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EBKOR IN WAR TAX LAW Washington, D. C., July 21.— Ever} blunder in a statute is a gilt edged in vation to a law suit. A typical example of one of these invitations, so numerous in practically every important statute passed by the Democratic Congress, occurs in schedule B of the "war tax'' law. It threatens to vitiate the effectiveness of the en tire schedule. That provision declares that "per fumery, cosmetics, and other similar ar ticles, "shall be taxed. What are 'cos metics?' The term is general, not specific. It is not defined in the law, and the question of what shall be term ed a 'cosmetic' has been plunged into doubt, which the courts only can fin ally clear up. A suit is now pending to determine it. From the earliest days of attempts to enforce this schedule, there has been continual confusion. Many manufac turers of articles of this character re sisted the tax declaring that their goods were not 'cosmetics'. Revenue collectors were at sea, and conflicting rulings from Washington as to specific articles merely added to the confusion, delay and expense of administration. The Internal Revenue office finally tiied to settle the difficulty by ruling that manufacturers of certain disputed products would be exempt from taxation if they changed their advertising. The levying of the tax W'as thus made to depend, not upon the product itself, but upon the way it was adver tised, virtually resolving a portion of schedule B of the 'war tax' law into a special tax upon advertising rather than upon the goods under discussion when congress enacted the statute. It is elementary in law that "in terpretation of a law- shall not usurp the function of legislation.'' This principle has been violated in the ad ministration of the "war tax law. The Democratic congress named two con flicting dates as to the time schedule B should take effect, and the Internal Revenue office by an arbitrary ruling had to determine what congress intend ed. The courts may decide that the same thing has happened in the rulings as to the tax on "cosmetics.'' In any event the history of this portion of the war tax law has served to em phasize the slovenly methods employed by the Democratic congress. The Call of the Cumberiands I By Charles Neville Buck With Illustrations from Photographs of Scenes in the Play tCooxriaht. uu, hr W. 1. Watt ft Ca) 8YNOP6I8. CHAPTER I—On Misery creek, at t root of a rock from which he has fall« Hally Miller finds George Lescott, a lar scape painter, unconscious, and after i vlving him, goes for assistance. CHAPTER II—Samson South and Sally, I taking Lescott to Samson'B home, are met I by Spicer South, head of the family, who ; tells them that Jesse Purvy has been shot, land that Samson Is suspected of the ; crime. Samson denies It. CHAPTER III—The shooting of Jesse ! Purvy breaks the truce In the Hollman ; South feud. CHAPTER IV—Samson reproves Tams# irack Spicer for telling Sally that Jim : Hollman Is on the trail with bloodhounds. ; hunting the man who shot Purvy. CHAPTER V—The bloodhounds lose the ; trail at Spicer South's door. Lescott dis covers artistic ability In Samson. While'. ; sketching with Lescott on the mountain. ; Tamarack discovers Samson to a jeering I crowd of mountaineers. Samson thrashes : him and denounces him as the "truee ; •'uster" who shot Purvy. CHAPTER VI—Lescott tries to per ; suade Samson to go to New York with I him and develop his talent. Sally, loyal ; but heartbroken, furthers Lescott's efforts. ; The dance at Wile McCager's threatens ; trouble to Samson and Lescott. CHAPTER VII—At the dance Samson • tells the South clan he Is going to leave ! the mountains. Lescott goes home to I New York. Samson bids Spicer and Sally ! farewell and follows. ; CHAPTER VIII—In New York Samson ; studies art and learns much of city ways. • Drennle Lescott persuades Wilfred Hor ! ton, her dilettante lover, to do a man's ! work In the world. CHAPTER IX—Prompted by her love, ; Sally teaches herself to write. Horton ! throws himself Into the business world ; and becomes well hated by predatory ; financiers and politicians. At a Bohemian ; resort Samson meets William Farblsh, ; sporty social parasite, and Horton's ene ; nay. ; CHAPTER X—Farblsh sees Samson and ; Drennle dining together unchaperoned at : the Wigwam roadhouse. He conspires i with others to make Horton jealous and ; succeeds. CHAPTER XI—Farblsh brings Norton : and Samson together at the Kenmore ! dub's shooting lodge, and forces an open : rupture, expecting Samson to kill Horton ; and so rid the political and financial thugs I of the crusader. Samson exposes the plot land thrashes the conspirators. CHAPTER XII—S%mson Is advised by Ihls teachers to turn to portrait painting. ! Drennle commissions him to paint her j portrait. Sally goes to school. Samson ; goes to Paris to study. Drennle finds In ; his studio pictured evidence of his loyalty ; to Sally. I CHAPTER XIII—Tamarack kills Jim ; Asberry, Is surrendered to the