"I'll go with you, Horton, and make a sketch or two," volunteered

George Lescott, who just then arrived from town. "And, by the way,

Samson, here's a letter that came for you just as I left the studio."

The mountaineer took the envelope with a Hixon postmark, and for an

instant gazed at it with a puzzled expression. It was addressed in a

feminine hand, which he did not recognize. It was careful, but perfect,

writing, such as one sees in a school copybook. With an apology he tore

the covering, and read the letter. Adrienne, glancing at his face, saw

it suddenly pale and grow as set and hard as marble.

Samson's eyes were dwelling with only partial comprehension on the

script. This is what he read: "DEAR SAMSON: The war is on again. Tamarack Spicer has killed Jim Asberry,

and the Hollmans have killed Tamarack. Uncle Spicer is shot, but he may

get well. There is nobody to lead the Souths. I am trying to hold them

down until I hear from you. Don't come if you don't want to--but the gun

is ready. With love, SALLY."




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