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I Local News of the Week. I.
1»s?fg?^atagiii$SKtng^igtgaga3s«
L. E. Smith of Litroe was here
Thursday.
J. H. Williams was on the sick
list this week.
J. W. Taylor of Monroe was here
Thursday on business.
Luther Taylor of Lapeer trans
acted business here Tuesday.
Mrs. P. K. Pitts is visiting with
relatives at Logtown, La.
Jesse Amerson of Wilmington
v/as here Saturday on business.
E. Robson was at D'Lcutre. La
the first of the week on business.
C. J. Pryor was quite sick sever
al days lagt week, but he is able tc
be up again.
W.H Greer arrived home Thurs
day afternoon from a visit with his
sister in Kansas.
W. B. Lowery of Bernice. La.,
was here this week visiting H. P
Heard and family.
The Embroidery club will meet
with Mrs. L. M. Cartall next Wed
nesday afternoon.
Cook Deal has accepted a posi
tion with the Union Saw Mill Co.,
as engineer on engine No. 15.
G. S. Prestride and F. T. Whited
of Shreveport were business visit
ors to Huttig this week.
Mrs. R. L. Townsend spent sev
eral days this week at Bastrop,
La., visiting her husband.
Willie Phillips of Wheelen
Spings is here on a two weeks visit
with his parent, Mr. and Mrs. M. L.
Phillips.
Dr. F. O. Mahony was down from
El Dorado Saturday night attend-,
ing the Masonic lodge and visiting?
with friends.
Miss Fay°, daughter of Dr. and
Mrs. R. E. Rowland, won the first
prize at the school fair last week
for the best trimmed hat.
COLDS & LaGRIPPE
5 or 6 doses 680 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.
There were 1 1.413 bales of this
year's cotton crop ginned in Union
county up to Nov. 14. as compared
with 9.705 bales us to the same
time last year.
E. N. Collett has purchased the
1. A. Russell farm on the south
west side of Huttig. Mr, Russell
will move to the place three miles
east of town he purchased from
the Union Saw Mill Co.
Mrs. E. H. Thompson returned
to hei*4iome at Camp No. 1 Mon
day after a pleasant visit here with
friends. She was accompanied by
Miss Bettie Collett who was her
guest this week.
For Rent—The Stephenson
place, X mile southwest of Huttig.
See A. G. Stephenson,
108 A Street.
Huttig, Ark.
Mrs. C. J. Norman of Plymouth
N. C., who has been the guest of
her daughter, Mrs. L. A. Bodine,
the past five weeks, left for her
home Monday. She was accom
panied as far as Monroe by Mr.
Bodine.
The Woman's Home Mission so
ciety met Monday afternoon with fif
teen members and one visitor. Miss
Buchanan, present. All members
and visitors are cordially invited to
meet in open session with Mrs.
Bodine next Monday afternoon,
Dec. 7, which will be the last meet
ing this year.
Misses Reita Reagan, Lillie
Sticky. Cornelia Spencer and Alice
Bridges attended the Union County
School Fair at El Dorado last Fri
day and Saturday. •
RUB-MY-TISM
Will cure your Rheumatism
Neuralgia, Headaches, Cramps,
Colic, Sprains, Bruises, Cuts and
Burns, Old Sores, Stings of Insectr
Etc. Antiseptic Anodyne, used in
ternally and externally. Price 25c
Rev. J. R. Rushing arrived home
Tuesday from Little Rock, where ;
he attended the annual conference
)f the Methodist church, to pack
his belongings to move fo his new
charge at Horiatio, on the western
oorder of the state.
V. C Seaman and family hap
pened to what might have proyed
a serious accident Thanksgiving
lay when the automobile in which
they were riding turned over on
account of the dump of the road
giving away near Strong to which
town they were en routh to eat
dinner with his father. All es
caped inju-y however and returned
chat afternoon in the car which
suffered no damage.
We have round trip tickets to a.l
local points on sale at this office
and would be glad to sell you round
crip tickets, saving you money by
buying them and at the same time
nake a better showing for our sta
tion in this manner. We solic t
your business. D. A. Keasler.
