Newspaper Page Text
=- s - K
The scene at the opening of the story is
lakl, in the library of an old worn-out
southern plantation, known as the Bar
ony. The place i1 to be sold, and Its
history and that of the owners, the
Qulntards, is the subject of discussion by
Jonathan Crenshaw, a business man, a
stranger known as Biladen. and Bob
Yancy. a farmer, when Hannibal Wayne
Hasard, a mysterious child of the old
southern family, makes his appearance.
Yancy tells how he adopted the boy. Na
thaniel Ferris buys the Barony, but the
Qulntards deny any knowledge of the
boy. Yancy to keep Hannibal. Captain
Murrell. a friend of the Quintards., ap
Dears and asks questions about the Bar
ony. Trouble at Scratch Hill when Han
nibal is kidnaped by Dave Blount. Cap
tain Murrell's agent Yancy overtakes
-lount, gives him a thrashing and secures
the boy. Yancy appears before Squire
Balaam, and is discharged with costs for
the plaintifr. Betty Malroy. a friendyof
the Ferrises. has an encounter with Cap
tain Murrell, who forces his attentions on
her, and is rescued by Bruce Carrington.
Betty sets out for her Tennessee home.
Carrigrfnton takes the same stage. Yancy
and Hannibal disappear, with Murrell on
CHAPTER VI., (Continued.)
In the tavern the three men were
drinking-Murrell with the idea that
the more Yancy came under the in
tuence of Blosson's corn whisky the
easier his speculation would be man
aged. Mr. Yancy on his part believed
that if Murrell went to bed reason
ably drunk he would sleep late and
give him the opportunity he coveted,
to quit the tavern unobserved at
break of day.
"When yo' get to feelin' like sleep,
young boss, Mas'r Slosson he says 1
show yo' to yo' chamber." It was
Slosson's boy Eph.
"Yes, you can show me my cham
ter," Hannibal said.
Eph secured a tin candle-stick with
a half-burnt candle in it and led the
way into the passage back of the bar.
They mounted a flight of stairs and
passed down a narrow hall. This
brought them to the back of the
building, and Eph pushed open the
door on his right.
"This heah's yo' chamber," he
said, and preceding his companion in
to the room, placed the candle on a
The moon was rising and Hannibal
went to the open window and glanced
out. For a moment he considered the
night, not unaffected by its beauty,
then, turning from the window, he
moved his bundle and rifle to the
foot of the bed, where they would be
out of his way, kicked off his trousers,
blow out the candle and lay down.
Yancy had become more and more
convinced as the evening passed that
Murrell was bent on getting him
drunk, and suspicion mounted darkly
'to his brain.
"Have a drink with me!" cried Sio0
son, giving way to drunken laughter.
"The captain's dropped out, and 1
'low it's about time to' these here
festivities to come to an end. I'm
,thinkla some of going to bed my
.-sel" said Yancy. He kept his eyes
-esd e m urrell. He realised that if
.the latq.coold prevent it he was
'.ý, eave the bar. He never shift
.ed his glance from Mrrell's face.
Bcowling now, the captaln's eyes
blased back their challenge as he
thrust his right hand urder his coat.
"Fair play-I don't know who you
are, but I know what you want!" said
Yancy, the light In his frank gray
*yes deepening. Murrell laughed and
took a forward step. At the same mo
ment 8losson snatched pp a heavy
club from the back of the bar and
dealt Yancy a murderous blow. A
single startled cry escaped the
Scratch Hiller; he struck out wildly
as he lurched toward Murrell, who
drew his knife and drove it into his
shoulder. Yancy dropped heavily to
How long the boy slept he never
knew, but he awoke with a start and
a confused sense of things. It was
evidently very late, probably long
after midnight-but where was his
He sank back on his pillow intent
and listening. A chilling terror that
gripped him fast and would not let
him go, mounted to his brain.