militia and ; «hot from ambush by a Hollman. The i feud Is on again and the law helpless in ! the face of murder. Sally sends for Sam I son. CHAPTER XIV—Samson goes home, ; catches Aaron HoIUb In the act of mur i dering Jesse Purvy and kills him. He ! goes to Saille. Captain Callomb hears of ; the killings. j But before be reached the court* house, where for a half-hour yet the cupola bell would net clang out Its summons to veniremen and witnesses, he found fresh fuel for his wrath. He was not a popular man with l hese clansmen, though involuntarily îe had been useful in leading their vie ims to the slaughter. There was a cowl in his eyes that they did not ike, and an arrogant hint of iron I'vws a the livery he wore, which the r in tincts distrusted. Callomb saw without being told that. >ver the town lay a sense of por entous tidings. Faces were more ullen than usual. Men fell into scowl ng knots and groups. A clerk at a loro where lie stopped for tobacco nquired as he made change: "Heerd the news, stranger?" "What news?" "This here 'Wildcat' Samson South :ome back yistiddy, an' last evenin owards sundown, Jesse Purvy an' Aaron Hollis was shot dead." For an instant, the soldier stood looking at the young clerk, his eyes sindling into a wrathful blaze. Then, ue cursed under his breath. At the door, he turned on his heel: "Where can Judge Smithers be ound* at this time of day?" he de manded. CHAPTER XV. The Honorable Abe Smithers was not the regular judge of the circuit which numbered Hixon among its county seats. The elected incumbent was ill, and Smithers had been named 13 his pro-tem. successor. Callomb 'limbed to the second story of the rame bank building and pounded loud :y on a door, which bore the boldly yped shingle: "Asa Smithers, Attorney-at-Law." The temporary judge admitted a visitor in uniform, whose countenance was stormy with indignant protest I he judge himself was placid and smll ng. The lawyer, who was for the time icing exalted to the bench, hoped tc ascend it more permanently by the votes of the Hollman faction, since unly Hollman votes were counted. He was a young man of powerful physiqut with a face ruggedly strong and Hon est. Callomb stood for a moment inside ihe door and when he spoke it was tc demand crisply: "Well, what are you going to dc about it?" "About what, captain?" inquired the other, mildly. "Is it possible you haven't neard* Since yesterday noon two murders have been added to the holocaust fou represent the courts of law. I repre sent the military arm of the state. Arc we going to stand by and see this gr on?" The judge shook his head, and hn visage was sternly thoughtful anc' hypocritical. He did not mention thaï he had just come from conference with the Hollman leaders. He did no; explain that the venire he had drawr from the jury drum had borne a singu tarly solid Hollman complexion. "Until the grand jury acts I don'i see that we can take any steps." "And," stormed Captain Callomb "the grand jury will, like former grant juries, Ue down in terror and inactiv y. Either there are no courageous men in your county, or these panels are selected to avoid including them.' Judge Smithers' face darkened. I 4 he was a moral coward, he was a', least a coward crouching behind t seeming of fearlessness. "Captain," he said, coolly, but with ? dangerous hint of warning, "I don't see that your duties include contempt ol court." "No!" Callomb was now thoroughlj angered, and his voice rose. "I am sent down here subject to your orders, and it seems you are also subject tc orders. Here are two murders m a day, capping a climax of 20 years oi bloodshed. You have information as to the arrival of a man known as a desperado with a grudge against the two dead men, yet you know of no steps to take. Give me the word and i'll go out and bring that man, and any others you name, to your bar of justice —if it is a bar of justice! For God's sake, give me something else to dc than to bring in prisoners to be shot down in cold blood." The judge sat balancing a pencil on his extended forefinger, as though it were a scale of justice. "You have been heated in your lan guage, sir," he said, sternly, "but it is a heat arising from an indignation which I share. Consequently. I pass it over. I cannot instruct you to arrest ■Samson South before the grand jury has accused him. The law does uot contemplate hasty or unadvised action. All men are innocent until proven guilty. If the grand jury wants South. I'll instruct you to go and get him Until then, you may leave my part o: the work to me." His honor rose from his chair. "You can at least give this grand jury such instructions on murder as will point out their duty. You can as sure them that the militia will protect them. Through your prosecutor you can bring evidence to their attention, you—" "If you will excuse me," Interrupted his honor, dryly, 'Til judge of how 1 am to charge my grand jury. I have been in communication with the family of Mr. Purvy, and it is not their wish at the present