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Local News of the Week.
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W. H. Whder was on the sick
list this week.
E. Robson left last Saturday for
St Louis to spend the holidays.
Mrs. F. E. Wood was a visitor in
Monroe Wednesday.
Dr. R. A. Hilton of El Dorado
was here Sunday on a professional
visit. ___
Misses Alto Ponder and Elsie
Baldwin spent the holidays in El
Dorado._
Miss Minnie Martin is spending
the holidays with relatives at St.
Joseph, Mo.
Born, to Mr. and Mrs. Harry
Bedford. Saturday morning, Dec.
1 9, a daughter.
Born—To Mr. and Mrs. D.
Williams, on Friday, Dec. 11, a
fine little daughter.
G. S. Farmer, who is sawing at
Dubach, La., is here to spend the
holidays with homefolks.
Mr. and Mrs. R. E. Ebbs are the
proud parents of a big boy. born to
them last Saturday.
A. G. Fish left Sunday for
Soringfield. Ill , to spend Christmas
with his mother and brother.
N. H Knox has sold his restau
rant at El Dorado and he and wife
moved back here Tuesday.
Orders taken at the News office
for Embossed Initial stationery
suitable for Christmas presents.
Miss Clyde Pitts of Fostoria
Texas, arrived here Wednesday
to visit her brother. P. H., and wife
Mrs. T. P. Millstead and daught
er left Monday for Trout, La.
where they will make their home.
Frank Knox and Henry Myers
and their families are home from
Hayti, Mo., where they have been
working for some time.
Drs. R. A. Barrow and H. F.
Mayfield will spend the holidays
with relatives at Junction City and
Caledonia.
Joe Brasher left Thursday for
Glenwood to spend Christmas with
his wife and children who are there
visiting her parents.
Mrs. S. K. Burnett and children
and Rev. Burnett's mother arrived
in Huttig Monday and are now
domiciled in the Methodist parson
age.
For Rent—The Stephensoi
place, \ mile southwest of Huttig.
See A. G. Stephenson,
108 A Street,
Huttig. Ark.
Rev. W. P. Whaley, presiding el
der for the Camden district of th'
Methodist church, held his firs’
quarterly conference here last Fri
day night.
Miss Doris Carlton, who hai
been the charming guest of Mrs
C. T. Thompson for some time,
lift Tuesday for her home at Ve
lasco, Texas.
10c Per Hundred.
Old newspapers for sale
at the News office at 10c
per hundred as lonj* as they
last, Come early as the
supply is limited.
COLDS & LaGRIPPE
5 or 6 doses 660 will break
any case of Chills & Fever, Colds
& LaGrippe; it acts on the liver
better than Calomel and does not
gripe or sicken. Price 25c.
We have round trip tickets to all
local points on sale at this office
and would be glad to sell you round
trip tickets, saving you money by
buying them and at the same time
| rnaKe a better showing for our sta
tion in this manner. We solicit
your business. D. A. Keasler,
Agent St. L. 1 M. & S. Ry.
Thr Magic Washing Sti«k.
“The Magic V/ashing Stick is
just fine. It did just what you said
it would do and the clothes were so
nice and white with all that hard
rubbing left off,” writes Mrs Saran
Good'ffe. Preston, Texas. The
Magic Stick is not a soap nor a
washing powder. Sold by drug
gists, three 10c sticks for 25c or
by mail from A B. Richards Medi
cine Go., Sherman, Texas.
To get the news read The New.
No Paper Next Week.
Our custom to issue no paper!
one week during the holidays will i
be adhered to again this year and .
no p^per will be issued next wer-k !
in order to give us time to take our
annual inventory and also enjoy a
few days rest during the ho!i a/s.
We wish all our subscribers and
job patrons A Merry Christn a; and
a Happy New Year. We will mett
you again on January 9, 1915.
