A L L E G A N Y C O U N T Y NEW S* W H I T E S V I L L E , N, Y . Ths 0all of the Cumberlands By Charles Neville Bock W ith Illustrations from Photc^^phs of Scenes in the Play (Conrzi^. 10X3. by W. J. W«u & CoJ ' S CHAPTER XIV—Continued. Besides being on duty as an officer ^ militia, Callomb was a Kentuckian, anterested in the problems of his com monwealth, and, when he went back, s&O knew that his cousin, who occupied the executive mansion at Frankfort, ■'would be interested in his suggestions. ,^ e governor had asked him to report his -Impressions, and he meant to, af ter analyzing them. So, smarting under his impotency, Cfii)d:aiB Gallomb came out of his tent em morning, and strolled across the curved bridge to the town proper. He toew that the grand jury was conven ing, and he meant to sit as a spectator In the courthouse and study proceed ings when they were instructed. But before he reached the court house, where for a half-hour yet the cupola bell would not clang out its IRimmons to veniremen and witnesses, he f ound fresh fuel for his wrath. 'He was not a popular man with these clansmen, though involuntarily he had been useful in leading their vic- .ISiBS to the slaughter. There was a ^ow i in his eyes that they did not- Hike, and an arrogant hint of iron laws tn the livery he wore, which their in- artSnets distrusted. Callomb saw without being told that ©-yer the town lay a sense of por- itentous tidings. Faces were more ^Ilen than usual. Men fell into scowl- Etog knots and groups. A clerk at a ,Btcre where he stopped for tobacco tnquired as he made change: “Heerd the news, stranger?” ■ “What news?” ' “This here Wildcat’ Samson South »pme back yistiddy, an’ last evenin’, towards sundown, Jesse Purvy an’ Ukaron Hollis was shot dead.” For an instant, the soldier stood looking at the young clerk, his eyes tojclling into a wrathful blaze. Then, J3© cursed under his breath. At the l^oor, he turned on his heel: ‘Where can Judge Smithers be ^ound at this time of day?” he de manded. CHAPTER XV. The Honorable Abe Smithers was the regular judge of the circuit which numbered Hixon among Its county seats. The elected incumbent was ill, and Smithers had been named »B his pro-tem. successor. Callomb climhed to the second story of the frame bank building and pounded loud- on a door, which bore the boldly- typed shingle: *^Asa Smitherc, Attorney-at-Law.” The temporary judge admitted a irSsitor In uniform, whose countenance -was stormy with indignant protest. judge himself was placid and smil- 3ag. The lawyer, who was for the time 3>eing exalted to the bench, hoped to ascend it- more permanently by the Totes of the Hollman faction, since <imly Hollman votes were counted. He was a young man of powerful physique [With a face ruggedly strong and hon est. Callomb stood for a moment inside the door and when he spoke it was to ■demand crisply: ‘Well, what are you going to do «3>out it?” “About what, captain?” inquired the ©iher, mildly. “is it possible you haven’t heard? Since yesterday noon two murders |iave been added to the holocaust. You 3T4^2esent the courts of law. I repre- *&nt the military arm of the state. Are w© going to stand by and see this go cn?” The judge shook his head, and his -visage was sternly thoughtful and hypocriticai. He did not mention that lis had just come from conference With the Hollman leaders. He did not explain that ’the venire he had drawn the jury drum had borne a singu larly solid Hollman complexion. “Until the grand jury acts I don’t see that we can take any steps.” “And,” stormed Captain Callomb, “the grand jury will, like former grand lories. He down in terror and inactiv ity. Either there are no courageous men in your county, or these panels are selected to avoid including them.” Judge Smithers’ face darkened. If he was a moral coward, he was at least a coward crouching behind a seeming of fearlessness. “Captain,” he said, coolly, but with a dangerous hint of warning, “I don’t see atat your duties include contempt of “No!” Callomb'was now thoroughly ^angered, and his voice rose. “I am sent down here subject to your orders, fmd it seems you are also subject to ©i^ers. Here are two murders in a day, caK>ing a climax of 20 years of hloodshed. You have information as to the arrival of a man known as a desperado with a grudge against the two dead men, yet you know of no ®l©:p 3 to take. Give me the word and 111 go out and bring that man, and any ©thers you name, to your bar of justice —h! It is a fear of justice! For God’s ®ahe, 'give me something else to do man to fearing in prisoners to fee shot a in cold blood.