Agent St. L. 1. M. &. S. Ry.
$100 Reward, $100
The readers of tills paper ■will be
pleased to learn that there Is at least one
ilread'd dlseaso that science has been
able to cure in all ils stages, and that is
Catarrh. Unit's Catarrh Cure is the only
Positive cure now known to the medical
fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional
disease, requires a constitutional treat
ment. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken in
ternally, acting directly upon the blood
and mucous surfaces of the system, there
by Bestroying tho foundation of the dis
ease, and giving the patient strength by
buildiflg up the constitution and assisting
nature in doing Its work. The proprietors
have so much faith in its curative pow
ers that they offer One Hundred Dollars
for any case that it fails to cure. Send
for list of testimonials._ , . ,
Address F. J. CIIENEY A CO., Toledo, Ohio.
Sold by rtl r>ru'*rrlats. 7"'.
Take Ball's Family Fills for constipation.
\
GOOD MILK
Keep the milk bottle covered.
To be good milk must be fresh,
clean and pure.
Any deviation from these three car
dtnal points makes milk bad.
To be kept good milk must be prop
erly handled and cared for.
Purchase only bottled milk, as It
has better chances to remain clean.
Put the bottle In a clean, cool place,
preferably In an Icebox.
Do not let the milk bottle stand In
the sun after delivery.
While the department of health ex
ercises general supervision. It desires
and Invites individual cooperation.
I .earn the age of your milk from
your milk man and see that he car
ries Ice with his milk In summer and
that his milk wagon is covered.—Is
sued by the Buffalo Department of
Health.
FAMOUS BODIES OF WATER
The Chenango river, in New York,
la named after an Indian word mean
ing "bull thistles."
Bering's strait was named by Cap^
tain Cook In honor of Ivan Ivanovltcb
Behring, or Berine.
fSADE MARK®
Designs
Copyrights Slc.
Anyone sending a sketch and description mas
Quickly ascertain our opinion free whether an
Invention is probably patentable. C'ommuntce*
tiousptrtctly confidential. HANDdOOK on F*&ranm
gent free. Oldest agency for securing patents.
Patents taket through Munn & Co. receive
gjxcial notice, without charge, in the
Scientific American.
A handsomely illustrated weekly. largest oif»
eolation at an/ scientific journal. Terms a
ay ;_four months, fL Sold by all ue wades wu
361 Broadway, |^|6W KOFR
K HU Waabuiatou, IX u
MUNN&Co*
firanah Offioo, tea
0=- Q\LL°f¥r
CUMBERLANDS
/£> CHARLES NEVILLE BUCIC
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
OF SCENES IN THE PLAY
■COPYRIGHT IOIJ <£> ,
CHAPTER I.
Close to the serried backbone of the
Cumberland ridge through a sky of I
mountain clarity, the sun seemed heal- j
tating before its descent to the hori- j
zon. The sugar-loaf cone that tow- I
ered above a creek called Misery was
pointed and edged with emerald trac- '
ery where the loftiest timber thrust
up its crest plumes into the sun. On
the hillsides it would be light for j
more than an hour yet, but below, '
where the waters tossed themselves
along in a chorus of tiny cascades, the
light was already thickening into a
cathedral gloom. Down there the "fur
riner” would have seen only the rough 1
course of the creek between moss- j
velveted and shaded bowlders of 1
titanic proportions. The native would
have recognized the country road in
these tortuous twistings. A great block
of sandstone, to whose summit a man
standing in his saddle could scarcely
reach his fingertips, towered above
the stream, with a gnarled scrub oak
clinging tenaciously to its apex. Loft- |
ily on both sides climbed the moun- |
tains cloaked in laurel and timber.
Suddenly the leafage was thrust
aside from above by a cautious hand,
and a shy, half-wild girl appeared in
the opening. For an instant she halt
ed, with her brown fingers holding
back the brushwood, and raised her
face as though listening. As she
stood with the toee of one bare foot j
twisting in the gratefully cool moss
she laughed with the sheer exhilara
tion of life and youth, and started out
on the table top of the huge rock.
