Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1 wwt I ain't never found no way yet to get pence without flghtln' for it." She saw him ride away Into tho moonlight, with his shoulders very straight and the battered felt hat very high, and she looked nelthor to right nor left as he went until tho mists had swallowed him. For a long time while she sat there on the stile gazing across the steep hanks between which the waters of Tribulation slipped along in a tide of tarnished quicksilver and beyond which roee the near ridges of bluo and the far. dim ridges of gray. At her back she knew that the fam? ily and the missionary were sitting in Ulk. She sat there with her hands clasped about her updrawn knees Ss she used to sit when some childhood griof had weighed upon her. 8he could not shake out of her mind the humiliation of having shown her weakest side to Dad Anse Havey. It was some satisfaction to remember "You Haven't Even a Letter of Intro? duction." the offended stiffening of his shoul? ders and the smoldering fire in his '?yea. She had heard much of the strong, easily hurt pride of these mountain meu?a pride which made them walk In strange surroundings with upright heads and eyes, challeng? ing criticism of their uncouthness. She had first appealed to this man, but at least She had also stung him with her scorn. Now they would be open enemies. She knew that this young man. in a country where every man was poor and no man a pauper, owned great tracts of land that yielded only sparse crops with the most arduous coaxing. She knew that undor his rocky acres slept a greut wealth of coal, and that above them grew noble and virgin forests of hardwood. The coming of railroads and development would make him a rich man. Yet ho stood there, seemingly prizing above all those magnificent certainties the empty boast of feudal chieftainship. Yet he was a man. With that thought came an unwelcome comparison. She thought of someone whom sho had loved?and sent away?and of their leave-taking That man had had every gentle attribute which this man lacked. All that universities, travel and ancestry can give had shown out In his bearing, his manners, his voice and the expression of his eyes. There had been a time when sho had wavered In her determination to devote herself to the mission for which she had been educated. She thought that this man might be more impor? tant than any mission; that a lifo with him might be full enough. Then had come the discovery, which at first she had rebelliously denied, but which forced Itself hatefully upon her reali? sation. Despite his unchallengeable charm and gentility, he was, after all, not quite a man. When she had ad? mitted that beyond dispute, she bad turned, sickened, from tho life which she could not contemplate without him. The man whom she thought she loved was "empty and fine, like a swordless sheath." Very well, she would turn to the work of putting an edge on tho sturdier motal of raw humanity. Her grandfather's fortune, or for? tunes, since tho plural rather than tho singular fitted their dimensions, had come to her with his wish that part of them should go to advance education In the Alle^henles. She was to be his stewardess in overseeing tho work, but that she should go In person and permanently to that crudo environ? ment bad not been anticipated. Those who had known her In h t life of nor? mal luxury, of dancing und playing, and of dellclously rhythmic person? ality, would have laughed at tho Idea as absurdly Incongruous. Of this tact the young man had heatedly remind.<1 her on tho night when sho gave nack his engagement ring and announced her determination. "Juanlta," ho had expostulated, with a suffering of hopolessness in his eyes which sho achod to comfort? "Juanita, dearest, courts and Juries and the bayonets of militiamen have struggled to civilize those savage people and for a hundred years they have utterly failed. Their ono god Is Implacablo Hatred." "1 shan't go with Juries or bayo? nets." she had retorted. "You will go without knowing them, their ways, their point of view." ' I don't know them now, but I will Juow them.'' ^ -1 "You haven't even a letter of In? troduction.' "I never heard"?her voice rang with a note against which ho knew the futility of argument?"that the Savior needed letters of introduction." And so an imagined heartbreak and a crumbling world of illusions?as she fancied?had driven her suddenly into self-appointod exile?and a mission. Her education had been pointed to fitting her to oversee such work?dono by the hands of others. Even then, had not he and all the rest goaded he.4 with their insistent refrain, "You can't do it?" Now sho was here. She drew herself up straight as she sat on the stile and Impatiently dashed away the moisture from her eyes. If that other man had only had in him the