** The judge sat balancing a pencil on his extended forefinger, as though it were a scale of justice. “You have been heated in your lan guage, sir,” he said, sternly, “but it Is a heat arising from an indignation which I share. Consequently, I pass it over. I cannot instruct you to arrest Samson South before the grand jury has accused him. The law does not contemplate hasty or unadvised action. All men are innocent until proven guilty. If the grand jury wants South, I’ll instruct you to go and get him. Until then, you may leave my part of the work to me.” His honor rose from his chair. “You can at least give this grand jury such instructions on murder as will point out their duty. You can as sure them that the militia will protect them. Through your prosecutor you can bring evidence to their attention, you—” “If you will excuse me,” interrupted his honor, dryly,‘Til judge of how I am to charge my grand jury. I have been in communication with the family of Mr. Purvy, and it is not their wish at the present time to bring this case be fore the panel.” Callomb laughed ironically. “No, I could have told you that be fore you conferred with them. I could have told you that they p^-efer to be their own eourts and executioners, ex cept where they need you. They also preferred to have me get a man they couldn’t take themselves, and then to assassinate him in my hands. Who in the hell do you work for, Judge-for-the- moment Smithers? Are you holding a job under the state of Kentucky, or un der the Hollman faction of this feud? I am instructed to take my orders from you. Will you kindly tell me my master’s real name?” Smithers turned pale with anger, his fighting face grew as truculent as a bulldog’s, while Callomb stood glar ing back at him like a second bulldog, but the judge knew that he was being honestly and fearlessly accused. He merely pointed to the door. The cap tain turned on his heel and stalked out of the place, and the judge came down the steps and crossed the street to the courthouse. Five minutes later he turned to the shirt-sleeved man who was leaning on the bench and said in his most judicial voice: | “Mr. Sheriff, open court.” The next day the mail carrier brought in a note for the temporary judge. His honor read it at recess and hastened across to Hollman’s Mam moth Department Store. There, in council with his masters, he aske.d in structions. This was the note: “The Hon. Asa Smithers. “Sir: I arrived in this county yes terday, and am prepared, if called as a witness, to give to the grand jury full and true particulars of the murder of Jesse Purvy and the killing of Aaron Hollis. I am willing to come under the escort of my own kinsmen, or the mili tiamen, as the court may advise. . “The requirement of any bodyguard I deplore, but in meeting my legal ob ligations, I do not regard it as neces sary or proper to walk into a trap. “Respectfully, “SAMSON SOUTH.” Smithers looked perplexedly at Judge Hollman. “Shall I have him come?” he In quired. Hollman threw the letter down on his desk with a burst of blasphemy: ■ “Have him come?” he echoed. “Hell and damnation, no! What do we want him to come here and spill the milk for? When we get ready, we’ll indict him. Then, let your damned soldiers go after him—as a criminal, not a witness. After that, we’ll continue this case until these outsiders go away, and we can operate to suit ourselves. We don’t fall for Samson South’s tricks. No, sir; you never got that letter! It miscarried. Do you hear? You never got it.” Smithers nodded grudging acqui escence. Most men would rather be independent officials than collar-wear ers. • Out on Misery Samson South had gladdened the soul of his uncle with his return. The old man was mending, and, for a long time, the two had talked. The failing head of the clan looked vainly for signs of degeneration in his nephew, and, failing to find them, was happy. “Hev ye decided, Samson,” he in quired, “thet ye was right in yer no tion, ’bout goin’ away?” Samson sat reflectively for a while, then replied: “We were both right. Uncle Spicer— and both wrong. This Is my place, but if I’m to take up the leadership it must be in a different fashion. Changes are coming. We can’t any longer stand still.” Spicer South lighted his pipe. He, too, in these last years, had seen in the distance the crest of thv3 oncoming wave. “I reckon there’s right smart truth to that,” he acknowledged. “Fv© been studyin’ ’bout hit consid’ahle myself of late. Thar’s . been sev’ral fellers through the country talkin’ coal an’ timber an’ railroads—an’ sich like.” Sally went to mill that Saturday, and with her rode Samson. There, be sides Wile McCager, he met Caleb Wiley and several others. At first, they received him skeptically, but they knew of the visit to Purvy’s store, and they were willing to admit that in part at least he had erased the blot from his'escutcheon. Then, too, except for cropped hair and a white skin, he had come back as he bad gone, in home- spun and hickory. There was nothing highfalutin in his manners. In short, the impression was good. *'I reckon now that ye’re back, Samson,” suggested McCager, “an’ «ee- in’ how yere Uncle Spicer is gettin’ along all right. I’ll jest let the two of ye run tMugs. I’ve done had enough.