But there she halted suddenly with a
startled exclamation and drew instinc
tively back. What she saw might well
have astonished her, for it was a<hing
6he had never seen before and of
which she had never heard. Finally,
reassured by the silence, she slipped
across the broad face of the flat rock
for a distance of twenty-five feet and
paused again to listen.
At the far edge lay a pair of saddle-!
bags, such as form the only practical
equipment for mountain travelers.
Near them lay a. tin box, littered with
small and unfamiliar-looking tubes of :
soft metal, all grotesquely twisted and
stained, and beside the box was a
strangely shaped plaque of wood
smeared with a dozen hues. That this
plaque was a painter's sketching pal
ette was a thing which she could not
know, since the ways of artists had
to do with a world as remote from
her own as the life of the moon or
stars. It was one of those vague mys
teries that made up the wonderful life
of "down below.” Why had these
things been left here in such confu- j
sion? If there was a man about who
owned them he would doubtless return i
to claim them. She crept over, eyes
and ears alert, and slipped around to
the front of the queer tripod, with aH
her muscles poised in readiness for
flight.
A half-rapturous and utterly aston
ished cry broke from her lips. She
stared a moment, then dropped to the
moss-covered rock, leaning back on
her brown hands and gazing intently.
‘‘Hit’s purty!” she approved, in a
low, musical murmur. “Hit's plumb,
dead beautiful!”
Of course it was not a finished pic
ture—merely a study of what lay be
fore her—but the hand that had
placed these brush strokes on the
academy board was the sure, deft
hand of a master of landscape, who
had caught the splendid spirit of the
thing and fixed it immutably in true
and glowing appreciation. Who he
was; where he had gone; why his
work stood there unfinished and aban
doned, were details which for the mo
ment this half-savage child-woman for
got to question. She was conscious
only of a sense of revelation and awe.
Then she saw other boards, like the
one upon the easel, piled near the
paint box. These were dry, and rep
resented the work of other days; but
they were all pictures of her own
mountains, and in each of them, as
in this one, was something that made
her heart leap.
To her own people these steep hill
sides and “coves" and valleys w.ere a
matter of course. In their stony soil
they labored by day, and in their shad
ows slept when work was done. Yet
someone had discovered that they held
a picturesque and rugged beauty; that
they were not merely steep fields
where the plow was useless t>nd the
hoe must be used. She must tell Sam
son—Samson, whom she held in an
artless exaltation of hero worship;
Samson, jvho was so “smart” that he
thought about things beyond her un
derstanding; Samson, who could not
only read and write, but speculate on
problematical matters
Suadenly she came to her feet with
a swirt-darting impulse of alarm. Her
ear had caught a sound. She cast
searching glances about her, but the
tangle was empty of humanity The
water still murmured over the rocks
undisturbed. There was no sign of
human presence, other than herself,
that her eyes could discover—and yet
to her ears came the sound again, and
this time more distinctly. It was the
eouud of a man’s voice, and it waa
moaning as if in pain. She rose and
searched vainly through the bushes of
the hillside where the rock ran out
from the woods. She lifted her skirts
and splashed her feet in the shallow
creek water, wading p< : : iutently up
and down. Her shyness was for rotten.
The groan was a groan of a In nan
creature in distress, and she must hod
and succor the person from whom it
came.
Certain sounds are baffling as to di
rection. A voice from overhead or
broken by echoing obstacles does not
readily betray its source. Finally she
stood up and listened once more in- j
tently—her attitude full of tense ear- j
nestness.
“I’m shore a fool," she announced,
half aloud. “I'm shore a plumb fool."
Then she turned and disappeared in
the deep cleft between the gigantic
bowlder upon which she had been sit- |
ting and another—small only by com
parison. There, ten feet down, in a
narrow alley littered with ragged
stones, lay the crumpled body of a
man. It lay with the left arm doubled
under it. and from a gash in the fore
head trickled a thin stream of blood.
