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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (May 21, 1911)
THE OMAHA SUNDAY BEE: MAT 21, 1911. 1 1 ( :4 ( J Ms' it I t I 1, ' 1 A. Iff WOe JaLdfy- of TiGy-P CHAPTER VIII C "As you please," I answered Indiffer ently. "Meanwhile, sir, I beg to point out that you are on my land, aad have been molesting my tenant." Without a word or glance, ha turned square on his heel and walked away through the arches of the pines. I turned sharply on the girl. "Sue," I aid. "I'm afraid you're a sad coquette a mischief maker, Sue." She made a little bob. "Sir? Oh. no, lr. I ain't no, air. He he will bother me, air." A smutty faced man came abruptly around the corner of the house. "Here's dad," cried the girl. "l)ad. here's the new quire." The fellow a. lank but powerful man of middle age made an awkward Inclination of his head. I offered him my hand, and he took It after an apologetic glance at his charcoaled fingers. "You have a pleasant place here, Buck aloo.' "Thank you, sir," he answered. "It's all Sue's doln', though." His face hardened, and he eyed his daughter. "Didn't I see Squire Arnold Just leavln' here?' "Yea, dad," said the girl. "He came to see me It wasn't my askln', though. He he talked to me. O' course, there's only one thins he wanted to talk to me about. I slapped him, but ho wouldn't go, 'way. Then, then She looked at me ''rather saucily "Bqulre Henry, he drove him away." The charcoal burner regarded me with a certain uncouth dignity. "I'm much obliged to you. I'm on'y a poor man, but I tell you, Bqulre. there'll be shootln' If he don't leave my gel alone." "I Intend to make sure he does," I said. "If Mr. Arnold, or If Mr. Brarri, comes here, I want you to let me know of It.' , "Mr. Bram on'y comes once In a long while, to look around like. He never both ers Bus Squire Arnold's the one." "I'd understood otherwise," I 'answered. "At any rate. If I visit you too often my self, you must remind me of It even with a shotgun, ' I laughed. Tm sure you'd always be welcome, sir." I took a serious tone. "But remember. Sue. you must do your part-you must keep those brown eyes of yours quiet. Buckaloo, when you're away all day, send your daughter to stay with one of the nelgh boru." "Ill 4 It, Squire." said the man grate fully. A Z rode away, X would have flattered myneif that. In spite of my twenty-eight y re, I had given counsel worthy of a real lord of the manor, had I not caught Sue pontine; at me eucUy from behind ' her father book. I crossed the lower edge of the fields to reach the post road. Leaping my horse erer a loouat hedge, I landed fair beside y Lady of the Spur, ambling pensively along on bar gray gelding. . Before ehe oould rouse bar mount to ac tion, X reined beside her with lifted oap. . "Oood noralne," X ald. "You must let ma tntroduo myself In form. Cousin Fer ris X ant Henry Morvan." If my sudden appearance had startled her, aha did not ehow it. Her gray eyes met mine coldly. ."If I see Mr. Henry Morvan," she an swered, I must be permitted to say I have ne wish to claim kinship with him." She wore the dark blue riding habit I had already seen her In on two occasions. My mind, Sharpened by Dram's story of the etfrl'a poverty, took In with pity that the skirt had been darned In a dosen places. The curves of her slim figure were outlined by the threadbare jacket. ' Her 'head was held proudly; but I was not to be re buffed. "Ah, Couatr- I aaid, "dont let us carry on our fathers' quarrels. Qlve me a chance before you hale me on account of others." The girt flared out at me. "I hate , you on your own account, sir.", "Cousin," I pleaded. "I beg you to wait a little wait until you know me then If you learn to hate me, 'twill be my own fault Olve ms a chance as you'd give any stranger a chance. I'm not a Turk of a great-grandfather nor the hot-headed fool of a grandfather, either. I'm only a harm less man who wants to be a friend." "You talk prettily, air. but I know you are not harmless." "Believe me, I am. Cousin Ferrlss." "I cannot believe It." The short upper lip met the lower Up firmly. "Why not?"' I asked. 