~The Call of the Cumberlands [| With Illustrations from Photographs of Scenes in the Play . (Copyright, toi, by W. J. Watt & Col SYNOPSIS. at the foot of a rock fallen, Sally Miller a landscape paint. after reviving him, Samson South and to Samson's home, On Misery creek, from which he has finds George Lescott, ar, unconscious, and Koes for assistance Sally, taking lLescott are met by Splecer South, head of the family, who tells them that Jesse Purvy fias been shot and that Samson la st pected of the crime. Samson denies The shooting of Jesse Purvy breaks truce in the Hman-South feud, Sam #On reproves Tamarack Spicer for telling Sally that Ji Hollman is on the trail with bloodhounds hunting the man who dot Purvy "he “bloodhot nds lose the trail at Spicer South's door f.escott dis overs artistic al y in San He 1800 CHAPTER v—~Continued. The two men had huddled under a canopy beneath the cannonading of a sudden storm. They find sHlently watched titanic battalions of thunder clouds riding the skies in| gusty puffs of gale and raking the earth with lightning and ball and water, “My God!" exclaimed the mountain boy abruptly. “I'd give anything ‘ef { could paint that.” Lescott rose smilingly from his seat before the easel and surrendered his palette and sheaf of brushes. “Try it,” he invited For a moment Samson stood hesi- lost an hour tant and overcome with diffidence: then, with set lips, he took his place | and experimentally fitted his fingers | about the brush, as he had seen Les- | cott do. He asked no advice. He | merely gazed for a while, and then, | dipping a brush and experimenting for i his color, went to sweeping in his pri- | mary tones. Samson, even though he’ was hopelessly daubing, and knew it, wes sincere, and the painter at his | elbow caught his breath and looked on with the absorption of a prophet, who, | listening to childish prattle, yet recog nizes the gift of prophecy. “Thet's the way hit looks ter me” the boy said, simply. “That's the way it is,” commended | his critic i For a while more Samson worked | at the nearer hills, then he rose i “I'm done,” he said. “hain‘t a-goin’ | ter fool with them thar trees an'| things. I don't know nothing erbout | thet. 1 can't paint leaves an’ twigs | an’ birdsnests. What I like is moun- | tings an’ skies an’ sech-like things” Lescott looked at the daub before him. A less trained eye would have! seen only the daub, just as a poor judge of horseflesh might see only awkward joints and long legs in a| weanling colt, though it be bred in the | purple. | “Samson,” he said, earnestly, “that’s | all there is to art. It's the power to! feel the poetry of color. The rest can | be taught. The genius must work, of | course—work, work, work, and still! work, but the gift is the power of | seeing true—and, by God, boy, you | 1 have it. You've got what many men | have struggled a lifetime for, and | failed. 1'd like to have you study with | me, I'd like to be your discoverer. Look here.” The painter sat down, and speedily went to work. He painted out noth- ing. He simply toned, and, with pro. cisely the right touch here and there, "suf ened the crudeness, laid stress on the contrast, melted the harshness. and, when he rose, he had built, upon the rough cornerstone of Samson's laying, a picture. “That proves it,” only to finish. 1 didn’t have much to undo. Boy, you're wasting yourself. Come with me, and let me make you. We all pretend there is no such thing, in these days, as sheer genius; but, deep down, we know that, unless there is, there can be no such thing as trua art. There is genius and you have it.” Enthusiasm was again sweeping kim into an uninterded outburst, The boy stood silent. Across his countenance swept a conflict of emo- tions. He looked away, as if taking counsel with the hills. ‘It's what I'm a-honin’ mitted at last. “Hit's half my life fer. my land, an’ raise the money I reckon hit would take pas els of money, wouldn't hit?” He paused, and his eyes fell on the rifle leaning against the tree. His lips tightened in sudden remembrance. He went over and picked up the gun, and, as he did so, he shook his head. “No,” he stolidly declared; “every man to his own tools, This here's he said. “I had fer,” he ad- what I'd give I mout sell when they were again out brushes once more seized him, and he took his place before the easel Neither he nor Lescott noticed a man who crept down through the timber, and for a time watched them, The man's face wore a surly, contemptuous grin, and shortly it withdrew, But, an hour later, while the boy was still working indusStriously and the artist was lying on his back, with a pipe between his teeth, and bis half ‘through . the green of oveshead branches, their peace was broken by a guftaw of derisive laughter. They looked up. to find at their backs a semi * MR — SI a eirele of scofiing emanity, Lescott's impulse was to laugh, for only the comedy of the situation at the mo- ment struck him. A stage director, setting a comedy scene with that most ancient of jests, the gawking of boobs at some