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^ lUTO^BKX-WEEKL^^ L. M. grist s sons. Publishers. [ % cfamitg JjReirspapei;: ^or (he promotion of the political, Social, ^grieultural and ffommerciat Jnteresta of the geopt*. j ESTABLISHED 18115. YORKVILLE, S. C.," TUESDAY, NOVEMBER ' iil, 1913. KO. 93." PRODIGAL J Th e Famous Nova VAUGHAN KE5 Copyright, >911, The Bobb*-M?ri CHAPTER II. Yancy Tails a Moral Tala. In the deep peace that rested like a benediction on the pine-clad slopes of Scratch Hill the boy Hannibal followed at Yancy's heels as that gentleman pursued the arduous rounds of temperate industry which made up hisj slndar Hfn I# Vannv nnf nnm _ 1 pletely idle he was responsible for a counterfeit presentment of Idleness having most of the merits of the real article. He toiled casually in a small cornfield and a yet smaller truck patch, but his work always began late, when it began at all, and he was easily dissuaded from continuing it; indeed, his attitude toward it seemed to challenge interference. In the winter, when the weather conditions were perfectly adjusted to meet certain occult exactions he had come to require, Taney could be induced to go into the woods, and there labor with his ax. But as he pointed out to Hannibal, a poor man's capital was his health, and he being a poor man it behooved him to have a jealous care of himself. He made use of the dull days of mingled mist and drizzle for hunting, work being clearly out of the question; one could get about over the brown floor of the forest in silence then, and there was no sun to glint the brass mountings of the rifle. The fine days he professed to regard with keen suspicion as weather breeders, when it was imprudent to go far from home, especially in the direction of the Crenshaw timber lands, which for years had been the scene of all his gainful industry, and where he seemed to think nature ready to assume her most sinister aspect. Again in the early spring, when the young oak leaves were the size of squirrel's ears and the whippoorwills began calling as the long shadows struck through the pine woods, the needs of his corn ground battled with his desire to flsh. In all such crises of the soul Mr. Yancy was fairly vanquished before the struggle began; but to the boy his activities were perfectly ordered to yield the largest return in contentment. The Barony had been ofTered for sale and bought in by Crenshaw for eleven thousand dollars, this being the amount of his claim. Some six months later he sold the pltuitation for fifteen thousand dollars to Nathaniel Ferris of Currituck county. "There's money in the old place, Bob, at that figure," Crenshaw told Yancy. "There are so." agreed Yancy, who was thinking Crenshaw had lost no time in getting it out. They were seated on the counter in Crenshaw's store at Balaam's Cross Roads, where the heavy odor of black molasses battled with the sprightly smell of salt flsh. The merchant held the Scratch Hiller In no small esteem. Their intimacy was of long standing, for the Yancys going down and the Crenshaws coming up had for a brief space flourished on the same social level. Mr. Crenshaw's rise in life, however, had been uninterrupted, while Mr. Yancy, wrapped in a philosophic calm and deeply averse to industry, had permitted the momentum imparted by a remote ancestor to carry him where it wrould, which was steadily away from that tempered prosperity his family had once boasted as members of the land-owning and siave-noiding ciass. "I mean there's money in the place fo* Ferris," Crenshaw explained. "I reckon yo're right, Mr. John; the old general used to spend a heap on the Barony and we know he never got a cent back, so I reckon the money's there yet." "Bladen's got an answer from them South Carolina Quintards, and they don't know nothing about the boy," said Crenshaw, changing the subject. "So you can rest easy. Bob; they ain't going to want him." "Well, sir, that surely is a passel of comfort to me. I find I got all the instincts of a father without having had none of the instincts of a husband." A richer, deeper realization of his Joy came to Yancy when he had turned his oack on Balaam's Cross Roads and set out for* home through the fragrant silence in the pine woods. His probable part in the young life chance had placed in his keeping was a glorious thing to the man. He had not cared to speculate on the future; he had believed that friends or kindred must sooner or later claim Hannibal, but now he felt wonderfully secure in Crenshaw's opinion that this was not to be. Just beyond the Barony, which was midway between Balaam's and the Hill, down the long stretch of sandy road he saw two mounted figures, then as they drew nearer he caught the flutter of skirts and recognized one of the horsewomen. It was Mrs. Ferris, wife of the Barony's new owner. She reined in her horse abreast of his cart. "Aren't you Mr. Yancy?