^s#**^**********^*******************************#^
«•
*§
•*£#
Local News of the Week.
# -
**»«-:
Joe Brasher transacted business
in El Dorado last Saturday.
Mrs. L. G. Gibson was a Monroe
visitor Thursday.
F. W. Scott was a business visitor
in Camden Monday.
Mrs. G. Howard visited friends
in Monroe last Sunday.
T. B. Weaver transacted busi
n 'ss in Monroe Monday.
_2.
Dr. S. E. Givens of Wesson
spent Sunday here with his family.
Dr. L. F. Magee transacted bus- 1
iness in Texarkana the first of the
week.
Miss Lulu Harrington was the
charming guest of Monroe friends
Sunday. __
Henry Butts has arrived from
Arkansas City to spend the holi
days here.
Miss Ruth Gaughan of Camden
was the guest of Mrs. F. W. Scott
h ;re this week.
Mr. and Mrs. W. C. Thompson
are the proud parents of a fine boy,
born to them Saturday of last week
Mrs. C. A. Berry spent Ihe first
of the week with her parents, Mr.
and Mrs. R. T. Carter, in El Dorado
Mrs. E. J. James of Griffin is
fnre to spend the holidays with her j
parents, Mr. and Mrs. E. J. Haw- j
kins._
Mrs. M. P. Buswell of Wesson
was here this week visiting her
daughter. Mrs. W. C. Thompson,
and family.
Mrs. D. A. Keasler was called to
Ruston. La., last Friday on account
of frer -nw>ther sustaining serious
injuries from a fall.
Rev. S. K. Burnett, the new
Methodist pastor, occupied his pul
pit last Sunday morning and eve
ning and delivered two able ser
mons. _
B. B. Lewis, who formerly
worked as clerk at the depot here
was in town Sunday night en rcute
to Lawson to relieve the Iron
Mountain agent at that point.
Up to Dec. 1 there were 13.E44
bales of this year’s cotton crop
ginned in Union county as com
pared with 12,979 for the same
period last year.
T. C. Starrett of St. Louis, from
whom the Unioi Saw Mill Co.,
purchased a large amount of their
timber holdings, was in Huttig on
business Tuesday night.
Frank Genusa, an experienced
shoe maker, has located in Felsen
thal at the store of C. Zumo and is
prepared to do first class work at
reasonable prices. When in need
of shoe repairing give him a trial.
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.
J. Presley Moore of Washington.
Ark., a brother of W. H. and Rus
sell who live here, is at Annapolis,
Md., taking the examination to en
ter the Unitea States Naval Acad
emy there.
Mrs. Ammer McClung of Ber
nice, La., was the guest of her
brother, J. C. Bridges, and family
this week and will go from here to
Winnsboro, La., to spend Christmas
with another brother before return
ing home.
Miss Minnie Stell of Pike City, a
neice of Mrs. W. H. Moore of Hut
tig, and Mr. Loyd Adams, the gen
ia! traveling salesman for the Riv-1
erside Tailoring Co., who visits!
Huttig regularly, were united in
marriage at the home of the o ide's
parents on Tuesday, Dec. 15.
Davis Malone and w fe are here
visiting her parents, Mr. and Mrs.
W. H. McKinney.
For Rent -The Stephenson
place, '4 mile southwest of Huttig.
See A. G. Stephenson,
108 A Street,
Huttig, Ark.
ftUB»R*IY-T!3SV1
Will cure your Kliemntifisra
Neuralgia, Headaches, Cramps,
Colic, Sprains, Bruises, Cuts arid
Burns. Old Sores, Stings of Insecit
Etc. Aeltsepfic Anodyne, used in
ternally and externally. Price 25c
We have round trip tick ts to all
local points on sale at this office
and would be glad to sell you round
trip tickets, saving you money t>y
buying them and at the same time
make a better showing for our sta- I
tion in this manner. We solicit
your business. D. A. Keasler,
Agent St. L. I. M. & S. Ry.
Jake Dollar Dead.