iron wasted on this desperado, Anse Havey! She rose at last and went unwillingly back to the cabin. The host sat barefooted before the lire and talked with the missionary. The girl heard their conversation through tho dullness of fatigue, won? dering how she was to sleep in this pigsty, yet restrained from asking per? mission to retire only by her embar? rassment and unfamiliarity with tho native code. At last she heard Brother Talbott suggest: "Hit's gittln' ter be late an' we've got a tol'able long way ter jour? ney termorrer. I reckon we'd better lay down." Juanita began counting heads. Thci a were six in the room, and the boy Jeb was yet to return from the dance, and while she was still trying to work out j the problem the woman pointed to a corner bed and suggested: "I reckon you'd better bundle in with Dawn." She saw the girl crawl into bed Just as she was and the mission? ary kick off his brogans and shed his I coat. Taking off her own boots and Jacket, sho slipped between the faded "comforters" of tbe sheetless couch. In five minutes tho taper was ovl and the place was silent save for the crackling of the lors. The little girl at her side lay quiet, and her regular breathing proclaimed her already asleep. In another five minutes Jua? nita, with closed eyes and burning lids and aching muscles, heard the nasal chorus of snoring sleepers. She alone was awake in the house. CHAPTER III. It is related In the history of the Hatfleld-McCoy feud, which burst out between neighbors over a stray pig, and claimed Its toll of lives through half a century, that one of the Hat field girls wrote on a white pillar at the front of her often bereaved house: "There is no place like home." The sequel tells that a cynical traveler passing that way reflected on the an? nals of that dwelling and added in postscript: "Leastways not this side of hell." The story of the Hatfleld-McCoy feud is In many ways that of other "wars" which have made of the roof tree of the eastern divide a land be? leaguered and unique. In the war between the Havoys and tho McBriars there was more than the forgotten episode of a stray razorback which was not surrendered to its law? ful ownors. They had for decades hated and killed each other with a fidelity of bitterness that made all their truces and intermarriages fail of permanent peace. Between the territories where they had originally settled stretched a bar? rier of hills broken by only one gap. The McBriars had made their first habitations east of that ridge and gap where the waters ran toward the sea. The Havoys had set up their power to the west, whero the creeks and springs fed the rivers that went down to the Blue-Grass and to Tennessee. Had tho two clans been content to re? main respectively on the sunrise and sunset slopes of the backbone, they might never have clashed, but there were bright eyed women to the west and cast. Feminlno Havey eyes lured McBrlar suitors, and McBriar girls seemed, to the Havey men worth any dare that fate might set. So it has been since young Montagues and Capulets ignored deadlines?and long before. Smoke went up from cabins on both sides that housed men and women of both clans. Hatred scat? tered and sot up now points of Infec? tion all along Tribulation and beyond its headwaters. In Civil war and subsequent politics a line of fierce cleavage had yawned between them?and each faction had been a power. It was to the leadership of such a clan that Bad Anse had succeeded when hardly twenty-one by tho death of a father whoso end had not come upon a bed of illness. It was to the herding of such a flock that he had ridden away from the cabin of Fletch McNash on the night when the girl's scornful taunt fol? lowed hi in. It was an unfortunate thing that Cal Douglas should, on a February afternoon, have shot to death hll brother-ln law, Noah Watt, even if, ai Cal earnestly assured the Jury, "he was Jest obleeged an' beholden ter do It." All the circumstances of the af? fair were Inopportune for his kinsmah and the kinsmen of the man who died with a bullet through his vilals. Cal horn a naiuo for surly character, and even in a land when* grudge beat? ing is a religion he was deemed ultra fanatical in fanning the Hume of ha tred. Noah Watt himself was little loved by either the Havoys, into whose family he had married, or the McBri ars, from whom ho sprang. Neigh bors told of frequent und violent bick? erings between the man and hll shrewish, wife, who was the twin sin ter of Cal Douglas. . "Cal Douglas an' Nocy Watt's won) | an afr es much alike es two peas In a pod," went neighborhood pronounce? ment. "They air both soured on mankind an' they glories in human misery." Had the fight on that winter eve? ning ended in the death of both par? ticipants, McBriars and Haveys would alike have called it a gentle riddance and dropped