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am, that's me?Bob Yanov." He regarded her with large gray eyes that were frankly approving in their expression, for she was more than commonly agreeable to look upon, "I am Mrs. Ferris, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance." "The same here," murmured1 Yancy with winning civility. Mrs. Ferris' companion leaned forward. her face averted, and stroked her horse's neck with gloved hand. "This is my friend. Miss Betty Malroy." "Glad to know you, ma'am," said Yancye. Miss Malroy faced him, smiling. She. too. was very good to look upon, indeed she was quite radiant with youth and beauty. "We are just returning from Scratch Hill?I think that is what you call it?" said Mrs. Ferris. "So we do," agreed Yancy. "And the dear little boy we met is your nephew, is he not, Mr. Yancy?" It was Betty Malroy who spoke. "In a manner he is and in a manner he ain't," explained Mr. Yancy, somewhat enigmatically. "There are quue a numner or cnudren at Scratch Hill?" suggested Mrs. Ferris. "Yes, ma'am, so there are; a body would naturally notice that." "And no school?not a church even!" continued Mrs. Ferris in a grieved tone. " i "Never has been," rejoined Yancy 1 cheerfully. He seemed to champion the absence of churches and schools i on the score of long usage. "But what do the people do when i they want to go to church?" questioned Mrs. Ferris. "Never having heard that any of 'em i wanted to go I can't say just offhand, but don't you fret none about that, i ma'am; there are churches; one's up : at the. Forks, and there's another at Balaam's Cross Roads." "But that's ten miles from Scratch ' Hill, isn't It?" l "It's all of that," said Yancy. He sensed it that the lady before him i was a person of much force and energy, capable even of reckless innova- < tion. Mr. Yancy himself was innate- < ly conservative; his religious insplra- ' tion had been drawn from the Forks i or?a PqIqq m*a On an Rrrnrts. Tt hfld J seemed to answer very well. Mrs. Ferris fixed his wavering glance. "Don't you think It Is too bad, Mr. ! Yancy, the way those children have > (been neglected? There Is nothing for i them but to run wild." I "Well, I seen some right good chil- i dren fetched up that-a-ways?smart, i too. You see, ma'am, there's a heap a child can Just naturally pick up of i himself." "Oh!" and the monosyllable was ut- i tered rather weakly. Mr. Yancy's i name had been given to her as that of * a resident of weight and influence in i the classic region of Scratch Hill, i Miss Malroy came to her friend's res- 1 cue. 1 "Mrs. Ferris thinks the children I should have a chance to learn at home. ! Poor little tots!?they can't walk ten ] or fifteen miles to Sunday-school, now < can they, Mr. Yancy?" I "Bless yo* heart, they won't try to!" i said Yancy reassuringly. Sunday's a i day of rest at Scratch Hill. So are : most of the other days of the week, i but we all aspire to take just a little < mo' rest on Sunday than any other 1 day. Sometimes we ain't able to, but that's our aim." "Do you know the old deserted cabin by the big pine??the Blount i place?" asked Mrs. Ferris. i "Yes, ma'am, I know it." "I am going to have Sunday school there for those children; they shan't be neglected any longer if I can. help it?I should feel guilty, quite guilty! Now won't you let your little nephew come. Perhaps they'll not find it so very terrible, after all." From which Mr. Yancy concluded that when she invaded it, skepticism had rested as a mantle on Scratch Hill. "Every one said we would better talk with you, Mr. Yancy, and we were hoping to meet you as we came along," supplemented Miss Malroy, and her words of flattery were wafted to him with so sweet a smile that Yancy instantly capitulated. "I reckon you-all can count on my nevvy," he said. When he reached Scratch Hill, in the waning light of day, Hannibal, in a state of high excitement, met him at the log shed, which served as a barn. "I hear you-all have been entertaining visitors while Uncle Bob was away," observed Yancy, and remembering what Crenshaw had told him, he rested his big hand on the boy's head with a special tenderness. "There's going to be a school in ?he cabin in the old field!" said the bov. "May I go??Oh, Uncle Bob, will you please take me?" "When's this here school going to begin, anyhow?" "Tomorrow at four o'clock, she said, Uncle Bob." "She's a quick lady, ain't she? Well, I expected you'd be hopping around on one leg when you named it to me. You wait until Sunday and see what I do fo' my nevvy," said Yancy. He was as good as his implied promise, but the day began discouragingly with an extra, and, as it seemed to Hannibal, an unnecessary amount of soap and water. "You owe it to yo'self to show a clean skin in the house of worship. Just suppose one of them nice ladies was to cast her eye back of yo' ears! She'd surely be put to name it offhand whether you was black or white. I reckon I'll have to barber you some. too, witn ine snears. "What's school like. Uncle Bob?" asked Hannibal twisting and squirming under the big resolute hands of the man. "I can't just say what it's like?" "Why, didn't you ever go to school. Uncle Bob?" "Didn't I ever go to school! Where do you reckon I got my education, anyhow? I went to school several times in my young days." "On a Sunday like this?" "No, the school I tackled was on a week-day." "Was it hard?" asked Hannibal, who was beginning to cherish secret misgivings; for surely all this soap and water must have some sinister portent! "Well, some learn easier than others. I learned middling easy?it didn't take me long?and when I felt I knowed enough I just naturally quit and went about my business." "But what did you learn?" insisted the boy. "You-all wouldn't know if I told you, because you-all ain't ever been to school yo'self. When you've had yo' education we'll talk over what I learned?it mostly come out of a book." He hop?