Jake Dollar, one of the oldest ard
part of Union county died in Mon
roe Thursday morning of cancer of
the throat, from which he has been
a suff ’red for some time. His re
mains were brought to Felsenthal
Thursday afternoon anu the funeral
held from the family residence near
Dollar Junction at 1 1 o’clock Fri
day morning, internment taking
place in old Lapile cemetery. He
was a membe-' of Lapile Lodge No.
294. F. & A. M. and was a Masonic
burial. He was a man of middle
age and a good citizen. H:s family
and other relatives have the sym
pathy of all in their loss.
a or 8 doses 6G6 will break
ny case of Chills & Fever, Cold9
3c LaGrippe; it acts on the liver
better than Calomel and does not
;;ripe or sicken. Price 25c.
best known citizens of the eastern
Tyranny of the Tailor.
Tailors are growing as tyrannical
as dressmakers. A West end tailor
told me quite seriously that lie habit
ually declined to make a-dress suit for
any customer who would not consent
to have his shirts specially cut so as
to insure the correct fit of the waist
coat. He added that he had refused
to sell lounge suits to several would be
customers who were oulte willing to
pay the high price demanded, simply
because in his opinion, their poor
physique or doubtful sartorial distinc
tion would be a bad advertisement for
his clothes.
Every man who wears his new suits
must discard every tie he already pos
sesses, and purchase special ties of the
same pattern as the suits, but two
shades—he emphasized this point.—
two shades darker. Well, well!—Lon
don Express.
Seed Carried by Birds.
The way in which feathers and oth
i er foreign matter will adhere to and
j accumulate around the seat of injuries
; to the feet of birds is well known.
The most famous is that quoted years
ago by Darwin.
This was that of a red legged part
tridge, which was found to have a
ball of earth measuring seven and
| three-quarters inches in circumference,
and weighing six and three-quarters
ounces around one of its feet. After
softening the earth a number of seeds
were removed therefrom and sowed.
No fewer than 82 plants came up, rep
resenting at least five species. This
experiment demonstrated one of the
many ways in which birds may dis
perse seeds
60 YEARS'
/rare Marks
Designs
.... Copyrights 4c.
Anyone sending a sketch and description mu
qnlckly ascertain onr opinion free whether an
Invention is probably patentHhij. I'nmimmloa
Sons strictly confidenthd. HANDBOOK mil-arena
sent free, oldest agency for securing watema.
Patents takei through Mann * Co. receive
tfxciiU notice, without choree. In the
Scientific American.
A handsomely illustrated weekly. I.arcest out
.ilntion c.f any solemlfic Journal, terms. Mu
ir . four months, *1. Sold by all newsdea are.
,.361 Broadway. HOrll
t06 K HU Washington. U. U
OCALWtfie
CUMBERLANDS
/£> CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
OF SCENES IN THE PLAY y
bYUUr'ola,
CHAPTER I—On Misery creek, at th>'
foot of a rock from which Im has lalh n, j
Sally Miller finds George Eescott, a land
scape painter, uncontn ious, and after re- I
viving him, goes for assistance.
CHAPTER II—Samson Smith and S ll>.
taking Lescott to Samson’s home, am met
by Spicer South, head of the family, who [
tells them that Jesse Purvy has been shot. '
and that Samson is suspected of the j
crime. Samson denies It.
The daughter went to a rear win
dow and gazed up at the mountain.
The cloudless* skies were still in lad
ing behind a curtain of mist. The
woman was idly watching the vanish
ing fog wraiths and her father came
over to her side. ^ hen the baby cried
and she stepped back. Purvy himself
remained at the window tt was a
thing he did not often do. It 'eft him
exposed, but the most cautiously
guarded life has its moments ot re
laxed vigilance. He stood there nos
sibly thirty seconds, then a sharp tu
sillade of clear reports barked out and
was shattered by the hills into a long
reverberation. With a hand clasped
to his chest, Purvy turned, walked to
the middle of the floor, and fell.
The henchmen rushed to the open
sash. They leaped out and plunged
up the mountain, tempting the assas
sin's fire, but the assassin was satis
fled. The mountain was again as
quiet as it had been at dawn. Inside,
at t'.ie middle of the store, Jesse Purvy
shifted his head against his dough
ter's knee and said, as one stating an
expected event:
"Well, they've got me,”
An ordinary mountain°er wou'd
have been carried home to die in the
darkness of a dirty and windowless
shack. The long-suffering star of Tesse
Purvy ordained otherwise. He might ;
go under or he might once more beat
his way back and out of the quick
sands of death. At all events, he would
fight for life to the last gasp.
