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Local News of the Week.
#•***«*$•
Old apersat the N :>V3 office.
Dr. S. E. Givens moved his fam
ily to Wesson Thursday.
W. E. Clark of Strong was here
Thursday on business.
Dr. Foster Jarrell was an El Do
rado visitor Thursday of this week.
W. L. Garter transacted business
in Little Rock the first of the week.
Mrs. G. A. Berry visited with her
parents at El Dorado Thursday
and Friday.
The Embroidery club will meet
next Wednesday afternoon with
Mrs. A. J. Dowis.
Rev. W. T. King and wife of
Crossett were here this week at
tending the revival meeting at the
Baptist church.
J. R. Dunn left Sunday for his
home at Lampassas, Texas, after
an extended visit here with his
brother, T. L. Dunn, and family.
Estrayed —Red and white spot
ted muely heiffer about 3 years old
Otf/ner can get same at old
McLemore place.
Wood & Neel.
The heaviest snow that has vis
ited this section in many years,
fell last Monday, but was nearly
gone by night, it having cleared off
about noon.
FOUND—A black ribbon watch
fob with gold bar and round gold
ornament that formerly held a
diamond. Call at News office and
get same.
For Rent—The Stephenson
place, }\ mile southwest of Huttig.
See A. G. Stephenson,
108 A Street,
Huttig, Ark.
Miss Hallie Elaine Gasaway, the
noted reader, and the third number
of the School Improvement Asso
ciation lyceum coruse, will appear
at the Union church on Tuesday
evening, February 2, in “The Little
Minister.”
£t or 0 doses 606 will break
any case of Chills & Fever, Colds
& LaGrippe; it acts on the liver
better than Calomel and does no:
gripe or sicken. Price 25c.
Mrs. H. Hilbon of Felsenthal en
tertained the Union Aid society
and friends of that place with a
luncheon at her home last Friday
afternoon from 3 to 5 o'clock
There were nineteen guests pres
ent and all had a pleasant time.
10c Per Hundred.
Old newspapers for sale
at the News office at 10c
per hundred as long as they
last, Come early as the
supply is limited.
Rev. C. F. Medlin, who is teach
ing the Felsenthal school this term,
reports an excellent school with
100 per cent attendance for the
past month, which is a record that
is seldom equalled. He has an en
rollment of 55 pupils.
Representative W. S. Goodwin
of this district offered three
amendments for continuance of
improvements on Ouachita river,
the first appropriating $796,000,
the second $991,000 and the third
$300,000 to the rivers and harbors
bill in the lower house of Congress
this week. All were rejected,
which means that no work will be
done on the locks and dams this
year.
County Judge H. S. Yocum has
appointed the following delegates
to the annual Good Roads and
Drainage convention which meets
in Little Rock on Jan. 25 and 26:
Arthur Betts. B. B. Green, S. C.
Baskin. R. C. Head, Frank Hudson.
W. J. Anglin. R. L. Galbraith. La
mar Jones, Chris Robinson, A T.
Morgan, Harper Lewis, W. T.
Flournoy, R. T. Goodwin. M. S.
Murphy jr„ and Dennis Cameron.
the
best known
died at the
Mrs. Emcn
Col. J. C. Wright Bead.
Col. J. G. Wright, one of
pioneer citizens and
men of Union county,
home of his daughter,
O. Mahony. at El Dorado, at 8
o’colock Monday night. January
18. after a ten days’ illness.
He was born March 14, 1835,
and leaves two sons and tv/o
daughters to mourn his death
along with everyone who knew him
as to know him was to love h'm.
He was a man in every sense of
the word, gallant as a soldier in the
Confederate army, faithful as a
Christian, loyal as a friend, lovable
as a neighbor or acquaintance and
true as a citizen.
The funeral took place from thn
residence of E. O. Mahony at 4
o'clock Tuesday afternoon and at
the request of the deceased was
conducted by W. L. Risinger of
Nashville, Ark., who paid a glowing
tribute to his noble character.
Capt. W. E. Lacy also paid a trib
ute to his memory as a soldier and
a citizen.