-d his general statement would satisfy Hannibal, but It failed to do so. "What's a book, Uncle Bob?" he demanded. "Well, whatever a body don't know naturally he gets out of a book. I reckon the way you twist, Nevvy, mebby you'd a^r ? fo' to lose an ear!" and Mr. .ancy refused further to discuss the knowledge he had garnered in his youth. Hannibal and Yancy were the first to arrive at the deserted cabin in the old field that afternoon. They found the place had been recently cleaned and swept, while about the wall was ranged a row of benches; there was also a table and two chairs. Yancy inspected the premises with the eye of mature experience. "Yes, It surely is a school; any one with an education would know that. Just look!?ain't you glad yo' Uncle hod siicKea you up some, now you see what them ladies has done fo' to make this place t}dy?" Shy children from the pine woods, big brothers with little sisters, and big sisters with little brothers, drifted out of the encircling forest. Coincident with the arrival of the last of these stragglers Mrs. Ferris and Miss Malroy appeared, attended by a colored groom. "It was so good of you to come, Mr. Yancv! The children won't feel so Bhy with you here," said Mrs. Ferris warmly, as Yancy assisted her to dismount, an act of courtesy that called for his finest courage. Mrs. Ferris' missionary spirit manifested itself agreeably enough on the whole. When she had ranged her flock in a solemn-faced row on the benches, she began by explaining why Sunday was set apart for a day of rest, touching but lightly on its deeper significance as a day of worship as well; then she read certain chapters from the Bible, finishing with the story of David, a narrative that made a deep impression upon Yancy, comfortably seated in the doorway. "Can't you tell the children a story. Mr. Yancy? Something about their own neighborhood I think would be nice, sofhething with a moral," the pleasant, earnest voice of Mrs. Ferris roused the Scratch Hlller from his meditations. "Yes, ma'am, I reckon I can tell 'em a story." He stood up, filling the doorway with his bulk. "I can tell you-all a story about this here house," he said, addressing himself to the children. He smiled happily. "You-all don't need to look so solemn, a body ain't going to snap at you! This house are the old Blount cabin, but the Blounts done moved away from It years and years ago. They're down Fayetteville way now. There was a passel of 'em and they was about as common a lot of white folks as you'd And anywhere; I know, because I come to a dance here once and Dave Blount called me a liar right In this room." He paused, that this Impressive fact might disseminate itself. Hannibal slid forward in his seat, his earnest little face bent on Yancy. "Why did he call you a liar. Uncle Bob?" he demanded. "Well, I scarcely know, Nevvy, but that's what he done, and he stuck some words in front of it that ain't flten I should repeat." Miss Malroy's cheeks had become very red, and Mrs. Ferris refused to meet her eye, while the children were in a flutter of expectancy. They felt the wholly contemporary interest of Yancy's story; he was dealing with forms of speech which prevailed and were usually provocative of consequences more or less serious. He gave them at wide, sunny smile. "When Dave Blount called me that, I struck out for home." At this surprising turn in the narrative the children looked their disgust, and Mrs. Ferris shot Betty a triumphant glance. "Yes, ma'am, I struck out across the fields fo' home, I didn't wish to hear no mo' of that loose kind of talk. When I got home I found my old daddy setting up afo* the fire, and he says, 'You come away early, son.' I told him what Blount had called me, and he says, 'You acted like a gentleman, Bob, with all them womenfolks about.'" "You had a very good and sensiDie father, Mr. Yancy. How much better than .if?" began Mrs. Ferris, who feared that the moral might elude him. "Yes, ma'am, but along about day he come into the loft where I was sleeping and says to me, 'Sun-up, Bob ?time fo' you to haul on you' pants and go back yonder and fetch that Dave Blount a smack on the jaw.'" Mrs. Ferris moved uneasily in her chair. "I dressed and come here, but when I asked fo' Dave he wouldn't step outside, so I just lost patience with his foolishness and took a crack at him standing where I'm standing now, but he ducked and you can still see, ma'am"?turning to the embarrassed Mrs. Ferris?"where my knuckles made a dint in the door-jamb. I got him the next lick, though!" Mr. Yancy's moral tale had reached its conclusion; it was not for him to boast unduly of his prowess. "Uncle Bob, you lift me up and show me them dints!" and Hannibal slipped from his seat. "Oh, no!" said Betty Malroy, laughing. She captured the boy and drew him down beside her on a corner of her chair. "I am sure you don't want to see the dents?Mr. Yancy's story, children, is to teach us how important it is to guard our words?and not give way to hasty speech?" "Betty!" cried Mrs. Ferris, indignantly. "Judith, the moral is as obvious as It is necessary." Mrs. Ferris gave her a reproachful look and turned to the children. oil Ko horn noYt SnndflV. won't you??and at the same hour?" she said, rising. There was a sudden clatter of hoofs beyond the door. A man, well dressed and well mounted had ridden Into the yard. As Mrs. Ferris came from the cabin he flung himself out of the saddle and, hat in hand, approached her. "I am hunting a place called the Barony; can you tell me if I am on the right road?" he asked. He was a man in the early thirties, graceful and powerful of build, with a handsome face. "It is my husband you wish to see? I am Mrs. Ferris." "Then General Quintard is dead?" His tone was one of surprise. "His death occurred over a year ago, and my husband now owns the Barony; were you a friend of the general's?" "No, madam; he was my father's friend, but I had hoped to meet him." His manner was adroit and plausible. Mrs. Ferris hesitated. The stranger's dress and bearing was that of a gentleman, and he could boast of his father's friendship with General Qulntard. Any doubt she may have had she put aside. "Will you ride on with us to the Barony and meet my husband, Mr. ??" she paused. "Murrell?Captain Murrell. Thank you; I should like to see the old place. I should highly value