time to bring this case be fore the panel." Callomb laughed Ironically. "No, I could have told you that be fore you conferred with them. I could have told you that they prefer to be their own courts and executioners, ex cept where they need you. They also ^referred to have me get a man they wouldn't take themselves, and then tc tasasslnate him in my hands. Who 1 b — -----ni'iis — the hell do you work for, Judge-for-the moment Smithers? Are you holding a iob under the state of Kentucky, or up der the Hollman faction of this feud' I am instructed to take my orde-u from yod. Will you kindly tell me my master's real name?" Smithers turned pale with anger, his fighting face grew as truculent as a bulldog's, while Callomb stood glar ing back at him lil-.e a second bulldog, but the judge knew that he was being honestly and fearlessly accused. Hu merely pointed to the door. The cap tain turned on his heel and stalked out of the place, an.d the judge came down the steps and crossed the street to the courthouse. Five minutes later he turned to the shirt-sleeved man who was leaning on the bench and said in his most judicial voice: "Mr. Sheriff, open court." The next day the mail carrier brought in a note for the temporary judge. His honor read it at recess and hastened across to Hollman's Mam moth Department Store. There, in council with his masters, he asked in structions. This was the note: - "The Hon. Asa Smithers. "Sir: I arrived in this county yes terday, and am prepared, if called as a witness, to give to the grand jury full and true particulars of the murder of Jesse Purvy 'and the killing of Aaron Hollis. 1 am willing to come under the escort of my own kinsmen, or the mili tiamen, as the court may advise. "The requirement of any bodyguard I deplore, but in meeting my legal ob ligations, I do not regard it as neces sary or proper to walk into a trap. "Respectfully, "SAMSON SOUTH." Smithers looked perplexedly at Judge Hollman. "Shall I have him come?" he in quired. Hollman threw the letter down on his desk with a bfrst of blasphemy: "Have him come?" he echoed. "Hell and damnation, no! What do we want him to come here and spill the milk ior? When we get ready, we'll indict him. Then, let your damned soldiers go after him—as a criminal, not a witness. After that, we'll continue this case until these outsiders go away, and we can operate to suit ourselves. We don't fall for Samson South's tricks. No, sir; you never got that letter! It miscarried. Do you hear? You never got it." Smithers nodded grudging acqui escence. Most men would rather be independent officials than collar-wear ers. Out on Misery Samson South had gladdened the soul of his uncle with his return. The old man was mending, and, for a long time, the two had talked. The failing head of the clan looked vainly for signs of degeneration in his nephew, and, failing to find them, was happy. "Hev ye decided, Samson," he in quired, "thet ye was right in yer no tion, 'bout goin' away?" Samson sat reflectively for a while, then replied: "We were both right, Uncle Spicer— and both wrong. This is my place, but if I'm to take up the leadership it must be in a different fashion. Changes are coming. We can't any longer stand still." Spicer South lighted his pipe. He, too, in these last years, had seen in the distance the crest of the oncoming wave. "I reckon there's right smart truth , to that," he acknowledged. "I've been studyin' bout hit consld'able myself of late. Thar's been sev'ral feilere through the country talkin' coal an' timber an' railroads—an' sich like." Sally went to mill that Saturday, and with her rode Samson. There, be sides Wile McCager, he met Caleb Wiley and several others. At first, they received him skeptically, but they knew of the visit to Purvy's store, and they were willing to admit that in part at least he had erased the blot from his escutcheon. Then, too, except for cropped hair and a white skin, he had come back as he had gone, in home spun and hickory. There was nothing highfalutin in his manners. In short, the impression was good. "I reckon now that ye're back, Samson," suggested McCager, "an' see in' how yere Uncle Spicer is gettin' along all right, I'll jest let the two of ye run things. I've done had enough." It was a simple fashion of resigning a regency, but effectual. Old Caleb, however, still insurgent and unconvinced, brought in a minor ity report. "We wants fightin' men," he grum bled, with the senile reiteration of his age, as he spat tobacco and beat a rat tat on the mill floor with his long hickory staff. "We don't want no de serters." "Samson ain't a deserter," defended Sally. "There isn't one of you fit to tie his shoes." Sally and old Spicer South alone knew of her lover's letter to the circuit judge, and they were pledged to secrecy. "Never mind, Sally!" It was Sam son himself who answered ber. "I didn't come back because I care what men like old Caleb think. I came baok because they needed me. The proof of a fighting man is his fighting, I