive out with
me to Nivo HILL There'll be nobody to
disturb us there and one of us must
never come back"
81 never refused dare in my life,
Terry, and / certainly won't refuse it
from you. Let's write a paper right
here to be opened two hours after we
start so therel be no suspicion of
murder Then get your wagon and I'll
be on hand"
Gldden, who was the better edu
Gated, sat down on the rough rocks
tore a page out of the handbook in
which he kept mis- ''time," and wrote
this:
1--WE the undersigned, will start
for Nivo hill at half-past twelve to
fight it out with rifles. 1t will be
fair fight, and the man that is left
dead on Nivo wishes to state right
now that he has no kick coming
against the man that killed him.
"SAM GLIDDEN.
"NED TERRY"
/ This note they gave to the engineer
after eXacting from him a solemn
| promise that he would open and read
it at two o'clock and not before. Then
| with dinner pals untouched they went
their several ways to make simple and
deadly preparations. In thirty min
utes they were both in Glidden's
wagon headed for open country, their
unloaded rifles tied together under the
seat Glidden drove Terry sat on a
gunnysack in the rear. 1t would be a
| drive of an hour and half to Nivo
hill.
Never, it seemed, had the sun been
so furnace-hot as it was that day. The
pitiless blaze made their heads reel as
they jolted over the unshaded roads
between dismal hills burned brown and
bare. They ratified over crazy bridges,
shambled down steep slopes, and
toiled laborously, drearily, up one
ascent after another, the ancient nag
looking at the end of each climb as
though he mast fall dead on the next.
Midway of their Journey they came to
the bed of stream through the rocks
of which thin ribbon of water barely
made its way. They stopped. Glidden
filed a tin cup and held it out to
Terry.
After you" said Terry.
go on !" ordered Glidden.
Thanks" said Terry.
They returned to the wagon and la
bored on again, each man living with
his own thoughts-but thoughts of a
| common subjeet-where he would aim,
how quickly he could fire, how he
would see his rival stretched bleeding
on the ground; or-on the other hand
how it would feel to have a cylinder
of steel crashing through the brain,
what kind of home grave on these
bleak western hills would make, and
what manner of place or existence is
the hereafter, hereafter for at least
one of them only few minutes away
Glidden thought of his mother in
Massachusetts, and was suddenly
startled at remembering that he had
given no one her address tiff any
thing should happen. He turned
sharply to Terry.
Say, Terry"
"Well?"
IF you're the man to come out of
this, write to my mother, will you,
and try to break it bit gently? I'll