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The WANTED MAN by Harris Dickson
Hiiiiiiiiiiiini mi ii iiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii n iiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii?
r HEATH LESSLY you gallop with
tho Myiiorioui Huffman into
tho ipintod action of thit nom
Btut Ribbon imol " Tho Wanttd Man,"
by Harrit Dickion, and broathlutly
thtroafttr you folio r; Jtinlop
mont in thii novel of intrigao, od tin
ton, and mytttry. Picture to your It
m long itanding ftud bit won louthom
familittl tht woodland randoioou of
two fascinating womtn with m hmnd
lotn tquftriant a political aphtoval im
for off Salamanca, Control A mrrica
and you havo soma id to of tho picture
fqao background of Mr, Dickton'l
itary.
Ditpito it thrill, or, rathrr, right
along with thorn, Mr, Dickson hat writ
ton tho nu Mortal in a light and emu.
ing coin that it as full of chackln ot it
it of ttntationt. It "lolls" ittolf with
a romp. You'll onjoy it, from Undo
Nafi oponing ancoantirt to tho grip'
ping climax, and you'll agroa that tho
author hat oarnod a plact among tho
Bluo Ribbon novalitti.
Bctidci btins an author, Mr, Dickson
it a lawytr and a war eomtpondont,
FiftyJour ytan old, ho has mora than
a doitn bookt to hit erodit and in addi
tion numerous thort ttoriot and tpociml
articlos. Two of hi novel aro " Tho
Black Wolf Brood- and "Tho Dako
of Dtvil-Mayaro." Hit homo it in
Vicktburg, Mitt.
FIRST INSTALLMENT.
The Man Hunt.
TITEIUS was nothing scary in tha beha
vior of that particular automobile; yet
It sneaked up behind Unci Nathaniel
Stark with such abruptness as to giva
htm the hunch of something unpleasant that
was Just about to happen. He tore that car
came whirling so rapidly around the curve
at Walker's store Uncle Nat had seemed to
be the sole proprietor of a vast and vacant
world. Not even a rabbit stirred In the dusty
t road, nor did the raucous voice of a Jaybird
mock him from the treetops through which
he glimpsed here and there a patch of empty
sky.
Everybody and everything seemed to be
asleep, or gone somewhere else, which suited
the old Negro, who craved solitude and peace
for that after dinner meditation. He had not
slept, not a wink; he'd swear to that on a
tack of Bibles. He only lay fiat on his back
beside the road, contemplating the foliage
above him. In that hazy and delicious state
of mind that opens the portals to slumber
land. Then a car shot around the curve. Tp
went Nat's touzled head, which might have
been mistaken for a bunch of grass moss.
Like a suspicious mud turtle making ready
to tumble off his log. Uncle Nat craned his
neck and squinted at the threat which Inter'
rupted his doze.
No considerate person would have in
truded. Uncle Nat was attending to his owa
affairs, drowsing beneath an oak which
flanks the left post of Major Stark's planta
tion gate. At that time of the afternoon it
might appear that an automobile Journeying
openly along the public road should not have
constituted a sinister circumstance. Plenty
of autos rounded Walker's Bend, fetching
white folks from as far south as "Vlcksburg.
And from the northern direction three young
Memphis men traveled regularly, but sepa
rately, to visit Miss Barbara Stark.
Uncle Nat wasn't ' afraid of automobiles,
whether they bonked or whether they didn't
honk. This car never opened its mouth, but
rushed on, noiseless and swift, like a dog
that doesn't bark and means to bite. Alto
gether Nat felt a disagreeable hunch that
those fellows in the car were contriving to
meddle with some of his business.
Uncle Nat believed in hunches, and they
eame true. For instance, not twenty min
utes previously, from one single glance at
.Major Stark's woodpile, be had experienced
a labor saving hunch that by subtracting
himself from the proximity of her kitchen
Aunt Calllne would soon be yelling. "Nat!
Nat!" and that when Nat showed up missing
Aunt Calllne would conscript Seymour, the
chauffeur, to chop a turn of wood for supper.
Events figured out precisely that way.