Where was his Uncle Bob? Why
didn't he come to bed? Memories or
idle tales of men foully dealt with in
these lonely taverns flashed through
He slid trom the bed, and for a
long moment stood cold and shaking,
his every sense on the alert. With
ionfnite caution he got into his trous
ers and again paused to listen, since
he feared his least movement might
betray him. Next l1 secured his
pack, and was ready for flight.
Encumbered by his belongings, but
with no mind to sacrifice them, he
stepped out upon the shed and made
his way down the slant of the roof to
the eaves. He tossed his bundle to
the ground and going down on his
knees lowered his rifle, letting the
musale fal lightly against the side of
the shed a It left his hand, then he
lay fat on his stomach and, feet first,
wriggied out into space. When he
could no longer preserve his balance,
he gave htmself a shove away from
'the sates sad dropped cear of the
(y- VAucGIiA KESTrR
Suasr.ot/ars BrAIL MviC
i* Clomir li T.Iwe as ewIa i Cii e IrI
As he recovered himself he was
sure he heard a door open and close,
and threw himself prone on the
ground, where the black shadow cast
by the tavern bid him. At the same
moment two dark figures came from
about a corner of the building. He
could just distinguish that they car
ried some heavy burden between them
and that they staggered as they
They passed out of sight, and
breathless and palsied, Hannibal crept
about a corner of the tavern. He
must be sure!
Presently he heard a distant sound
-a splash-surely it was a splash
A little later the men came up the
lane, to disappear in the direction of
the tavern. Hannibal peered after
them. His very terrors, while they
wrenched and tortured him, gave him
a desperate kind of courage. As the
gloom hid the two men, he started
forward again. He reached the end
of the cornfield, climbed a fence, and
entered a deadening of timber. In
the long wet grass he found where
the men had dragged their burden.
He reached down and swept his hand
to and fro-once-twice-the third
time his little palm came away red
There was the first pale premoni
tion of dawn in the sky, and as he
hurried on the light grew, and the
black trunks of trees detached them
selves from the white mist that filled
the woods and which the dawn made
visible. There was light enough for
him to see that he was following the
trail left by the men. He emerged
upon the bank of the Elk river, white
like the woods with its ghostly night
The dull beat of the child's heart
quickened as he gazed out on the
swift current that was hurrying on
with its dreadful secret. Then the
full comprehension of his loss seemed
to overwhelm him and he was utterly
desolate. Sobs shook him, and he
dropped on his knees, holding fast to
the stock of his rifle.
"Uncle Bob-Uncle Bob, come
back! Can't you come back!" he
wailed miserably. Presently he stag
gered to his feet. As he glanced
about, he saw almost at his feet a
dug-out, made from a single poplar
log. It was secured to an overhang
ing branch by a length of a wild
grape-vine. With one last fearful look
off across the deadening in the direc
tion of the tavern, he crept down to
the water's edge and entered the
canoe. In a moment, he had it tree
from its lashing and the rude craft
was bumping along the bank in spite
of his best efforts with the paddle.
Then a favoring current caught it and
swept it out toward the center of the
On the River.
Betty stood under a dripping am
brella in the midst of a downpour.
Just arrived by the foer-horse coach
Pmstt Ma~ir~ Ha rd a Dita~nt Sound-.· Splah.
that plied regularly between Wash
ington and Georgetown, she had
found the long board platform beside
the canal crowded with her fellow
passengers. Suddenly she became
aware of a tall, familiar figure iov
ing through the crowd. It was Bruce
Carrington. At the same moment he
saw her, and with a casual air that
quite deceived her, approached.
"You're leaving tonight?" he asked.
"Yes-isn't it miserable the way it
rains? And why are they so slow
why don't they hurry with that boat?"
"It's in the last lock now," ex
plained Carrington, and gathering up
Betty's hand luggage, he helped her
By the time they had reached
Wheeling, Betty had quite parted with
whatever superficial prejudice she
might have had concerning river-men.
This particular one was evidently a
very nice river-man, an exception to
his kind. He made choice of the
steamer on which she should continue
her journey, and thoughtfully chose
The Naiad-a slow boat.