new sight, could hardly have improved on thie tableau. At the front stood Tamarack Spicer, the returned wanderer, His lean wrist was stretched out of a ragged sleeve all too short, and his tattered “jimmy” was shoved back over a face all a-grin. His eyes were bloodshot with recent drinking, but his manner was in exaggerated and cumbersome imitation of a rural mas. ter of ceremonies. At his back wern the raw-boned men and women and children of the hills, to the number of a dozen, “Ladies and gentlesmen,” announced Tamarack Spicer, in a hiccoughing voice, “swing yo’ partners an’ sashay forward. See the only son of the late Henry South engaged in his mar-ve- lous an’ heretofore undiscovered occu pation of doin’ fancy work. Ladies and gentie-men, after this here show is concluded, keep your seats for the con- cert in the main tent. This here fa- Truce-Bustin®, Murderin Bully.” will of favor plain mous performer little exhibition k-darnin’ After the first su turned his ye an’ fancy BOC rprise, back on the group. He int at the time and he with pro- to experiment cloud effect, which the moment. He finished that, reaching for the palette-knife, his fingers and wiped them on" his trousers’ legs. Then, be deliberately rose, Without a word he turned rack had begun his harangue The boy tossed back the long from his forehead, and then, an unexpectedly swift leaped. His right shot forward to chattering lips, and chatter as the driven into their flesh. snapped back, and he staggered against and, Tama afresh they teeth were on his unsteady legs. instinctively to the shirtconcealad holster, but, before it had connected. both of Samson's fists were playing a | terrific tattoo on his face. The glorious master of the show dropped. and lay grogeily trying to rise, The laughter died as suddenly Tamarack’'s speech. Samson stepped back again, and searched the faces of j the group for any lingering sign mirth or eriticiszn. There was none Every countenance was sober and ex of defiance gpoke up reproachfully Samson, ye badn’'t hardly ought ter a&-done that. He was jest a funain’ with ye.” “Git him up his feet. [I've got somethin’ ter say ter him.” The boy's voice was dangerously quiet. It was his first word. They lifted the fallen cousin, whose entertainment had gone astray, and led him forward grumbling, threatening and sputtering, but evince. ing no immediate desire to renew hos tilities, “Whar: hey Samson, “Thet's my business” miliar mountain phrase “Why wasn't yer hyar when them dawgs come by? Why wad ye the only South thet runned away, when they was smellin’ round fer Jesse Purvy's assassin?” “1 didn’t run away.” Tamarack's bloodshot eyes flared wickedly. “i knowed thet ef 1 stayed 'round hyar with them damned Hollmans stickin’ their noses inter our business, I'd hurt somebody. So, T went over inter the next county fer a spell. You fellers mout be able to take things offen the Hollmans, but I hain't.” “Thet's a damned lie,” said Samson, quietly. “Ye runned away, an’ yo runned in the water so them dawgs couldn't trail ye—ye done hit because ye shot them shoots at Jesse Purvy from the laurel—because ye're a truce bustin’, murderin® bully thet shoots off bid face, an’ is skeered to fight.” Sam. sou paused for breath, and went on with regained calmness. “I've knowed all along ye was the man, an’ I've kept quiet because ye're my kin. If ye're got anything else ter say, say hit. But, of I ever ketches yer talkin’ about me, or talkin’ ter Sally, I'm a-goin’ ter takn ye by the Jers of the neck, an’ drag plumb Into Hixon, an’ stick ye in » jalibouse, Ad’ I'm a-goin’ ter tell the high sheriff that the Souths spits ye outen their mouths Take bum away." The crowd ture” id fen on ye been?” demanded came the fa- the place, When they were gone, Sam son seated himself at his easel again, and picked up his palette, CHAPTER VL. Lescott had come to the mountains anticipating a visit of two weeks, His accident had resolved him to shorten it to the nearest day upon which he felt capable of making the trip out to the railroad. Yet June had ended; July had burned the slopes from em- erald to russetgreen; August had brought purple tops to the ironweed and still he And this was true although he recog nized a growing sentiment of disap proval for himself. In Samson he thought he recognized twin gifts; a spark of a genius too rare to be al lowed to flicker out, apd a potentiality for constructive work among his own people, which needed for its perfecting “Samson.” he suggested one day when they were alone, “I want you to come Kast. You say that gun is your tool, and that each man must stick to his own. You are in part right, in part wrong. A man uses any tool bet. have the right to use your brains talents to the full” The boy's face was in intensity Lis mental struggle, his answer had that sullen ring which was pot really sullenness at all, but self-repression. “I reckon a feller's biggest right 1s to stand by his kinTolks. Une’ Spicer's gittin' old He's done been good ter He needs me here” “I appreciate that. He will be