While Nat was reposing languorously by
the roadside he grinned as he listened to
Aunt Calllne's fretful voice, duly followed
by the strokes of Seymour's ax. Presently
the ax had hushed and toilsome clamors no
longer vexed the calm of Bennington. The
wood having been cut by proxy, Nat rolled
over for his second nap, bnt got instead his
eecond hunch that additional trouble was
being thrust upon him in the, shape of an
automobile. And yet on this placid summer
day, when southern winds blew softly and
green young cotton promised an abundant
harvest, there seemed no external reason for
Nat's apprehension concerning the occupants
of the oncoming auto. Neither was there an
Internal reason for discontent.
. He had Just succeeded in surrounding a
most competent dinner, filling every chink
and crevice of Nat's body politic to the exclu
sion of indigestible grudges. No grudge
could flourish upon the hearty soil of Ben
nington. Major Star 's wide open doorways
extended their welcome only to the gracious
things of life, shutting out all malice, and
closing In silence upon their one ancient ani
mosity the Claytons across the lake.
When the auto first butted in upon his
serenity Uncle Nat blinked both eyes and
watched with growing suspicion as the thing
rolled nearer. Instinctively he mistrusted
the fat man at the wheel, and felt an even
greater hostility for the little foxy Jawed
weasel who sat beside him. Both the strang
ers were white, but Nat sized them up as not
being his kind of folks. It never pays for
1 Negroes to mix up with the wrong sort of
white folks, so Nat would feign to be asleep
and let the car pass by. It did not pass. It
topped. The fat faced man leaned out and
looked straight at him with a far too Jovial
salutation:
"The top o' the morning to you."
Some white folks can act free and easy
with Negroes, and some dont know how.
By Intuition old Nat always parted the sheep
. tram the goats, and never cracked his face
as he answered these goats with appropriate
reserve.
" Good evenin', sun."
"Could I trouble you to step here a mo
ment?" Mr. Fatface smiled.
" Me? Suttinly, suh; suttinly."
No matter how genially Mr. Fatface might
endeavor to conduct himself. Uncle Nat knew
that such men never made a living br Un-r-Ing
log the big road and skylarking with
Nrgruoa for fuu. Tt man were ertkuig ta
gt aumethluj out of him; no Unite Nat shut
: mouth jut the minute they eprntd
thU. Mr. ratface UukI1 so touch that
a blind man could am plumb through htm.
Kvtdmtly be took a Negro for a VM, ni
hnd"4 vut hi jollies to put Nat In a good
humor to make him t:W. Tht other wiry
tilt! whvwI with the toothbrush mustache
and f.iiy jaw did raoel of the Untuning;
nevtu-thcldiw, old Nat correctly pkkrd him
for the bven.
Under normal conditions there could be ne
hitch In starting Nat's conversation mill.
JUa sparkor never fuilwl to respond. The
biggest majority of rmtanna why Nut strolle J
down every day to lie brnraih tola oak whs,
becauH he loved to goaip with folks who '
passed along the rued. Cay young planters
always stopped to Inquire about MUa Ikir
fcara Stark, to send flowers and rwtita an J
such, Iy which philandering tcafftc Uncle
Nat managed to acquire enmethlng more
than news. ,
lie knew that this pair of tightwad strang
ers would never produce a dime or a cigar.
True, they wore stylish clothes and drove a
fine car, which waa no earmark of qual
ity, as swarms of por whit trash no
went gallivanting around In automobiles.
Furthermore, Mr. Fatface talked too nice
to suit old Nat, entirely too nice. The
Negro suspected them both. So when Fau
faoe leaned out to say:
"I beg your pardon, but would you mind
stepping here a moment? " he clinched Nat's
hunch that they were fixing to meddle with
somebody's business.
As Uncle Nat began to rise every one of
his seventy odd years seemed to hit him
simultaneously, lie limped up from the
ground like an aged pointer crippled with
rheumatism a disease which always timed
Its attacks at a moment when crafty old
Nat was preparing to assume the defensive.
After adjusting one dangling gall us across
his shoulder be shuffled toward their car with
a queer sort of duck legged gait, and a pair
of loose trousers flapping about his shanks.
Ilia transparent eyes met their gaze with
childlike amiability, and his smile stood
broadly open as the major's front gate. The
strangers congratulated themselves. Here
was a simple minded person and they would
pump him dry.