'Tm the same man you warned at Polo Tavern only three days since. Ah, yes, I know now It was you a mere veil can't hide you. Cousin. I'm sure you didn't think me a monster then. Just because I disregarded your ad vicebecause I persisted In Coming to Mor van you won't spurn me please!" I She did not attempt to deny her Identity. "I knew who you were at Pole Tavern," he said, "but I did not know what you were." Bhe met my startled gaze scorn fully. "I detest a spy," she flashed. "Ah you recognised me last night at the cabin window T" "I did, sir." "Cousin," I said, "one may be protector and spy at the same time." "A lame excuse. Indeed. I needed no pro tector, if that la what you mean." "Perhaps." I laughed, not very mirth fully, I confess. "What does Bram say about It about my being the man they were hunting last night?" "Bram? Ha doesn't know it. I haven't told him and shan't. His poor head has enough to carry already. I fear. Besides. I am not a tale bearer, even if Mr. Henry Morvan Is a spy." I began to grow resentful. "Cousin," I aid. "you're unkind. You force me to say more than I intended. I had good reason to follow you last night." "Indeed!" "Yes. madam." I grew hotter as I went on. "Reason eoounh to make you under stand why I played the spy," "What was this mighty reason?" she demanded flippantly. I thrust my hand In my breastpocket and brought out a soiled piece of paper. "This. Cousin. Possibly you recognise It. , Read it. If you please." Her face was quit unmoved, but she drew back daintily. "Read that? Not I. Why should IT' "Then I'll read It for you." I exclaimed, "though doubtless you kn iw its contents by heart." Without walt!n for her reply. l' pro ceeded to read aloud. She sat In her aad dle with a fine air of Indifference, yet she made no move to ride away as she might well have done. I give the note, rude spelling and all. "Syuler Hen Morvln we have heerd of you and we doant like wht we heer m you Kot to get out of this Wtur worst happins to you you leav Morvln hv this day weak If you tioant love i-uenfethere sex - t . - -w ' .v Vvc - this Beer Is fare warning so no more from yours truely but get n.VE OWL. Under the signature was a rude drawing in charcoal a skeleton owl grotesquely perched on a skeleton horse, and brandish ing In Its claws what might have been meant either for a tarbrush or a torch. "There, Cousin Ferrlss." I said. "That's my reason. I found this proolous document pinned to a porch pillar, the first night I came to Morvan." ' "Your reason Is beside the point," she re torted. "Must you spy upon me, merely because there are runaway slaves in the Barrens? Who was It made light of a1 warning he received at Pole Tavern? And r.ow because he sees It down in black and white. Instead of hearing It from the lips of a woman, he must peer Into windows at night. I might have supposed the squire of Morvan had more courage!" "Courage enough, perhaps." I rejoined with sarcasm. "But I saw this picture thrust In your belt the night I had the honor to receive you in the cherry room." She laughed outright "That ridiculous picture? In my belt? You are mistaken." "What! You deny it?" "I deny it, sir." She gathered the reins. "I deny It, absolutely." She touched her horse with the spur, and he ambled away leisurely away. " "Would she tell me a downright lie?" I mused. "I ll swear I saw that owl picture In her belt that picture or one Just like it." I gave a long whistle. "By heavenl one just like It!" CHAPTER IX. Sketches in Charcoal. I reached the village in half an hour' brisk canter. Old Baint Peter's church at one end of the long street, Bat Merry's tavern at the other, and a score or so or nouses between, made up the town. I speedily found the place I was seeking a house with a sign bearing the legend: "Law Offices of Thomas Stockton, Esquire, Counsellor-at-Law, and Master in the Court of Chancery, State of New Jersey," and in smaller letters below: "The Morvan Ea tats." A black boy ran out to tie my horse and, In response to my question, said Squire Btockton was in. I found the lawyer In a book-lined office a man of 70 or thereabouts, as I learned later, but looking younger by twenty years. He sprang to his feet when I introduced my self. "What! Henry Morvan? You've grown, Henry, since I last saw you. Let's see! You must have been six or eight years old then no wonder you've grown. HaL hat You were as lively a mannlkin for your age as I ever saw. I'm glad to see you glad you've decided to come back and settle down at the old place. Ir been running" to seed a little, without a