Also, if was the body of such a man
as she had not seen before.
Although from the man came a low
groan mingled with his breathing, it
was not such a sound as comes from
fully conscious lips, but rather that :
of a brain dulled into coma.
Freed from her fettering excess of
shyness by his condition, the girl
stepped surely from foothold to foot- i
hold until she reached his side. She
stood for a moment with one hand on
the dripping walls of rock, looking
down while her hair fell about her
face. Then, dropping tg her knees,
she shifted the doubled body into a
leaning posture, straightened the -
limbs, and began exploring with effi-1
cient fingers for broken bones.
She had found the left arm limp
above the wrist, and her fingers had
diagnosed a broken bone. But uncon
sciousness must have come from the
blow on the head, where a hruise was;
already blackening, and a gash still:
trickled blood.
I She lifted her skirt and tore a long
strip of cotton from her single petfi
I coat. Then she picked her bare footed
I jiay swiftly to the creek bed. where
she drenched the cloth for bathing and
bandaging the wound. When she had
' done what she could by way of first
I aid she sat supporting the man’s
shoulders and shook her head dubi
: ously.
Finally the man's lids fluttered and
his lips moved Then he opened his
eyes.
“Hello!” said the stranger, vaguely
“I seem to have—” He broke off, and
his lips smiled. It was a friendly, un
derstanding smile, and the girl, fight
ing hard the shy impulse to drop his
shoulders and flee into the kind mask
ing of the bushes, was in a measure
reassured.
“You must hev fell often the rock,”
6he enlightened.
"I think I might have fallen into
worse circumstances," replied the un |
known.
"I\ reckon you kin set up after a
little.”
"Yes. of course.” The man suddenly
realized that although he was quite
comfortable as he was he could
scarcely expect to remain permanently
in the support of her bent arm. He
attempted to prop himself on his hurt
hand and relaxed with a twinge of ex
treme pain. The color, which had be
gun to creep back into his cheeks, left
them again, and his lips compressed
themselves tightly to bite off an ex
clamation of suffering.
“Thet air left arm air burted," an
nounced the young woman, quietly.
“Ye’ve got ter be heedful.”
Had one of her own men hurt him
self and behaved stoically it would
have been mere matter of course; but
her eyes mirrored a pleased surprise
at the stranger’s good-natured nod and
his quiet refusal to give expression
to pain. It relieved her of the neces
sity for contempt.
“I’m afraid," apologized the painter,
“that I’ve been a great deal of trouble
to you.”
Her lips and eyes were sober as she
replied.
‘‘I reckon thot’s all right.”
‘‘And v.hat's worse. I've got to bo
more trouble. Did you see anything
of a brown mule?”
She shook her head.
“He must have wandered off. May
I ask to whom I am indebted for this
first aid to the injured?”
“I don't know what ye means.”
She had propped h:m against the
rocks and sat near by, looking into his
fare with almost disconcerting steadi
ness; "her solemn-pupiled eyes were
tfnblinking, unsmiling.
"Why, I moan who are you?" ho
laughed.
“I hain’t nobody much. I jest lives
over yon.”
“Hut,” insisted the man, “surely you
have a no me.”
She nodded.
"FMtv S lly.”
“Then, Miss, Bally, I want to thank
you.”
Ooce wore lihu nodded, and, fo" *bu
first time, let her eyes drop, while she
sat nursing her knees. Finally she
glanced up and asked with plucked-up
courage: .
“Stranger, what mout yore name
be?”
"Lescott—George Lescott.”
"How’d ye git hurt?”
He shook his head.
“1 was painting—up there,” he said;
“and I guess I got too absorbed in the
work. I stepped backward to look at
the canvas and forgot where the edge
was. I stepped too far.”
The man rose to his feet, but he tot
tered and reeled against the wall of
ragged stone. The blow on his head
had left him faint and dizzy He sat
down again.
"I’m afraid,” he ruefully admitted,
“that I’m not qui*e ready for discharge 1
from your hospital.”