the privilege," then his eyes rested on Miss Malroy. "Betty, let me present Captain Murl -on I The captain bowed, giving her a glance of bold admiration. By this time the children had straggled off into the pine woods as silently as they had assembled; only Yancy and Hannibal remained. Mrs. Ferris turned to the former. "If you will close the cabin door, Mr. Yancy, everything will be ready for next Sunday," she said, and moved [ toward the horses, followed by Murrell. Betty Malroy lingered for a moment at Hannibal's side. "Good-by, little boy; you must ask your Uncle Bob to bring you up to the big house to see me," and stooping she kissed him. "Good-by, Mr. Yancy, I liked your story." Hannibal and Yancy watched them mount and ride away, then the boy said: "Uncle Bob, now them ladies have gone, won't you please show me them dints you made in the doorjamb." CHAPTER III. Trouble at Scratch Hill. Captain Murrell had established at Rnlnnm's Cross Roads. He was supposed to be interested in ihe purchase of a plantation, and in company with Crenshaw visited the numerous tracts of land which the merchant owned; but though he professed delight with the country, he was plainly in no haste to become committed to any one of the several propositions Crenshaw was eager to submit. Later, and still in the guise of a prospective purchaser, he met Eladen, who also dealt extensively in land and.apparently if anything could have pleased him more than the region about the Cross Roads it was the country adjacent to Fayetteville. From the first he had assiduously cultivated his acquaintance with the new owners of the Barony. He was now on the best of terms with Nat Ferris, and it was at the Barony that he lounged away his evenings, gossiping and smoking with the planter on the wide veranda. "The Barony would have suited me," he told Bladen one day. They had Just returned from an excursion into the country and were seated in the lawyer's office. "You say your father was a friend of the old general's?" said Bladen. "Years ago. In the north?yes," answered Murrell. "Odd. isn't it, the way he chose to spend the last years of his life, shut off like that and seeing no one?" Murrell regarded the lawyer in silence for a moment out of his deeply sunk eyes. "Too bad about the boy." he said at length slowly. "How do you mean, Captain?" asked Eladen. "I mean It's a pity he has no one * '""I' Vilm " oalH rxvepi I nut/ iu mwn aiin > >, Murrell. but Bladen showed no Interest and Murrell went on. "Don't you reckon he must have touched General Quintard'R life mighty close at some point?" "Well, If so. It eluded me," said Bladen. "I went through General Qulntard's papers and they contained no clew to the boy's Identity that I could discover. Fact Is, the general didn't leave much beyond an old account-book or two; I imagine that before his death he destroyed the bulk of his private papers; It looked as If he'd wished to break with the I past. His mind must have been affected." "Has Yancy any legal claim on the boy?" inquired Murrell. "So. certainly not; the boy was left merely with Yancy because Crenshaw didn't know what else to do with him." "Get possession of him, and If I don't buy land here I'll take him west with me." said Murrell quietly. Bladen gave him a swift, shrewd glance, but Murrell, smiling and easy, met It frankly. "Come," he said, "It's a pity he should grow up wild in the pine woods?get him away from Yancy?I am willing to spend five hundred dollars on this If necessary." "As a matter of sentiment?" "As a matter of sentiment." Bladen considered. He was jiot averse to making five hundred dollars. but he was decidedly averse to letting slip any chance to secure a larger sum. It Hashed in upon him that Murrell had uncovered the real purpose of his visit to North Carolina. "Well?" said Murrell. "I'll have to think your proposition over." said Bladen. The Immediate result of this conversation was that within twenty-four hours a man driving two horses hitched to a light buggy arrived at Scratch Hill in quest of Bob Yancy, whom he found at dinner and to whom he delivered a letter. Mr. Yancy was profoundly impressed by the attention, for holding the letter at arm's length, ho said: "Well, sir. I've lived nigh on to for;y years, but I never got a piece of writing befo'?never, sir. People, If they was close by, spoke to me. if at a distance they hollered, but none of 'em ever wrote." After gazing at the written characters with satisfaction, Mr. Yancy made a taper of the letter and lit his pipe, which he puffed meditatively. "Sonny, when you growl up you must learn so you can send writings to yo' Uncle Rob fo' him to light his pipe with." "What was In the paper. Uncle Rob?" asked Hannibal. "Wrltin*," said Mr. Yancy, and smoked. "What did the wrltin' say. Uncle Rob?" insisted the boy. "It was private," said Mr, Yancy, "very private." "What's your answer?" demanded the stranger. "That's private. too," said Mr. Yancy. "You tell him I'll be monstrous glad to talk it over with him any time he fancies to come here." "He said something about some one I was to carry back with me," obJefcted the man. "Who said that?" asked Mr. Yancy. "Bladen did." "How's a body to know who yo're talking about unless you name him?" said Yancy severely. "Well, what am I to tell him.?" "It's a free country, and I got no call to dictate. You-all can tell him whatever you like." Further than this Mr. Yancy would not commit nimseu, and the man went a& he came. The next day Yancy had occasion to visit Balaam's Cross Roads. Ordinarily Hannibal would have gone with him, but he was engaged In digging out a ground hog's hole with Oglethorpe Bellamy, grandson of Uncle Sammy Bellamy, the patriarch of Scratch