later. You ean go now, and come to him when he needs you more. urged meant disloyalty to your I could cut out my tongue be argued it. You must be me in that, I want you to be in sense your people's leader to be not only son—but their Moses, The boy looked up and nodded “I reckon aims ter be friendly, his somber the of older back for vis right,” was conservative Bponse The “I realize tha painter went on earnestly ¥ # which people disapprove, but it is misunderstand that They are too close, purple that moun they are far away. | where you 1 are the sort of man be beguiled You loyalty. You ashamed your people.” “I reckon 1 wouldn't said the youth your use they =e) approve fo they do d Samson tains ha want t e purple see the when fo go If yor you won't ve You won't lose your of be ashamed,’ There changes in “I'm sure of it. sweeping these moun- Conditions here changeless as the for In at its what twilight, 1 tell know I'm talking about. state of Kentucky is looking this way The state must develop, and It is here alone that it can develop. Here virgin forests and almost ible coal veins. Capital you, | ro ie is and cast ing about for fresher iipotent. Wh laws Conditions undisturbed will vanish relentless, omit it makes existed ere it come ita have mot iil vanish before mists courts been able to abate, capital's breath like when the sun strikes them. learn to ride the waves which will presently sweep over your You may not realize but true. It is written’ The boy had listened (ntently it, sion was sbmething of the soldier who scotits battle, not without welcome “1 reckon if these here fellers a-comin’ up here ter run things, out my folks, good reason fer me ter stay here holp my folks.” “By staying here, them. It won't be work for guns, for brains. By going away and com ing back armed with knowledge, can save them. play the game.” “1' reckon they won't git our land, ner our timber, ner our coal, without we wants ter sell hit. | reckon ef they tries thet, Things has stood here like they is now, fer a hundred years. | reckon we kin keep ‘em that-away fer a spell longer.” an’ you can't help arguing against his own belief: tion and impeached loyalty, and that at heart he was sick to be up and go- ing to a world which did not despise “eddication.” After a litle, he waved his hand vaguely toward “down be. low.” “Ef 1 went down thar,” he questioned suddenly and irrelevantly, “would 1 hey’ ter cut my ha'r?” “My dear boy.” laughed Lescott, | can introduce you in New York studios to many distinguished gentlemen who would feel that their heads had been shorn if they let their locks get as short as ycurs. In New York, you might stroll along Broadway garbed ia turban and a burnouse without great: ly exciting anybody. | think my own hair Is as long as yours." “Because,” doggedly declared the mountaineer, “I wouldn't allow nobody ter make me cut my har” "Why?" questioned Lescott, amused at the stubborn inflection, “1 don't hardly know why" He paused, then admitted with a glare 1s though defying criticiem: “Sally Hikes hit thataway- d no- an’ ashamed of thelr kinfolks Thet's the way, I've nt hit ally turns out ye, way mount iticed, gen’ Samson that such and the old man scorned to deny be the with him After a time, again in a weary to loosen bis Clige Was went on as he ben brogans and floor: looked They “lowed they Ye hain't guile reckon I « ter let ye sell yer prop'ts But ain't no tryin’ ter when he wants ter quit ter go right away, plumb made up my mind al all” sald the ef 1 does go, 1 hain't spoke ler nobx you about hit yit. Lescott felt reluctant yes at breakfast the next m dreading their reproach, but er Bouth harbored resentment, conceal it, after the stoic’s There was no hint in his cordiality. Lescott felt, however, at in ming w working the leaven of that unspo sccusa tion of disloyalty. He resolved to make a final play, and seek to enlist Sally in his cause. If Ball hero ship could be made to the form of ambition for Sam might be to relinquish him for a urge his going that he might strengthened. Ie down to at the hour when he knew would be making her way thither with her milk pail, and intercepted her coming As she voice, “The Souths hey done depend on ye twenty-one yet, an’ 1 refuse thar h use Ye low do ye?” i hain't £0 facedls “But, yit shame hain’t wi bay, 10 meet ing. Spi neant ode to of constraint San ' Bison 8 hd ken wWor- Laks On, he and went the creek approached, she was singing. man watched her from the tance, He was a landscape painter not a master of genre or portrait wished that he might, befo dis and he re ROLE. “Miss Sally,” he began, “I've di ¢red something about SBameon Her blue eyes flashed ominously can't tell me nothin’ "bout Sam declared, “withouten nice.” “It's something very Ye son,” she nice the “Then, ye needn't tell me, came her prompt dublously said Lescott shook his head, “Samson is a genius,” he “What's thet? “He has great gifts eat abilitie gr She nodded her head, full corroboration. “1 reckon SBamson’li be the biggest mau in the mountings some day.” “He ought to