Twenty miles away in the core of
the wilderness, removed from a rail
road by a score of semi-perpendicular
miles, a fanatic had once decidi d to
found a school.
Now a faculty of ten men taught
such as cared to come such things as
they cared to learn Higher up the
Ir’Iside stood a small, but model hos
p tal, with a modern operating table
and a case of surgical instruments,
which, It was said, the state could not
.urpass.
To this haven Jesse Purvy, the mur
der lord, was borne in a litter carried
on the shoulder;! of Ills dependents.
Here, as his steadfast guardian star
decreed, he found two prominent med
ical vis.itors who hurried him to the I
operating table. I.ater he was re j
moved to .a white bed, with the June ■
sparkle in his eyes, pleasantly modu
iated through drawn bhn.ls and tbe i
June rustle and bird ehorus in his
ears—and tiis own thougnts in nis
brain.
Conscious, but in great pain, Purvy
beckoned Tim Asberrv pud Aaron Hol
lis, his chiefs oi bodyguard, to his bed
side and waved the nurse back out of
hearing.
“If I don’t get well,” he 3aid feebly,
there’s a job for you two boys. I
reckon you know what it is?"
They nodded, and Asberry whis
pered a name:
‘‘Samson South?”
"Yes.” Purvy spoke in a whisper;
but the old vindictiveness was not
smothered. “You got the old man I
reckon you can manage the cub. If
you don’t he’ll get you both one day.”
Tlie two henchmen scowled
“I’ll git him tomorrer,” growled As
berry. “Thar hain t no sort of use
in a-waitin’.”
"No!” For an instant Purvy’s voice
rose out of its weakness to its old
staccato tone of command, a tone
which brought obedience. "If 1 get
well I have other plans. Never mind
what they are That’s my business.
If I don't die, leave him alone, until
I give other orders.
"If I get well and Samson South is
killed meanwhile 1 won’t live long
either. It would be my life for his.
Keep close to him. The minute you
hear of my death—get him.” He
paused gain, then supplemented,
‘‘You two will find something mighty
interestin’ in my will.”
It was afternoon when Purvy
reached the hospital, and, at nightfall
of the same day, there arrived at his
store’s entrance, on stumhling, hard
ridden mules, several men, followed
by two tawny hounds whose long ears
flapped over their lean jawrs, and
whose eyes w-ere listless and tired but
whose black muzzles wrinkled and
stuffed with that sensitive instinct
which follows the man scent. The ex
sheriff’s family were instituting pro
ceedings independent of the chief’s or
ders. The next morning this party
plunged into the mountain tangle and
beat the cover with the bloodhounds
in leash.
The two gentle-faced 'dogs picked
their way between the flowering rho
dodendrons, the glistening laurels, the
feathery pine sprouts and the moss
! covered rocks They went gingerly
i and alertly on ungainly, cushioned
feet. Just as their masters were, de
: spairlng they cauie to a place directly
over the store, where a branch had
been bent buck and hitched to clear
the outlook and where a boot heel
had crushed the mo«3 There one of
them raised his nose hivh into the
air, opened tils mouth, a ad ot out a
long, deep-chested bay of disco , cry.
CHAPTER IV.
George Lescott had known hospital
ity of many brands and decrees, tie
had been the lionized celebrity :n
places of fashion. He hart been the
guest of equally famous brother artists
in the cities of two hemispheres, and,
since sincere painting htrd been his
pole star, he had gone where his art's
wanderlust barkened. He hart fol
•>\ved the lure of transitory beauty
to remote sections of the world. I'ho
present trip was nrd> one of many
like it, which had brought him into
touch with varying peoples and dis
tinctive types of life, fie told himself
that never had he found men a' ot.ee
so crude and so courteous as these
hosts who facing p-.rsonal perils had '
still time and willingness to regard his
comfort.
The coming of the kinsman, who!
would stay until the present danger
passed, had filled the house. Toe four
beds in the cabin proper were full,!
and some slept on floor rr.attrfs«» s.