*' It was a simple fashion of resigning a regency, but effectual. Old Caleb, however, still insurgent and unconvinced, brought in a minor ity report. “We wants fightin’ men,” he grum bled, with the senile reiteration of his age, as he spat tobacco and beat a rat- tat on the mill floor with his long hickory staff. “We don't want no de serters.” “Samson ain't a deserter,” defended Sally. “There isn’t one of you fit to tie his shoes.” Sally and old Spicer South alone knew of her lover’s letter to the circuit judge, and they were pledged to secrecy. “Never mind, Sally!” It was Sam son himself who answered her. “I didn’t come back because I care what men like old Caleb think. I came back because they needed me. The proof of a fighting man is his fighting, I reckon. I’m willing to let ’em judge me by what I’m going to do.” So, Samson slipped back, tentative ly, at least, into his place as clan head, though for a time he found it a post without action. After the fierce out burst of bloodshed, quiet had settled, and it was tacitly understood that, un less the Hollman forces had some coup in mind which they, were secreting, this peace would last until the soldiers were withdrawn. “When the world’s a-lookin’,” com mented Judge Hollman, “hit’s a right *good idea to crawl under a log—an’ lay still.” Purvy had been too famous a feud ist to pass unsung. Reporters came as far as Hixon, gathered there such news as the Hollmans chose to give them, and went hack to write lurjld stories and description, from hear say, of the stockaded seat of tragedy. Nor did they overlook the dramatic coincidence of the return of “Wildcat” Samson South from civilization to sav agery. They made no accusation, but they pointed an inference and a moral —as they thought. It was a sermon on the triumph of heredity over the ad vantages of environment. Adrienne read some of these saffron misrepre sentations, and they distressed her. «*«***• Meanwhile, it came insistently to the ears of Captain Callomb that some plan was on foot, the intricacies of which he could not fathom, to manu facture a case against a number of the Souths, quite apart from their actual guilt, or likelihood of guilt. Once more, he would be called upon to go out and drag in men too well fortified to be taken by the posses and depu ties of the Hollman civil machinery. At this news, he chafed bitterly, and, still rankling with a sense of shame at the loss of his first prisoner, he formed a plan of his own, which he revealed over his pipe to his first lieutenant. “There’s a nigger in the woodpile, Merriweather,” he said. “W© are sim ply being used to do the dirty work up here, and I’m going to do a little probing of my own. I guess I’ll turn the company over to you for a day or two.” “What idiocy are you contemplating now?” inquired the second in com mand. “Fm going to ride over on Misery, and hear what the other side has to say. I’ve usually noticed that one side of any story is pretty good until the other’s told.” “It’s sheer madness. I ought to take you down to this infernal crook of a judge and have you committed to a strait-jacket.” “If,” said Callomb, “you are content to play the catspaw to a bunch of as sassins, I’m not. The mail-rider went out this morning and he carried a let ter to old Spicer South. I told him that I was coming unescorted and unarmed and that my object was to talk with him. I asked him to give me a safe conduct, at least, until I reached his house, and stated my case. I treated him like an ofiicer and a gentleman, and, unless Fm a poor judge of men, he’s going to treat me that way.” The lieutenant sought vainly to dis suade Callomb, but the next day the captain rode forth, unaccompanied. Curious stares followed him and Judge Smithers turned narrowing and un pleasant eyes after him, hut at the point where the ridge separated the territory of the Hollmans from that of the Souths he saw waiting in the road a mounted figure, sitting his horse straight, and clad in the rough habili ments of the mountaineer. As Callomb rode up he saluted and the mounted figure