RUB-MY-TISSVT
Will cure your Rheumatiem
Neuralgia, Headaches, Cramps,
Colic, Sprains, Bruises, Cuts and
Burns, Old Sores, Stings of Insecu
Etc. Antiseptic Anodyne, used in
ternally and externally. Price 25c,
Spend Pleasant Evening
Tr. and Mrs. L. F. Magee en
tertained on Tuesday evening at
their home in honor of Misses Pon
der and Baldwin. The spacious
dining room and parlor were
thrown into one, making a beauti
fully decorated assemblage for the
guests. Decorations were of nolly.
Games forming a pleasant past
time were bunco and a guessing
contest. After spending a most
pleasant evening, the guests de
parted all expressing their appre
;iation for the enjoyable evening
Those present were Mr. and Mrs
F. W. Scott. F. E. Wood. L. M
Cartall, T. B. Weaver, P. H. Pitts
3. T. Thompson: Mesdames C
Howard and D. M. Clowney:Misses
Baldwin. Ponder. Buchanan Fox,
Bibson, Nipper, Cargill. Harrington.
Ballard: Messrs C. A. Campbell.
E. R. Ford. Asa Ponder. G. C. Bar
nett. C. H. Andrews, E. L. Ware.
J. B. Crockett, jr.; Drs. H. F. May
field. R. A. Barrow. F. Jarrell.
Old papers for sale at this office.
1 Oc per 1 00.
Conundrums.
Why don’t they collect fares
f om a policeman on the trolly
cars? Because they can’t take a
nickle from a copper.
What is the men’s opinion of
b’oomer.girls? They are divided.
Which is bigger Mr. Bigger or
Mr. Bigger’s baby? The baby is a
I ttle Bigger.
Where did Noah keep his bee;?
1 i the arc-hives.
What kind of a sweetness did
they have in the ark? Preserved
pears (pairs.)
Why is wit like a Chinese lady’s
foot? Because brevity isthescle
of it.
Whv is a selfish friend like the
ldfter P? It is the first in pity and
the last * in help. Philadelphia
Ledger. _ »
60 YEARS'
EXPERIENCE
Patents
I RADt
Designs
Copyrights 4c.
Anyone sending a sketch and description may
. . . _ _ ...... ..1 f p.i.t n< li.it line an
quickly ascertain our opinion free whether an
Invention Is probably patentable. Coinuninlcy
tlonaetrlotlyconndeiitlKl. HANDBOOK on Patent*
•ent free. Oldest agency for securing patents.
Patents takei through Muun A Co. recaiye
tper.ial notice, without clisrye. In tb«
Scientific American.
A handsomely illnstrated wefkly
dilation of any acidntttic Journal
•* ’ Sol
I/nrtr#»f»t <**•
>n ok any uncii< in*' jiiui iim. T (*rniM. If I
lour months, $1. Sold by all nowstlei* ^ra.
_361 Broadway, g’yV KOlIl
m Y BU Washington. 1A U
CHARLES NEVILLE BUCIC
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS Him PHOTOGRAPHS
OF SCENES IN THE PLAY cop'^!'’Hr * •
\xr J. WAT T
IQIJ /O' ,
$ liEMPANY
bYNOPblb.
CHAPTER I—On Misery creek, at the
foot of a rock from which he has fall- n,
Sally Miller finds Georg:** Lescott, a land,
scape palmer, uneq^is* ious, and after re
viving him, goes for assistance.
CHAPTER II—Samson Smith and Sr-ln.
taking Lescott to Samson's home, nr- n. -t
by Spicer South, head of the family, who
tells them that Jesse Purvy has been shot,
and that Samson is suspe* ted of the
crime. Samson denies it.
CHAPTER III—The shooting of Jesse
Purvy breaks the truce in the Ilollman
South feud.
CHAPTER IV—Samson reproves Tama
rack Spicer for telling Sally that .Pm
Hollman is on the trail with bloodhounds
hunting the man who shot Purvy.
“I have no personal interest in the
matter,” went on the stranger, hastily,
as one bent on making his attitude
"They Have Followed Their Nose*
Here.”
(lear, ‘‘except to supply the dogs and
manage them. I do not in any way di
rect their course; I merely follow.”
‘‘Ye can't hardly fo'ce a dawg.” Old
Spicer sagely nodded his head as he
mad' the remark. "A dawg jest natch
er’l.. fellers his own nose.”
