The Meridian Tribune (Meridian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 7, Ed. 1 Friday, July 22, 1921 Page: 3 of 8
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THE MERIDIAN TRIBUNE
I
ft
By Hapsburg Liebe
Copyright by Donbteday, Fage * Oo.
:0
"I'LL STICK."
Synopsis.~Y«ung Carlyle Wilbur-
ton Dale, ©r "Bill Dale," as he
elects to be known, son of a wealthy
coal operator, John K. Dale, ar-
rives at the Halfway Switch, In
eastern Tennessee, abandoning a
life of idle ease—and incidentally a
bride, Patricia Clavering, at the al-
tar—determined to make his own
way in life. He meets "Babe" Lit-
tleford, typical mountaineer girl.
"By" Heck, a character of the
hills, takes him to John More-
land's home. Moreland is chief of
his "clan," which has an old feud
with the Littlefords. He tells Dale
of the killing of his brother, David
Moreland, years ago, owner of rich
coal deposits, by a man named
Carlyle. Moreland's description of
"Carlyle" causes Dale to believe
the man was his father. Dale ar-
ranges to make his home with the
Moreland family, for whom he en-
tertains a deep respect. Talking
With "Babe" Littleford next day,
Dale is ordered by "Black Adam"
Ball, bully of the district, to leave
"his girl" alone. Dale replies spir-
itedly, and they fight. Dale whips
the bully, though badly used up.
:3
sarned. Addie, hoaey; Luke, you and
Cale—"
Mrs. Moreland and her sons arose
and left the room, closing the door be-
hind them. Bill Dale paced the floor,
arms folded, brows drawn. Finally he
halted before the Moreland chief.
"There's nothing I'm ashamed of, I
guess," he said. "I don't like to tell it
simply because I don't like to tell it:.
But—I'll do it."
He sat down in his sheepskin-lined
rocker, lay back and closed his eyes
as though to visualize the story, to
live it over.
"Maybe it's not very much in my
favor, John Moreland," he began. "I
never could get along with my parents,
or with the set I was born into. Some-
how, I was different. Father and
mother wanted me to be a dandy; they
even wanted me to let a servant dress
me. The climax came when they tried
to marry me to a young woman who
didn't want me any more than I want-
ed her."
He opened his eyes, looked straight
at Moreland, and went on:
"You see, they wanted to marry us
in order to unite old Clavering's for-
CHAPTER III—Continued.
—3—
When. Dale came back to a state of
consciousness, he was lying under
'covers in the carved black walnut bed.
iBeside him stood John Moreland, who
lield in one hand a bowl containing a
hot herb brew that his wife had pre-
pared. Granny Heck, her son By, and
Mrs. Moreland stood not far away.
"This here'll be good fo' ye, I think,"
•said Moreland, nodding toward the
bowl in his hand. He went over and
put an arm around Dale's shoulders
and helped him to sit up.
Dale drank the stuff with difficulty.
"Much obliged," he muttered thickly.
*'I—let's see, did I whip—how did it
■end? He didn't lick me, did he—that
fellow Ball?"
"He shore didn't," smiled Moreland.
^'Not by a big sight. He fell out fust.
His own pap won't hardly know him,
Bill!"
«*'****•
News travels rapidly in the big hills.
The Morelands began to gather at the
home of their chief to see the man
who had whipped Black Adam Ball;
every Moreland able to walk came to
see Bill Dale. For three hours he was
lionized, but he didn't enjoy it; the
water had left many pains in his
-chest, and his head ached dully, and
tiis hands still felt as though the bones
were shattered in them.
Came a thundershower that after-
moon, and the mountain evening fell
with a chill. A fire was made in the
h wide stone fireplace in the guest's
room, and when supper was over the
family gathered there with Dale, who
refused to be kept in bed.
After a few minutes of silently
watching grotesque shadows flit across
the log walls, Dale said to John More-
land :
"If your brother David could know,
don't you think he'd want you to get
the value out of the coal?"
John Moreland bent forward to rest
his chin in his hands. His sober grey
seyes stared thoughtfully toward the
fire.
"I ain't never looked at it that-
away," he said.
"That's the right way to look at it,"
declared Dale. "But you shouldn't
;sell the property as it is."
The mountaineer turned an inquir-
ing face toward his guest.
"How in thunder could I handle it
■ ef 1 didn't?"
"Why not let me develop it for
you?" Dale said earnestly, eagerly. "I
won't charge you anything above ex-
penses, and I won't be extravagant."
"It'd take consid'able money to start
things a-movin'. Have you got it?"
asked Moreland.
"No, but I can-get it. Almost any-
body would be willing to lend money
>on so good a thing as this, y'know."