" I beg your pardon," began Mr. Fatface;
"but can yon tell me whose rcsldono
this is?"
" Suttinly, suh, suttinly. Dls is Bennlnton
Plantation, whar Major Kenneth Stark lives
at. Car's his name on de mall box."
It did not escape Uncle Nat that both the
strangers had read this narno, painted in
black letters on a white box. Then why wore
they asking him? Nat pointed at the mail
box and stood pat. Mr. Foxyjaw bobbed his
head one time, same as a minnow nibbling at
a cork.
"Ah? Major Stark?" Mr. Fatface pre
tended that he was Just catching on. " Then
that water must be Lake Marmion? And.Jf
I remember correctly, that big white bouse
on the far side, that should be the Marmion
plantation?"
It was unnecessary for Uncle Nat to turn
and look in the direction the strangers indi
cated. Beyond the level cotton fields and
through a rift in the willows which fringed
the water Nat well knew that they could see
the white columns of Marmion house on the
western banks of the lake. Why should he
say anything? There stood Marmion house,
to show for itself. The Negro fumbled his
hat brim with both hands, and respectfully
inclined his head, the very embodiment of at
tention, while permitting them to gaze at
Marmion house until they got tired.
" So that's where the Claytons live? " said
Fatface.
" Egzactly, suh; egzactly."
"Do you know the family?"
" Me? Know de Claytons? Suttinly, suh,
suttinly."
Know the Claytons? Who could possibly
know them better? The memory of Uncle
Nathaniel Stark loved to dwell upon a golden
era when the two families had been intimate.
But now, after the political fight, the law
suit, and the duel, no Clayton of Marmion
could ever be mentioned in the presence of
grtm old Major Stark. Which was a further
reason for Nat to shut up stupidly when Mr.
Fatface began shooting so many questions
at him.
"Hadn't Mr. Stuart Clayton been absent
for years in Central America? " " Hadn't he
been seen the last few days on the planta
tion? " " Was there any bypath along which
they could approach Marmion house without
using the publio road?" It appeared that
Mr. Fatface went sloshing around the coun
try with a hide stuffed full of questions.
Like an artful dodger, old Nat ducked
every-which-way before their futile fire. Ex
cept for the warning hunch he might have
reeled off a rigmarole about how Major
Stark and General Clayton first got cross
ways in politics, then fell out over their
boundary line; then traveled back and forth
to the courthouse for years, then fought a
duel on the lake bank, where Major Stark got
his stiff leg.
If Nat hadn't felt suspicious of these
strangers he would have turned himself loose
to brag his proudest brags about the boy
hood of Mr. Stuart Clayton. For hadn't it
been old Nat who taught the youngster how
to ride and shoot? Hadn't the little fellow
delighted to run away from Marmion and
come to Bennington, eager to play with
Uncle Nat? Didn't Nat remember his won
derment when little Stuart first discovered
Miss Barbara, a wee, red, squirming baby in
her cradle; and how curiously he had prodded
among the swaddling clothes to Investigate
what manner of creature it might be.
Nat loved to think about those happy days
before the lawsuit and the duel came up, be
fore General Clayton took his son and went
away. Neither of the Claytons had ever re
turned, but since last Thursday the Marmion
tenants were saying that young Mr. Stuart
was at home. These were things which old
Nat might have told, and plenty more, but
didn't.
"Do you think," Fatface persisted, "that
Mr. Clayton Is over there now?"
" Mebbe so, . suh, mebbe so." Old Nat
cocked his bushy head to one side, and pon
derously considered. "Mebbe so. Ef he
aint at home, sub, den mebbe he's some
place else. Bleeged to be one or t'other,,
'cordin' to de way I flggers It.?
Both strangers listened impatiently to the
Negro's rambling answers, until Mr. Foxy
jaw got provoked and himself took charge of
the grilling.
" How long have you lived here? " he ques
tioned curtly.
" Since I was born, sua."
"What is your age?"
" Bless Gawd. suh. I ain't got no age.",
Got no agel
f pi I
STUART CLAYTON.