reckon. I'm willing to let 'em judge me by what I'm going to do." So, Samson slipped back, tentative ly, at least, into his place as clan bead, though for a time he found it a post without action. After the fierce out burst of bloodshed, quiet had settled, and it was tacitly understood that, un less the Hollman forces had some coup in mind which they were secreting, this peace would last until the soldiers were withdrawn. "When the world's a-lookin'," com BM&ied Judge Hollman, "hit's a right good idea to crawl under a log—an lay still." Purvy had been too famous a feud ist to pass unsung. Reporters came a far as Hixon, gathered there suca news as the Hollmans chose to give them, and went back to write lurid stories and description, from hear say, of tlie stockaded seat of tragedy. Nor did they overlook the dramatic coincidence of the return of "Wildcat" Samson South from civilization to sav agery. They made no accusation, but they i>ointeil an inference and a morn! — .is they thought. It was a sermon on the triumph of heredity over the ad vantages of environment. Adrienne read some of these saffron misrepre sentations, and they distressed her. ******* Meanwhile, it came Insistently to the cars of Captain Callomb that some plan was on foot, the intricacies of which lie could not fathom, to manu facture a case against a number of the Souths, quite apart from their actual guilt, or likelihood of guilt. Once more, he would be called upon to go out and drag in men too well fortified to be taken by the posses and depu ties of the Hollman civil machinery. At this news, he chafed bitterly, and, still rankling with a sense of shame at the loss of his first prisoner, he formed a plan of hie own, which he revealed over his pipe to his first lieutenant. "There's a nigger in the woedpile, Merriweather," he said. "We are sim ply being used to do the dirty work up here, and I'm going to do a little probing of my own. I guess I'll turn the company over to you for a day or two." "What idiocy are you contemplating now?" inquired the second in com mand. "I'm going to ride over on Misery, and hear what the other side has to say. I've usually noticed that one side of any story Is pretty good until the other's told." "You mean you are going to go over there where the Souths are in trenched, where every road is guard ed?" The lieutenant spoke wrathfully and with violence. "Don't be an ass, Callomb. You went over there once before and took a man away—and he's dead. You owe them a life, and they collect their dues. You will be sup ported by no warrant of arrest, and can't take a sufficient detail to pro tect you." "No," said Callomb, quietly; "I go on my own responsibility and I go by myself." "And," stormed Merriwether, "you'll never come back." "I think," smiled Callomb, "I'll get back. I owe an old man over there an apology, and I want to see this des perado at first hand." "It's sheer madness. I ought to take you down to this infernal crook of a, judge and have you committed to a strait-jacket." "If," said Callomb, "you are content to play the catspaw to a bunch of as sassins, I'm not. The mail-rider went out this morning and he carried a let ter to old Spicer South. I told him that I was coming unescorted and unarmed and that my object was to talk with him. I asked him to give me a safe conduct, at least, until I reached his house, and stated my case. I treated him like an officer and a gentleman, and, unless I'm a poor judge of men, he's going to treat me that way." The lieutenant sought vainly to dis suade Callomb, but the next day the captain rode forth, unaccompanied. Curious stares followed him and Judge Smithers turned narrowing and un pleasant eyes after him, but at the point where the ridge separated the territory of the Hollmans from that of the Souths he saw waiting in the road a mounted figure, sitting his horse straight, and clad in the rough habili ments of the mountaineer. As Callomb rode up he saluted and the mounted figure with perfect grav ity and correctness returned that salute as one officer to another. The captain was surprised. Where had this mountaineer with the steady eyes and the clean-cut jaw learned the niceties of military etiquette? "I am Captain Callomb of 'F' com pany," said the officer. "I'm riding over to Spicer South's house. Did you come to meet me?" "To meet and guide you," replied a pleasant voice. "My name is Samson South." The militiaman stared. This man whose countenance was calmly thoughtful scarcely comported with tha descriptions he had heard of thq "Wildcat of the Mountains;" the man who had come home straight as a storm-petrel at the first note of the tempest and marked his coming with double murder. Callomb had been too busy to read newspapers of late. Ha had heard only that Samson had "been away." While he wondered, Samson went on: "I'm glad you came. If it had been possible I would have come to you." As he told of the letter he had written the judge, volunteering to present him self as a witness, the officer's