The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, May 16, 1919, Page TWO, Image 2
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S?BEN
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C H APTER I. ^ ^ " '
The First Wayfarer and the Second
Wayfarer Meet and Part on the
Highway.
A solitary figure trudged along the
narrow road that wound its serpentinous
Way through the dismal, forbidilont-he
nf tho fflrpsf fl mfln Who.
though weary and footsore, lagged not
in his swift, resolute advance. Night
was coming on, and with it the no uncertain
prospects of a stormHe
came to the "pike" and there
was a signpost. A huge, crudely painted
hand pointed to the left, and on
what was intended to be the sleeve of
a very stiff and unflinching arm these
words were printed in scaly white:
"Hart's Tavern. Food for Man and
Beast. Also Gasoline. Established
1798. 1 Mile."
On the opposite side of the "pike," j
in the angle formed by a junction with !
the narrow mountain road, stood an !
humbler signpost, lettered so indis-.
tinctly that it deserved the eompas- j
sion of all observers because of its
humility. Swerving in his hurried pas- J
sage, the tall stranger drew near this !
7 ' shrinking friend to the uncertain traveler,
and was suddenly aware of another
presence in the roadway.
A woman appeared, as if from nowhere,
almost at his side. He drew
back to let her pass. She stopped be- j
fore the little signpost, and together j
they made out the faint directions. j
To the right and up the mountain 1
road Frogg's Corner lay four miles and 1
a half away; Pitcairn was six miles
back oYer the road which the man had
traveled. Two miles and a half down
the turnpike was Spanish Falls, a rail'
?- -A-AI J J ?M? .Ua.A *
way 8uuqd, buu iuur luiico auvvc uic
crossroads where the man and women
stood peering through the darkness at,
v the laconic signpost reposed the vll- J
lage of St Elizabeth. Hart's Tavern
was on the road to St. Elizabeth, and
the man, with barely a glance at his
fellow traveler, started briskly off In
that direction.
He knew that these wild mountain
storms moved swiftly; his chance of
reaching the tavern ahead of the del-1
uge was exceedingly slim. His long,
powerful legs had carried him twenty
or thirty paces before he came to a
sudden halt
What of this lone woman who traversed
the highway? His first glimpse
of her had been extremely casual?
indeed, he had Daid no attention to
her at all, so eager was he to read
the directions and be on his way.
She was standing quite still in front,
of the signpost, peering up the road
toward Frogg's Corner?confronted by
a steep climb that led into black and
sinister timberlands above the narrow
strip of pasture bordering the pike. [
The fierce wind pinned her skirts to
her slender body as she leaned against
the gale, gripping her hat tightly!
with one hand and stcaining under the
weight of the has in the other. The
ends of a veil whipped furiously about
her head, and, even in the gathering
darkness, he could see a strand or two j
of hair keeping them company. i
Retracing his steps, he called out to
her above the gale:
"Can I be of any assistance to you?" ,
She turned quickly. He saw that1
the veil was drawn tightly over her
face.
"No, thank you," she replied. -Her;
voice, despite a certain nervous note, j
was soft and clear and gentle--the |
voice and speech of a well-bred per-;
son who was young and resolute.
"Pardon me, but have you much far-1
ther to go? The storm will soon be
upon us, and?surely you will not consider
me presumptuous?I don't like
the idea of your being caught out in?" ,
"What is to be done about it?" she1
Inquired, resignedly. "I must go on.!
I can't wait here, you know, to be
washed back to the place I started j
from."
He smiled. She had wit as well as
determination.
"If I can be of the least assistance j
to you pray don't hesitate to command
me. I am a sort of tramp, you might j
say, and I travel as welL by night as \
I do by day?so don't feel that you are j
putting me to any inconvenience. Are j
you by any chance bound for Hart's
Tavern? If so, I will be glad.to lag!
behind and carry your bag." '
i "You are very good, but I am not;
bound for Hart's Tavern, wherever j
that may be.. Thank you, Just the
same. You appear to be an uncom-j
monly genteel tramp, and it isn't be-!
cause I am afraid you might make off
with my belongings." She added the
last by way of apology.
