BEAR CAT STACY

Thames Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 17660, 10 August 1929, Page 3

BEAR CAT STACY

By CHARLES NE VILLE BUCR. (Author of “The Call of the Cumberlands,” etc.)

CHAPTER V

“He was my grandpap,” said the stranger. dropping easily in the phrjiises of the country. “Mr. Henderson,” said the old man, drawing himself up a trifle straighter, “we’re pore folks, but we’re proud ter hev ye enjoy what little we’ve got. This hyar's my son, Turner Stacy.” Then Dear Oat spoke for the first time. “I reckon ye be leg-weary, Mr. Henderson. I’ll fetch yore contraptions ter their house.-”

There remained to the splendidly resilient powers of Bear Oat’s physic-tail endowment no trace of last night's debauch except that invisible, aftermath of desperate chagrin -and mortification. As he lifted the pack which Henderson had put down something like admiring wonderment awoke in him. Here was a man born like himself in tlae hills, reared in crude places, who yet bore himself with the air of one familiar with the world, and one who spoke with the fluency of education. As the wearied traveller trudged along with his two hosts, he had glowing before his eyes the final fire s of sunset over the hills that grew awesomely sombre and majestic under the radiance of gold and a.sh of rose. Then they reached a gate, where a horse stood hitched, and before .them bulked the dark shape of a house whose open door was a yellow slab of lamplight. From the* porch as they came up, rcSe a gray figure .in the neutrality of the dying light; a man with a patriarchal beard that fell over his breast and'an upper lip clean shaven, like a Mormon elder. "liven in that dimness a rude dignity seemed inherent to this man and as Henderson glanced at him he heard Lone Stacy saying. “.Brother Fulkerson, ye’re lyelcome. This hyar is Mr. Henderson.'” Then turning to the guest, the householder explained. “Brother Fulkerson air ther preacher of God’s Word hyarabouts. He’s a friend ter every Christian an’ a mighty wrastler with sin.” As the stranger acknowledged this presentation he glanced up and. standing in the light from the door, found himself face to fac-e with yet another figure: the figure of a girl who was silhouetted there in profile, for the moment seemingly frozen motionless by astonishment. Her face was flooded with the pinkness of a deep blush, and her slender beauty was as undeniable as an axiom. Lone Stacy turned with an amused lauo-li. “An this, Mr. Henderson.” he went on, “air Brother Fulkerson’s gal, Blossom'. T reckon ye two hev met before albeit ye didn’t, in a way of speakin’. make yore manners ther fusttime.” ' . Blossom bowed, then laughed shyly hut with a delicious quality of musicin her voice. t “T reckon ye ’lowed I didn t know nothin’—l mean anything—about manners, Mr. Henderson.” she confessed, and the man hastily assured her: “I ’lowed that you were splendidly loyal—to somebody.” , c ,, As he spoke he saw Bear Cat btac> at his elbow, his eyes fixed on the. girl with a wordless appeal of contrition and devotion, and he thought lie understood.

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‘‘Howdy, Blossom,” murmured Tursho replied briefly: “Howdy, Turner.” This was a lover’s quarrel, surmised Henderson, and discreetly he turned again "to the host, but, even so, he saw Turner step swiftly forward and raise his hands. His lips were parted and his eyes full of supplication, but ho did not speak. He only let his arms fall and turned away with a face of stricken - misery. .'Blossom knew about last night, reflected Bear Cat'. He was, as he deserved to be, in disgrace. Then as the girl stood looking off into tho gathering darkness her own face filled 'wistfully with pain and the boy, dropping to a seat on the floor of tho perch, watched her covertly with sidewise glances.

“Blossom met me down ther roqd,” observed the minister, “an’ named ter me thet she had He paused, casting; a dubious glance? at the stranger, and. Lone Stacv interrupted: “She named ter yer thet she stood guard at ther still an’ warned Mr. Henderson off?”

Brother Fulkerson nodded gravely. “T was just? a little mite troubled lost she'd nut herself in jeopard’.- of ther lew. Thet’s why 1 lighted down and hitched hyar, ter hev speech with ye.” “Yo needn’t worrit yoreself none, Brother Fulkerson,” reassured the host. “Mr. Henderson comes vouched for bv Uncle Israel.”

The preacher sat for a space silent and when he next spoke it was still with a remnant of misgiving in his tone.

“I don’t- aim ter go about crossin’ good men and a-envilin’ with thar opinions,” he began apologetically. “Like as not heaps of ’em air godlier men. than me. but I holds it to be my duty ter speak out.” Again he paused and cast a questioning glance- at his host a though in deference to the hospitality cf the roof, and the tall mountaineer. standing beside the post of his porch, nodded assent with equal gravity. “Talk right for ycreself. Brother Fulkerson. I don’t never aim ter muzzle’ no man’s speech.” “Waal, this day T rid some twenty miles acrost high' ridges and down inter shadowy valleys. I’ve done traversed some places thet war powerful wild an’ laurely. Wharsoever God’s work calls, me, I’m obleeged ter go, hut I raised my voice in song as I fared along amongst them thickets, lest some man thet I couldn’t see, some man a-lavin’ on watch, mout suspicion I was seekin’ ter, discover somethin’ ho aimed ter keep hid—jest as ye suspicioned Mr. Henderson, hyar.” Lone Stacy stroked his heard. “I reckon that war the wisest way. Brother Fulkerson, unless every, man over thar knowed ye.”

“I reckon God likes ther songs of his birds hotter,” declared the preacher. “then ther song of a man thet lies ter sing ter protect- his own life. I reckon no country, won’t ever prosner mightily, whilst hit’s a land of hidin’ out with rifle-guns in ther laurel.” There was no wrath in the eyes of the host as he listened to his guest’s indictment or the voice of thrilling earnestness in which it.was delivered. He only raised one hand and pointed upward where a mighty shoulder of mountain rose ’hulking through the twilight. Nears its top one could just make out the thread-like whiteness of a new fence line. “Tenders my corn, patch.” he said. “When I cleared hit an’ grubbed hit out my neighbours all came up ter their workin’, an arhonnst us we toiled thar from sun-up till one o’clock at night— daylight and moonlight. Op thet. patch T kin raise hie two or three m aster crons o’ corn an’ a iter thet hit won’t handle raise rag weeds! A husliel o’ thet corn, sledded over ter

ner, and the girl’s chin came up. Her voice seemed to exccmmunicate nim as ther nighest store fetches in maybe forty cents.. But whar thar’s two gallons of liclcer in it, an’ thet’s worth money. Who’s a-goin’ ter deny me ther rightful license!ter do it?” “Ther law denies ye,” replied the preacher gravely, but without acerbity. “Thar’s things thet’s erginst ther law,” announced the old man with a swift gathering of fierceness in his tone, i‘an’ thar’s things thet’s above the law. A criminal is a man thet’s done befouled his own self-respect. 1 liain’t never done thet an’ I hnin’t no Criminal. What do you think, Mr. Henderson.”

(To be continued.)