real master "bring some Jamaica and some water the flat bottle, mind not the demijohn. Keep the demijohn for ordinary visitors, Henry, you understand.. Xea the flat bottle, Dick." He squared his shoulders. "Well, sir, a day more and you would have had a call from me. Socially, socially, not profession ally. Although everything Is ready for an accounting at any time. What!" "No hurry for that," I answered. "The accounts are better in. your hands than In mine.. But, 'to tell the truth, I have com to see you on business." "Ah, t see," said the old gentleman. "Dick, put the bottle there. Where are the tumblers? Oh, all right. And, Dick, tell Mr. Flthlan to look up those mortgages we. were talking about, and to tell anybody who calls that I'm busy," He waited until the boy had withdrawn and had closed the door 01 the office. "Business. Henry', yet not about the ac counts? Yes, I dare say I understand. A little 'ready money whatl Always useful to a young man even In- the country." He whirled to his desk. "I can let you have a couple of hundred cpw, and tomorrow" "No, no," I Interrupted, the more hastily lest I should yield to the temptation. "I've plenty of money on hand. It's a more se rious matter than pocket money." "Whatl More serious I You haven't been getting married to some Choctaw squaw?" "No fear of that." I laughed. He squared his shoulders, and dropped into a chair. "Let's hear it let's hear It." "Mr. Stockton," I began, "I've come to you about something rather beyond your duty to your client, perhaps; .But I've come because, to be quite open with you, you've the only (nan I can trust." He bowed gravely, his keen eyes upon me. "I've absolutely no friends here the very house-servanta and gardeners are more at tached to my cousin Bt am than they are to me. That's natural enough they hardly know me. And Bram" I paused. "Bram Morvan? He's your friend, isn't he? Whatl" "I fear not." I rejoined. "And that pre cisely the reason I want your advice to let you Judge for me." With that I told him all I knew-whlch was little enough, and all I suspected wbloh was a deal more. The lawyer lis tened, glancing at me sharply from Urns to time. "So, you see. It's all In a cloud," I con cluded. "There's nothing to lay hold of that U, nothing I care to lay hold of. Of course, whatever happens, I don't want Bram's name to come out. And there's my coutiiif, Miss Ferrlss Dayton, to consider, too there's been enough rowing among the M or vans in our grandfathers' time to shame twenty families. I don't want more now." I fiattered myself that no one, though twlee a Morvan, could have shown himself more solicitous for the family nojne. "It won't do to mid the old Swede s cabin r,n the ground that U s a harboring place fjr footpads, because. If we caught any of the rascals, they'd bs sure to In. eliminate Brant perhaps Miss Dayton as well. No, that won't do. Besides, a posse couldn't get within five miles of the place before the birds would be flown. I suppose the only thing to do Is to await what hap pens." "By the Eternal, Henry! that has a confoundedly Jacksonian sound, but it's handy. By the Eternal! you ought to be a lawyer. A lucid statement, sir lucid and most convincing. A Just conclusion, too,! That is, not in law no, many be not even Just in equity, but for the nonor of the family. Biauifleld Morten what! He's a wild one, very a lid. lies ha. a crowd of young hawks hanging around Morvan for years Lawrence Arnold, and a fcwarm of riff-raff I dldn t even know tne names of." liiowme.' Ils, perhaps," 1 suggested, "and LIU Garrison, and Lenta." "Very likely. It wasn't foe me to inter fere atace you had given Brain express permission to live there. But I didn't think he'd ever go so far as he has. No, no, we must keeD It ouleL Your nlun is thm rivki one we'll do nothing for the honor of the family, I believe that's beat. What!" "1 hope so." I answered truthfully. "I don't see anything else to dv." "Nor L but it's hard on you. Those oafs might really tar and feather you. Such things have happened in the Barrens more than once, too more than once." "I have a double-barreled Manton in the house," I returned, "and a German mili tary rifle, beside pistols. A flintlock my grandfather's flintlock looks serviceable, too. I dare wager I can take care of any callers." "No, no, it won't do," exclaimed Mr. Btockton. "You