He smiled?and then frowned as he j
?^ ? ? IaaV of fViA hi o /*lr
ITW HU Kucaaj luvn u% uiv
deads now rolling ominously op over
tite mountain ridge.
"By Jove, we're going to catch it
nod and hard," be exclaimed. "Better
ilk* my advice. These storms are teroLfcfe
I know, for Fve encountered
tjft ft <?>i ?f them in fee past week.
marlYMVT
DAD?)
:UKUE miac
SCUTCHEON
\or of "CRAUSTARK," "THE
-LOW OF HER HAND," "THE
vICE OF CRAUSTARK," ETC
?
^ ~^~Copyrighlb^DoJd, McaJand Company. Int. J
They fairly tear one to pieces. Yov:
are a stranger in these parts?"
"Yes. The railway station is a few
miles below here. I have walked all
the way. xnere was no one 10 iueei
me. You are a stranger also, so It is
useless to inquired you know whether
this road leads to Green Fancy."
"Green Fancy? Sounds attractive.
I'm sorry I can't enlighten you." He
c
He Drew a Small Electric Torch From
His Pocket and Directed Its Slender
Ray Upon the Sign Post.
drew a small electric torch from his
pocket and directed its slender ray
upon the signpost.
"It is on the road to Frogg's Corner,"
she explained nervously. "A niile
and a half, so I am told. It isn't on
the signpost. It is a house, not a village.
Thank you for your kindness.
And I am not at all frightened," she
added, raising her voice slightly.
"But you are," he cried. "You're
half nnt ft# vniir wits Yflll
D\.<U CU nun vub vi j vm? _
can't fool me. I'd be scared myself
at the thought of venturing into those
woods up yonder."
"Well, then, I am frightened," she
confessed plaintively. "Almost out of
my boots."
"That settles it," he said flafly. "You
shall not undertake it"
"Oh, but I must. I am expected. It
Is import?"
"If you are expected why didn't
someone meet you at the station?
Seems to me?"
"Hark! Do you hoar?doesn't that
sound like an automobile?all!" The
hoarse honk of an automobile horn
rose above the howling wind, and an
instant later two faint lights came
rushing toward them around a bend in
the mountain road. "Better late than
never," she cried, her voice vibrant
once more.
He grasped her arm and jerked her
out of the path of the oncoming machine,
whose driver was sending it
along at a mad rate, regardless of ruts
and stones and curves. The car careened
as it swung into the pike, skidded
alarmingly, and then the brakes
were jammed down. Attended by a
vast grinding of gears and wheels, the
rattling old car came to a stop fifty
feet or more toeyoyd them.
"I'd sooner walk than take my
chances in an antediluvian rattletrap
like that," said the tall wayfarer,
bending quite close to her ear. "It will
fall to pieces before you?"
But she was running down the rond
toward the car, calling out sharply tc
thr> Hrivpr. Hp stooDed over and took
up the traveling bag she had dropped
in her haste and excitement. It was
heavy, amazingly heavy.
"I shouldn't like to carry that a milf
and a half," he said t^ himself.
The voice of the bslated driver came
to his ears on the swift wind. It was
high-pitched and unmistakably apologetic.
He could not hear what she
was saying to him, but there wasn't
much (foubt as to the nature of hei
remarks. She was roundly upbraiding
him.
Urged to action by thoughts of hit
own plight he hurried to her side anc
said:
"Excuse me, please. You droppec
sometnmg. snau 1 pui u uy m n?u<
or in the tonneaa?"
The whimsical note in his volci
brought a quick, responsive laugh fron
her lips.
"Thank you so much. I am fright
fully careless with my valuables
Would you mind putting it in behind
' Thanks!" Her tone altered complete
ly as she ordered the man to tun
the car around?"And be quick about
i tt," she added.
I The first drops of rain pelted down
from the now thoroughly black dome
| above them, striking in the road with
i the sharpness of pebbles.
"Lucky it's a limousine," said the
i tall traveler. "Better hop in. We'll
be getting it hard in a second or two."
"You must let me take you on to the
Tavern in the car," she said. "Turn
about is fair play. I cannot allow you
to?"
"Never mind about me" he broke in
cheerily. He had been wondering if
she would make the offer, and he felt
better now that she had done so. "I'm
accustomed to roughing it. I. don't
mind a soaking. I've bad hundred of
'era."