Lescott. because a guest and wounded,
was given a small room aside Sam
son, however shared his quap“S in
order to perform any service mat an j
injured man might require it had
been a full and unusual day fo' the:
nainter and its incidents crowded in
on him in retrospet t and drove oft too
possibility of sleep. Samson, too,
seemed wakeful, and in the Isolation
of the dark room the two men fell into
conversation which almost lasted out
the night Samson went into the con- j
fessional. ibis was the hast human!
being he had ever met to whom ue i
could unburden his soul.
The thirst to taste what knowledge
lay beyond the hills; the unnamed
wanderlust that nad at tines brought
him a restiveness so poignant p.p to
be agonizing; the undefined at'uning
of his heart to the beauty of sip ana
hill; these matters he had hiiucrto
kept locked in guilty silence.
In a cove or lowland pocket, stretch
ing into the mountain side, lav Gie
i small and meager farm of the Widow
Miller. The Widow Millar was a
“South;” that is to say, she fell, by
tie of marriage, under the protection
of the clan head. She lived alcL.o with
her fourteen-year-old son and her six
teen-vear-old d .tighter. The daughter
, was Stilly.
The sun rose on the morning after
Lescott arrived, the mie-ts lifted, acr!
the cabin of the Widow Mill r stood
revealed. A tou-le-heuded boy made
; his way to the b.rn to t> d the r.iftle,
and a ted patch of color, as bright
and tuneful as a Kentucky cardinal,
appeared at the door between th° |
morning-glory vines. The red pi tch
of color was St;lly.
She made her way, carrying a
bucket, to the spring, where she kneit
down and gazed at her own image in
the water.
Before going home she set down her
bucket by the stream, and, will* a
quick glance toward the house to make
sure that she was not observed
climbed through the brush and wee
lost to view. She followed path that
her own feet had made, and after a
i steep course upward came upon a bald
j face of rock, which stood out storm
i battered where a rift went througl
the backbone of the ridge. This poin
of vantage commanded the other «al
ley. Down below, across the tveetops,
were a roof and a chimney from which
a thread of smoke ruse in an attenu
ated shaft. That was Spicer Soulh'f
house and Samson's home. The girl
leaned against the gnarled bowl of the
white oak and waved toward the root
and chimney. She cupped her hands
and raised them to her lips like one
who means to shout across a great dis
tance, then she whispered so low that
only she herself could hear:
“Hello, Samson South!’’
She stood for a space looking down,
and forgot to laugh, while her eyes
grew religiously and softly deep, then,
turning, she ran down the slope. She
had performed her morning devotions.
That day at the house of Spicer
South was an off day. The kinsmen
who had stopped for the night stayed
on through the morning. Nothing was
said of the possibility of trouble. The
men talked crops and tossed horse
shc-es in the yard: but no one went to
work in the tklds, and all remained
within easy call. Only young Tama
rack Spicer, a raw-boned nephew, wore
a sullen face and made a great show
of cleaning Ills rifle and pistol.
Shortly after dinner he disappeared,
and when the afternoon was well ad
vanced Samson, too, with his rifle on
his arm, strolled toward the stile.
He sauntered down the rond, but,
when he had passed out of vision, he
turned sharply into the woods, and
began climbing. His steps carried him
to the rift in the ridge where the white
oak stood sentinel over the watch
tower of rock. As he came over the
edge from one side his bare feet mak
ing no sound, he saw Sally Bitting
there, with her hands resting on the
moss and her eyes deeply troubled.
She was gazing fixedly ahead and her
lips were trembling. At once Sam
son's face grew black. Some one had
been making Sally unhappy. Then he
saw beyond her a standing figure,
which the tree trunk had hitherto con
cealed. It was the loose-knitted figure
of young Tamarack Spicer.
“In course,” Spicer was saying, "we
don’t 'low Samson shot Jesse Purvy,
hut them Tlollmans ’ll ’spicion him, an’
I heered just now thet them dawgs
was trackin’ straight up hyar from the
moutli of Misery. They’ll git hyar
against sundown.”
Samson leaped violently forward.
With one hand he roughly seized hie
cousin’s shoulder and wheeled him
about.