can't be always awake. You must have some one to help you. A garrison, that's what you need. A couple of reliable men, (ay men whO're used to firearms. You can hire them as laborers about Morvan, and let them sleep In the manor-house at night. The three of you might be strong enough to keep off Pine Owls." "Pine Owls! Bah! If there are any." I did not much relish the Idea of calling In others for my defense. "If there are any unfeathered Pine Owls," I repeated. "Oh, there are there are," returned the lawyer. "No doubt of that to my mind. A garrison what! Oood Idea excellent." He squared his shoulders and stalked up and down the room. "Let me see two reliable men. Everybody hunts hereabouts no trouble about knowing how to shoot. But two reliable men two. By the External! I'm no Diogenes, and it makes me blush dawn?r- $pu answer backutl'wander on? Ybrou sa'OhjpeSrbut his eges ; v?ere gra, And his jace as dim as a rairrg. daT But stout ojheart will I onward fare. oj blue, And the bright, sweet smile unknown opu; Andonjrom the hour his trail is found I shall sing sonnets the whole Ceprricst, iie, The ttobbs for the county to say It. but I only know one man who's reliable." "Who Is he?" "Lein Baker one of your own farmers. He has that white farmhouse In the far corner of your big whestfleld beyond the three oak trees." "I know the place." "Yes that's a good property, by the way. He's the man. A sober, honest chap I've hunted quail with him more than once. He harn't any family he could as well sleep at Morvan as not. But there ought to be another ought to be another." ' . He Jerked himself abruptly about. "Why not me. Henry? What! Why not me?" "You?" "Yes. Why not why not? By ths Eternal! I haven't had a real brush since our first war with the British. I'd be glad of the chance to fire a shot in earnest once more. There's nobody but my old housekeeper to care what I do." He turned to a cabinet beside his desk. "Look here! I keep my beauties here Just to look at them once In a wijlle for the sake of old times. Yes, yes, to remind me of the days when I'd quarrel with a man because he had hasel eyes like Mercutlo, you remember. Did you know I used to be in the navy, Henry?" "I'd forgotten it, sir." "So had I almost. Ah, here they are. They've seen service in their time, too both In public and private affairs publics and private." Ha placed a pair of hand some duelling pistols on the desk. "What dye think of them, Henry V I handled them with becoming reverence. "I never raw finer In my life." "You're right. They're as good as they look, too, and will shoot to a knife edge." He stood up, buttoning bis coat with abrupt gestures. "No hair triggers, mind you! General Jackson to the contrary notwith standing. No hair triggers! A gentle, even pull then you can hit your man when you please taking It for granted you can hit your man when you please." Ha took up the nearest weapon and turning his profile toward the tall clock In the corner, ex tended his pistol arm stiffly. '1 shot Lef tenant Brooke, R. N., with this very pistol In Gibraltar, a couple of years after the war lamed him for life, I'm afraid. Bo" He aimed the weapon. ''Your face and body behind your arm at the 'One.' Muxsle down, mind you! not up hot up. At the Two' begin to lift your piece. At 'Three' " the hammer clicked "you smash his knee cap." He put down the pistol with a laugh. "That's the way I did It. I remember our seconds came to blows afterward down right flsltcuffs. They pummelled each other until they both rolled down a cliff and well bruised for their pains. I forgot- what It was all about. But we'd all dined late the night before, and we didn't sophlscate our liquor in those days. Ha! Ha! Henry, I'll be part of your garrison. Will tomor row night do to begin?" "Yes," I answered, rising to go. "You'll arrange with Baker for me?" "I'll attend to it. I'll simply tell him there are rumors of thieves about, and wMwst mfsttfhitcom&T&Iep am looking for Love. Hashe passed this waj With eves as blue as thpskiVsrrf Mavj. And a jace asjair as the summer Knowing mvhve is bc;oiid-s0iTieoIiere The Lovel seek, with the eves - If ear rouna. - Mernu Company you want him to sleep at Morvan until further notice. He won't ask any questions. What!" The lawyer waved me adieu from the sront. and I rode buck up the little street. Several rough