"Just the same you shall not have
one tonight," she announced firmly.
"Get in behind. I shall sit with the
driver."
If anyone had told him that this
rattling, dilapidated automobile?ten
years old, at the very least, he would
have sworn?was capable of covering
the mile in less than two minutes he
would have laughed in his face. Almost
before he realized that they were
on the way up the straight, dark road
the lights in the windows of Hart's
Tavern came into view. Once more
the bounding, swaying car came to a
stop unuer urunea, huu iic was iciuaIng
after the strain of the most hairraising
ride he had ever experienced.
Not a word had been spoken during
the trip. The front windows were
lowered. The driver?an old, hatchetfaced
man?had uttered a- single word
just before throwing in the clutch at
the crossroads In response to the
young woman's crisp command to
drive to Hart's Tavern. That word
was uttered under his breath and It
Is not necessary to repeat It here.
The wayfarer lost no time in climbing
out of the car. As he leaped to the
ground and raised his green hat he took
a second look at the automobile?a look
of mingled wonder and respect. It
was an old-fashioned, high-powered
?-* ^ fi? *-t
car, capaoie, aespxce us umiquuy, ui
astonishing speed in any sort of going.
"For heaven's sake," he began,
shouting to her above the roar of the
wind and rain, "don't let him drive
like that over those?"
"You're getting wet," she cried out,
a thrill in her voice. "Good night?;
and thank you!"
"Look out!" rasped the unpleasant j
driver, and in went the clutch. The
man in the road jumped hastily to one
side as the car shot backward with a
jerk, curved sharply, stopped for the
fraction of a second, and then bounded
forward again, headed for the crossroads.
v "Thanks!" shouted the late passenger
after the receding tail light, and
dashed up the steps to the porch that
ran the full length of Hart's Tavern.
A huge old-fashioned lantern hung
above the portal, creaking and strain
ing in the wind, dragging at Its stout
supports and threatening every instant
to break loose and go frolicking
away with the storm.
He lifted the latch and, being a tall
man, involuntarily stooped- as he
passed through the door, a needless
precaution, for gaunt, gigantic mountaineers
had entered there before him
and without bending their arrogant
heads. '' (
.' ? r>~!. .
CHAPTER II.
The First Wayfarer Lays His Pack
Aside and Falls in With Friends
The little hall in which he found
himself was the "office" through which
all men must pass who come as guests
to Hart's Tavern. A steep, angular
staircase took up one end of the room.
Set in beneath its upper turn was the
counter over which tne business 01 me
"house was transacted, and behind this
a man was engaged in the peaceful
occupation of smoking a corncob pipe.
An open door to the right of the
stairway gave entrance to a room from
which came the sound of a deep, sonorous
voice employed in what turned
out to be a conversational solo. To
the left another door led to what was
evidently the dining room. The glance
that the stranger sent in that direction
revealed two or three tables covered
with white cloths.
"Can you pat me up for the night?"
he inquired, advancing to the counter.
"You look like a feller who'd want
a room with bath," drawled the man
behind the counter, surveying the applicant
from head to foot. "Which we
ain't got," he added.
'Til be satisfied to have a room with
a bed," said the other.
"Sign here," was the laconic response.
1 "Can I have supper?"
"Food for mat] and beast," said the
1 other patiently. He slapped his palm
1 upon, a cracked call bell and then
looked at the fresh name on the page.
"Thomas K. Barnes, New York," he
read aloud. He eyed the newcomer
' once more. "My name is Jones?Put!
nam Jones. I run this place. My fa'
ther an' grandfather run It before me.
1 ? *- ?DonnAO Wo
' Uiaa to meet juu, mi, uu>ui.o. ..v
' used to have a hostler here named
Barnes. What's your idear fer footin'
> It this time o' the year?"
"I do something like this every
! spring. A month or six weeks of it
' puts me in fine shape for a vacation
later on," supplied Mr. Barnes whim'
sically.
' Mr. Jones allowed a grin to stea.'
over his seamed face. He reinserted
i the corncob pipe and took a couple of
1 pulls at it.