" No, suh. Tenders tan', boss, befo dat on
civilized Yankee war old Miss writ down de
age of all her niggers in a book, an' tuk dat
book wid her to Saint Louey; den she lost
it. Dat's how come none o dese Bennln'ton
niggers ain't got no age."
Mr. Foxyjaw glared at Mr. Fatface, and
Mr. Fatface snickered back at Mr. Foxyjaw;
what's the use trying to get sense out of
such an idiot?
Then Mr. Foxyjaw got redder, and came
to the bat again with another question, " But
you're an old man?"
"Suttinly, suh, suttinly. Nigh scbenty,
an' right tol'ble ole fer nry age.'
"And you live in this vicinity? "
"Live in dis sinnity? No, suh, no suh, not
me. I stays in dat whitewashed cabin jes
behind de major's big house. See it yonder?"
"I mean do you live in this neighbor
hood?" " Egzactly, suh; egzactly."
Mr. Foxyjaw had the kind of mouth that
shuts up tight, like a bear trap. He did
the snapping, while Mr. Fatface did the smil
ing. Old Nat's countenance went even
blanker as Mr. Foxyjaw leaned clear out of
the car and demanded:
"Do ail the colored people down south
know as little as you know?"
" Some of 'em does; an' Hen agin some of
'em doesn't -Jes' 'cordin to delr laming."
From the way that Mr. Foxyjaw spoke
those words, " colored people " and " down
south," old Nat felt sure that he came from
some place up north and resented a foreign
er's imputation of his ignorance. It was
necessary for him to demonstrate the Intel
ligence of his race and section.
"Tou are 70 years old?" Mr. Foxyjaw
continued, with a sneer which rCed the
Negro. "Tou have lived in this neighbor
hood for seventy years and can give no In
formation about Stuart Clayton. I don't be
lieve you know him."
" Me? " The old man bristled up. " Huh!
I knows dat boy same as I knows my own
chiliun. Me an' his pa used to be good
friends, special good friends."
" So! You're an Intimate acquaintance of
the family?"
"Egzactly, suh; egzactly." Old Nat
straightened up with a pride in his aristo
cratic connections.
Mr. Foxyjaw negligently twirled a watch
charm as if the matter cut no ice with him
and inquired: " But now yon might not rec
ognize this young man if you saw him? "
"Me? Huh! I kin shut bofe eyes an' pick
dat colt out of a pasture full."
Then the two white men put their heads
close together over a paper, which Mr.
Foxyjaw produced from his pocket, and read:
"Stuart Clayton, age about thirty-one?"
Old Nat nodded his bushy head.
, " Black eyes and hair? Swarthy com
plexion? Slight mustache and goatee? A
shade over six feet? Weight about one hun
dred and sixty."
At each item the negro kept .nodding, but
more doubtfully towards the end, when he
replied: " Mebbe so, suh; mebbe Mister Stu
art Is done growed up dat much. But when
I fust knowed him he warn't knee high to a
hopper grass."
So intent they were that neither the strang
ers nor Uncle Nat suspected another pair
ef eyes spying upon them. A hundred feet
northward. Just where the road curved, Mr.
Florlan Razilly, the young Creole guest of
Major Stark, was crouching behind a clump
of sassafras bushes, watching; and listen
ing. Plainly he did not belong to these
woods, being fastidiously dressed in light
flannels, a pink silk shirt, and necktie of
many colors. Although beyond hearing of
.what passed. It was evident that Mr. Razilly
sot only knew but felt deep eoncern in this
Interview between the white mn and t'nele
Nat. When ho mw that they were about
don, he kept hlmtelf eoprealed and hurre4
north, along the Hse of the mad, tha
loped lo W4JI for the car,
"Well:" awwtwl Mr. r'oiyjaw, folding the
psnr from which he hd iuu rn reading.
"Thai's the official d-rtptlon of CUyton.
lie UHually war khaki riding breerhe, light
gray mat, an4 a brmul brimmed panama
fct."
"8hm:ks, Muter! " Old Nat broke eul
laughing aa he slspnod Ma thigh. "Now
you's prankin' wid me. I aho would love to
to M later Htuwt In om clo'ra. ntbof
uiwd to srumper 'roun' dls place In his ahlrt
tall. Ixinli e, how chiliun doea grow up."