the matter where it stood. But since a Havey had slain a Mc Briar and the Havey still lived it could not, in honor, be so dropped. It left an uneven score. Since the mountaineer has little to do in the winter and tpring save gos? sip, the affair grew in importance with rehearsing, and to each telling was added new features. It was sig? nificantly pointed out east of the ridge that Noah had incurred the displeas? ure of Bad Anse Havey by the suspi? cion of tale-bearing to old Milt Mc Briar. It was argued that the particu? lar wife-beating which led to the trag? edy might have passed as uneventfully as several similar episodes heretofore, had not the heads of the Haveys made it a pretext for eliminating a McBriar who dwelt in their midst and carried news across the ridge to his own people. For several years the feud had slept, not the complete sleep of death, but the fitful, simmering sleep of cau? tious animosity. But neither clan felt so overwhelmingly strong as to court an issue Just yet and, realizing the desperate quality of any outbreak, both Milt McBriar "over yon" and Anse Havey over here had guarded tho more belligerent kinsmen with jealous eye. They had until now held them checked and leashed, though growling. For these reasons the trial of Cal Douglas had been awaited with a sense of crisis in the town of Peril, where it might mean a pitched battle. So it had been awaited, too, up and down tho creeks and branches that crept from the ragged hills, where men were leading morbid lives of isolation and nursing grudges. During the three days that the sus? pense continued each recess of court found the long-limbed frame of Milt McBriar tilted back in a split-bottom chair on the flagstones at the front of the hotel. His dark face and pierc? ing eyes gazed always thoughtfully and very calmly off across the dusky town to the reposeful languor of the ydlod-up, purple skyline. Likewise, each recess found seated at the other end of the same house-front the short? er, heavier figure of a fair-haired man with ruddy face and sandy mustache. Never did he appear there without two companions, who remained at his right and left. Never did the dark giant speak to tho florid man, yet never did eithor fail to keep a glance directed toward the other. The man of the sandy hair was Breck Havey, next to Bad Anse the moSt Influential leader of the clan. His in? fluence here in Peril made or unmade the cfflcors of the law. When these two men came together as opposing witnesses In a homicide case the air was fraught with ele? ments of storm. "Thar's war a-brewln'," commented a native, glancing at the quietly seat? ed figures one noon. "An' them felr lers air In ther bllin'." CHAPTER IV. Physical exhaustion will finally toll, even over such handicaps as a moun? tain feather bed and the fumes of a backwoods cabin. If Juanita Holland did not at last actually fall asleep, she drifted into a soft of nightmare coma from which sho awoke with a start. She wondered if sho had really screamed aloud as her eyes opened and stared at the rafters, but little Dawn's sleeping breath rose and fell undisturbed at her side and the snores about her went on unbroken. She raised her hand and wiped the per? spiration from her eyes. She even ventured to look cautiously about. After all, she must have slept heav? ily, for now besides the four beds there was a pallet on the floor, and at its top the firelight, which was lower now, but still strong, showed a tousled head and at its foot two bare feet Jeb had come home from the dance. Again she shut her eyes, but their lids were hot and feverish. The whole procession of tho day's wretched oc-j currences paraded before her, and sho1 wondered If these creatures were worth the effort sho was making in, their behalf. What monstrous things might she have to face at the v^ry outset of her mission? Could It be that the sleep? ing volcano of vioh nee would select her coming aB a cue for eruption, and that she, who had seen only the bet? ter things of life until today, must, begin her work by looking at such a revolting drama? Finally she fell again Into that half sleep which dreams of wakefulness.1 It may have lasted minutes dr hours,! hut suddenly she roused again with a start from a new nightmare and lay, trembling under the oppression of a poignant foreboding. What was it that she had subconsciously heard or imag-' lned? She was painfully wide awake In the slumbering cabin. At lost sho; was in re of a sound, low but instinct I with warning. Beardog was growling Just outside the door. Then, violently and without the pref? ace of gradual approach?precisely as though horsemen had sprung from thd earth?there clattered and beat pad the front of the cabin a staccato thun? der of wildly galloping hoofs and n rattle of scattered rocks. She felt an uncanny freezing ot her