looking men were hanging over the horse rails at Bat Merry's Tav ern, talking boisterously with a'fellow who had Just ridden up and was In the act of dismounting. The newcomer had two or three ugly buck-teeth, and there was some thing familiar about his face. After I had passed I realised who It was the plner, Bill Garrison, who I had seen In the cabin in Lost Hollow. I turned In my saddle to make sure, and perceived that the entire group of loungers was gaping after me. They broke into a hoarse laughter. It was a bit of Insolence that I did not like, but the yokels were beneath my no tice, and I cantered homeward. Posted on a hickory tree that formed one of the bounds of my land, a large sheet of paper caught my eye. There was sn owl on horseback, rudely sketched In charcoal, and beneath these words: - "Sqler Morvln the weak ant up yet but you go to go annyhow no rltrn man can go foolin round his tennunts purty dswter in this hear cownty so I tell you at once we are watchin you and you will pay for it If you fool round your tennunts purty dawter so get out of this cownty fine Owl." I tore away tbe miserable scrawl, and trampled It angry ly under my horse's hoofs. CHAPTER X. Festal Dates. The remainder of that day passed quietly. SI WO. or J I A tPVJUCfiTT V. ' , . w Bram had been absent since breakfast so Joshua informed me nor did he return to dinner. I was glad of It, for I could not have met him In the same complacent spirit I had displayed In the morning. My encounter with Ferris Dnyton. and the ac. cursed Insinuations of Pine Owl's last proc lamation, had pretty well upset me. I scowled at the vension haunch and glow ered over the damasked cider until Joshua must have fancied that Betsey had fur nished an ill-cooked meal for once. Indeed, although but a few days In pos session, I almost felt myself to be the veritable mastor of Morvan. I was able to give orders about the government of the household, to examine accounts, and to can pictures and books, as If by right. I know not what wild dreams were already dancing through my head. Impelling me to make permanent my deception to turn It from the. mad freak of a moment Into, the settled purpose of a lifetime. Not only was It possible! it came to me so naturally that I vow It was not even difficult. Dinner over, I unpacked my firearms and put them In order, giving even the old Deckard a thorough oiling. After I had placed the guns In a rack In the hall, there was still something left of daylight we dined early. I strolled down to the farmhouse beyond the oak trees to 8- make the acquaintance of the tenant, Lent Baker. He was sitting on the low porch, com fortably smoking sturdy man of about 25 or 26, with an honest, tanned face. He arose at my approach. "Good evening, Kaker," I said. "I'vs come to get acquainted. I am Henry Morvan." "I'V seen you riding about, sir," replied the man respectfully. "Take the chair I'll sit on the step here. Do you mind me smokln'. Squire? Maybe you'll take a long clay yourself?" , "I believe I will." ,1 answered. "I haven't smoked since dinner." In a moment he had filled a fresh pipe for me and, after we were seated, we seeemed to become friends at once. "Do you like your farm, Baker?" I asked. "First rate. sir. 'Specially, now you're here." "I ll try not to make a hard landlord." "I ain't afraid of that, Squire." "Who keeps house for you, Baker? You aren't married, are your' ."No. sir I sort of do my own work." The farmer puffed at his pipe, then looked up at me with amusing shyness. "I was comln' to see you. Squire, about that very thing after you got settled a bit." "Good!" I rejoined. "I'm settled now as settled as I ever will be. Can I help you in any way?" "Well, yes, sir." He hesitated a mo ment. "You see. Squire. I wanted to ask you If you're wlllln' to have me and Sue Buckaloo get married next month." I nearly dropped my pipe In mingled astonishment and Joy. "Eh? Who?" "Sue Buckaloo, sir. She's Tito Bucka loo' s daughter. He Uvea on your land, ever In the woods runs a charcoal hill." "I know," I Interrupted. "I know them both. By George, yes. Pakrr! Marry her by all meana. I'll let you have yonr farm alx months rent free, for a wedding pres ent." "Do you mean It. Squire?" "I certainly do. I'll make It a year, be ginning today. If you'll marry her next week. Provided Sue Is willing, of course." I