with perfect grav ity and correctness returned that salute as one officer to another. The captain was surprised. Where had this mountaineer with the steady eyes and the clean-cut jaw learned the niceties of military gtiquette? “I am Captain Callomb of ‘F’ com pany,” said the officer. “I’m riding over to Spicer South’s house. Did you come to meet me?” “To meet and guide you,” replied'a pleasant voice. “My name is Samson South.” The militiaman stared. This man whose countenance was calmly thoughtful scarcely comported with the descriptions he had heard of the “Wildcat of the Mountains;” the man who had come home straight as a storm-petrel at the first not© of^^the tempest and marked his coming with double murder. Callomb had been too busy to read newspapers of late. He had heard only that Samson had “been away.” While he wondered, Samson went on: “Fm glad you came. If it had been possible I would have come to you.” As he told of the letter he had written the judge, volunteering to present him self as a witness, the officer’s wonder grew. “They sMd that you had been away,' •ussested C^mfe. “K It's not m im pertinent question, what part of the mountains have you been visiting?” Samson laughed. “Not any part of the mountains,” he said. “I’ve been living chiefly in New York—and for a time in Paris.” ' Callomb drew his hors© to a dead halt. “In the name of God,” he incredu lously asked, “what manner of man are you?” “I hope,” came the instant reply, “it may be summed up by saying that I’m exactly the opposite of the man you’ve had described for you back there at Hixon.” “I knew it,” exclaimed the soldier. “I knew that I was being fed on lies! That’s why I came. I wanted to get the straight of it, and I felt that the solution lay over here.” They rode the rest of the way in deep conversation. Samson outlined his ambitions for his people. He told, too, of the scene that had been enacted at Purvy’s store. Callomb listened with absorption, feeling that the narrative bore axiomatic truth on its face. At last he inquired:* \Did you succeed up there—as a painter.” “That’s a long road,” S.amson told him, “but I think I had a fair start I was getting commissions when I left” “Then I am to understand”—the offi cer met the steady gray eyes and put the question like a cross-examiner bullying a witness—“I am to under stand that you deliberately put behind you a career to come down here and herd these fence-jumping sheep?” “Hardly that,” deprecated the head of the Souths. “They sent for me— that’s all. Of course, I had to come.” “Why?” “Because they had sent. They are my people.” The officer leaned in his saddle. “South,” he said, “would you mind shaking hands with me? Some day I. want to brag about it to my grandchil dren.” Callomb spent the night at the house of Spicer South. He met and talked with a number of the kinsmen, and, if he read in the eyes of some of them a smoldering and unforgiving remem brance of his unkept pledge, at least they repressed all expression of cen sure. With Spicer South and Samson the captain talked long into the night He made many jottings in a note book. He with Samson abetting him, pointed out to the older and more stubborn man Samson was for a moment tnoaglst ful, then he nodded. “That’s about what I was expecting.” “Now,” went on Callomb, “we un derstand each other. We are working for the same end, and, by God! I’ve had one experience in making arrests at the order of that court, I don’t want it to happen again.” “I suppose,” said Samson, “you know that while I am entirely willing to face any fair court of justice, I don’t pro pose to walk into a packed jury, whose only object is to get me where 1 can be made way with, Callomb, I hope we won’t have to fight each other. What do you suggest?” “If the court orders the militia to make an arrest, the militia has no op tion. In the long run, resistance would only alienate the sympathy of the world at large. There is just one thing to be done, South. It’s a thing I don’t like to suggest.” He paused, then added emphatically: “When my detail arrives here, which will prob ably be in three or four days, you must not be here. You must not he in any place where we can find you.” For a little while,\^'Samson looked at the other man with a slow smile of amusement, but soon it died, and his face grew hard and determined. “Im obliged to you, Callomb,” he said, seriously. “It was more than I had the right to expect—^this warning. I understand the cost of giving it. But it's no use. I can’t cut and run. No, by God, you wouldn’t do it! You can’t ask me to do it.” “By God, you can and will!” Callomb spoke with determination. “This