marrow. Horses travel perilous and broken roads in that fashion only when theil riders aro in wild haste. As abruptly as the drumbeat had como It died again into silence, and there was no diminuendo of hoofbeats receding into distance. The thing was weird and ghostly. She had not no ticed in the weariness of her arrival at the cabin that the road ran deep in sand to the corner of the fence and that after fifty yards of rough and broken rock it fell away again into an? other sound-muffling stretch. She knew only that she was thoroughly frightened, and that whatever the noise was, it proclaimed hot and des? perate haste. Yet even in her terror she had moved only to turn her head and had opened her eyes cautiously and nar? rowly. There was no sound in the cabin now; not even the stertorous breath of a snore. The fire flickered faintly and occasionally sent up from its white bed of ashes a dying spurt, before which the darkness fell back a little for the moment. She could see that Fletch McNash had half risen in his bed. His head was partly turned in an attitude of intent listening, and his pose was as rigid as that of a bird-dog frozen on a point. It had all been momentary, and as Juanita gazed she saw other fig? ures stir uneasily, though no one spoke. The missionary lay still, but the woman's figure moved restlessly beneath the heaped-up comforter. So, for a few moments, tho strango and tense tableau held, and the girl, watching the householder's alert yet motionless pose, remembered him as he had hunched drunkenly over his plate a few hours ago. The two pic? tures wore hard to reconcile. Then, at some warning which her less acute ears failed to register, she saw Fletch McNash's right hand sweep outward toward the wall and come up gripping the rifle. Still there was no word, but the eld? est boy's head had risen from the pallet. Keyed now to concert pitch, the girl held her body rigid, and through half closed lids looked across tho dim room. While she was so staring and pretending to sleep, there drifted from a long way off an insistent, antraal like yell with a peculiar quaver in its final note. She did not know that it was the famous Mr.Briar rallying cry, and that trouble inevitably followed, fast in the wake of its sounding. She knew only that it fitted in with her childhood's conception of the Indian's warwhoop. But she did know that in an instant after it had been borne along tho wind she had seen a thing happen which she would have disbe? lieved had slift heard it from tho Hps of a narrator. ! She saw in one breathing space the half-raised figure of Fletch McNash un? der the quilts of his bed, and that of ?young Jeb under the covers of his pallet. Sho saw in the next breathing space, with no realization of how it had happened, both of them crouched low at the center of tho floor, the fa? ther's eyes glued to tho front door, the son's to the back. The older man bent low, like a runner on his mark awaiting the starting signal. His right hand held the rifle at his front, his left lightly touched tbe boor with fingers spread to brace nis posture, and his face was tensely upturned. So, while she counted ten, father and son crouched in precisely similar poses, one covering the barred door at the front with a repeating rifle, the She Could See That Fletch McNash Had Half Risen In His Bed. other seeming to stare through the massive timbers of that at the back with leveled pistol. No one spoke. No one moved, but the regular swelling breath of sleep had died, for every pair of lips In tho place was holdiu? its breath, bated. Then came a fresh pounding of hoofs and scattering of gravel and a c.iorus of angry, incoheveut voices sounded abovo the noire of flight?or was it pursuit? Whatever words were being shouted out there in the night were Bwallowed In the medley, except a wake of oaths that Boomed to float be? hind. Tho rolso, like the other which had preceded it, died swiftly, but in the instant that it lasted Fletch McNash had lifted his leit hand and brought his rifle to the "ready'' ard his son had instinctively thrust forward hid cocked revolver. For a lull minute, perhaps, the girl In the bed had the plct'ire of two fig tiros Vr.i low like bronze emblems ot motionless preparation, yet not a syl? lable had been spoken, und when, from Quite a distance beyond, there came the snap of a single shot, followea by the retort of a volley, they still nei? ther spoke nor moved. But at last, as if by one impulse, they rose and turned to face each other. Then, and then only, was there ut? terance of any sort inside the house. In a voice so low that Juanita would not have heard it save that every sense was painfully alert, Fletch said to his son: "I reckon tlier war's on again." The boy nodded sullenly, and the father commanded in an almost inau? dible undertone: "Lay