“You jest set where yer at.” The
girl rose and pointed up the mountain
side. “I’ll light out across the hill and
foteh Samson an’ his mule.”
“Who and where is Samson?” he
inquired. He realized that the bot
tom of the valley would shortly thick
en into darkness, and that the way
cut, unguided, would become impos
sible. "It sounds like the name of a
strong man.”
"I means Samson South,” she en
lightened, as though further descrip
tion of one so celebrated would be re
dundant. “He’s over thar ’bout three
quarters.”
\
"Three-quarters of a mile?”
She nodded. What else could three
quarters mean?
“How long will it take you?” he
asked.
She deliberated “Samson's hopin’
corn in the fur bill field. He’ll hev
ter cotch his mule. Hit mout tck a
half-hour.”
“You can’t do it in a half-hour, can
you ?”
"I’ll jest take my foot in my hand,
an’ light out.” She turned, and with
a nod was gone.
At last she came to a point where
a clearing rose on the mountainside
above her. The forest blanket was
stripped off to make way for a fenced
in and crazily tilting field of young
corn. High up and beyond, close to
the baid shoulders of sandstone which
threw themselves against the sky, was
A Low Groan Mingled With
Breathing.
Hia
the figure of a man As the girl halted
at the foot of the field, at, last, panting
from her exertions, he was sitting on
the rail fence, looking absently down
on the outstretched panorama below
him.
Samson South was not, strictly
speaking, a man. His age was per
haps twenty. He sat loose-jointed and
indolent on the top rail of the fence,
his hands hanging over his knees, his
hoe forgotten. NTpar by, propped
against the rails, rested a repeating
rifle, though the people would have
told you that the truce in the "South
Hollman war" had been unbroken for
two years, and that no clansman need
in tiiese halcyon days go armed afield.
CHAPTER II.
Sally clambered lightly over the
fence and started on the last etage of
her journey, the climb across the
voung corn rows. It was a field stood
on ond, and the hoed ground was un
even; but with no seeming of weari
ness her red dress flashed steadfastly
across the green spears, and her voice
was raised to shout: “Hello, Samson!”
The young man looked up and waved
a languid greeting. He did not remove
his hat or descend from his place of
rest, and Sally, who expected no such
attention, came smilingly on. Samson
was her hero. Slow of utterance and
diffident with the stranger, words now
came fast and fluently as she told her
story of the man who lay hurt at the
foot of the rock.
“Hit hain't long now tell sundown,”
she urged. “Hurry, Samson, an' git
yc re mule. I’ve done give him my
penn^se ter fotch ye right straight
back.” •
Samson took off his hat, and tossed
tho heavy lock ujpward from his fore
head. His brow wrinkled with doubts.
"What sort of lookin' feller air he?’* I
While Sally sketched a description,
the young man’s doubt grew graver.
"This ljain't no fit time ter be takin’
in folks what we hain't acquainted
with." he objected. In the mountains
any time is the time to take in strang
ers unless there are secrets to be
guarded from outside eyes.
"Why hain't it?" demanded the girl.
"He’s hurt. We kain't leave him lavin’
thar, kin we?”
Suddenly her eyes caught sight of
til« title leaning near by *”1 straight
way they filled with apprehension.
Her militant love would have turned
to hate for Samson, should he have
proved recreant to the miseion of re
prisal In which he was biding his time,
yet the coming of the day when the
truce must end haunted her thought^.
She came close, and her voice sank
with her sinking heart.
“V. hat air hit?" she tensely demand
ed. “What air hit, Samson? What
fer hev ye fotched yer gun ter the
field?”
The boy laughed. "Oh, hit ain’t
nothin' pertic’ler,” he reassured. “Hit
hain’t nothin’ fer a gal ter fret herself
erbout, only I kinder suspicions
strangers jeet now.”
“Air the truce busted*” She put the
qr nation in a tense, deep-breathed
whisper, and the boy replied casually,
almost indifferently.
“No, Sally, hit hain’t jest ter say
busied, but 'pears like hit's right
smart cracked. I reckon, though," he
added in half-disgust, "nothin’ won’t
come of hit."