‘‘Exactly—ar.d they have followed
thr;r noses here.” The Lexington man
found the embarrassment of his posi
tion growing as the colloquy proceed
ed. “I want to ask you whether, if
these dogs want to cross your fence. I
nave your permission to let them?”
The master of the house crossed the
stile, the low sun shining on his shock
of gray hair, and stood before the man
tunter. He spoke so that his voice
arried to the waiting group in the
road.
“Ye’re plumb welcome ter turn them
dawgs loose, an’ let ’em ramble,
Granger. Nobody hain’t a-goin’ ter
lurt 'em. I sees some fellers out thar
with ye that mustn’t cross my fence.
Ef they does”—the voice rang men
acingly—“hit’ll mean that they’re
a-bustin’ the truce—an’ they won’t
never go out ag’in. But you air safe
in hyar. I gives yer my hand on thet.
Ye’re welcome, an’ yore dawgs is wel
come. I hain’t got nothin’ ’gainst
dawgs thet comes on four legs, but I
shore bars the two-legged kind.”
Ther was amurmur of astonishment
from the road. Disregarding it, Spicer
South turned his face toward the
house.
‘‘You boys kin coire out,” ho si.out
er, "an' leave yore guns inside.”
The leashes were slipped from the !
dogs. They leaped forward, and made I
directly for Samson, who eat as un- j
moving as a lifeless image on the top I
step of the stile. There was a half-mo
ment of terrific suspense, then the
beasts clatphered by the seated figure,
passing on each side and circled aim
lessly about the yard—their quest un
ended. They sniffed indifferently about
‘he trouser legs of the men who saun
tered indolently out of the door. They
•rotted into the house and out again,
and mingled with the mongrel home
>ack that snarled and growled hos
tility for this invasion. Then, thev
came once more to the st'le. As they
climbed out. Samson South reached
up and stroked a tawny head, and the
bloodhound paused a moment to wag
its tail in friendshin, before it jumped
down to the road, and trotted gingerly
onward.
“I’m obliged to you, sir.” eaid the
man from the Bluegrass, with a voice
of immense relief.
The moment of suspense seemed
past, and, in the relief of the averted
clash, the master of hounds forgot
that his dogs stood branded ps fairs
trailers. Hut when he rejoined the
group in the road he found himself
looking into surly visages, and the
features of Jim Hollman in particular
were hlaok in their scowl of smolder
ing wrath.
‘‘Why didn't ye ax him,” growled
the kinsman of the man who had been
shot, "wliar the other feller’s at?”
‘‘What other fellow?” echoed the
Lexington man.
Jim Hollman’s voice rose trucu
lently, and his words drifted, as he
meant them to, across to the ears of
the clansmen who stood in the yard
of Spicer South.
“Them dawgs of your’n come up
Misery a-hellinh They liain't never
turn§4 aside, an’ on less they're plumb
ornery, no-’oount rurs thet don't know
their business, they come for seme
reason. Thc> seemed mighty inter
ested in giltin' hyar. Ax them fellers
in tnar who’s been hy: r fhet hain't
hyar now? Who is ther i Her thet
got out afore we come hyar?"
At this veiled charge of decei' the
faces of the Souths again blackened
and the men near the door of the
house drifted in to drift presently out
again, swinging discarded Winches
ters at their sides. It seemed that,
after all, the incident was not closed.
The man from Lexington, finding him
self face to lace with a new difficulty,
turned and argued in a low voice with
the Hollman leader. But Jim Holl- j
man, whose eyes were fixed on Sam
son, refused to talk in a modulated j
tone, and he shouted his reply:
"I hain't got cothin’ ter whisper |
about,” he proclaimed. “Go ax ’em |
who hit war thet got. away from hyar.”
Old Spicer South stood leaning on
his fence and his rugged countenance
stiffened. 11° etarted to speak, but
Samson rose from the stile and sai l,
in a composed voice:
“Let me talk to this feller, lTnc’
Spicer.” The o’d man nodded and
Samson beckoned to the owner of the
dogs.
