MAM' LINDA.

Thames Star, Volume LXII, Issue 17387, 27 March 1928, Page 3

MAM' LINDA.

CHAPTER XIII. '•Dun t make any statement to hid/' the officer said, humanely enougn in ms uay. "ion are accused oi ; a dirty jo..j, Pete, and it v.jLI take a dang goou lawyer t osave you from the waiter, even ir we save you rroiu tin* ,'-11x00; but calkin' to me won't do no good, -vie'n King here couldn't protect you rroiu tiiem men if they once saw you. 1 tell you, .young man, all hell has woke loose, i'or twenty miles ground no black skin will be sate, much less yours. Innocent or guilty, you've certainly shot oil' your .mouth. Come on.""

Without further protest, Pete dropped Ids hoe and went with them. Doggedly, and With an overpowc nig and surly sense of . injury, 'he slouched along between the two men. A quarter of. a mile dow na narrow, private road, which was traversed without meeting anyone, they came to J arsons' farmhouse, a one-story frame building with a porch in front', and a roof that sloped back to a crude leanto shed in the rear. A waggon stood under the spreading branches of a big beech, and near .by a bent-toiigued harrow, weighted down by If heap of stones, a clucken 7 coop, an old beehive, and a ramshackle buggy. No one was in sight. No Jiving thing stirred about the place, save the turkeys and ducks and a' solitary peacock strutting about in the front yard, where the rows of half-buried stones from the mountainsides formed the jagged borders of a gravel walk from the fence to the steps.

r ihe sheriff drew the gate open, and, according to rural etiquette, hallooed lustily. Alter a pause a sound of someone moving in the house reached their ears. A window-curtain was drawn aside, and later a-woman stood in the doorway and advanced wonderingly to the edge of the porch. She was portly, red of eomplexiop, about huddle-aged, and dressed in "~ checked gingham, the preominating colour of which was blue. & ■ "Well, I'll be switched.'" she ejaculater; "what do you-nus want?" "Want to see Jabe, Mrs. Parsons; is he about?'' "He's in his hay-field, or was a minute ago. What do you want with him?" "We've got to borrow some bosses," the sheriff answered. "We want three one fer each. "We're goin' to try to dodge them blood-thirsty mobs. Airs. Parsons, an" put this feller in gaol, whar he'll be safe." "That boy?" The woman came down the steps, rolling her sleeves up. "Why that boy didn't kill them folks. I know that buy; he's the son of old Mammy Linda and Uncle Lewis Warren... Now. look here. Jeff Braider,, don't you and Bill King go and make eternal fools o' yourselves. That boy didn't no more do that nasty work than I did. It ain't "im. He hain't that look. ] know niggers as well as you or anybody else.""

"No, I didn't do, it, Mrs. Parsons." the prisoner affirmed. "J didn't! I didn't." "I know you didn't," said the woman. ''Wasn't I standin' here in the •door this mormn' and saw him get up an' go>out to got his wood and cook his breakfast? Then 1 seed 'inTlshoul--der his grubbin'-hoe and go to the field to his work. You officers may think you know it all. but no nigger ain't goin' to stay around like that, after killin' .a- man and woman in-cold blood The nigger that did that job was some scifjnp that's fur from the spot by this

f|i|I"OUB"SERiArSTORY"yi

Bv WILL N,' HA.RBEN. (Author of "Ann Boyd/' "Pole Baker," "Abner Daniel," etc )

time, and not a boy fetched tin among ' good white folks like this one was, with the best old mammy and daddy that ever had kinky heads.". "Hut witnesses say he threatened Abe Johnson 'a •month ago," argued Braider. "L have to do my duty, Mrs. Parsons. There never would be any justice if we overlooked, a thing as pointed as that is." "Threatened 'im?" the woman cried: "well, what does that prove? A nigger will talk back an' act surly on his death-bed if he's mad. That's all the way they have of defendin' then-selves." If" Pete hadn't talked some after the lashin' he got from them men, thar'd 'ai been some'n wrong with him. Now, you let 'im loose. As shore as you start off with that boy, he'll be lynched. The fact that you've got 'im in tow will be all them crazy men want. You couldn't get two miles in any direction from here without bein' stopped; they are as thick as fleas on all sides, an' everv road is under watch."

j "I'm sorry I can't take your ad--1 vice, Mrs. Parsons," Braider said, almost out of patience. '"l've got my duty to perform, an' I know what it is a sight better than you do." "If you start off that with boy his blood will be on your head," the woman said, firmly. "Left alone, and advised to hide 'out till this excitement is over, he might stand a chance to save his neck; but with you—why, you mought as well stand and yell to that crazy gang to come on."" "Well, .we've got "to git horses to "on with, and yours are the nearest." "Huh! you won't ride no harmless nigger to the scaffold on my stock," the woman said, sharply. "I know whar my duty lies. A woman with a thimbleful of" brains don't have to listen to a long string of testimony to know a murderer when she sees one; that boy's as harmless as a baby, and you are' trying your level best to have him mobbed." "Well, right is on my side .and 1 can take the horses if I see fit in the furtherance of law an' order," , said Braider. "If Jabe w.as here he'd tell •me to go ahead, an' so I'll have to do it, anyway. Bill, you stay here on guard, and I'll bridle the horses an' lead 'em out." A queer look, half of anger, hall of definite purpose, settled on the strong, rugged face of the woman, as she saw the sheriff stalk off. to the barn-yard gate, enter it, and let it close after him.

"Bill King." she said, drawing nearer the man left in charge of the bewildered prisoner., who now for the first time" under the words of his defender, had sensed his real danger "Bill King, you hain't agoin' to lead that uoor boy right to his death this xva y—lyoxi doii't look like that sort of a man." She suddenly swept her furtive eyes over the barnyard, evidently noting that the sheriff was now in the " stable'. "No, you hain't—lor I. hain't goin' to let you." And suddenly, without warnig even to the slightest change of facial expression she grasped the end of the shot-gun the man held, and whirled him round like a ton. "Bun. boy." se cried. "Bun for the woods, and God be with yon!" For an instant Pete stod as if rooted to 'the spot, and then, as swift of foot as a young Indian, he turned and darted through the gate and round the farmhouse, leaving the and King struggling for the possession of the gun. It fell to the ground;, but she grasped King around the waist, and clung to him with the tenacity of a

I bulldog. "Good God, Mrs. Parsons/'; he panted, writhing in her grasp "let me loose." There was a smothered oath from the barn-yard, and, revolver in hand, the sheriff ran out. "What the hell!—which way did he go?" he gasped-. But King, still in the tight embrace of his assailant, seemed too badly upset to reply. And it was not till Braider had torn her locked hands loose that King could' stammer out: "Bound the house —into the woods!" "An' we couldn't catch 'im to save us from -" Braider said. "Madam, I'll handle you for this I'll push this case against you to the full limit of the law." "You'll do nothing of the kind," the woman said, "unless you want to make yourself the laughin'-stock of the whole community. In doin' what I done I acted fer all the good Women of this country; an' wdien you run ag'in we'll beat you at the polls. Law an' order's one thing, but officers helpin' mobs to do their dirty work is another. If the boy deserves a trial he deserves it, but he'd not 'a' . stood one chance in ten million in j your charge, ah' you know it." At this juncture a man emerged from the close-growing bushes across the road, a look of astonishment on his face. It was Jabe Parsons. "What's wrong here?" he cried, excitedly. | (To ha continued.l I