Hill. Mr. Yancy forbore to interrupt thlB enterprise, which he considered of some educational value, since the ground hog's" hole was an old one and he was reasonably certain that a family of skunks had taken possession of It. When Yancy reached the Cross Roads, Crenshaw gave him a disquieting opinion as to the probable contents of his letter, for he himself had heard from Bladen that he had decided to assume the care of the boy. "So you reckon It was that?" said Yancy, with a deep breath. "It's a blame outrage, pob, fo' him tq act like this!" said the merchant with heat. "When do you reckon he's going to send fo' him?" asked Yancy. "Whenever the notion strikes him." "What about my having notions, too?" inquired Yancy, flecked into passion, and bringing his flst down on the counter with a crash. "You surely ain't going to oppose him, Eob?" "Does he say when he is going to send for my newy?" "He says it will be soon." "You take care of my mule, Mr. John." said Yancy, and turned his back on his friend. "I reckon Bladen will have the law on his side, Bob!" "The law be damned?I got what's fair on mine, I don't wish fo' better than that," exclaimed Yancy, over his shoulder. He strode from the store and started down the sandy road at a brisk run. Miserable forebodings of ' an Impending tragedy leaped up within him, and the miles were many that lay between him and the hill. "He'll Just naturally bust the face off the fellow Bladen sends!" thought Crenshaw, staring after his friend. That run of Bob Yancy's was destinued to become a classic in the annals of the neighborhood. Ordinarily a man walking briskly might cover the distance between the Cross Roads and the Hill In two hours. He accomplished It in less than an hour, and before he reached the branch that flpwed a full quarter of a mile from MU cabin he was shouting Hannibal's name as he ran. Then as he breasted tho ?lnnn ho ramo within Sight Of a little group in hi* own dooryard. Saving only Uncle Sammy Bellamy, the group resolved Itself Into the women and children of the Hill, but there was one small figure he missed, and the color faded from his cheeks while his heart stood still. The patriarch hurried toward him, leaning on his cane, while his grandson clung to the skirts of his coat, weeping bitterly. "They've took your nevvy. Bob!" he cried, In a high, thin voice. "Who's took him?" asked Yancy hoarsely. He paused and g'anced from one to another of the little group. "Hit were Dave Blount. Get your gun. Bob, and go after hli.i?kill the miserable, sneaking cuss!" cried Uncle Sammy, who believed In settling all difficulties by bloodshed, as befitted a veteran of the first war with England, he having risen to the respectable rank of sergeant In a company of Morgan's riflemen; while at sixty-odd In '12, when there was recruiting at the Cross Roads, his son had only been able to prevent his tendering his services to his country by hiding his trousers. "Fetch his rifle," some of you fool women!" cried Uncle Sammy. "By the Fayettevllle Road, Bob, not ten minutes ago?you can cut him ofT at Ox Road forks!" Yancy breathed a sigh of relief. The situation was not entirely desperate. for, as Uncle Sammy said, he could reach the Ox Road forks before Blount possibly could, by going as the crow flies through the pine woods. "Hit wouldn't have happened if there'd been a man on the Hill, but there was nothing but a passel of women about the place. I heard the boys crying when Dave Blount lifted your nevvy Into the buggy." said Uncle Sammy; "all I could do was to cuss him across two fields. I hope you blow his hide full of holes!" for a rifle had been placed in Yancy's hands. "Thank you-all kindly," said Yancy, and turning away he struck off through the pine woods. -A brisk walk of twenty minutes brought him to the Ox Road forks, as it was called, where he could plainly distinguish the wheel and hoof marks left by the buggy and team as It went to Scratch Hill, but there was only the single track. mi-l- i . K rm oAftlarl I Ills lllipuriillll pwuii uring a sense of sweet peace stole In upon Yancy's spirit. He stood hlB rifle against a tree, lit his pipe with flint and steel, and rested comfortably by the wayside. He had not long to wait, for presently the buggy hove In sight; whereupon he coolly knocked the ashes from his pipe, pocketed It, and prepared for action. As the buggy came nearer he recognized his ancient enemy in the person of the man who sat at Hannibal's side, and stepping nimbly into the road seized the horses by their bits. At sight of him Hannibal shrieked his nnme In an ecstascy of delight. "Uncle Bob?Uncle Bob?" he cried. "Yes. it's Uncle Bob. You can light down, Nevvy. I reckon you've rid far enough," said Yancy. pleasantly. "Leggo them horses!" said Mr. Plount, recovering somewhat from the effect of Yancy's sudden appearance. "Light down, Nevvy," said Yancy, still pleasantly. Blount turned to the boy as if to interfere. "Don't you put the weight of yo' finger on the boy, Blount!" warned Yancy. "Light down. Hannibal." Hannibal instantly availed himself of the Invitation. At the same moment Blount struck at Yancy with his whip, and his horses reared wildly. thinking the blow meant for them. Seeing that the boy had reached the ground in safety, Yancy relaxed his hold on the team, which Instantly plunged forward. Then as the buggy swept past him he made a dexterous grab at Blount and dragged him out t over the wheels Into the road, where, n for the second time In his life, he proceeded . to fetch Mr. Blount a smacK in tne jaw. inis ne iuiiuwcu i up with other smacks variously distributed about his countenance. e "You'll sweat for this, Bob Yancy!" e: rried Blount, as he vainly tried to t( fend ofT the