Junction City News.
Mrs. J. M. McDonald is home
from Meridian, Miss., where she
has be;n ais sting in the school.
Quite a large number of school
teachers came down from El Do
rado Saturday to attend the Teach
ers association he'd at the school
building.
Misses Jacque Hammett, Birdie
Lee Thompson and Mary Pratt of
El Dorado spent Sunday in the city
the guests of Miss Norv^lle Ham
mett.
Mrs. A. A. Couch went to El
Dorado Saturday to visit Mrs. T.
G. Marrable.
Willie Stinnett of Chidester is in
the city.
The Tuesday club was delight
fully entertained by Mrs. W. B.
Johnson last week. The next
meeting will be with Miss Monique
Goyne.
We had about five inches of snow
here Monday, but it soon melted.
Mrs. C. L. Jones and son, George
Wright, visited in El Dorado last
week.
J. M. Brown made a business
tiipto Fordyce the first of the
week.
Mrs. J. W. Halford died Monday
morning after a lingering illness of
several weeks.
Jeff Murphy, the jolly “candy
kid." was in the city Monday.
Col. R. G. Harper of El Dorado
transacted business in the city last
Saturday.
Arkansas Has 204,547 farm Home.
There are now 333,368 homes
in Arkansas, according to the re
port issued by the Census Bureau,
while ten years ago the number
was 265,238, compared with
213,620 homes in 1890. Sixty
one per cent of the Arkansas
homes are farm homes, compared
with 66 per cent in 1900 and 69
per cent in 1890. The number of
homes in the state free of incum
berance at the present time is
1 16,947. while 30,085 are incum
bered. and 173,251 are rented.
In the entire nation there are
20.255,555 homes. Of this num
ber 6.123,61.0 are farm and 14,
131,945 are urban homes,
Restrospcctlve.
“I have lived 67 years, last smss,*
confessed the Old Codder, "(tuiing
v.hlch I can truthfully say that I have
done little to be ashamed of and still
less to be proud of."—Kansas City
Star.
CHARLES NEVILLE'BUCK,
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
OF SCENTS IN THE PLAY - “
CCPYPIGHT IQIT.
\>V J, V 'ATT & cYA\PANY
8YNUHSIS.
CHAPTER T—On Misery crook, at the •
foot of a rock from whb h h»j has ia1i« ;
I Sally Miller finds George Lescott, a land- |
| scape painter, uncou.'- ions, and aft r rt* !
| viving him, goes for assistance.
CHAPTER II -Samson South and
taking Lescott to Sums n’ home, an n.* 1
! by Spicer South, head of the family \vh<» i
tells them that Jess* Purvy has been shot,
i and that Samson is suspe< ted of the
I crime. Samson denies it.
CHAPTER III- The shooting of Jesse
Purvy breaks the truce in the HolUnan
J South feud.
CHAPTER TV—Samson reproves Tama
i rack Spicer for telling Silly that Jim
Hodman is on the trail with bloodhounds
hunting the man who shut Purvy.
CHAPTER V- Th bloodhounds l>s the ‘
trail a’ Spier Sm IP's door. I.rr. otl His
covers artistic ability In Samson. While '
sketching with 1.(scott on the mountain,
Tamarack d'seovers Samson to a jeering
crowd of mountaineers. Samson thrashes
him and denounces him as the “truce* i
buster” who shot Purvy.
CHAPTER VJ — 1 .cscot* tries to per- i
suarie Samson to go to X w York wii't I
him and develop his talent. Sally, loyal :
but heartbroken, furthers I.cseotl’s efforts
The dance at Wile MeCager's threatens i
trouble to Samson and la scott.
But no one knew that. A man sup;
posedly cloze to the Heilmans, hut in
reality an informer for the Souths, had
seen him led into the jailyard by a j
posse of a half-dozen men, and had j
seen the iron-barred dours close on
him. That was all, except that the
Hollman forces were gathering in
Hixon, and, if the Souths went there
en masee, a pitched battle must be the
inevitable result. The first step was
to gain accurate information and an
answer to one vital question. \Vas I
Tamarack held as a fend victim, or !
was his arrest legitimate? Hew to |
learn that was the problem. To send
a body of men was to invite bloodshed.