wonder grew. "They said that you had been away,' suggested Callomb. "If it's not an im pertinent question, what part of the mountains have you been visiting?" Samson laughed. "Not any part of the mountains," he said. "I've been living chiefly in New York—and for a time in Paris." Callomb drew his horse to a dead halt "In the name of God," he Incredu lously asked, "what manner of man are you?" '1 hope," came the instant reply, "it may be summed up by saying that I'm exactly the opposite of the man you've had described for you back there at Hixoa." "T knew it," exclaimed the soldlar. "1 knew that I was being fed on Ilea* That's why I came. I wanted to get the straight of it, and 1 felt that the solution lay over here." They rode the rest of the way in deep conversation. Samson outlined his ambitions for his people. He told, too, of the scene that had been enacted at Purvy's store. Callomb listened with absorption, feeling that the narrative bore axiomatic truth on its face. At last he inquired: "Did you succeed up there—as a painter." "That's a long road," Samson told him, "but I think I had a fair start. 1 was getting commissions when 1, left." "Then l am to understand"—the offi cer met the .steady gray eyes and put the question like a cross-examiner bullying a witness—"I am to under stand that you deliberately put behind you a career to come down here and herd these fence-jumping sheep?" "Hardly that," deprecated the head of the Souths. "They sent for me— that's all. Of course, I had to come." "Why?" "Because they had sent. They are my people." The officer leaned in his saddle. "South," he said, "would you mind shaking hands with me? Some day i want to brag about it to my grandchil dren.'' Callomb spent the night at the house of Spicer South. He met and talked with a number of the kinsmen, and. if he read in the eyes of some of them a smoldering and unforgiving remem brance of his unkept pledge, at least they repressed all expression of cen sure. With Spicer South and Samson the captain talked long into the night. He made many jottings in a note book. He A Srml "They Are Going to Indict You on Manufactured Evidence." with Samson abetting him, pointed nut to the older and more stubborn man the necessity of a new regime in the mountains, under which the individual could walk in greater personal safety. As for the younger South, the officer felt, when he rode away next morning that he had discovered the one man who combined with the courage and honesty that many of his clansmen shared the mental equipment and local influence to prove a constructive lead er. When he returned to the Bluegrass he meant ot have a long and unofficial talk with his relative, the governor. The grand jury trooped each day to the courthouse and traneacted its busi ness. The petty juries went and came, occupied with several minor homicide cases. The captain, from a chair, which Judge Smithers had ordered placed beside him on the bench, was looking on and Intently studying. One morning, Smithers confided to him that in a day or two more the grand jury would bring in a true bill against Samson South, charging him with mur der. The officer did not show sur prise. He merely nodded. "1 suppose I'll be called on to go and get him?" "I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to do that." "What caueed the change of heart? I thought Purvy's people didn't want it done." It was Callomb's first allusion, except for his apology, to their former altercation. For an Instant only, Smithers was a little confused. "To be quite frank with you, Ca' lomb," he said, "I got to thinking over the matter in the light of your owa viewpoint, and, after due deliberation, I came to see that to the state at large it might bear the same appearance. So, I had the grand jury take the matter up. We must stamp out such lawless ness as Sainson South stands for. He is the more dangerous because he has brains." Callomb nodded, but, at noon, he slipped out on a pretense of sightsee ing, and rode by a somewhat circuit ous route to the Yidge. At nightfall, he came to the house of the clan head. "South," he said to Samson, when he had led him aside, "they didn't want to hear what you had to tell the grand jury, but they are going ahead to indict you on manufactured evi dence." Samson was for a moment thought ful, then be nodded. "That's about what I was expecting." "Now," went on Callomb, "we un derstand each other. We are working for the same end, and, by God! I've had one experience in making arrests at the order of that court. I don't want it to happen again." "I suppose," said Samson, "you know that while I am entirely willing to face any fair court of justice, I don't pro pose to walk into a packed jury, whose only object is to get me where 1 can be made way with. Callomb, 1 hope 'we won't have to fight each other. What do you suggest?" "If the court orders the militia to piake an arrest, the militia has no op tion. In the long run, resistance would only alienate the sympathy of the