“We hain't -ot nothin’ tor say tor )
them felii ’-s with ye,” he announced, j
briefly. “We tain’t axin' ’em no ques- j
tions, an’ we hain’t answerin’ none. 1
Ye dorp v.mn hvar with dawgs an’
we Inin'* stopped ye. We’ve done an
swered nil tile questions them dawgs
hes axed. We done treated you an’
yore hum's plumb friendly. Ks fer
them other men, we hain’t got nothin’
ter say to 'em. They done come hyar
because they honed they could git me
in trouble. They done failed. Thot
road belongs ter the county. They
got a license ter travel hit, but tills
strip right hyar hain’t the healthiest
sec tion they kin find. I reckon ye'd
better advise 'em ter move on.”
The Lexington man went back. For
a minute or two Jim Hollman sat
scowling down in indecis'on from bis
saddle. Then he admitted to himself
that be had done all he could do with
out becoming the aggressor. For the
moment he was beaten. He looked up
and from the road one of the hounds
raised its voice and gave cry. That
baying afforded an excuse for leaving
i and Jim Hollman seized it.
“Oo on.” he growled. "Let’s see
what them d-d curs has ter say
now.”
Mounting, they kicked their mules
into a jog. From the men inside the
fence came no note of derision, no
hint of triumph. They stood looking
out with expressionless, masklike
faces until them enemies had passed
out of sight around the should r of
the mountain. The Souths had met and
fronted an accusation made after the
enemy’s own ehc.ic e and method. A
jury of two hounds had acquitted
them. It was not only because the
dogs had refused to recognize in Sam
son a suspicious character that the
enemy rode on grudgingly convinced,
but, aLo, because the family, which
had invariably met hostility with Iioet
tilitv, had so willingly courted the acid
test of guilt or innocence.
Days passed uneventfully after that.
The kinsmen dispersed to their scat
tered coves and cabins. Now and
again came a rumor that Jesse Purvv
was dying, but always hard on its
heels came another to the effect that
the obdurate fighter had rallied,
though the doctors held out small en
couragement of recovery.
One day Kescott, whose bandaged
arm gave him much pain, but who was
able to get about, was strolling not far
from the house with Samson. They
were following a narrow trail along
the mountain side, and, at a sound no
louder than the falling of a walnut,
the boy halted and laid a silencing
hand on the painter’s shoulder. Then
followed an unspoken command in his
companion’s eyes. Leecott sank down
behind a reck, cloaked with glistening
rhododendron leafage, where Samson
had already crouched and heroine im
movable and noiseless. They had
be en there only a short time when
they saw another figure slipping qui
etly from tree to tree below them.
For a time the mountain bnv
watched the figure and the painter
! saw his lips draw in a straight lino
and his eyes narrow with a glint of
tense hate. Yet, a moment later, with
a nod to follow, the boy unexpectedly
rose into view and his features were
absolutely expressionless.
“Moanin', J!m," he called.
The slinking stranger whirled with ]
a start and an instinctive motion a; j
though to bring his rifle to his shoul- \
dor. Put, seeing Samson’s peaceable I
manner, he smiled and his own de-;
meanor became friendly.
“Mornin’, Samson."
“Kinder stranger in this country,
hain't ye, Jim?” drawled the boy who
lived there, and the question brought
a sullen flush to the other's check
bones.
“Jest a-passin’ through," he vouch
safed.
“I reckon yo’d find the wagon road
more handy,” suggested Samson.
"Some folks might 'eidcion ye fer j
sftealin’ ’long through the timber.”
The skulking traveler decided to lie
plausibly. He laughed mendaciously.
"That's the reason, Samson. I was
kinder skeered ter go through this
country in the open.”
Samson met his eye steadily and
said slowly:
"I re< kon, Jim, hit mought be half
es risky fer ye ter walk upstandln’
along Misery es ter go a crouchin’.
Ye thinks ye’ve been a-shadderin’ me.
I knows jest whar ye’ve been all the
time. Ye lies when ye talks 'bout
passin’ through. Ye’ve done been spy
in’ hvar, ever since Jesse Purvy got
shot, an' all thet time ye've done been
•vatehed yerself. I reckon hit'll be
healthier fer ye ter do yore spyin’ from
t'other side of the ridge. 1 reckon yer
(Plowin' ter git me ef Purvy dies, but
ve're watchin’ ye.”