blows. "I'm sweating now?scandalous," 81 said Mr. Yancy. taking his unhurried satisfaction of the other. Then with 8' a final skilful kick he sent Mr. Blount y sprawling. "Don't let me catch you c' around these diggings again, Dave n Elount, or I swear to God I'll be the e< death of you!" a Hannibal rode home through the pine woods In triumph on his Uncle tf Eob's mighty shoulders. "Did you get yo' ground-hog. Nev- 1)1 vy?" Inquired Mr. Yancy presently h' when they had temporarily exhaust- ai ed the excitement of Hannibal's cap- a ture and recovery. "It weren't a ground-hog. Uncle Fob?It were a skunk!" "Think of that," murmured Mr. c< tl x am jr. (To Be Continued.) Q TO COLLECT 8TATE BONDS. d< South American Government May Bring Suit Againet North Carolina. h( Plans'have been laid by representa- tc tlves of holders of the repudiated bonds of several southern states, partlcularly of North Carolina, to effect _ an enforcement of their claims w through a suit by a foreign government In the event of the failure of m the plan recently suggested to Preslldent Taft for voluntary arbitration of the claims. This suggestion was made In a letter addressed to the president by H. B. Holllns & Co., who tc have undertaken to act as bankers for the bondholders. The communication tj to the president seeking his good of- a, Ices was referred to Secretary of the a] Treasury MacVeagh. The represents- gj tive of the foreign bond-holders' com- j?, mlUee expect to have a conference with the secretary some time In the 0j near future, with a view to formulat- gt lng plans which they hope will be g} successful In bringing about arbltra- ?j tlon of their claims. jn Instead, however, of resting on the m hope of a friendly adjustment, the f0 European and American holders of gj these bonds, who are cooperating, ge have sent a representative to one of the South American republics to close r an arrangement under which this ir South American government has al- m ready agreed to accept a gift of some gj of these southern bonds with a view p] of bringing suit for their collection, si This was made known by a repre- d< seniative of the bondholders. A slm- le liar method of collecting on the defaulted state bonds has already been a resorted to with success In the past, hi and it is assumed that no difficulty bi would be encountered, in view of the di previous decisions of the supreme a court. In an elTort of a foreign gov- hi ernment to collect. This would not e< directly, of course, afTect any other holders of the bonds, but once the va- n< lldlty of any particular Issue of these w state bonds was confirmed In a suit B by a foreign government the bond- w hdlders would be In a position to force h< a settlement with the state, under the lc the alternative of their giving away lo enough of the bonds to make possi- ai ble collections from the state much tf in excess of the amount which the I bond-holders themselves would be tl willing to accept In settlement. sj The present effort to coHect on the these bonds follows a long series of lj attempts to negotiate a settlement, m The bonds, whose holders are repre- s< sented by those engaged In the pres- di ent mnvpment. s>nount to about $28,- it 000,000. exclusive of interest. Of w these about 111,000,000 were Issued 01 by North Carolina, (5,000,000 by ti ^outh Carolina, (5,000,000 by Geor- ti gia and about (7.000,000 by Mlsslssip- bi pi. The accumulations of Interest hi amount, perhaps, all told, to about ft i\vlce the par value of the bonds. In New York state alone, according to I information gathered by Edward L. 'a Andrews, New York counsel to the hi London committee of North Carolina ts bondholders, there are about 20,000 tl holders of repudiated bonds of southern states. Abroad, aside from the large number of English holders. m there are many German, as well as Pi other continental holders. It was said hi that the German government through 1? Its consular representative is mani- J' festing an interest in the present ef- a fort to make a settlement. tfl Under a law passed in this state hi some years ago, the state authorities w were authorized to accept gifts of such bonds and bring suit for their ^ settlement, but no such step has been p< taken by this state. It Is understood m that an action of this kind was sug- n' gested to Gov. Dlx by representatives p< of the bondholders, but that he did not approve the suggestion.?New 'e York Times. w _ P* ? Col. James Hampden Brooks died ^ in Columbia Tuesday, aged 71. and ^ was buried In Edgefield yesterday. He p] was a brother to Preston Brooks, the Mexican war veteran who caned . Charles Sumner on the floor of congress. Colonel Brooks made a des- . perate charge at Drewry's Bluff, near ^ Petersburg, In 1864. in which he recelved three wounds and sixty-four of his seventy-four men were killed or ^ wounded. I.4iter he commanded an independent battalion of nine companies composed of foreign mercenaries. who offered to desert and join w the Confederate army in order to get ro out of Confederate military prisons. ga Mter some months a plot hatched by the non-commissioned officers to kill all the commissioned officers was re- w vealed by Orderly Sergeant Skinner, et! Colonel Brooks court-martialed and ^ shot the eight other orderly sergeants and remanded the men to prison at tr Florence. This Incident led to an investigation by the Federal court after y( the war, but the attempt to convict ^ Colonel Brooks of murder failed. Since the war Colonel Brooks had " been a planter. He served three ec terms in the house of representatives and one in the state senate, and drafted the measure which created the J Confederate Soldiers' home here. dt ???????? lc A DARK DEED * t< By ETTA W. PIERCE. tt ly