"Shot up!” he commanded. “What
d-n fool stuff hev ye been tellin’
Sully?"
For an Instant the two clansmen
s*ood fronting each other. Samsgn's
face was set and wrathful. Tamarack's
was surly and snarling. "Hain’t I got
a license ter tell Sally the news?” ho
demanded.
“Nobody hain’t got no license,” re
torted the younger man in the o.uiet
of cold anger, “ter tell Sally nothin’
Hint'll fret her.”
“She air bound ter know hit all
pretty soon. Them dawgs—”
'Didn't I tell ye ter shet up?’’ Sam
son clenched his fists, and took a step
forward. "Ef ye opens yore mouth
again, I’m a-goin’ ter smash hit. Now,
git!”
Tamarack Spicer’s fa^e blackened,
and his teeth showed. His right hand
swept to his left arm pit. Outwardly
|: ■ t <■■*■■■ y|,<vS|
“I Couldn’t Live Withouten Ye, Sam
bcn. I Jest Couldn’t Do Hit.”
he seemed weaponless, but Samson
knew that concealed beneath the
hickory shirt was a holster, worn
mountain fashion.
“What air ye a-reachln’ atter,
Tam’rack?” he inquired, his lips twist
ing in amusement.
“Thet’s my business.”
“Well, git hit out—or git out yeself,
afore I throws ye offen the clift.”
Sally showed no symptoms of alarm.
Her coniidence in her hero was abso
lute. The boy lifted his hand, and
pointed off down the path. Slowly
ind with incoherent muttering, Spicer
took himself away. Then only did
Sa’lv ri e. She came over, and laid a
hand on Samson's shoulder. In her
flue eyes, the tears were welling.
' Samson,’ she whisp< red, "ef they’re
ter ye, come ter my house. I kin
ide ye out. Why didn't ye tell nit
esse Jurvey’d done been shot?”
‘ Hit tain't nothin’ ter fret about
ally,” he assured her. He spoke
iwkwardly, for he had been trained tc
-e: rd emotion as unmanly. “Tha
ain't no danger.”
She gazed searchtngly into his eyet
■ud then, with a short sob, threw he
rms around him, and buried her fact
m his shoulder.
“Ef anything happens ter ye, Sam
ion,” she said, brokenly, “hit'll jes
till me. I couldn't live withouten ye
Samson. 1 jest couldn't do hit!”
The boy took her in his arms, ant
pressed her close. Ilis eyes were gaz
ing off over her bent head, and his lips
twitched He drew his features into
a scowl, because that was the only ex
pression with which he could safe
guard his feelings. His voice was
husky.
"1 reckon, Sally,” he said, “I couldn’t
live withouten you, neither.”
The party of men who h~d started
at morning from Jesse Purdy’s store
had spent a hard day. The roads fol
lowed creek beds, crossing and re
crossing waterways in a fashion that
gave tile bloodhounds a hundred baf
fling difficulties. Often, their noses
lost the trail, whicli had at first been
so surely taken. Often, they circled
and whined, and halted in perplexity,
but each time they came to a point
where, at the end, one of them again
raised his muzzle skyward, and gave
voice.
Toward evening, they were working
up Misery along a course less broken.
The party halted for a moment's rest,
and. as the bottle was passed, the mail
from Lexington, who had brought tlie
dogs and stayed to conduct the chase,
put a question:
“What do you call this creek?"
"Hit’s Misery.”
"Does anybody live on Misery that
—er—that you might suspect?”
The Hollmans laughed.
“This creek is settled with Souths
thicker'n hops.”
The Lexington man looked up. He
knew what the name of South meant
to a Hollman.
“Is there any epeclal South, who
might have a particular grudge?"
“The Souths don’t need no parti’Iar
grudge, but thar’s young Samson
South. He’s a wildcat.”
“He lives this way?”
“These dogs air a-makin’ a bee-line
fer his house.” Jim Hollman was
speaking. Then he added: “Tve done
been told that Samson denies doin’ the
shootin’, an’ claims he kin prove an
alibi.”
The Lexington man lighted his pipe,
and poured a drink of red whisky into
i a flask cup.