Jim Asbcrry’s face darkened, but he
said nothing. There was nothing to
say. He was discovered in the ene
my's country and must accept the
enemy's terms.
’’This hyar time T lets ye go back,”
said Samson, “fer the reason thet I'm
try in’ like all h 1 ter keep this truce.
But ye must stay on yore side or
else ride the roads open. How is
Purvy terday?”
“He’e mighty porelv,” replied the
other, in a sullen voice.
“All right. Thet's another reason
why hit hain’t healthy fer ye over I
hyar.”
The spy turned and made his way [
over the mountain.
”D-n him!’’ muttered Samson,
his face twitching, as the other was
lost in the undergrowth. “Some day
I’m a-goin’ ter git him.”
Tamarack Spicer did not at once
reappear, and wiien one of the Souths
met another in the road the customary j
dialogue would be: “Heerod anything |
of Tamarack?” . . . "No, hev you?” |
“No, nary a word.”
As Lescott wandered throu"h the
hills, his unhurt right hand began cry
ing out for action and a brush to
nurse. As he watched, day after day,
the unveiling of the monumental h'lls
and the transitions from hazy, wraith
like whispers of hues to strong, flaring
riot of color, this fret of restlessness
became actual pain. He was wasting
wonderful opportunity and the crea
tive instinct in him was clamoring.
One morni-ng, when he came out just
after sunrise to the tin wash basin
at the well, the desire to paint was on
him with compelling force. The hi'ls
ended near tlicir bases like things hit
ten off. Beyond lay limitless stream- j
era of mist, hut. while he stood at, gaze,
he filmy veil began to lift and float
higher. Trees and mountains grew
taller. The sun, which showed first
as a ghost-like disk of polished alumi
num, struggled through orange and
vermilion into a sphere of living
flame. Lescott heard a voice at his
side.
“When docs ye ’low ter commence
paintin’?”
It was Samson. For answer the
artist, with his unhurt hand, impa
tiently tapped his bandaged wrist.
“Ye still got yore right hand, hain’t
ye?” demanded the boy. The other
laughed. It was a typical question. So
long as one had the trigger finger left
one should not admit disqualification.
“You see, Samson," he explained,
“this isn’t precisely like handling a
gun. One must hold the palette; mix
the colors; wipe the brushes and do
half a dozen equally necessary things.
It requires at least two perfectly good
hands. Many p’eople don’t find two
enough.”
“But hit only takes one ter do the
paintin’, don’t hit?”
“Yes.”
“Well”—the bey spoke diffidently
hut with enthusiasm—"between the
two of us we’ve got three hands. I
reckon ye kin larn me how ter do
thrm other things fer ye.”
Lescott's surprise showed In his
face and the lad swept eagerly on.
“Mebby hit hain’t none of ray busi
ness, but, all day yestiddy an’ the
day befo', I was studyin’ ’bout this
here thing, an’ I hustled up an' got
fhet corn weeded an’ now I’m •through.
Ef 1 kin help ye out I thought meb
by—” He paused and looked appeal
ingly at the artist.
Lescott whistled and then his face
lighted into contentment.
“Toflay, Samson,” he announced,
‘‘Lescott, South and Company get
busy."
It was the first time he had seen
Samson smile, and, although the ex
pression was one of sheer delight, in
herent somberness loaned it a touch
of the wistful.
When, an hour later, the two set
out, the mountain bey carried the par
aphernalia and the old man standing
at the door watched them >ff with a
half-quizzical, half-disapproving glance.
As the boy, with remarkable apti
tude, learned how to adjust the easel
and arrange the paraphernalia, Lescott
i at drinking in through thirsty eyes
the stretch of landscape he had deter
mined to paint.
Then, while he painted, the boy held
the palette, his eyes riveted ott the
canvas, which was growing from a
blank to a mirror of vistas—and the
boy’s pupils became deeply hungry.