"I never been to New York, but It
' must be a heavenly place for a vaca' j
tlon, If a feller c'n Judge by what some
1 nt mv i>r-#>Hent boarders hav? to say
* about it It's a sort of play actor's
1 paradise, ain't It?"
- "It is paradise to every actor who
happens to be on the road, Mr. Jones.'
said Barnes, slipping his big pncl.
from his shoulders and letting it slid#
to the-floors. '
"Hear that feller In the taproon
ralkin'? Well, he is one of the lead
ing actors in New York?in the world
for that matter. He's been talkin
about Broadway for nearly a weeP
now, steauy."
"May I inquire what he is doing ui
here in the wilds?"
"At present he ain't doing anything
except talk. Last week he was treddin
the boards, as he puts it himself. Bust
ed. Up the flue. Showed last Satur
day i ight in Hornville, eighteen mih
north of here, and immegiately aftei
the performance him and his whole
troupe started to walk back to New
York, a "good four hundred mile. Thej
started out the back way of the opery
house and nobody missed 'em till next
mornin' except the sheriff, and he
didn't miss 'em till they'd got over
the county line into our bailiwick.
Four of 'em are still stoppin' here
just because I ain't got the heart to
'em out ner the spare money to
i 'em tickets to New York. Here
coines one of 'em now. Mr.. Dilling
rora, win you snow mis genueiuun 10
room eleven and carry his baggage up
fer him? And maybe he'll want a
pitcher of warm water to wash and
shave In." He turned to the new guest
and smiled apologetically. "We're a
little short o' help just now, Mr.
Barnes, and Mr. Dllllngford has kindly
consented to?"
"My word!" gasped Mr. Dllllngford,
staring at the register. "Someone
from little old New York? My word,
sir, you? Won't you have a?er?
little something to drink with me before
you?"
"He wants something to eat," InterI
rupted Mr. Jones sharply. "Tell Mr.
| Bacon to step up ta his room and
| take the order."
j "All right, old chap?nothing easier," {
j said Mr. Dllllngford genially. "Just
! climb up the elevator, Mr. Barnes. We ;
j do this to get up an appetite. When
j did you leave New York?"
Taking up a lighted kerosene lamp
and the heavy pack, Mr. Clarence Dll- j
llngford led the way up the stairs, j
He was a chubby individual of Indefl-1
nite age. At a glance you would have L
said he was under twenty-one; a sec-;
ond look would have convinced you ,
that hie wa*s nearer forty-one.
Depositing Barnes' pack on a chair
I in the little bedroom at the end of
| the hall upstairs he favored the guest ,
[with a perfectly unabashed grin.
Tm not ^ doing this to oblige old (
man Jones, you know. I won't attempt
to deceive you. I'm working out a
dally board bill. Ohuck three times a
day and a bed to sleep in?that's what
I'm doing It for, so don't get It into
your head that I applied for the job.
Let me look at you. I want to get a
good square peep at a man who has
: the means to go somewhere and yet is
iboob enough to come to this gosh[
awful place of his o.wn free will and
j accord. Darn It, you look Intelligent,
j I don't get you at all. What's the matj
ter? Are you a fugitive from justice?"
Barnes laughed aloud. There was
1 no withstanding the fellow's sprightly |
I impudence.
j "I happen to enjoy walking," said
j he.
"If I enjoyed It as much as you do
J I'd be limping into Harlem by this
j ime," said Mr. Dllllngford sadly. "But
| you see I'm an actor. I'm too proud
! to walk?"
! The cracked bell on the office desk
interrupted him, somewhat perempI
torily. Mr. Dillingford's face assumed
I an expression of profound dignity. He
lowered his voice as he gave vent to
the following:
"That man Jones is the meanest human
being God ever let? Yes, sir.
coming, sir j" He started for the open
door with surprising alacrity.
Barnes surveyed rthe little bedchnmber.
It was just what he had expected
it would be. The walls were covered
I with a garish paper selected by one
j who had an eye but not a taste for
i color?bright pink flowers that looked
more or less like cnunus 01 a muueu i
watermelon spilt promiscuously over
a background of pearl gray. The bedstead,
bureau and washstand were offensively
modern. Everything was as
clean as a pin, however, and the bed
looked comfortable. He stepped to the
small, many-paned window and looked ;
out into the night. The storm was at j
its height. In all his life he never had
heard such a clatter of rain, nor a
wind that shrieked so appallingly.