For a little while Moreland sat there
and looked squarely at Dale, who re-
turned his gaze without a sign of
■flinching. The hillman was trying to
find a motive.
"How comes it 'at you, who ain't
•knowed us but two days," he de-
manded, "can be so much int'rested
in us?"
The question demanded a straight-
forward answer. Dale realized that
there was but one way in which he
could give a satisfactory explanation,
•and that that was by telling the truth—
hut not the whole truth, as he
surmised it, for then his efforts would
go for naught.
Moreland was speaking again, and
:his eyes were brighter now,
"1 agree 'at David would want us
to develop the coal, ef he could know,
It's like a light a-breakln' to me. But
that coal is sacred to us, Bill Dale,
and afore ye go any fu'ther I'll haf
to ax ye to teW me all about yeself.
A city man up here in the wilderness—
it don't look s'picious, Bill, mebbe,
but—well, 7 hopes ye can pardon me
fo' axin' it I shore got to be kee*-
ful about Brother David's coal. Addie
and the "boys'll go out and leave Jest
us two in here; and when ye're a-talk
in' to »e It's the same as talkin' to a
"And Littleford meant a—" began
Dale.
"That the'll be a big fight tomor-
row," said Moreland. "Bill Dale, in
a-makin' this land yore land and these
people yore people, I'm a-feard ye're
a-goin' to git more'n ye expected, meb-
be more'n ye can handle. Do ye want
to back out of it and let the coal go,
or are ye one o' these fellers who
chaws what they bites off ef it's a
hoss's head?"
"I'll stick." Dale's voice came firm-
ly in the darkness. "I'll stick." "
«
"You See, They Wanted to Marry Us
in Order to Unite Old Clavering's
Fortune and My Dad's."
tune and my dad's; Patricia, like me,
was an only child. It had been all cut
and dried for us, for years. They put it
up to me like this : they said I owed it to
them, that it was my duty; that I had
always been a severe trial to them;
that my savagery had put gray into
my mother's hair, and a lot of things
of that kind. I fell for it at last; it
was sort of a matter of self-defense.
With Patricia, it was a case of—well,
a case of simple obedience. Pat is a
good girl. . . ."
A minute of silence; then:
"I'll hurry along with it, John More-
land. I had one fine friend back there.
It was Robert McLaurin, a reporter
on the city's leading newspaper. My
parents didn't take to him because he
was a worker, and not a fop. Mother
wanted Pat's cousin, 'poor dear Har-
ry' Clavering, for my best man. 'Poor
dear Harry' and I had a fight, once
upon a time, and I—I had whipped
him; and I didn't like him. I chose
Bobby McLaurin for my best man, and
I wouldn't give him up.
"It was only when we met before
the chancel in a big crowded church
that I fully realized the tragedy of it
for Pat. I saw that her face was a
clean white, and that her eyes held
the shadow of something that was
very terrible. I turned my head and
saw the same shadow in the eyes of
my greatest friend, Bobby McLaurin.
I knew then. Bobby and Patricia loved
each other, John Moreland! Bobby
didn't have any money to speak of,
and that had held them apart.
"It had been the finest thing in the
world, McLaurin's acting as best man
for me. There was friendship for you!
I couldn't take from them their one
chance of happiness. . . .
"I couldn't see anything else to do,
so I ran. I went home, pulled off my
wedding rig and put on the clothes
I'm wearing now, threw some things
into a bag and hurried down to the
union station. I found that I could
have my choice between a flier for
Atlanta and the — the train that
brought me here. I bought passage to
Atlanta, but I never meant to use it;
I meant to take the other train and
pay a cash fare. In doing that,
hoped to lose myself from them,
wanted to go unhindered to some
country where I wouldn't be consid-
ered a—a savage, y'know.
"I went out to the train-shed, and
I hadn't been there a minute when
Bobby McLaurin came. I asked him
how he knew where to find me. He
said:
stay here after doing what you did,
and I wanted to say good-by, Bill.' He
always called me that, and it made
me feel like a man. Then I put my
bag down and took him by both shoul-
ders and told him this:
" 'Look here, Bobby, I'm going to
give you some advice, and you take
it. You steal Pat and marry her. Steal
Pat and marry her if you have to live
in a hole in a hillside. You're as good
as any of them, and lots better than
most of them. You can work your way
to a better salary. You see,' I told
him, 'we get about what we deserve
in this world. Most of us don't deserve
much.'
"I asked him if mother was badly
cut up. He said she was; that she had
fainted. Dad. swore aloud, he said,
there in church. I told Bobby good-by
and got aboard the train without say-
ing anything about where I was go-
ing—but I didn't know myself where
I was going, at the time.