The day of painting was followed
by others like it. The disabling of
Lescott's left hand made the constant
companionship of the boy a matter
that needed no explanation or apology,
though not a matter of approval to his
uncle.
Another week had passed without
the reappearance of Tamarack Spicer.
One afternoon Lescott and Samson
were alone on a cliff-protected shelf,
and the painter had just blocked in
with umber and neutral tint the crude
sketch of his next picture.
The two men had lout an hour
huddled under a canopy beneath the
cannonading of a sudden storm. They
had silently watched titanic battalions
of thunder clouds riding the skies in
gusty puffs of gale and raking the
earth with lightning and hail and
water.
"My God!” exclaimed the mountain
boy abruptly. "I'd give anything ef
I could paint that.”
Lescott rose smilingly from his seat
before the easel and surrendered his
palette and sheaf of brushes.
"Try it,” he invited.
For a moment Samson stood hesi
tant and overcome with diffident e;
then, with set lips, he took his place
and experimentally fitted his Any •»
about the brush, as he had seen Les
cott do. He asked no advice, lie
merely gazed for a while, and th_n,
dipping a brush and experimti :g lor
iris color, went to sweeping in s pri
mary tones. Samson, even though he
was hopelessly daubing, and knew it,
was sincere, and the painter at his
elbow caught his breath and looked on
with the absorption of a prophet, who,
listening to childish prattle, yet recog
nizes the gift of prophecy.
"Thet’s the way hit looks ter mo,"
the boy said, simply.
"That's the way it is,” commended
his critic.
For a while more Samson worked
at the nearer hills, then he rose.
“I'm done,” he said, ’’hain't a-goin’
ter fool with them. thar trees an’
things. I don't know nothing erbout
tliet. I can't paint leaves an’ twigs
an’ birdsnests. What 1 like is moun
tings an’ skies an’ sech-like things.”
Lescott looked at the daub before
him. A less trained eye would have
seen only the daub, just as a poor
judge of horseflesh might see only
awkward joints and loi.g legs in a
weanling colt, though it be bred in the
purple.
“Samson," he said, earnestly, “that's
all there ie to art. It’s the power to
feel the poetry of color. The rest can
be taught. The genius must work, of
course—work, work, work, and still
work, blit tlip gift is the power >f
seeing true—and. by God, boy, you
have it. You’ve got. what many men
have struggled a lifetime for, and
failed. l'il like to have you study with
me. I'd like to be your discoverer.
Look here."
The painter sat down, and speedily
went to work. He painted out noth
ing. He simply toned, and. with pre
cisely the right, touch here and thete,,.
softened the crudeness, laid stress n:
the contrast, meited the harshness,
and, when he rose, he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone of Samson's
laying, a picture.
“That proves it," he said. "1 had
only to finish. I didn't have much to
undo. Hoy, you’re wasting yourself.
Come with me, anil let . me make you.
i We all pretend there is no such thing,
in these days, as sheer genius; hut,
deep down, we know that, unless there
is, there can be no such thing as truei
art. There is genius and you have
it. ” Enthusiasm was again sweeping’
1 him into an unintended outburst.
The boy stood silent. Across hi8
countenance swept a conflict of emo
tions. He looked away, as if taking
counsel with the hills.
"It’s what I’m a-honln’ for," he ad
mitted at last. “Hit’s what I'd give
half my life fer. ... I mout sell
my land, an’ raise the money. . . .
I reckon hit would take passels of
money, wouldn't hit?” He paused, nmft
his eyes fell on the rifle leaning against,
the tree. His lips tightened in sudden
i--:—I
Jim Hollman.
remembrance. He -went ov*>r and
picked up the gun, and, as fie did so,
he shook his head.
“No,” he stolidly dechred; "every
man to his own tools. This here's
mine.”
Yet, when they were again e j4r
sketching, the temiitatioii to play v t$>,
brushes once more seized him. and tie
took his place before the /a,.ei
Neither he nor Lescott noticed n ni.|r|
who crept down through the 'timber
and for a time watched .nor,;. The
man’s face wore a surly, jontomptuous
grin, and shortly it withdrew.
[ CONTINUED IN NEXT ISSUE.
I