added hastily. "Oh, yes, I've spoken to her to the old man, too. They're both wlllln'! But a year's rent free le a good 'deal. Squire, and this Is the best farm on your place." The man'a honest face showed his bewilder ment "Tou're sure you mean It, sir." "I'll tell you the reason. Baker," I said frankly. "You'll pardon me If I speak out about your future wife. It's nothing against Sua, but I've been here long enough to see that she'a too pretty to be a plnrr's daugh ter, or at any rate, to live In the plnoa. Then I'm her landlord, and some cursed bllllngsgaters have already written to me what they wouldn't dare say to my face. She ought to be married to a good man the aooner the better." The farmer nodded gravely. "I under atand. Squire I know Just what you mean. You're right right all the way through. Well, I '11 marry her next week. If she'a wlllln', and i guess she'll be." His face shone. "I love her, and ahe loves me. If sha is nothln' but a foolish child I'll look after her, please God." i I vow the man made nje gulp a little. "Please God," I agreed. "And a year's rent free begins today." I went to bed that night as well pleased with myself as I had ever been in my life. I had almost persuaded myself that my kindness to Baker was not certain to prove pure moon shine. The next I knew, the sun was shining In my eyes, and I heard "cousin" Bram roaring a song as he swaggered below my window. It was the Infernal tune the Swedish crone had sung. A girl, a bottle, and a gun, To make the seasons flit I waited to hear no more, but sprang up and began to dress. Was It possible, I thought, that this reckless fellow, all bluff humor and geniality, was In league with a gang of outlaws against me against Henry Morvan? Wbat could he possibly hope to gain by It? I found Bram had already had his break fast and was off with the hounds to draw a thicket on the chance of a stray fox. He had left word he would ride with me if I would wait for an hour or two. "No, thank you, my dear cousin," I mut tered to myself. "I prefer my own com pany." I wondered If It were in any way possible to obtain the company of a certain other "cousin" that day, even If it were only to be taunted as a spy. I had an inspiration that made me thrill but first It seemed desirable to tell the Buckaloos of my talk with Lem Baker. I enjoyed playing the kindly lord of the manor. It was not worth while waiting for my horse to be saddled, so, having given orders to have him ready against my return, I . walked along the uplands and struck into the path to the ptner's cottage. Within a few yards of It a riderless horse, evidently badly frightened, dashed by me and went careering across the fields. While I stood wondering, Mr. Lawrence Arnold appeared, driven before the fowl ing piece of Tim Buckaloo. I fell In beside them. "What's this?" I demanded sternly, though the matter was clear enough to my mind. "What's the trouble, now?" "He's here after my gel again," ex claimed Buckaloo angrily. "He sneaked up here early after I'd gone to work. I came back to get an axe and caught Mm walkln' along soft through the woods, back o' my house." "Curse it" cried Arnold, completely ignor ing the plner's complaint. "The fool's frightened my brute so, he won't stop this side of Falrvlew I'll have to foot It home." He glanced back at Buckaloo and hurried ( along as he spoke. I waa astounded at hi indifference to what might well have been- considered good cause for shame' that be fairly led me by the nose. ' "I haven't walked a mile In five years," he stormed, as he quickened his pace. "Then it's high time you did, sir," I re joined. "You seem to make tolerable ' progress with the aid of a fowling piece. Besides, I venture to say your friends at Merry's Tavern will lend you a horse, If your legs fall you." It waa a chance shot, but it seemed to trlke home. "My friends at Merry's Tavern, Mr. Morvan? My friends do not live at an ordinary, sir. I don't know what your for eign customs may be." He never ceased his rapid walk. "I had supposed you to be tolerably acquainted at ordinaries," I said with what I considered rare sarcasm. "Not at all. Gtd! Mr. Morvan, not at all. No gentleman hereabouts less ac quainted, sir." Buckaloo and I nearly had to run to keep up with him. Then, all at once, I aaw his design. He had beguiled me very prettily almost to the