"I haven't a thing to offer her-this
is plain madness of mine!" he kept
telling himself, and then the expres
sion of his face would become grim
and determined. No more of the river
for him-he'd get hold of some land
and go to raising cotton; that was the
way money was made.
Slow as The Naiad was, the days
passed much too swiftly for him.
When Memphis was reached their
friendly intercourse would come to an
end. There would be her brother, of
whom she had occasionally spoken
he would be pretty certain to have
the ideas of his class.
The days, like any other days, dwin
dled. The end of it all was close at
hand. Another twenty-four hours
and Carrington reflected there would
only be good-by to say.
"We will reach New Madrid to
night," he told her. They were
watching the river, under a flood of
Carrington, with his back against a
stanchion, watched her discontented
"You'll be mighty glad to have this
over with, Miss Malroy-" he said at
lgngth, with a comprehensive sweep
toward the river.
"Yes-shan't your' and she opened
her eyes questioningly.
"No," said Carrington with a short
laugh, drawing a chair near hers and
Betty, in surprise, gave him a quickt
look, and then as quickly glanced
away from what she encountered in
his eyes. As she looked, suddenly
pale points of light appeared on a di.
"Is that New Madrid-Oh, is it, Mr.
Carrington'?" she cried eagerly.
"I reckon so," but he did not alter
"But you're not looking!"
"Yes, I am-I'm looking at you. I
reckon you'll think me crazy, Miss
Malroy-presumptuous and all that-
but I wish Memphis could be wiped
off the map, and that we could go on
ý like this for ever!"
"You mustn't talk so-I am nothing
ý to you-"
"Yes, you are. You're everything
to me," said Carfington doggedly.
ý "You shall love me-" She was pow
t erless in his embrace. She felt his
breath on her cheek, then he kissed
her. Suddenly his arms fell at his
t side; his face was white. "I was a
brute to do that-Betty, forgive me!"
I am sorry-no, I can't be sorry!"
They were alongside the New Mad
ý rid wharf now, and a certain young
r man who had been impatiently watch
ing The Naiad's lights ever since they
i became visible crossed the gang-plank
with a bound.
"Betty-why in the name of good
ness did you ever choose this tub?"
said the new-comer.
Carrington stepped back. This
must be the brother who had come up
the river from Memphis to meet her
-but her brother's name was Tom!
He looked this stranger-this Charley
t-over with a hostile eye, offended by
his good looks, his confident manner,
in which he thought he detected an
air of ownership, as if-certainly he
was holding her hands longer than
was necessary. An instant later, when
Betty, remembering, turned to speak
to him, his place by the rail was de
All that day Hannibal was haunted
by the memory of what he had heard
and seen at Slosson's tavern. More
than this, there was his terrible sense
of loss, and the grief he could not
master. Marking the course of the
road westward, he clung to the woods,
where his movements were as stealthy
as the very shadows themselves.
Presently, as he stumbled forward,
he came to a small clearing in the
center of which stood a log dwelling.
The place seemed deserted.
Tilted back in a chair by the door
of this house a man was sleeping.
The hoot of an owl from a near-by
- oak roused him. He yawned and
stretched himself, thrusting out his
ý fat legs and extending his great
t arms. Then becoming aware of that
> path as he slept and now stood be
fore him in the uncertain light, he
I fell to rubbing his eyes with the
small figure which had stolen up the
t knuckles of his plump hands.
I "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Hannibal Wayne Hazard,"
ý said the boy. The uan quitted his
ý "Well-I am glad to know you,
Hannibal Wayne Hasard. I am 81o
cum Price-Judge 8locum Price,
sometime major-general of Ipilitta and
. ex-member of congress, to mention a
few of those honors my fellow coun
trymen have thrust upon me." He
made a sweeping gesture with his two
hands outspread and bowed ponder
ý The boy saw a man of sixty, whose
g-ross and battered visage told its own
story. There was a sparse white
frost about his ears; and his eyes,
pale blue and prominent, looked out
from under beetling brows. He wore
a shabby plum-colored coat and tight,
drab breeches. About his fat neck
was a black stock, with just a sug
gestion of soiled linen showing above
it. His figure was corpulent and un
"You don't belong In these parts,
do you?" asked the judge, when he
had completed his scrutiny.