CHAPTER XXX. 8 Polly 8peaks. . ni I did not scream or faint, or do anyhing In fact, but drop the tiny gar- "3 lents, and sob out, "It's not possible! hi t's not possible!" e< Granny Scrag hobbled up to me, and tc eered Into my face. tl "f Irnnu/ i/a DaII ?' ?? j V, A vil, IUC IIUUIUC 1 sel ?? yes on ye," she said; "yes, yer fath- si r's name was Robert Greylock?lean ike my. oath on that, and If anybody ? oes to "doubt it," with a grin,-"ye can th how 'em yer shoulder?the mother ai lat bore ye can't deny the mark tt he'll . find there. I remember the ci oung gentleman's very words, 'The of hild is my daughter,' says he; 'her y? ame is Ethel Greylock.' Ye're dress- b? i like a lady?have ye got the brass h< t last? Oh!" with a dolorous whine, tr ve was an ongrateful baggage. Poll, dc > run ofT and leave me to shift for ro lyself! Ye never cared for nothing ut Nan. Says Robert Greylock, says in e, 'Tomorrow I'll come for the child, si nd pay ye liberal.' That was years m nd years ago, and not a cent have I sh ad for ve from that hour tn thlal" ?. Sir Gervase was a tower of strength Cr t that moment. He Immediately t0 mslgned the infant's clothing and le ring to his own pocket. W1 "These things belong now to Miss <j, reylock," he said to granny. "Have j0 0 fear?I give you my word that you $u lall be amply repaid for all that was C], ane for her in her childhood." m 1 seized Granny Scrag suddenly by Qr sr two bent shoulders, and looked In- rji i her ugly old face. pc "Are you sure?sure," I entreated, a ildly, "that you've made no mistake? fr -are you sure that it was not Nan f0 ho was brought to your door In Rob- nt t Greylocfc's arms?Nan, instead of nc ie!" as The old creature knew no more of m ie Greylocks, their wealth and social wi asltlon, than of the planets, conse- do uently she could feel no temptation ? depart from the truth. # 8u "Nan wasn't born Into the world 11 two years after that night," she ch iswered. "Can't ye remember howl th ways liked her the best? And why louldn't I? She was Judith's child. d8 m sorry, I say, that I ever sold her. pi fho's going tb take care of me In my m d age? Have I got to beg In the reets till I die? Polly! Polly!" and ?e began to wring her skinny hands, h ! knbw by yer looks that ye've fallen yc ito some good place. Now, It's no cJ] ore than fair for ye to do something th ir me?me iuui uruugm ye up, tiuu aved for ye, when yer own kin dented ye." JJ Sir Gervase made the old woman j( >hearse every detail of the long-past ?c itervlew betwixt Judith Black and y father, and having placed in her eedy hand the money which he had th romised her, and given her the as- m irance of his future protection, he j jparted with me from Harmony Aly ke I went forth from the evil place like person in a dream. The whole world id suddenly changed for me?the ^ ironet'a manner had changed. He rew my hand through his arm with deferential air. Ah, I was no longer Is inferior, but his kinswoman?his .. iu"! "J "How strange it all seems?I canat comprehend it!" I sighed, when e had taken our places again In the vs lackport train, "and I do not know ^ hether I am glad or sorry. You saw jw Nan filled her position at Greyck Woods. Could any born Grey- yc ck have done better? Was she not 9 grand as the grandest, as fair as ^ le fairest? How can I take her place? ie arc feel like a usurper. Look at me, and link of the difference between the ar jurlous Ethel and the true one." "I look at you," he answered, quiet', "and I see a person who has, on or lore than one occasion, proved her- yf ;lf noble, heroic, worthy of all confl- yc ence?a person full of great possibll- e> ies. Justice must be done, and your y< rongs made right Immediately?no ne would wish this with more fervor lo; lan Nan herself. Consider me en- 'u rely at your service, cousin?it will e both my duty and my pleasure to di elp you establish your just and law- lo] II claims." "I have found a name and kindred," half sobbed, "but no Nan! Where she tonight? Friendless, fugitive, 'si eart-broken?in what place has she ba iken refuge? It drives me wild to Rt link of her." th Did my woras move mmr mo ?< rave, brown . face was turned from he ie?he answered nothing. Ah, he go Itled Nan?he wanted to find her?to wl ring her back to the villa, but did he ve her still? Could the daughter of I i jdlth Black and the clog-dancer of to variety theatre keep for one hour sh lat place In his heart which the hlgh ed heiress of Greylock Woods had re on? Alas, I could not tell. th We found the carriage waiting at a ie station when we arrived at Black- It )rt. Strange were the feelings that lsl astered me as we drove up the ave- mi je of the villa. I was not the same irson who had left the place a few ah >urs before. No! Polly the name- eri ss, Mercy Poole's servant, the girl to re] horn Dr. Vandlne, in his kindly com- eFi isslon, had meant to give a chance in w( ie world, was no more. I must now 0j( link of myself as Robert Grey lock's "j( mghter, and the grandchild of that i0, oud old man who lay in awful sol- an nn state in the great house among go ie knolls and evergreens. 