To send a single inquirer was to da- :
liver him over to the enemy,
"Air you men willin’ ter take my
word about Tamarack?" inquired Sam
son. There was a clamorous assent,
and the boy turned to Lescott.
"I wants ye ter take Sally home with
ye. Ye'd better start right away, afore
she heers any of this talk. Hit would
fret her. Tell her I've had ter go 'cross
r
to time.
It was about three o'clock when Sam
son started. It was near six when he
reached the ribbon ct road that loops
down into town over the mountain.
His mule was in a lather os' 1 eat. He j
knew that he was being spied upon, j
and that word of his coming was lr«v- j
cling ahead of him. What he did not
know was whether or not it suited
Jesse Purvy's purpose that he should
slide from his mule, dead, before he
turned homeward. If Tamarack had
been seized as a declaration of war,
the chief South would certainly not
he allowed to return. If the arrest had
not been for feud reasons, he might ;
escape. Thpt was the question which
would be answered with his life or
death.
The "jailhouse” was a small build
ing of home-made brick, squatting at 1
the rear of the courthouse yard. As I
Samson drew near, he saw that some !
ten or twelve men, armed with rifles,
separated from groups and disposed
thorns Ives behind the tree trunks and
i he stone coping of the well. None of
’urn spoke, and Samson pretended
that h“ had not seen them. He rode
i s mule at a walk, knowing that he
was ride-covered from a half-dozen
windows. At fhe hitching rack direct
ly beneath the county building, h»
funt' his reins over a post, and, swing
ing his rifle at his side, passed cau
tiously along the brick walk to tire
jail. The men behind tiie trees edged
around their covers as he went, kee;>
ing themselves protected, as squirrels
creep around a trunk when a hunter is I
lurking below. Samson halted at the
jail wall, and called tire prisoner's
name. A tousled head and surly face
appeared at the barred window, and
the boy went over and held converse
from the outside.
“How in hell did yo git into town?''
demanded the prisoner.
“i rid in,” was the short reply.
‘Mow’d ye git in the jailhouse?”
The captive was shamefaced.
"1 got a lectle too much licker, an’ I
was sliootin’ out the lights last night,’’
he confessed.
“What business did ye have hyar in
Hixon?”
‘‘I jest slipped in ter see a gal."
Samson leaned closer, and lowered
his voice.
i “Poes they know tfyet ye shot them
j shoots at Jesse Purvy
Tamarack turned pale.
“No,” he Etammered, "they believe
you done hit.”
Samson laughed. He was thinking
of the rifles trained on him from a
dozen invisible rests.
“How long air they a-goin’ ter keep
ye hyar?” he demanded.
"I kin git out tomorrer ef I pays the
fine. Hit’s ten dollars.”
“And’ ef yo don't pay the fine?”
"Hit’s a dollar a day.”
“I reckon ye don’t 'low ter pay hit,
do ye?”
"1 ’lowed mebby ye mout pay hit fer
me, Sameon.”
“Ye done ’lowed plumb wrong. 1
come hyar ter see ef ye needed help,
but hit 'pears ter me they’re lettin’ ye
off easy.”
He turned on his heel, and went
back to his mule. The man behind the
trees began circling again. Samson
mouhted, and, with his chin well up,
trotted hack along the main street. It
was over. The question was answered.
The Holimans regarded the truce as
still effective. The fact that they were
permitting him to ride out alive was
a wordless assurance of that. Inci
dentally, he stood vindicated in the
eyes of his own people.
Lescott stayed on a week after that
simply in deference to Samson’s insist
ence. To leave at once might savor of
flight under fire, but when the week
was out-the painter turned his horse’s
Lead toward town, and his train swept
him back to the Biuegracs and the
East.
A quiet of unbroken and deadly
routine settled down on Misery. The
conduct of the Souths in keeping hands
off, and acknowledging the justice of
Tamarack Spicer’s jail sentence, had j
been their answer to the declaration
of the Holimans in letting Sumson ride
into and out of Hixon. The truce was j
established. When, a short time later.