edge of the woods. In another rod or two he would be In the fields In sight of Morvan and of any of the farm hands who might glance our way In sight even of travelers on the road. In a word, we would be In the public eye, where It would be Impossible for me since I was a Mor van, a proprietor considerate of my own dignity to quarrel with him. '. I clutched him by the arm and brought him to a halt. "Not so fast, sir," I said. "That will do, Buckaloo I'll settle this matter with Mr. Arnold. You can go." The plner hesitated, but one glance at my face convinced him that his interests were safe with me. He fell back to a respectful distance. Arnold, relieved from the threat of Buck aloo's weapon, faced me sullenly. My sar castic humor changed to anger as I caught his steady glower. "Sir." I said, "tor the second time I find you on my land without Invitation and for a purpose I scorn to name." "What of It?" he demanded roughly. "This!" I answered, and struck him smartly on the jaw. He turned a fiery red. "By heaven!" His wrath choked him. "Send your second to Mr. Thomas Stock ton." I said. "He'll act for me." I turned on my heel. He stepped In front of me. ."Now you're too fast," he growled. "Ill fight right enough. But not with swords or pistols you're foreigner enough to beat me there. That's what you're counting on, eh? No, no. I'm not a Frenchified fencing master, nor a Dublin duellist, neither, but If you mean fight, fight with fiats. Mill with me, if you dare and do It now. There's a smooth piece of ground In the hollow beyond your boundary hickory." If be had thought to frighten me with fisticuffs, he was soon undeceived. "Any way you like." I rejoined, "and anywhere you please the sooner, the better-Without more words, we left the pines, and began to hurry across the fields. Bram came running toward us. a motlty collec tion of bounds at his heel a "There they go!" he yelled. i"61ght em, boys eight "em I" The dogs leaped about us. and Bram roared with laughter as Arnold and myself. In no mood for fool ery, rebuffed them Impatiently. "Good dogs good doxs!" Hark to "em, Uds! celse 'em fast fast! Hello, Laurie. Good morning. Hal. Ho. there! Stop, t say! Where are you two colntr nt that gait? Is this a walking match? Where are you going?" "To fight each other." I answered shortly. "Eh? The deuce you say! You're Jok ing." "No we're In earnest. We're ahout to fight with fists. Come on!" I took him by the elbow ami hurried him along. "I'm glad we met you. I want you to ace fslr play for both." "Good Lord, boys!" he protested. "What are yovi talking about? You can't mean It. You two mustn't fight. It's downright dis graceful for two gentlemen to maul each other like a pair of common plners." "Nevertheless, It has to be done." "But you can't have any reason you pnly met the other day." "Our acquaintance Is already over-ripe.'' He appealed to Arnold. Look here, Lau rie, I don't want to Interfere In a private matter, but, d'ye see" "Save your breath. Morvan." said his friend sullenly. "It's all settled.' ' After this Bram strode beside us In Hence. Now and then I stole a Rlance at his rueful face. I vow I relished his ex pression mightily. It was for this I hsd pressed him Into service to make him realize, If possible, the falseness of his position a professed friend but a secret enemy. So presently we reached the grassy hol low beyond the boumlnry. Here wae an open space, screened from the road by second growth hickory and the branching vines of the wild fox-grape. Thence hostile eyes might easily have spied upon me when I trampled line Owl's warning the day be fore. Arnold and I removed our coata and neck cloths and gave them to Bram. "What's It all about, Lnurle?" he de manded. "I'll tell you later," answered the other. He turned to me with a aneer. "If yoli re particular about your looks. Mr. Morvan. you can apologise. Probably you don't know I'm counted the beet man with the' knuckles In the lower counties." I did not deign to tell him that only the year before I had held my own with the Louisville Spider for full six rounds. It was not for me to play the braggart, too, I finished my preparations. "But, Hal, what's It about?" Insisted Bram In desperation. "You can call It trespass," I said. "Yes," sneered Arnold, "that'll do. Call It trespassing, or call It poaching. Poach ing on what you