down." The boy went back to his pallet and the father to his bed. For a long time there was dead silence, and then one by one they took up again their chorus of snores. Tomorrow might bring chaos but tonight offered sleep. Still the girl lay gazing helplessly up at the rafters and wondering what things happened out there in the grim, un? communicative silence of the slopes. A little while ago she had been dreading what might come. Now, in an access of terror, she thought of what must come. "Ther war's on." That was enough. Evidently there had been "hell" over there at the dance. She had reached tho country just in time to see a new and sanguinary chapter open. She would in all probability see people she actually knew, with whom she had spoken, and whose hands she had taken, the victims of this brutal blood-lust. And in the face of such things these human beasts could sleep! But one was not sleeping, and after a while among the snoring slumberers Good Anse Talbott rose and knelt be? fore the hearth. There were still a few glowing embers there, and as he bent and at last took the knotted hands away from his seamed face they cast a feeble light upon his ieatures and upon the bare feet that twisted convulsively on the stone fireplace. It was a tortured face, and as tho girl watched him sho realized for tho first time the significance of the words "to wrestle in prayer." It suddenly came to her that she had never before seen a man really pray. For an hour the backwoods missionary knelt there, pleading with his God for his unrepen? tant people. Outside a single whippoorwill wailed plaintively, "These poor hills! These poor hills!" CHAPTER V. In the lowlands morning announces itself with the rosy glow of dawn and upfiung shafts of light, but here in the hills of Appalachia even the sun comes stealing with surreptitious caution and veiled face, as if fearful of ambuscade. When Juanita opened her eyes, to find the tumbled beds empty save for herself, she told herself with a dismal heart that a day of rain and sodden skies lay ahead of her. The dim room reeked with wet mists, and an inquisitive young roos? ter stalked jauntily over the puncheon floor, where his footfalls sounded in tiny clicks. It was a few minutes after five o'clock, and Juanita shivered a little with the clammy chill as she went over to the door and looked out. Bending over a gushing spring at one corner of the yard In the uncon? scious grace of perfect naturalness, her sleeves rolled back and her dark hair tumbling, knelt the girl Dawn. Juanita crossed the yard, and as she came near the younger girl raised a face still glistening with the cold wa? ter into which it had been plunged and glowing with shyness. Tho older woman nodded with a smile that had captivated less simple subjects than Dawn and said: "Good morning. I think you and I are going to be great friends. I know we are if you will try to like me as much as I do you." Then the girl from Philadelphia plunged her face, too, into the cold, living water, and raised it again, smil? ing through wet lashes. "What makes ye like me?" Dawn suddenly demanded in a half-challeng? ing voice. "You make me like you," laughed Juanita. The mountain girl held her eyes still in the unwavering steadiness of her race, then she said in a voice that car? ried an undertone of defiance: "Ye hain't nuver seen me afore, an?" sho broko off, then doggedly, i "an' besides, I don't know nuthin*." "I mean to see you often after this," 1 announced the woman from down be? low, "and tho things you don't know can be learned." A sudden eagerness came to the younger face and a sudden torrent of ; Questioning seemed to hover on her : lips, but it did not find utterance. Sho only turned and led the way silently back toward the house. When they were almost at the door Dawn hesi? tated, and Juanita halted with an en-1 coura.^ing smile. It was clear that the mountain girl found whatever sho meant to say difficult, for she stood indecisive and her cheeks were hotly j suffused with color, so that at last Juanita smilingly prompted: "What is it, dear?" "Yo said?" began Dawn hastily and awkwardly, "ye said suthiu' 'bout me j a tryin' tcr like yo. I?I don't harter j try?I do^s hit." Then, having mado a confession as difficult to her shy taci-1 turnity as a callow boy's first declara? tion of love, sho fled abruptly around the corner of the house. Juanita stood looking after her with a puzzled brow. This hard mountain roservo which is so strong that friends rarely shako hands, that fathers sel? dom ombrace their children, and thit the kiss is known only to courtship, was new to her. At breakfast she did not see Dawn-* the dryad had vanished! During the meal no allusion was made to tne happenings of last night, but the girl noticed that inside the door leaned the householder's "rifle gun" and