isn’t a time for quibbling. - You’ve got work to do. We both have work to do. We can’t stand on a matter of vainglorious pride, and let big issues of humanity go to pot. We haven’t the right to spend men’s lives in fighting each Other, when we are the only two men in this entanglement who are lm.ner- feet accord—and honest.” The mountaineer spent some min utes in silent self-dehate. The working of his face under the play of alternat ing doubt, resolution, hatred and insur gency, told the militiaman what a struggle was progressing. At lastt Samson’s eyes cleared, with an exprea Sion of discovered solution. “All right, Callomb,” he said, briefly, “you won’t find me!” He smiled, as he added: “Make as thorough a search as your duty demands. It needn’t be perfunctory or superficial. Every South cabin will stand open to you. I shall be extremely busy, to ends which you approve. I can’t tell you what I shall be doing, because to do that, I should have to tell where I mean to be.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) UNHAPPY FATE OF DRONES SrmTFP “They Are Going to indict You on Manufactured Evidence.” the necessity of a new regime in the mountains, under which the individual could walk in greater personal safety. As for the younger South, the officer felt, when he rode away next morning, that he had discovered the one man who combined with the courage and honesty that many of his clansmen shared the mental equipment and local influence to prove a constructive lead er. When he returned to the Bluegrass he meant ot have a long and unofficial talk with his relative, the governor. The grand jury trooped each day to the courthouse and transacted its busi ness. The petty juries went and came, occupied with several minor homicide cases. The captain, from a chair, which Judge Smithers had ordered placed beside him on the bench, was looking on and intently studying. One morning, Smithers confided to him that in a day or two more the grand jury would bring In a true bill against Samson South, charging him with mur der. The officer did not show sur prise. He merely nodded. “I suppose I’ll be called on to go and get him?” “I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to do that.” “What caused the change of heart? I thought Purvy’s people didn’t want it done.” It was Callomb’s first allusion, except for his apology, to their former altercation. For an instant only, Smithers was a little confused. “To he quite frank with you, Cal lomb,” he said, “I got to thinking over the matter in the light of your own viewpoint, and, after due deliberation, I came to see that to the state at large it might hear the same appearance. So, I had the grand jury take the matter up. We must stamp out such lawless ness as Samson South stands for. He is the more dangerous because he has brains.” Callomb nodded, but, at nocu, he slipped out on a pretense of sightsee ing, and rode by a somewhat circuit ous rout© to the ridge. At nightfall, he came to the house of the clan head. “South,” he said to Samson, when he had led him aside, “they didn’t want to hear what yon had to tell the grand jury, but they-are going ahead to indict you on manufectured evi- denca.\ Few indeed Are Their Hours of En joyment and Sad the End That Awaits Them All. Drones are usually looked upon as lazy, useless creatures. They never do any work, but are fed by the work er bees on the best the hive can af ford, and this in a season of the year when the workers are busiest for 24 hours a day with the gathering and curing of honey. Why do the beea treat them with such respect in the busy harvest time? The reason is that the bees are raising a number of young queens at this time, for the fu ture generation. The queen is des tined to be the mother of alk the bees reared in the hive for the next year or two. She is the only one in the hive that can lay eggs, and she will some day lay them at a rate of from two to four thousand a day. The drones are the male bees raised at the same time with the queens. From their midst the virgin queen will soma day select her mate. Without them she could not attain maternity, held by the beea in greatest honor. For this reason they are treated royally until the wedding trip of the queen. When she returns a widow, leaving her drone-mate (usually the most per sistent of all suitors) dead in the field, the bees make short work of the remaining drones. They seize them by the neck and throw them out of the hive bodily to die of hunger in the midst of plenty.