Somewhat reassured, she bethought
herself again of her mission.
"This here furriner hain't got no
harm in him, Samson," she pleaded.
“He 'pears ter be more like a gal than
a man. He’s real puny. He's got
white sktn and a bow of ribbon on
hie neck—an' he paints pictchers.’'
The boy’s face had been hardening
with contempt as the description ad
vanced, but at fhe last words a glow
came to his eyes, and he demanded
almost breathlessly:
"Paints pictchers? How do ye know
that?”
I seen em. He was palntin one
when he feH often the rock and busted
his arm. It's shore es beautiful es—’’
she broke off, then added with a sud
den peal of laughter—"es er pictcher.”
The young man slipped down from ,
the fence, and reached for the rifle..
The hoe he left where it stood.
“I’ll git the nag," he announced
briefly, and swung off without further
parley toward the curling spiral of
smoke that marked a cabin a quarter
of a mile below. Ten minutes later
his bare feet swung against the ribs
of a gray mule and his rifle lay bal- .
anced across the unsaddled withers _
Sally sat mountain fashion beniai*
him, facing straight to the side.
So they came along the creek bed:
and into the sight of the man who
still sat propped against the mossy
rock As Leecott looked up he closed
the case of his watch and put it back
into his pocket with a smile.
"Snappy work, that! he called out.
“Just thirty three minutes 1 didn't
believe it could be done
Samson's face was mssklike, but
as he surt'bycd the foreigner, only the.
j ingrained dictates of the country's
j hospitable code kept out of his eyes,
j a gleam of seem for this frail mem
: her of a eex which should be ataiwart
•'Howdy?" he said. Then he addeA
suspiciously: “What mout ver busi
ness be in these parts, stranger?’
Lescott gave the Odyssey of his wan
derings, since he had rented a mule
at Hixon and ridden through the coun
try, sketching where the mood prompt
ed and sleeping wherever he fot i a
hospitable roof at the coming ot the
evening.
“Ye con^e from over on Cripple^
shin?" The boy flashed the question,
with a sudden hardening of the voice,
and, when he was affirmatively ans
swered, his eyes contracted and bon'd
searchingly into the strangers face.
“Where'd ye put up last night?
“Red Rill Heilman's house, at the
mouth of Meeting House fork; do you
know the place?"
Samson's reply was curt.
“1 knows hit all right."
There wan a moment's pause—1
rather an awkward pause Lescott’s
mind began piecing together frag*
ments of conversation he had heard,
uvtil he had assembled a sort of men
tal jigsaw puzzle.
The South-Hollman feud had been
mentioned by the more talkative of
his informers, and carefully tabooed
by others—notable among them hia
host of last night. It now dawned oiv
kim that he was crossing the bouttr
dary and. coming as the late guest off
a Hollmah to ask the hospitality of a
South. ■
"I didn’t1 know whose house it was,"
he hastened to explain, "until I was
benighted and asked for lodging. They
wore very kind to me I'd never seen
them before. I’m a stranger here
abouts.”
Samson only nodded. If the explana
tion failed to satisfy him. it at least
seemed to do so
"1 reckon ye'd better let me holj*
ye up on thet old mule.'' he said;
"hit's a-comin' on ter be night."
With the mountaineer's aid. Lescott
clambered astride the mount, then he
turned dubiously.
“I’m eorry to trouble you," he ven
tured, “but 1 hove a paint box an
some materials up there. If yo'.Th
bring them down here, i'll show yout
how to pack the easel, and, the*
way,' he anxiously added, “please
to handle that fresh canvas carefully—
by. the edge—It's not dry *yet.
GUNTiiN ED IN NEXT ISSUE.
>
A SURE PROOF.
“Do you really believe the worbl!
ia getting better?”
“Certainly 1 do. Haven’t they
stopped killing umpires?”
LIKE BENEFIT.
“Why do stars and singers maka
so many farewell tours?”
“Because they fare well on ttiem^.
stupid.”
t