“He’d be apt to say that,” he com
mented, “These dogs haven’t any
prejudice in the matter. I'll stake my
life on their telling the truth.”
An hour later, the group halted
again. The master of hounds mopped
his forehead.
“Are we still going toward Samson
South’s house?” he inquired,
i “We’re about a quarter from hit
now, an’ we haiu’t never varied from
| the straight road.”
“Will they be apt to give us
trouble?”
Jim Hollman smiled.
“I hain’t never fleered of no South
submittin’ ter arreet by a Hollman.”
The trailers examined their fire
arms, and loosened their holster-flaps,
j The dogs went forward at a trot.
CHAPTER V,
From time to time that day, neigh
bors had ridden up to Spicer South's
stile, and drawn rein for gossip. These
men brought bulletins as to the prog
ress of the hounds, and near eundown,
as a postscript to their information, a
volley of gunshot signals sounded from
; a mountain top. No word was spoken,
; but in common accord the kinsmen
rose from their chairs, and drifted to
ward their leaning rifles.
“They’re a-comin’ hyar,” said the
head of the house, curtly. “Samson
ought ter he home. Whar’s Tam’rack?'*
No one had noticed his absence un
til that moment, nor was he to be
found. A few minutes later, Samson’s
figure swung into sight, and his uncle
met him at the fence.
“Samson, I’ve done asked ye all the
questions I'm a-goln’ ter ask ye," he
said, “but them dawgs ie makin’ fer
this house. They've jest been sighted
a mile below.”
Samson nodded.
“Now"—Spicer South's face hard
ened—“I owns down thar ter the road.
No man kin cross that fence withouten
1 choose ter give him leave. Ef ye
I wants ter go indoors an' stay thar, ye
; kin do hit—an’ no dawg ner no man
haln’t a-goln’ ter ask ye no questions.
But, ef ye eees fit ter face hit out. I'd
love ter prove ter these hyar men thet
us Souths don’t break our word. We
done agreed ter this truce. I’d like ter
invite ’em in, an' let them damn dawgs
J sniff round the feet or every man ini
1 my house—an’ then, when they're!
plumb teetotally damn satisfied, I'd!
like ter tell ’em all ter go ter helL
Thet's the way I feels, but I'm a-goln*
ter do jest what ye says."
Lescott did not overhear the con
versation in full, but he saw the old
man's face work with suppressed pas
sion, and he caught Samson's louder
reply.
‘‘When them folks gets hyar, TTncls*
Spicer, I’m a-goln' ter be a-setttn’'
right out thar In front. I'm plumb*
willin’ ter invite ’em in.” Then, th«
two men turned toward the house.
Already the other clansmen had dis
appeared noiselessly through the door
or around the angles of the walls.
Fifteen minutes later, Lescott, stand
ing at the fence, saw a strange caval
cade round the bend of the road. Sev
eral travel-stained men were leading
mules, and holding two tawny and im
patient dogs in leash. In their nunv
ber, the artist recognized his host of!
two nights ago.
They halted at a distance, and Ed
'heir faces the artist read dismay, for,
while the dogs were yelping confident
ly and tugging at their cords, young
Samson South—who should, by their
prejudiced convictions, be hiding out
in some secret stronghold—sat at the
top step of the stile, smoking his pipe^
and regarded them with a lackluster
absence of interest. Such a calm re
eeption was uncanny. After a whis
pered conference, the Lexington man
came forward alone. Old Spicer South
had been looking on from the door,
and was now strolling out to meet thts
envoy, unarmed.
And the envoy, as he canto, held his
hands unnecessarily far away from his
sides, and walked with an ostentatious
show of peace. t
“Evenin’, stranger,” hailed the old*
man. “Come right in." ^
“Mr. South,” began the dog-owner,
with somo embarrassment, “1 hav*v
| been employed to furnish » pair of
: bloodhounds to the family of Jesse*
Purvy, who has been shot.”
| “I heerd tell thet Purvy was shot,”
said the head of the Souths in au af
fable tone, which betrayed no deeper
note of Interest than neighborhood
goesip might have elicited. _
CONTINUED IN NEXT ISSUE,
Orders taken at the News office
; for Embossed Initial stationery
suitable for Christmas presents.