under young Jeb's armpit bulged the masked shape of a pistol butt, i Young Jeb's face yesterday had been that of a boy, this morning it was the sullen face of a man confronting grim realities. Had Juanlta been more familiar with the contemporary affairs of the community, she might have known that on many faces along Tribulation that morning brooded the same scowl from the same cause. The McBriar yell had been raised last night in the heart of the Havey coun? try* and this morning brought the shame of a land invaded and dishon? ored. Dawn did not reappear until Juanita had mounted and turned her mule's head forward. Then, as she was pass? ing the dilapidated barn, the slim, cal? ico-clad figure slipped from its door and intercepted her in the road, hold? ing up a handful of queer-shaped roots. / "I lowed ye inought need these hyar," said the girl diffidently. Juanita smiled as she bent in her saddle to take the gift "Thank you, dear; what are they?" "Hit's ginseng," Dawn assured her. "Hit grows back thar in ther woods an' hit's got a powerful heap of vir? tue. Hit frisks ther speret an' drives away torment. Ef yer starts ter swoon agin, jest chaw hit." Juanita repressed her amusement. "You see, dear," she declared, "there's one very wonderful thing you know that I didn't know. And don't forget, when we meet again we are old friends." Then, when she had mounted her mule, looking back over her shoulder, Juanita saw the figures of both Fletch and Jeb cross the fence at the far side of the yard and turn into the mountain thicket. Each carried a rifle cradled in his bent elbow. CHAPTER VI. When, just before sunset yesterday afternoon, a verdict of acquittal for Cal Douglas had come from the Jury room, the town of Peril had once more held its breath and doors had closed and the streets had cleared of such as, wished to remain Doncombatants. But with no comment or criticism Milt McBriar mounted his horse and rode out of town, shaping his course over the hills toward his own mouse. Fol? lowing his example with equal quiet his kinsmen mounted, too, and disap? peared. As for Cal Douglas, he reserved any enthusiasm his vindication may have brought to his heart until ho was back; again in the depths of the hills. He and his kinsmen turned their horses by a shorter and steeper trail to the house where the dance was going for* ward with shuffling and fiddling and passing of the jug. j When Milt McBriar and his fellows started home an informer or two from the Havey ranks kept them In view, .themselves unseen, until they passed through the gap and started down tho other side of the ridge Into their own I domain. That they were being so watched was either known to the McBriars or assumed by them. But a picked squad on fresh mounts was waiting over there in a place where the road ran deep through the forest and laurel, ?nd this squad was equipped with re? peating rifles. Milt McBriar himself did not go witV them. He had made , all his arrangements in advance, and it was not seemly that the chief "should take a personal part in an exe? cution which he had decreed. "Let me hear the news, boys," Old Milt had said with a wave of his hand, and then he had ridden on stol idly toward his own domain. The house where the dance was be? ing held stood between the knees ot two hills. x Near midnight a half-dozen men who had not been Invited rode care? fully over an almost obliterated trail j which wound blindly through the hills at the back of the place and hitched their horses in a rock-sur? rounded hollow a half-mile from the house. Other horses and mules were hitched all along the country road, but these belonged to the legitimate guests. As the half-dozen men, whose arri? val had been so cautiously accom? plished, began slipping down, each holding his own course in the cover of the laurel, there was nothing to indi? cate that any warning had gone ahead of them. From tho houses with their yellow windows and their open doors came no note of apprehension?no intima? tion of suspicion. A medley of voices, now and then a laugh, a din of scrap? ing feet, and the whine and boom of fiddles gave out a careless chorus to the night. Slowly, with an adept craft that hardly broke a twig underfoot, three| of the new arrivals hitched their way forward to a point of vantage down near the road. They went crouched low, holding to the shadows with rifles thrust out ahead and faces almost smiling in their grim foretaste of sure success. In a few moments they would have before them the door3 and wfndows as lighted targets. Then whoever saw Cal Douglas would crook forefinger on trigger and the error ot the Jury would be rectified. The others would follow with a volley at random for good measure. It wm almost too easy. It seeme* a shame to snatch a full and red re? venge with such scant, effort. (TO BE CONTINUED.)