Tamarack lefft the country to become
a railroad brakeraan, Jesse Purvy
passed the word that hie men must,
until fur her orders, desist from vio
lence. The word had crept about that
Samson, too, was going away, and, if
this were true, Jesse felt that his fu
ture would be more secure than his
post. Purvy believed Samson guilty,
des pite the exoneration of the hounds.
Lescott hnd sent a box of bocks, and
Samson had taken a team over to
Ilixon, and brought them back.
He devoured them all from title
page to finis line, and many of them
he went back to, and digested again.
He wrestled long and gently with
his uncle, struggling to win the old
man’s consent to h's departure. But
Spicer South’s brain was no longer
plastic. Vlvjt had been good enough
for the. past was good enough for the
future. N vertheicss, he arranged af
fairs 60 that his nephew should b
jtiiie to meet linaucal needs, and to go
“This Hai;i't No Time for Squabblin’
Amongst Ourselves."
ther country a piece, ter see a sick
man. Don't tell her whar I’m a-goin’.”
He turned to the others. “I reckon
I’ve got yore promise thet Mr. Loscott
hain’t a-gotn’ ter be bothered afore I
gits back ?”
Wile McCager promptly gave the as
surance.
"I gives ye my hand on hit.”
“I seed Jim Asbcrry loafin’ round
Jest beyond ther ridge, as I rid over
hyar,” volunteered the man who had
brought the message.
“Go slow now, Samson. Don’t be no
blame fool,” dissuaded Wile McCager.
"Hlxon’s plumb full of them Hollmans,
an' they’re likely ter be full of licker—
hit’s Saturday. Hit’s apt ter be shore
death fer ye ter try ter ride through
Main street—ef ye gits thet far. Ye
dassent do hit.”
“I dast do anything!” asserted the
boy, with a hash of sudden anger.
“Some liar 'lowed awhile ago thet I
was a coward. All right, mebby I he.
Unc’ Wile, keep the boys hyar tell ye
hears from me—an’ keep ’em sober.”
He turaed and made his way to the
fence where his mule stood hitched.
When Samson crossed the ridge and
: entered the Hollman country, J.m As
berry, watching from a hilltop point of
vantage, rose and mounted the horse
that stood hitched behind a nearby
screen of rhododendron bushes and
young cedars. Sometimes, he rode just
one bend of the road in Samson's rear.
Sometimes, lie took short cuts, and
watched his enemy pass. Ilut always
he held him under a vigilant eye.
; Finally, he reached a wayeide store
' where a local telephone gave communi
cation with Hollman’s Mammoth De
! partment store.
"Jedge,” he informed, “Samson
South's done left tha party et ther
mill, an’ he’s a-ridin’ towards town.
Shall I git him?”
“Is he coinin’ by hlsself?” inquired
the storekeeper.
“Yes.”
“Well, jest let him come on. Wo
can tend ter him hyar, ef necessary.”
i So Jim withheld his hand, and merely
shadowed, sending bulletins, from lime
where he chose in a fashion befitting
a South.
November came in bleakly, with a
raw and devastating breath of fatality.
The smile died from horizon to hori
zon, and for days cold rains beat and
lashed the forests. And, toward the
end of the month, came the day which
Samson had set for his departure.
At the threshold, with the saddle
bags over his left forearm and the rifle
in his hand, he paused. His uncle stood
at his elbow and the boy put out his
hani
“Good-by, Unc’ Spicer,” was all he
said. The old man, who had been his
second father, shook hands. His face,
too, was expressionless, but he felt
that he was saying farewell to a sol
dier of genius who was abandoning the
fi< Id. And he loved the boy with all
the centered power of an isolated
heart.