His thoughts went quite naturally
to the woman who was out there In
the thick of It. He wondered how she
was faring and lamented that she was
not in his place now and he in hers.
What was she doing up in this God-1
forsaken country? What was the name I
of the place she was bound for? Green :
Fancy! What an odd name for a
house! And what sort of house?
His reflections were interrupted by
the return of Mr. Dllllngford, who carried
a huge pewter pitcher from which
steam arose in volume. At his heels
strode a tall, cadaverous person in a
checked suit
(To Be Continued Tuesday'
URGED TO CONVERT BONDS.
More than $'8,000,000 will be paid
as inter *>n Liberty Bonds held by
+-Vn'o o/Hintrv nn Mav 15.
U1C pcvpic .11 Wi? vvwitif.^ ?
and that day will be known as "America's
pay day" throughout the United
States.
The War Loan Organization of the
Fifth Federal Reserve District urges)
everybody to exchange their Ma
Liberty Bond coupons for War Sa^
ings Stamps in order to keep thei
money growing and at the same tim
help the government. If the entir
$78j000,000 were converted int
May War Savings Stamps the sui
would grow to $93,000,000 by Jani
ary 1924. Every stamp obtaine
by exchanging Liberty Bond coupon
in 1919 will be worth $5 -on Jam
ary 1, 1924, and should the holde
find that he cannot afford to keep h;
stamps as long as that, he can cas
any number of them he desires a
his postoffice by giving ten days nc
tice.
A copy of Mr. Timmons letter ha
been sent to Dr. Henry Nelson Snj
der, chairman of the Educations
Committee, of the Educational an
Rinwni
do not ruin tires if properly re
Let us examine and advis
casings.
Tube repairing, 25c. up; i
- MARTIN a
At Citj
Pure Ice
Manufactured Undei
soft drinks Sof
cigarettes
tobaccos cm
candies v^uj
MIU113 VV? I
CIGARS tli*.mo
licit yo
Abbeville Ca
Ladies' ;
OXFi
Iuur sneives unci
portunity to select
season. Beyond a d
extensive and elabo
wear for hot weathe
the ladies and men <
prices are within rei
Our Oxfords for:
Beacon make and n<
those who apprecia
looks and service at
We also have a 1
that will appeal to
particular.
Beacon Oxfords i
Ladies' Oxfords,....
White Canvas Oxfo
and Children,
We have a fit an<
ber of the family?
D. POL
Abbev
?- '
y | Rural Division, and also president of
rJ Wofford College at Spartanburg,
i .Qrtiifli rorftlfrifl wif^ a ronnoaf f^iof
[j- wvuvt* vuiuiiiiu) TVIUIA u A vxjuvuv VUMV
e he write or wire to all State Super e
intendents of this district who are
o members of his committee, and urge
n'them to give May 15, "America's
i-1 pay day" all possible publicity. The
d- State Superintendents can handle
1S; the matter through the school superiJ
tendents and teachers in every coun!r!
ty and city in the Fifth Federal Re;s|
serve district. \
h! '? all work .together to convince
Lt' the people of the advantage, both to
' themselves and to the government,
I in converting /the Liberty Bond couj
pons into War Savings Stamps, won:
derful results can be accomplished.
r" | . "Keep your dollars growing," is
the appeal of the War Loan Organid
. zation.
JITS 1
ipaired.
e you before throwing away your Casings,
50c. up. -/
tnd PENNAL.
' Garage. .
Cream? :
* Sanitary Conditions : ;
t Drinks and |
nfections..... |
are prepared to itrrt you in
t courteous manner and sour
patronage.
ndy Kitchen
JKD3 II
you an unusual op- 9
your oxfords for this B
ioubt we have the most I
rate collection of foot- I
ir wear ever offered to I
of this section and the 11
ach of everyone. 1|
men are of the famous
eed no introduction to I
te * good wear, good I
; a minimum cost. I
ine of ladies oxfords
the taste of the most I
:or Men, $5.00 to $7.00 9
$4.50
... ipviwv T
rds for Men, Women,
$1.00 to $2.50 I
i style for every mem
and experts to fit you. I
iakoff I