claim as your preserves, eh?" "I hope to plant my fist aealnst your vile mouth this Instant," I relolned. We faced each other grimly. It was over In five minutes. I had re ceived several hard knocks and twice I had felled Arnold to the ground. After the second time, he lay on his face for a moment, then sat up weakly, and glared at me through his rapidly swelling eyelids. "Enough!" he said thickly his lips were badly cut. "Hereafter, I'll respect your wishes, Mr. Morvan." I took my coat from the awe-struck Bram. "After all." went on Arnold, "as her landlord, you've first claim to the girl." I deigned no reply to this anarl of a beaten cur, but walked rapidly homeward across tbe fields. CHAPTER XI. ' A Fenrlna- Lesson. At the house I bathed my face one of my cheeks was somewhat bruised and donned my handsomest riding cloak. It was a piece of foppery for which I was soon to pay dear. In a glove box, where Joshua had laid them when ho unpacked my saddle bags, I found a pair of lady's gauntlets plain, but very fine. They had been forwarded from London by the last Baltimore packet so the young gentleman of Carlisle from whom I had won them had informed me. I had made the gentleman's acquaintance at a horse race on the high street of Car lisle. I had seen him brandishing the gloves in air, and proclaiming himself eager to stake them on a black mare against anything of near value. My Judg ment had been for a little chestnut, and had accommodated the swaggerer by wa gering a pair of bearskin leggings. As It happened, the chestnut had passed the toll gate at the head of the street a full nose before the black mare, so my young buck had handed me the gloves and had sworn aavagely In the doing of It. At the time, I had stuffed them carelessly Into my saddle bags, and so had forgotten them until this morning. Now, wrapping them carefully, I thrust them Into my pocket, and descended to the horse block. One of my black boys was holding a mount In readiness. He was a merry, quick-eyed darky, and his Interest In my spruce appearance was so great that he was unable to repress a tremendous grin. "By the way, Sam," I said, as he re leased 'my stirrup, "I'd forgotten. J Tell Joshua to have a couple of bedrooms made up tonight, will you? The ah what's the southeast room?" "The Glnerul Wash'ton room, sah." "Yes, of course the Washington room for Mr. Thomas Stockton, nnd one of the back ones for Lemuel Baker." "Comp'ny comin', Mastah Henry" grinned the boy. "Yes, sah Ah'll tell 'Im, ah. Mlstah Joshway likes comp'ny. Heigh! but Ah reckon he won't keer 'bout that kind." I was rather amused, for I had already chanced to overhear eome bitter passages between the Irreverent Sam' and Joshua, who, as head of the servants' quarters, waa jealous of his dignity. "Why not?" I demanded. "Why, 'cause they ain't frens o' Mastah Bram's, Ah reokon. 'Fo' you come, Mastah Henry, they was golns on In this here house. They was so! Mastah Bram'g fens like to tore the house down, niany's the time." "What friends?" I asked, with assumed Indifference. "Mastah Bram'a frens? Oh, Hqulah Ahn old from Fayahvlew, and Bill Gahlson he's white trash from below here. Yas, sah, and 'Brownie' Duvis. too." He paused and looked at me with such expectancy that I was forced to ask "Who is he?" "What! ain't you heard "bout him yet? He's the bully of this here county, less'n It's Bnuiah Ahnold. Yes, sah. he kicked a man'a face In on'y las' month. He gave me a whlppln' onot. damn his hide!" He checked himself. " fccurso me, Mastah Henry. 'Sense me, sah." All this was Indeed interesting news. I might find a valuable ally in bam. I ad Justed my nag's mane and smoothed his neck carelessly. "I should think Joshua wouldn't have liked such company," 1 remarked. "They must have caused him a deal of trouble." "Liked It ? Who? Him? Yns, sah, Joshway more'n liked 'em, 'cause then he could git all the wine he wanted to drink. He drinks mcfie Madeery 'n lla.Mnh Bram ever thought o" drinkln' liel(?h! and more apple Jack. too. a heap sight." The boy grinned maliciously. "Ain't you ever no ticed how kind a sleepy Joshway always Is, Msstah Henry?" I had noticed It. Joshua often performed his duty as butler In a sort of maie. The reason for this heaviness, and for "Mlstah Joehway'a" fondness for the siclety of Brain's friends was doubtless the same. ITo Lie CuiiUau.djr)