A half-mile along the road, Samson
halted and dismounted. There, in a
smell core, surrounded by a tangle of
briers and blackberry bushes, stood a
small and dilapidated “meeting house”
and churchyard, which he must visit.
i;e made his way through the rougn
undergrowth to the unkempt half-acre,
and halted before the leaning head
stones which marked two graves. Witn
a sudden emotion, he ewept the back
of liis hand across his eyes. He did
not remove his hat, but he stood in the
drizzle of cold rain for a moment of
silence, and then he said:
"Pap, 1 hain’t fergot. 1 don't want
ye ter think tliet I’ve fergot."
Pc "ore he arrived at tiie Widow Mil
ler’s, the rain had stopped and the
clouds bad broken.
Sally opened the door, and smiled.
She had spent the day nerving herself
for this farewell, and at least untP
the moment of leave taking she would
be eale from tears. The Widow Mil
ler and her son soon left them alone
and the boy and girl sat before tin
blazing logs.
For a time, an awkward silence fob
between them. At last, the boy ros°
and went over to the corner where bi
i
1
“When I Whistles Like a Whippoor
will, Fetch Me That Gun."
htd placed his gun. He took it up and
aid it on t lie hearth between them.
“Sally,” he said, “I wants ter tell ye
some thiugs thet I hain’t never said
ter nobody else. in the fust place, 1
wants ye te"r keep this hyar gun fer
me.”
The girl s eyes widened with sur
prise.
“Hain't ye a-goin’ ter take hit with
ye, Samson?”
“He shook his head.
"I hain’t a-goin' ter need hit down
below. Nobody don’t use ’em down
thar. I’ve got my pistol, an’ 1 reckon
thet will be enough."
“I’ll take good keer of hit," she
promised.
The boy took out of his pockets a
box of cartridges and a small package
it d in a greasy rag.
‘‘Hit s loaded, Sally, an’ hit’s cleaned
an k t s greased. Hit’s ready fer use.”
Again, she nodded in silent assent,
and the boy began speaking in a slow,
careful voice, which gradually mount
ed into tehee emotion.
“Sally, thet thar gun was my pap’s.
When he lay a-dyin’, he gave hit ter
me, an’ he gave me a job ter do with
hit. When I was a little feller, I used
ter set up ’most all day, polishin’ thet
gun an’ gittin’ hit ready. 1 used ter
go out in the woods, an’ practice shoot
in' hit at things, tell I learned how ter
handle hit. 1 reckon thar hain't many
fellers round here thet kin beat me
now.” He paused, and the girl hastened
to corroborate.
“Thar hain't none, Samson.”
“There hain’t nothin’ in the world,
Sally, thet 1 prizes like I doe3 thet gun.
Hit’s got a job ter do. . . . Thar
hiiin’t but one person in the world I’d
trust hit with. Thet's you. ... I
wants ye ter keep hit fer me, an' ter
kt v p hit ready. . . . They thinks
round hyar I'm quittin', but 1 hain't.
Tin eomin buck, an', when I comes, I'll
med this hyar thing -an’ I’ll need hit
e. d." He too” up the rifle, and ran his
hand caressingly along its lock and
barre*.
"I don’t know when I’m a-comln',” he
said, slowly, “but, when I calls fer this.
I’m shore a-goin’ ter need hit quick. I
wants hit ter be ready fer me, day er
night. Maybe, nobody won’t know I'm
hyar. . . . Maybe, I won’t want
nobody ter know. . . . But, when
I whistles out thar like a whippoorwill,.
I wants ye ter slip out—an’ fotch me
thet gun!”
He stopped, and bent forward. His
face was tense, and hie eyes were glint
ing w ith purpose. His lips were tight
set and fanatical.
“Samson,” said the girl, reaching out
and taking the weapon from his hands,
“ef I’m alive when ye comes. I'll do
hit. I promise ye. An’,” she added,
"ef I hain’t alive, hit'll be standin’
thar in thet corner. I’ll grease hit,
an’ keep hit loaded, an’ when ye calls,
I’ll fotch hit out thar to ye.”
The youth nodded. "I mout come
any time, but likely as not I'll hev ter
come a fightin' when I comes.”
: Next, he produced an envelope.
