Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 5 i , i He planned that I should know yt. Daddy, I love him as a brother, if anything should happen ter he stopped, her voice breaking, hen he spoke. His voice was a bit jky, but it was strong, untrembling. t's well yer should hurry, Minervy. iirs a long ways and every minute'll nt." Good-by, pappy!" She was off, her ^lll feet flashing in the grass. 2 -Good-by," he said. He watched her : e out of sight ; watched her wave a is |d to him from a distant hillock. He g a "God bless yer !" to her, and still gazing at the hill where she disappeared when the rasping voice '!nis second wife called to him. 'he Deacon was leaning over his ce, smoking his evil-smelling pipe gazing tranquilly through his species at the mountains when Minerva ne running out from a clump of Jies. Hit's erbout Newt !" she gasped. i aims ter shoot Henry Falkins, an' ant yo' ter prevent hit." Come in and tell me erbout it," he 6 • 1 quietly. "Yo're excited, and I in't get the right story unless yo' go v. Come in, gal, and have someig ter eat, and yo' kin tell me wkhhaste." But there is haste !" she cried. There will be haste when I get to pg," he said, with a smile. "Just now t' is the word — rest for yore tired It, for yo' have come a long ways." le would not be denied, and she acipanied him into the living room, lot till she had eaten would he let tell her story, ft e was interested at once. I ain't got much love fer a Fals," he said, when she had finished, it since yo're so set on Newt I'll I p the boy — and when I do I'll give flfli a lickin' and send him back ter Iinerva smiled with him. -If yo'll only stop him " she began. I can save the lickin', eh? Well, jest yo' say. If I had my way now — but men always did get the best of me. ne, I'll drive yer home and then git er Newt." if It was a strange chance that the mont which Henry Falkins deemed the \ )piest in his life was the moment which brought Newt Spooner, would-be assassin, closest to him. With the girl he loved, Henry sat in the flowerdecked summerhouse and heard her murmured answer to his pleadings. It was at the moment when he held her in his arms, and, with her, was building castles in Spain that Newt, hiding in the surrounding bushes, trained his gun on the back of the man he hated, the man by whose testimony he had been sent to the penitentiary for three long years. But there was another to be reckoned with — the Deacon. He had come with the haste he promised ; had even passed Newt, though the boy was unaware of it. From his own place of concealment, the Deacon had seen the slouching figure, caught the gleam of light on the barrel of the gun. He had watched him glide close to the arbor, and, noiselessly creeping upon the killer from behind, he put his hand over the boy's as Newt was in the very act of pulling the trigger. His free hand he clapped over the youth's mouth. A man from the lowlands would have betrayed himself with a noisy struggle had he been in Newt's position, but Newt was a mountaineer. Caution was to him as instinctive as to the fox. He carefully turned his head and recognized, even in the darkness, the square jaw of the Deacon, who had been leader of the feudists in former days and who to Newt was still a man in authority. Sullenly he relinquished his grip on the gun 'and crept away in silence with the man who had stepped between him and his enemy. At a safe distance he turned to the Deacon. "Why did yer stop me?" he demanded. "Because yo're a young fool !" snapped the Deacon. "I ain't got no more love fer a Falkins than yo' have, but I have got a whole lot of love fer the Spooner folks, an' ef yo'd had yore way to-night there'd 'a' been a slayin' of some Spooners I think a heap of. Henry deserves what yo' were goin' ter give him, but thet ain't the way ter do it, boy. I'll think up a plan, thet yo' kin carry out without any risk to the Spooners. I've got ter have time ter think, but I'll promise yer that yo' kin do the deed an' have yore revenge. Aire yo' satisfied?" "Black Pete, yo always were on the squar'," returned the boy ; "an I'm trustin' yo' now. Here's my hand on't that I'll wait yore orders afore I kill him." So it happened that Newt Spooner went back to the cabin without another crime on his shoulder. He told Minerva of how his purpose had been blocked and of his promise to the Deacon ; and her eyes were shining as she murmured : "Oh, Newt, I'm glad, glad, glad !" If it had been the Deacon's plan that Newt should forget, it was certainly not the plan of the boy, and he waited impatiently for the word to be given him to play the part of avenger. But war's clamors began to resound through the land and reached even the remotest cabins in the Cumberlands. The United States was at war with Spain, and for the moment private quarrels were put aside. Newt Spooner felt himself caught up in the excitement. The Deacon had organized a corps, and Newt was one of the first to enlist. The Falkins clan, too, had begun to drill, and the Deacon had whispered into Newt's ears that the battlefield would give him his opportunity to take vengeance on Henry Falkins. Newt nodded, but if the truth must be told he was not greatly interested. War was the main business for him just now. In due time the men were ready for service, and the call came to march to the shack town to join a company proceeding to Manila. Till the moment of farewell came, Newt did not realize how much the coming of Minerva had meant to him. She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him, and he looked down into her eyes, conscious that some change had come over him and that this girl had been responsible for it. His old, surly manner had almost vanished ; he could laugh at times, and — strangest of all — there were moments when even his hatred of Henry Falkins seemed to him a foolish thing. Now with the girl's lips on his, he was almost ready to forgive his sworn enemy. "This is good-by, Newt," she whispered. "Come back to me if God wills, but whether you come back or not, play the man."