The Call of the Cumberlands

Wile McCager promptly gave the assurance.

"I gives ye my hand on hit."

"I seed Jim Asberry loafin' round jest beyond ther ridge, es I rid

over hyar," volunteered the man who had brought the message.

"Go slow now, Samson. Don't be no blame fool," dissuaded Wile McCager.

"Hixon's plumb full of them Hollmans, an' they're likely ter be full of

licker--hit's Saturday. Hit's apt ter be shore death fer ye ter try ter

ride through Main Street--ef ye gits thet fur. Ye dassent do hit."

"I dast do anything!" asserted the boy, with a flash of sudden anger.

"Some liar 'lowed awhile ago thet I was a coward. All right, mebby I

be. Unc' Wile, keep the boys hyar tell ye hears from me--an' keep 'em

sober." He turned and made his way to the fence where his mule stood

hitched.

When Samson crossed the ridge, and entered the Hollman country, Jim

Asberry, watching from a hilltop point of vantage, rose and mounted the

horse that stood hitched behind a near-by screen of rhododendron bushes

and young cedars. Sometimes, he rode just one bend of the road in

Samson's rear. Sometimes, he took short cuts, and watched his enemy

pass. But always he held him under a vigilant eye. Finally, he reached

a wayside store where a local telephone gave communication with

Hollman's Mammoth Department Store.

"Jedge," he informed, "Samson South's done left the party et ther

mill, an' he's a-ridin' towards town. Shall I git him?"

"Is he comin' by hisself?" inquired the storekeeper.

"Yes."

"Well, jest let him come on. We can tend ter him hyar, ef necessary."

So, Jim withheld his hand, and merely shadowed, sending bulletins, from

time to time.

It was three o'clock when Samson started. It was near six when he

reached the ribbon of road that loops down into town over the mountain.

His mule was in a lather of sweat. He knew that he was being spied

upon, and that word of his coming was traveling ahead of him. What he

did not know was whether or not it suited Jesse Purvy's purpose that he

should slide from his mule, dead, before he turned homeward. If

Tamarack had been seized as a declaration of war, the chief South would

certainly not be allowed to return. If the arrest had not been for feud

reasons, he might escape. That was the question which would be answered

with his life or death.

The boy kept his eyes straight to the front, fixed on the

philosophical wagging of his mule's brown ears. Finally, he crossed the

bridge that gave entrance to the town, as yet unharmed, and clattered

at a trot between the shacks of the environs. He was entering the

fortified stronghold of the enemy, and he was expected. As he rode

along, doors closed to slits, and once or twice he caught the flash of

sunlight on a steel barrel, but his eyes held to the front. Several

traveling men, sitting on the porch of the hotel opposite the court-

house, rose when they saw his mule, and went inside, closing the door

behind them.