“This here is a let'.er I’ve done writ
ter myeelf,” he explained. He drew
out the sheet, and read:
“Samson, come back.” Then he
handed the missive to the girl. "Thet
there is addressed ter me, in care of
Mr. Lescott. . . . Ef anything hap
pens—ef Unc’ Spicer needs me—I
wants yer ter mail thet ter me quick.
He. says as how he won’t never call
tne back, but, Sally, I wants thet you
rhail send fer me, ef they needs me. I
hain't a-goln’ ter write no lettere home.
Unc’ Spicer can’t read, an’ you can’t
“tad much either. But i’ll plumb shore
be thlnkin' about ye day an’ night.”
She gulped and nodded.
“Yes. Samson,” was all she said.
The boy rose.
“1 reckon I’d better be gettin' along,”
he announced.
The girl suddenly reached out both
hands, and seized his coat. She held
him tight, and rose, facing him. Her
upturned face grew very pallid, and
her eyes widened. They were dry, and
her lips were tightly closed. b,;t,
•nrough the tearless pupils, in the tire
light, the boy could read her eoul, and
her soul was sobbing.
He drew her toward him, and held
her very tight.
“Sally,” he said, in a voice which
threatened to choke, "I wants ye ter
take keer of yeself. Ye hain't like
these other gals round hpre. Ye hain’t
got big hands an' feet. Ye kain't stand
es much es they kin. Don’t stay out
in the night air too much—an', Sally—
fer God's sake take keer of yeself!”
He broke ofT. and picked up his hat.
“An' that gun. Sally.” he repeated at
the door, "that there's the most pre
cious thing I’ve got. I loves hit better
then anything—take keer of hit.”
Again, she caught at his shoulders.
“Does ye love hit better'n ye do me,
Samson?” she demanded.
He hesitated.
“I reckon ye knows how much I
svly, “but
■«» the*
me."
They went together out to the stile,
he still carrying his rifle, as though
loath to let it go. and she crossed
with him to the road.
As he untied his reins, she threw
her arms about his neck, and for a
long while they stood there under the
clouds and stars, as he held her close.
There was no eloquence of leave-tak
ing, no professions of undying love,
for these two hearts were inarticulate
and dizzy clinging to a wilderness
code of self-repression—and they had
reached a point where speech would
have swept them both away to a break
down.
he sald.1
gun’s a-goin’ fer keep hit t
CHAPTER VIII
The boy from Misery rode slowly to
ward Hixon. At times (he moon strug
gled out. and made the shadows black
along the way. At other times it was
like riding in a huge caldron of pitch.
When he passed into that stretch of
country at whose heart Jesse Purvy
dwelt he raised his voice in song. His
singing was very bad. and the ballad
lacked tune, but it served its purpose?
of saving him from the suspicion of
furtiveness. Though the front of the
house was black, behind its heavy shut
ters he knew that his coining might be
noted, and night-riding at this par
ticular spot might be misconstrued in
the absence of frank warning.
The correctness of his inference
brought a brief smile to his lips when
he crossed the creek that skirted the
orchard and heard a stable door creak
softly behind him. He was to be fol
lowed again—and watched, nut he did
not look back or pause to listen for
the hoofbeats of his unsolicited escort.
On the soft mud of the road he would
hardly have heard them had he bent
his ear and drawn rein. He rode at a
walk, for his train would not leave un
til five o’clock in the morning. There
was time in plenty.
It was cold and depressing as ho
trudged the empty streets from the
j livery stable to the railroad station,
i carrying his saddlebags over his arm.
At last he heard the whistle and saw the
blazing headlight, and a minute later
; he had pushed his way into the smok
ing car and dropped his saddlebags
' on the seat beside him. Then, for the
first time, he saw and recognized his
| watchers. Purvy meant to have Sam
son shadowed as far as T.exington, and
his movements from that point defi
nitely reported. Jim Asberry and Anron
Hollis were the chosen spies. He did
not speak to the two enemies who took
seats across the car, but his face
hardened, and his brows came together
ln_a black scowl.
ouixilNUED IN NEXT ISSUE.
Old papers for sale at this office,. _
. 10c per 100,
j