If he hud ilolred old Nut could Juiva
added a fur more convincing oVtull to their
description a Jui!if-d erar on the Inside of
young Clayton's riuht furrtn, three Inches
above the wrtnt. I'or Nat well remembered
the morning on a camp hunt when that
peetiferoua little Arthur Morris boy had ahnt
Mister Btuart with a ride which hud no bust
nrea being loaded. Of course, Nat remem
bered, but the excessive curiosity, of these
two atrangera warned him that he waa al
ready talking too much with his mouth,
( ho ha shut up again, aa Mr. Foxyjaw
chuckled:
" We haven't known Clayton quite io long
as you have; but we are old pals, and thought
we'd drop in to see how he'a getting on."
"Egzactly, suh; egzactly." The negro
turned and pointed: "Jea hit dat big road
an' foller it roun' de lake. Taln't more'n Ave
mllea to Marmion."
"But we must be sure to catch him at
borne." Mr. Fatface tried all his blandish
menta. "Couldn't you slip over there and
find out for us? "
A gleam of confirmed distrust brightened
In Nat'a eye. Every negro was familiar with,
the constables' trick of sending a stool pigeon
on ahead to spot their quarry before they
showed themselves. Warily on guard, Uncle
Nat wore an even more guileless smile of
Innocence as he gazed up and replied:
" Suttinly, suh, suttinly. i could manage
to hobble over dere. But Lordee, mister,
wid dls rheumatlj o' mine, yo' car kin make
it to Marmion an' back agin whilst I'm
atudyin' 'bout flxln' to git ready to start."
" See this? " Foxyjaw fianhed a five dollar
bllL "Have you seen Stuart Clayton within
the last two or three days?"
Uncle Nat liked the looks of that five dollar
bill, but didn't like the looks of the face
behind it
"Is I seed Mister Stuart Clayton? Tou
mean seed him my own self? Lemme study,
suh; lemme ponder." Nat scratched his head
and deliberated, then spoke very slowly:
"Somo niggers contend dat he done 'rived
back home; an' den agin some niggers 'spute
dat he aint. Nobody can't place no 'pend
ence in what a nigger says."
. "Very well," ordered Mr. Foxyjaw. "Go
and see who's right. Here's five dollars in
advance. We'll pay you ten more when you
return with our tip."
That word " tip " sounded powerful like a
constable, although the five dollar bill crin
kled mighty pleasantly in Nat'a hand. He
felt it over and over with loving care, while
Mr. Foxyjaw told him what to do.
"Meet us at dark under that big tree.
Bee It? " Mr. Foxyjaw pointed to the spread
ing magnolia which overhung a corner of
Major Stark's alfalfa patch. " And get twen
ty dollars more." Mr. Foxyjaw doubled his
bribe, and old Nat placed one foot on the
running board and began to take notice.
For a dense appearing negro, old Nat
pretty nearly got the hang of what they
wanted. By adding " tip " and " pal " and
" catch " to his previous hunch, he figured
that these strangers were not distributing
five dollar bills for the sport of playing a
friendly Joke on Mr. Stuart Clayton. This
notion simmered in Nat's mind while he
listened to their additional instructions he
must hurry at once to Marmion return to
the magnolia tree with tho tip if Stuart
Clayton were at home, then Nat would guide
the Btrangers to the back door of Marmion
and surprise its master.
" Above all," Insisted Mr. Foxyjaw, " keep
a still tongue."
"Egzactly, suh. Don't let on to nobody
Den I gits twenty dollars mo'? "
" Yes. Twenty."'
Having once broken the ice. Old Nat prom
ised plentifully, and the car began to roll.
" At dark. Under the magnolia," Mr. Fat
face emphasized the final injunction, and
turned on his gas. Then, as the car passed
by him, old -Nat batted both eyes at some
thing he saw on the rear seat. For the
laprobe had fallen, and there lay a pair of
shiny handcuffs.
As their automobile disappeared around
tho curve, old Nat stood gazing after the
inquisitive strangers, and mumbling to him
self. "Huh! Got nippers, same as constables.