—FTancis Jaeger. Obstacle to Enjoyment. Many of us are plenty old enough to remember the big open fireplace, the enormous amount of wood it required to keep it going, how the cord sticks had to he dug out of the ice and snow, how it was a struggle to get the Mg back log in place, how every morning the fire had to be started over again, unless you were cunning enough In woodcraft to hide some coals deep enough under the ashes to keep them until morning, how in the early hours ©f the bleak days the rooms of the house were so cold it required great courage or the insistent commands bf the head of the house to get up to make that fire. But this is not all. It will be remembered also that in real weather the fire from the open side of the room baked you on one side while the other side was frozen, and all the day long the frost on the windows maintained the beauty of the formation into pictured mountains and valleys undisturbed by the heat from the burning logs. 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KELLOGG’S ASTHIVTA Remedy for th e prom p t relief of Asthm a and Hay Fever. Ask Your druggist for It. Write for FREE SAMPLE. NORTHRUP & LYMAN CO., Ltd., BUFFALO.N.Y. DADOrS GROUCH FADED AWAY Little Bobby’s Question Gave Him a Chance to Recover His Good Humor. Papa had a grouch, and an atmos phere of deep gloom settled over the family dinner table. Even little Bobby felt that something was wrong, hut he had to talk or hurst, and he preferred to talk. “Daddy,” he asked, “why did they throw the tea overboard in Boston harbor?” Daddy twirled the spoon in his cup while he thought up this mean thing to say: “If it was anything like this stuff they certainly had a mighty good excuse for throwing it overboard.” Having gotten this remark off his chest, the old man felt so good that he actually smiled, and before he knew it his grouch was gone. Sought Information. During an intermission of a Josef Hofmann recital in a New Jersey town, a woman glancing through the program observed the following ad vance notice: “Thursday Eve., March 25th, at Carnegie hall. Philharmonic Society of New York. Soloist—Zim- balist.” Turning to her companion, she asked: “Tell me, I’m not very fa miliar with musical instruments, but what’s a Zimbalist?” Not In His Line. “What do you intend to do now that you’re through college?” asked the young B. A.’s father: “Fm thinking of taking a post graduate course in economics,” replied his son. “Economics, hey?” said the father. “If that’s got anything to do with economy, I don’t see what makes you think you’ve got any special aptitude for the study.” Measures Heart Current. The heart of the average man makes about on© three-thousandth of a volt of electricity at every beat, and an instrunient sensitive enough to measure it has been invented. The Better Situation. When two loving hearts are tom asunder it is a shade better to be the one that is driven away Into actitHj than the bereaved twin that petnffiei at homa—(Charles ReadSi^ SHE QUIT But It Was a Hard Pull. It is hard to believe that coffee will put a person in such a condition as it did an Ohio woman. She tells her own story: “I did not believe coffee caused my trouble, and frequently said I liked it so well I would not, and could not, quit drinking it, but I was a miserable sufferer from heart trouble and nerv ous prostration for four years. “I was scarcely able to be around, had no energy and did not care for anything. Was emaciated and had a constant pain around my heart until I thought I could not endure it. “Frequently I had nervous chills and the least excitem ent would drive sleep away, and any little noise would upset me terribly. I was gradually getting worse until finally I asked my self what’s the use of being sick all the time and buying medicine so that I could indulge myself in coffee? “So I got some Postum to help me quit. I made it strictly according to directions and I want to tell you that change was the greatest step in my life. It was easy to quit coffee be cause I now like Postum better than the coffee. “One by one the old troubles left until now I am in splendid health, nerves steady, heart all right and the pain all gone. Never have any more nervous chills, don’t take any medi cine, can do all my house work and have don© a great deal besides.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Read “The Road to Wellville,” in pkgs. Postum comes in two forms: Postum Cereal—^the original form—: must be well boiled. 15c and 25c pack ages. Instant Postum—a soluble powder— dissolves quickly in a cup of hot wa- . ter and, with cream and sugar, makes a delicious beverage Instantly. 30c and 50c tins. Both kinds are equally delicious adi cost about the same per cup. T “There’s a Reason” for Postum. —sold fey Grocers. f '