8f! Sir Gervase conducted me into the gj. ill. As we were passing the door of co ie library I paused Involuntarily. He ne ive me a look, a slight bow, and went ap i, leaving me with my nana on tne tr| 10b, and my face bowed against the tei mel. co The very sight of the dead man Ge Ithin had always filled me with ter- Et >r. If he were living, what would he ?; iy to the strange things that had ha ansplred this day? Not for worlds er; ould I have opened the door, or look- lei I upon him, In 1118 white and dread- I il dignity; but I whispered through as ie kyhole: "Grandfather! I do not like to call pr >u by that name, but I must?I must, kn :cause It is my right. I am not like bu an, and you loved Nan?the knowl- no Ige that she was not of your blood th lied you. Perhaps your cold, stern ne res would slay me, if they could, for co irlng to enter here, to take the place (ft vacant by her flight Forgive me, randfather, for I am Robert's daugh:r." And then I pressed my face closer > the carved panel, and wept bitterPresently a hand touched my arm. ir Gervase had come back to And ie. "Go to the drawing-room," he said. >rour mother is there. I have told tr your story. I am glad she chanc1 to be in the house. She pretends i be skeptical concerning your identy, but you will readily see that she deeply agitated. It is best that you jould meet her alone." My mother! I started at the words and shuddered, also. He led me to ie threshold of the drawing-room, id there left me. It was no easy ling for me, under these changed rcumstances. to enter the presence Mrs. Iris Oreylock. For years and sars the very thought of her had (en detestable to me. * There was >rror In my heart, and an unconollable aversion, as I opened the >or and stepped reluctantly into the om beyond. She stood under a gas-jet, scrutinlsg the yellow little garments which r Oervase had brought from Harony Alley. Her face was pale, and ie seemed trembling In every limb, t sight of me her excitement Ineased?she limped forward a step meet me. "I came here,'.' she burst out, "to see hat terms I could make with Sir srvase?he being now the heir; and ! he meets me with a story too abird for* belief. I recognise these othes?yes, for I embroidered them yself?I marked my baby's name upi them with my own hands, and this rig?this, too, was the property of or Robert; but you"?she gave me withering look?'the servant-girl om Cats' Tavern, you, my daughter, und after all these years??never, >ver will I believe such ridiculous msense! You are an Imposter, even i poor Fairy was one! The whole atter Is a shameless Invention, of hlch you and Sir Oervase are un ubtedly the authors, though why he lould lend himself to such a plot, I'm ire I cannot tell," I made no attempt to refute the targe?only stood and looked her In e face. "You And me objectionable as a lughter," I answered; '1 am no more eased to be told that you are my other." She colored angrily. "You are insolent! I always knew at Robert carried away the child? >u have fitted the lost link in the sin very well?too well, in fact, for e effect Is painfully dramatic. I tell >u I have no daughter?she died long ro!" But even as she spoke she nped nearer, and stared with mined fascination and terror in my face. )h, why couldn't they have left Fairy me?" she cried out, wildly. "Fairy as exactly my style, my ideal of all at a daughter should be?she suited e perfectly! Could it matter where found her, when she was so like tLo reylock family that not even the enest of them ever suspected that r blood was not blue? Sir Oervase auld never have dreamed of such a Ing, if that wretched Johnson woan had not betrayed me!" She felt not the slightest remorse r what she had done. She had no ought for the old man lying dead <n e library, nor the misery which she id brought upon Nan herself. Adincing still nearer, as if drawn to me rainst her will, Mrs. Greylock twltcbI at my mantel, and said, sulkily, 'ake off these. I want to see you as >u are." Mechanically I removed my outer rments. She breathed hard?her weled hands worked nervously toither. She seemed fighting against i unwelcome but overwhelming uth. "You remind me of my own self? , rather, of what I was ten, twenty ara ago," she half sobbed; "not that >u are one-half as pretty?no, your es are the only decent feature in >ur face. But there's something >out you that brings it all back?my st youth, I mean. However," fretlly, resentfully, "you are hot my illd. Why don't you speak? Are you imb? Do you believe that you beng to me?" "Yes," I answered; "and you believe too!" "No, aiot yet!" she cried out feverlily. "There was a mark upon my Lby, by which I could have diatin- lished her from all the children in e universe?a brand that I now see els providentially placed upon her to lp me in a moment like this. Be so od as to slip off your dress, and I 111 tell you what I mean." "I know already," I answered, and unfastened my gown, and allowed it drop away from my neck and oulders. She uttered a sharp scream, and eled away from me. The brand was ere. ugly and red, like the print of hand. All my life I had looked upon as one of my many physical blem les?one more or less couia noi itter. "How well I remember that mark!" e Rasped. "I always blamed Robt for It. Often, In our many quarIs, he would take me by the shouldand compel me to listen when I is more than unwilling." Her friv>us Jlttle face changed in a minute. I is impossible for me to disbelieve iger!" she cried. I am saved! I i saved! Little did I expect such od fortune. You are not what I <?e e, but you are Godfrey Greylock's anddaughter, and his heiress, of urse, and that is all that li really eded! I am a lucky creature, after I. Fortune never plays me a shabby ck, but that she immediately basis to make me some recompense. Of urse you alter everything here; Sir trvase is no longer of importance, hel?I suppose I must call you that you may kiss my hand; altogether I ,ve reason to rejoice In your discovy. I dare say that in time we may irn to like each other, especially if And you as docile and manageable poor Fairy was." I did not kiss her hand; I made no omlses for the future. She had aclowledged herself to be my mother, it I felt that I could neither trust ir respect her, and to love her?no, at was impossible. In me she would ver find the docility which she had mmended in Fairy. (To Be Continued.)