An' dera white men 6ho does Itch to git holt
o' Mister Stuart."
It being a matter for deep consideration
the negro sat down again to ponder, and to
wait for the postman who constituted his
excuse for hanging around the gate. Back
and back hl3 thoughts ran persistently to the
little boy who had grown up and gone away,
and was now returned to Marmion. Despite
the litigation and the family feud, Nat's mem
ory had remained loyal throughout the silent
years at Bennington. Nobody and nothing ,
could shake his faith Inrthat buoyant child
who used to love him. Then why were
these men with the nippers so eager to drop
In unbeknownst and catch Mr. Stuart at
home?
"Dere's one shore thing," he decided.
" I'm 'bleeged to tote dis news straight to
Mister Stuart." Suddenly he rose, and stood,
and listened, pricking up both ears like a
wary rabbit.
" Dat car done stopped agin? How come? "
As one born to the trade of woodcraft, old
Nat drew away from the road and stole
noiselessly beside it through the underbrush,
without rustling a leaf or crackling a twig.
Beyond the first turn the car was standing
still, and Nat gave a start to see Mr. Florian
Razilly whispering with the strangers.
" Huh! " he grunted. " Pears like Mr. Raz
zle's tellln' 'em what to do."
Nor was the negro very far wrong; ne
groes rarely make mistakes in sensing the
attitude of white men. Mr. Razilly and his
beautiful young wife had come up from New
Orleans to visit the Starks on the very day
after Stuart Clayton had reappeared at Mar
mion. Nobody thought of connecting the
two events. So far as Nat knew Mr. Razilly
had no business In Bennington except to go
fishing and to lie all day long In a hammock.
But the negro remembered it now he had
twice seen Mr. Razilly talking with tenants
from Marmion plantation.
" I got to ' sklwer bout dis." he said, and
began creeping nearer the automobile, when
he heard the postman whistle, while Major
Stark's voice called from the front gallery.
" Here, Nat! You Nat! Get the papers."
The postman's approach had also warned
Mr. Foxyjaw to move ahead with his car, aa
Mr, rtaailiy atrrped backaad and eaunlared
to tha house.
When the poetman came Jocgtng along In
a Jumptr, hia old gray mare kicking up the
dust, he found Nat aa usual at the gate to
meet him,
"Hello, I'n.sle Nat," h called out cheerily;
"bow'a everybody?"
" Fine. Mr. Kdwarda. flne."
"Jleres the Majors papers, and tha letter
that Mr. Raxlllys louking for. So long
Be you on my way back, liittup!' And hi
flc-a bit mare went Jogging on.
This pleasant colloquy occurred twice each
day, one Immediately after dinner on the up
trip, and again Junt before supper, when Mr.
Edwards returned south. Neither of them
could linger, for tha carrier had hia rout to
cover, and the Major kept shouting from his
gallery, "Hurry, Nat! Where tha devil are
you gone with my papers! " Tha only way to
get along with Major Ftark waa to hustit
when he hollered, and Nat's queer little lege
like a bowU'gged duck began waddling
toward home.
It was two hundred yards from the main
road to Hennlngton house, A broad drive
way curved among the pecan truea and
rounded up lazily at the steps of a low
rambling residence. If Uncle Nat had actual
ly been sensitive to the trouble hunch he
must have recognized the signs. From afar
off he could see them sitting aide by side
upon the top atrp. with bright eyes eager- for
their letters, pretty brown Barbara Stark and
her house guest, the even browner Adclaida
Razilly. Two such women, working together,
were bound to brew trouble.
Mrs. Itazllly'j mixture of French and Span
ish blood she was a true Creole had given
her an oriental underflow which smouldered
beneath the rich dark olive so alluring in
Creole girls. But it was wind and sun and
out of door activities which tanned the
cheeks of Barbara. For where Barbara's
aloeves were rolled up, and where her shirt
waist opened at the throat, there showed the
fairer skin, smooth and white a an egg shell.
She perched upon the top step, like a trim
and alert thruah, with two bare arms, com
petent to take care of herself, and a llthi
eilm body which tingled wilh all the dancing
' devils o( delight. Adelaide waa demur and
t different and delicious.