be more than that.” Suspicion at once cast a cloud across the violet serenity of her ¢ yes “What does in prompt and - Ye mean?” she “1 mean”-the painter paused a mo ment, and then sald bluntiy-—*1 mean “I Have Opened My Home to You and Offered You What | Had, Yet in My Old Age, You Take Away My Main. stay.” that I want to take him back with me to New York." The girl sprang to her feet with her chin defiantly high and her brown bands clenched into tight little fists, Her bosom heaved convulsively, and her eyes blazed through tears of anger. Her face was pale. “Ye hain’t!” she cried, in a paroxysm of fear and wrath, “Ye hain't a-goin’ ter do no sich--no sich of a dama thing!” She stamped her fool, and her whole girlish body, drawn into rigid uprightness, was aquiver with the incarnate spirit of the woman de fending her home and institytions For A moment after that, she could not 4 declaration of war. It was as though he had posed her as the Spirit of the Cumberlands. He waited calmer, “You don’t understand me, Bally. I'm not trying to take Samson away from you. until she should be in the world to make up for it. All 1 to make the best of his life.” “1 reckon ‘Bamson don't fotched-on help ter make knowledge him.” “Every man needs his can be a great painter least part of it, He can come back equipped for anything that life offers Here, he is wasted.” “Ye mean” with a hurt gq mean we all Samson? “No. 1 only need folks ac chance, she put the question uaver in her volce—"ye hain't good cnough for mean that Samson wants and he needs space and new which to grow I want to where he ean see more of the not oniy a little section of the Surely, you are of Samson's y is | ud see life” defiance in tan in world not distrustiul loyalty for a while, a hit!” be ing the fi tran Don't ye The pathetically She ice Was Was “Don't nln LaARt gled up with tears sport of grief, anybody ae us Sam Take thar, yo say hit ‘em all de but leave SAINSor quivering t moment, with dropped to the rock in her crossed er and nig stiouider, sudden buried face arms. He wer OF a hand on her tear with 3 134 ang n aim = stormy heeks “don’t nothin’ most cried; ain't ould jest a pizen he pointed a road nded. “I Ye again g 1 L awa) git s2ryifin irged Lescott, q rt doesn’t say way had upor but, down over the rocks gone far, he sat to reflect was not A the be augmenting half y rustle, and ! 3 ng not far off tating at the edge the Lescott read io her was costing her 'o apologize kon I've got hour turning She w» standi as he of : i ¥ ‘ underbrush, and eyes the effort it “1 reckon-—1 rec yore pardon,” she sald, slowly labored He looked up her standing with her head droop gers nervously pulling a utterances soe flower Uu Hiecoe, “1 reckon 1 hain't a plumb fool. 1 knows thet Samson's got a rig ARSROW. 1 knows he wants hit” “Education,” sald the man, “isn’t go hange Sams him finer than he is—and more capable.” She her head "1 no eddication,” she answered ‘Hit's ter make him toc good {er me. 1 reckon hits a-gein’ ter jest about | me Her lips twisted | a pathetic smile agar nd her chin came stiffly up. "But, determinedly, “thet don't dif ‘rence, nohow.” shook his whippoorwill call at the Miller's cabin, he miserable girl sitting on the stile, boding “What's the matier, Sally?” tioned he, auxiously. “Hes that down Tamarack Spicer been here tellin’ ye some more pester yet” She shook her head in Usually, she bore the brunt of their conversations, Samson merely ing with, brevities. beside her. (TO BE low CONTINUED) Wisdom From Thomas, The thoughtful look on young Thom ans’ questions to ask. As soon as Mrs “Mother,” said he, kiss Mrs. Boardman?” “No, dear.” fo kiss you?" “1 don't think she does™ “Then why do vou and she always kiss when you meet?” “1 don't know, dear.” “Don't you think Mrs. Boardman would rather you didn’t kiss her?” “1 have no doubt of it.” “Wouldn't you rather Mrs. Hoard: man didn’t kiss you?" “Oh, very much rather” “Then,” said young Thomas, con clugively, “that must be why” Ancient Servants. Francis Grierson, the English mu. sivian and author, writes of the French composer Auber in the Century for Oo. tober that “if 1 were asked to name the most typical Frenchman | ever met | should not hesitate to name Auber” The complser at the time spoken of was eighty-five, and among hin idiosyncrasies was his preference for servants of equally advanced years, He had five domestics, “the youngest, whom he called the baby, being the coachman, who was seventy-five” } 1 i ~~ fvnine 's. B. P. roavw Ey ATTORNEY -APLAW MARS OTR 38 Wes Deve of Ooms Boose ¥. Rabaisow wilres ATTURNEY -4TAAW srLaroeTR, C5 5ITIA. BOWER & SERST ATTORNEYS ATLAS Faols Bross SELLEFONTR by facomeor w Onvis Bowes & Opvis Dowstitation is Bagiad sad German ERS ATTORNEY AT LAW BELLEPONFTRY Prastion in all the sesru Conon watbon $ English and German Oca Oridar's Eraneng Building we o FMENT Pals ATTORNEY AT-laWw FELLEFONTR Pa Oice FW. corner Diamond we docs Bes First Motions] Bask. bw Penns Valley Banking Company Pa. 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