"No, sir," answered the boy. He
glanced off down the road, where
lights were visible among the trees.
"What town is that?"
"Pleasanmtville-which is a 11- but
I am neither sufficiently drunk nor
sufficiently sober to cope with the poe
sibillties your question offers. Have
you so much as fifty cents about
you T" and the Judge's eyes narrowed
to a slit above their folds of puffy
flesh. Hannibal, keeping his glance
fixed on the man's face, fell back a
step. "I can't let you go if you are
pennilessl-I can't do that!" cried the
Judge, with sudden vehemence. "You
shall be my guest for the night
They're a pack of thieves at the tarv
ern," he lowered his voice. "I know
'em, for they've plucked me!" He
rested a fat hand on the boy's
shoulder and drew him gently but
firmly into the shanty. With fint and
steel he made a Ulght, and presently
a candile was sputtering in his hands.
He zAtted it into the neck of a tall
bottle. and as the light Bared up the
boy glanced about him.
The interior was mean enough,
with its rough walls, dirt floor and
Sblack, cavernous fireplace. A shake
down bed in one corner of the room
was tastefully screened from the pub
lice gaze by a tattered quilt.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
"One o de moe' curlosest thing.
about a fool," said Uaele Uben, "Is e
way bell hollwer and git mad if you
don't let him show Of hi.s mlst''- ms
A Clydesdal. Flly.
DRAFT HORSES NEEDED
Majority of Southern Animals of
Farmer Must Secure Pure Bred 8ires
to Build Up Present Undersized
Stock-Great Work of Experi
(By WAYNE DINSMORE.)
It is necessary that you should have
a good supply of good pure bred draft
horses, if you are to product grade
draft mares of suitable size and con
tormation for farm work and mule pro
duction. You cannot go into the north
and west and buy such grade draft
mares as cheaply as you can rear them,
for the farmers of the north and west
are not sufficiently supplied them
selves with mares of the right weight
Grade draft mares have been sell
ing on the open market at from, $260
to $300 per head and have been taken
up with avidity by buyers who have
been distributing them to farmers who
cannot buy such animals in their own
You must have pure bred draft
sires if you are to build up your pres
ent undersized stock of mares into
good sized well built grade of draft
mares. From what I have been able
to learn of the conditions of the south,
I am sure that the majority of your
mares are of inferior type and lacking
Two or three successive crosses with
good pure bred draft sires, will build
this under-1sed, Inferior stock, up ln
to a good grade of draft mares, weigh
Ing from 1,500 to 1,700 pounds and
of fairly good type, but you must have
good pure bred draft sires if you are
to make such progress within two or
Our experiment stations established
in 1888 have done great work in
studying the eficiency of production
in our draft and meat producing ani
mals and it has been found that it
costs just as much to produce an tn
terior animal as it does to produce a
good one, as it doe from the initial
eost of the better sire.
In other words, you may take two
mares of identical sise and and eabanfo
mation, and breed one to an inferior,
undersise, unsound grade sire for $5.
MACHINE THINS OUT. PLANTS
Particularly Adapted for Us With
Onione and Beets-May Be Used
In describing a machine invented
by 8. Stone of Miles City, Mont., for
thinning out plants the Scientiic
In this patent the invention relates
to improvements ia machines for thia
ning or cutting out the superfluou
plants of such character as are
"drilled" and planted in rows, and has
for its object to provide a machine for
expeditiously and effciently thinnthg
and cutting such plants, it being In
Thinning Meohine For Plants.
tended ,more particularly for onions,
beets and plants that are allowed to
grow to maturity at short intervals to
one another, but may be used for cot
ton plants. The machine has great
adaptability and waill operate on three
rows at a time. In the engraving in
serted herewith is pictured a top plan
view of the device.