Even had old Nat been Keeper of tha
Grand Zombi the sacred voodoo serpent It
would have strained his prophetic clalrvoy
ancy to connect this pair of trouble makers
on Major Stark's front steps with a certain
pair of nippers which he bad seen on the
back seat of Mr, Foxyjaw's automobile. But
Nat wasn't studying about nippers as he
waddled toward the house with his mall. He
was wondering how Mr. Florian Razilly had
got back from the road so quickly, for he
saw the Creole now pacing the major's gal
lery. "Huh! JTr. F.azz!e sho did hustle back in
a hurry."
The new and old regimes In southern Hfe
were typified by three men on the gallery '
Major Kenneth Stark himself, stout and
short and rotund, with a Bismarckian mus-
tache; and the taller, thinner Doctor Humph
reys, with a grizzled beard like Robert B.
Lee. Both wore .their coats in deference to
ladies. Not even their age, nor the relaxa
tion of home, could lessen this long ingrained
punctilio. They sat conversing quietly, the
major holding his stiff leg straight before
him, while one hand rested upon the knob of
a heavy cane. Every detail of their simpia
personalities harmonized with magnolias and
myrtles, with generous galleries, with the
square white pillars and open hallways of ( .
Bennington house. They belonged precisely
where they were, and Mr. Florian Razilly did
not. These two were old time planters, and '
easy going; Razilly was up-to-date, a city
man, young and restless.
Razilly had flung aside his coat. In his
shirt sleeves, a silk of ultra stripe and
pinkish hue wearing white flannel trousers
and pipe clay shoes, Mr. Florian Razilly
smoked his cigarette and paced the gallery.
At every turn or so he paused and listened to
what the girls were saying, for Razilly Imag
ined that they chatted more freely when he
was out of hearing. At these turns and
pauses Adelaide glanced up to catch her hus
band's mood, as she lived in dread of his
fluctuating temperament. But that was not
the only reason why she kept glancing up,
for Razzily had guessed right the two girls
did have something hid between them. Pres
ently the keen faced and sharp eyed Razilly
stepped within the hallway, where he began
to joint up his fishing rod.
After Florian had removed his chilling sur
veiilance the chatter on the steps broke out,
lowering into confidential whispers, then ris
ing happily in the effervescence of their com
mon girlhood. No less pretty, Adelaide, the
wife, seemed even younger and far more of -a
child than Barbara; for the lovely Creole
was married from a convent which one short
year ago had marked the frontiers of her
world. Now she was nibbling at the edges of
life, and tasting, and fearing.
As old Nat came in sight he added an
extra dido to his shuffle for the benefit of the
ladles. Both girls sprang up and raced
along the gravel walk toward him, clamoring:
" Anything for us, Uncle Nat? Got a let
ter for me? "
" Dunno, Miss Adelaide," Nat made a bluff
at reading the addresses. " Mebbe dis'n's fer
you. I can't make out sech hen scratchy
writin' widout my specks."
The girls had waylaid old Nat some fifty
feet from the house, when Major Stark got
up and hobbled to the steps, impatient for his
Vicksburg Herald; yet he refrained from
calling the negro until Nat should give all
attention to the ladies. Then a pink shirt
and striped flannels flashed past him, down
the steps, and Razilly took charge of the
mail.
"Mine didn't come," he spoke fretfully.
" This is for you, Adelaide, from your mother.
Here, Nat, take the rest."
Had Razilly been a different sort of man
Barbara might have supposed that he was
meddling Just to tease them. But there
seemed a peevish spirit behind It, end per
haps Barabara did hlra an Injustice. She felt
ber face growing hot and her muscles tight
ening in resentment against a man who as
sumed to censor his wife's correspondence.
While she ached to slap his face she only
turned aside with a shrug to signify how
he'd handle a spying husband.
. Slight as waa her gesture, Razilly saw and
put his shrewd Interpretation on it that the
girls were concealing something from him.
One woman Is difficult to watch; but the team
work of two becomes Invincible, He won
dered why they took such long rides to
gether. Why were they forever whispering
apart? And why their sudden silence when
he drew near? In a woman's life there could
be but a single objec and Razilly suspected
a man at the bottom of this.
(Copyright, im.)
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