world at large. There is just one; thing to be done, South. It's a thing I don't like to suggest." He paused, then added emphatically: "When my detail arrives here, which will prob ably be In three or four days, you must not be here. You must not be In any place where we can find you.' For a little while, Samson looked at the other man with a slow smile of amusement, but soon it died, and his : lace grew hard and determined. "Ini obliged to you, Callomb." he said, seriously, "it was more than I had the right to expect—this warning.. I understand the cost, of giving it. But it's no use. 1 can't cut and run. No, by God, you wouldn't do it! You can't ask me io do it." "By God. you can and will!" Callomb spoke with determination. "This isn't a lime for quibbling. You've got work to do. We both have work to do. We can't stand on a matter of vainglorious' pride, and let big issues ot humanity, go to pot. We haven't the right to spend men's lives in fighting each other, when we are the only two men in this entanglement who are in per fect accord—and honest." The mountaineer spent some min utes in silent self-debate. The working of his face under the play of alternat ing doubt, resolution, hatred and insur gency, told the militiaman what a. struggle was progressing. At last, Samson's eyes cleared with an expres sion of discovered solution. "All right, Callomb," he said, briefly, "you won't find me!" He smiled, as | he added: "Make as thorough a) search as your duty demands. Itj needn't be perfunctory or superficial.! Every South cabin will stand open to) you. I shall be extremely busy, to ends! which you approve. I can't tell you! what I shall be doing, because to iln that, I should have to tell where I mean to be." In two days, the grand jury, with! much secrecÿ, returned a true bill, andj a day later a considerable detachment) of infantry started on a dusty hike up) Misery. Furtive and inscrutable Holl-l man eyes along the way watched theml from cabin doors, and counted them.l They meant also to count them comingl back, and they did not expect thof totals to tally. . • ••••••; Back of an iron spiked fence, and a dusty sunburned lawn, the barrack-like facades of the old administration building and Kentucky state capitol frowned on the street and railroad, track. About It, on two sides of thej Kentucky river, sprawled the town of Frankfort; sleepy, more or less dishev eled at the center, and stretching to shaded environs of colonial houses set; in lawns of rich bluegrass, amid the! shade of forest trees. Circling tha town in an embrace of quiet beautjr rose the Kentucky river hills. Turning In to the gate of the state house enclosure, a man, who seemed to be an easterner by the cut of hia clothes, walked slowly up the brick walk, and passed around the fountain; at the front of the capitol. His eteps carried him direct to the main en trance of the administration building, and, having paused a moment in tha rotunda, he entered the secretary's of fice of the executive suite, and asked for an interview with the governor. "Have you an appointment?" the see* retary asked. The visitor shook his head. Scrib bling a brief note on a slip of paper, ha inclosed it in an envelope and handed it to his questioner. 'You must pardon my seeming mys teriousness," he said, "but if you let me send in that note I think the gov ernor will see me." Once more the secretary studied hia man with a slightly puzzled air, then nodded and went through the door that gave admission to the executive's of? flee. His excellency opened the envelope and his face showed an expression ol surprise. He raised his brows question* ingly. "Rough-looking sort?" he inquired, "Mountaineer?" "No, sir. New Yorker would be mji guess. Is there anything suspicious?" "I guess not." The governor laughed, "Rather extraordinary note, but semi him in." Through his eastern window thq governor gazed off across the hills ol South Frankfort, to the ribbon of river that came down from the troublesome hills. Then, hearing a movement at his back, he turned, arid his eyes took iq a well-dresBed figure with confidence* inspiring features. He picked up the slip from his desl| and, for a moment, stood comparinj^ the name and the message with the man who had sent them in. There seemed to be in his mind some irrecon cilable contradiction between the two, With a slightly frowning seriousness the executive suggested: "This note says that you are Samsonj South and that you want to see mo with reference to a pardon. Whoso pardon is it, Mr. South." "My own, sir." The governor raised his browà slightly. "Your pardon for what? The news* papers do not even report that you, have yet been indicted." He shaded tha word "yet" with a slight emphasis. "I think I have been indicted within! the past day or two. I'm not sure my self." The governor continued to starej The impression he had formed of tha "Wildcat" from press dispatches waal warring with the pleasing personal! presence of this visitor. Then hia fora* (TO BE CONTINUED;