Value of Hog Droppings.
The droppings from a well fed hog
are worth $10.00 or more per year, so
do not waste it by keeping your hog
In a slough or untillable place, change
his feed lot now and then, for his
sake, for "lsnds sakes," and for "your
stomach sake," If you intend to eat
him or sell him for food.
You may breed the other to a flrst
class, sound, pure bred sire of excei
lent draft type and size, approxiat
ing 1,950 or 2,000 pounds, the servieo
fee of which we will say costs
$20. The two mares are worked sid
by side while carrying the colts. Th
food cost of the one is the same
the food cost of the other, barring t
slight difference in individuality,
which always exists; the cost of lookl
ing after the one colt at the time o4
birth is the same as the cost o4
looking after the other. The food
cost required to bring one colt to a4
full development as is possible
three years of age will differ but I.
tie from the food cost of the other. I4
has been found that it costa, approz
imately, $150 to rear a frst claas drat
colt to three years of age. This
lows for a $20 service fee, for
purchase of all food stuffs at market
prices for liberal feeding from birth
until three years of age. It is safe to
say that the cost of growing the
inferior colt and bringing him to as
full development as can be obtained
at three years of age, will be no
than $120, counting in $= servite f
This means, gentlemen, that you
have a difference of not more than
in the cost of rearing a flrtclas co
and a decidedly inferior colt, to threl
years of age, even taking into ecd
sideration the difference in servicd
fee. These figares are extremely cos
The colt from a frst-class draft s
will weigh around 1,700 'to 1,7
pounds and will (unless the
proves a violent one) be of such
and soundness as to be .worth at l
$75 more than the colt froid the
ferior, undersised grade sire.
many cases the difference would be
The oimces of the Percheron
of America are located directly
posite the Chicago Horse Exch
in the taIon Stockyards. Chi
which is the greatest horse
in the world. Here the one coatin
complaint of byers and of
is that the percentage of sound,. w
built draft horses, that are of
right eonformatiba and type and
weight exceeding 100 pounds, is
The run of horses for the first we
in March was 3,586, for the Saut wee
in April, 3,031; for the first week f
May, .0616. The e sures are itr
rpresentative of the months named,
The most experlenced market men are
anited In declaring that less than tst
per cent of the horse marketed
have been of approved draft type.
BURN OUT THE BOLL WEEVILI
Chief Objeet of dDeetntlen of Cotteel
8talks in Fall is to Deprive
Inseots of Feed.
In the ýght agasnst the boll weevm
nt should always be remembered that
comparatively few of the boll wevell
that are present in the fall live
through the winter and attack the
cotton in the sprieg. The earlier tLa
food of the weevils, which is cotteom
and only cotton, is destroyed in that
fall, the smaller the number of wee
vils that will live until spring.
From the fact that the weevils ml
grate chiely in the fall when foil
becomes scarce, and the further fact
that the earlier their tood is de
stroyed that and the only thing
that that will perish during the wntater
says Progrssive FIrmer, it becom
apparent that the chief object In tlh
destructon of the cotton stalks
the fal is to deprive the boll weevils
of their food.
It has been stated that burning tis
stalks has in some cases destroyedl
97 per cent. of the boell weevis. ThLef
can, at best, be nothing more than as
random guess, but if it were true, It;
makes little diference whether thW
weevils are burned or starve toe
death, just so long uas they die. Thed
important fact to be kept in min
is the early destruction of thefood!
of the weevils. There is no late or
top crop, for the weevils have de
stroyed that, and only one thing in
the way of an early destruction oft
the cotton stalks is the picking od
the crop made early in the season.
There is no need of destroying the
cotton stalks unless it is done early.,
Balanced Feed for Horse.
A good, balanced feed for a horse ss
one quart of oats and one of bran
twice each day, when Idle, and three
times a day when at work-substituO
ing corn for oats occasionally; au
half a bundle of fodder, or one gool!
forkful of hay, three times a day ast
regular hours. Any horse keeps fat
on this He is given plenty of wate