"Now you've heard it. Every word
was truth. If you'll trust me with the
coal, I'll make this land my land, your
people my people. I'll suffer with you
when you suffer, and be happy with
you when you're happy; and when you
fight, I'll fight with you."
The Moreland chief arose, and Bill
Dale arose. The hillman put out his
hand, and Dale gripped it.
"I believe in ye, Bill," said John
Moreland. "Fo' another thing, I've
seed ye fight. You can work the coal."
He looked toward the closed inner
door and called, "Oh, Addie; you and
the boys can come back now."
Out of the night a face appeared at
one of the small windows. It was a
feminine face and handsome rather
than pretty. Two slender, sunburned
hands gripped the window-ledge nerv-
ously. The face pressed closer to the
glass, then disappeared. Soon after-
ward the outer door of the guest's
room opened, and Ben Littleford's
daughter entered. Her skirts were
dripping wet.
Mrs. Moreland arose and went to-
ward the young woman. She knew
that only something of great impor-
tance could bring a Littleford into her
home in this fashion.
"What's the matter, Babe?"
Babe Littleford gave no attention
to Mrs. Moreland. She went on to
Bill Dale, walking softly on bare feet.
"Black Adam is a-goin' to kill you
tonight, Bill Dale."
"That so?" Dale's smile was rather
grim. "How did you find that out,
Miss Littleford?"
"I found it out, all right. As he
went off from the river this mornin',
I made fun of him; and he patted tho
stock of his rifle and said he'd git you
through a window! He was at our
house this evenin' to help fix pap's
gun, and when he left he started this
way, a-goin' by the blowed-down syca-
more. I waded the river at Blue Cat
shoals to beat him here. I thought you
might want to know about it, so's ye
could mebbe save other folks the trou-
ble o' makin' a funeral fo' ye."
She backed toward the door, her
eyes never leaving Dale's-face. Another
second, and she was gone.
They were all on their feet now.
John Moreland gripped Dale's arm.
Over thar aside o' the chimbley,
Bill!" he ordered, his native drawl for
the moment absent. "Out, Addie,
honey! Luke, bring my rifle and hat—
jump keen! Cale, bring water and
drownd this here fire!"
It was done. Moreland took his hat
and the repeater and went alone into
the night.
When some fifteen minutes had
passed, there came to Dale's ears the
sound of shooting. There were ten
shots in such rapid succession that they
made almost a continuous roar. Then
came echoes and reverberations, and
then silence. Soon John Moreland let
himself into the dark room.
His wife's voice was low and filled
with anxiety:
"What happened, John?"
A dull thud came through the dark-
ness as her husband's rifle-butt struck
the floor.
"This is what happened, Addie: As
I passed the cawner o' the house, I got
down that thar old oxwhip to take
along. I went acrost the road and into
the meadow, and thar I seen Adam
Ball a-comin'. I hid, and when Adam
was about to pass me, I jumped up
and jerked his rifle from him and
busted it ag'ln a rock. Then i lights
in and thrashes him with the oxwhip
ontel he broke and run. And 'en this
here happened, Addie:
"I was a-watchin' to see ef Adam
had reely went off, when I seed a man
a-comin' toward me fast. I thought
it was Ball, o' course. So I up and
tells him to show me how fast he can
run and commences a-shootin' over
his head to skeer him. But it didn't
happen to be Adam Ball—it was Ben
Littleford! He was a-follerin' Babe
to see what she was up to, <*' course."
"How do ye know it waa Ben, pap?"
Caleb asked.
"How do I Kbow?" growled John
Moreland. "When I got through a-
shootin', he hollers at me and says:
'Tomorrow, John Moreland,' he says,
'we'll have a little Gettysburg o' our
own!' And I might mind ye, Cale, 'at
CHAPTER IV
The Mystery of the Rifles.
An hour after John Moreland had
sent his ten rifle bullets whining over
the head of Ben Littleford, every
Moreland and every Littleford in the
valley knew of the declaration of war.
And each man of them oiled his weap-
ons and put them in better working
order.
When Dale , went to bed, there was
too much on his mind to render sleep-
ing easy for him. Tomorrow he would
have to help in the fight against the Lit-
tlefords, kinsmen of the young woman
who had saved him, without doubt,
from death by the murderous rifle of
the mountaineer Goliath—or break his
word flatly. It was a poor return for
such a favor! The longer he thought
over the dilemma, the more perplexed
he became.
He thought, too, of the everlasting
wonder, the tail of John Moreland's
bedtime prayer. How a man could go
down on his knees and ask the bless-
ings of the Almighty upon men whom
he meant to fight the next day was
a thing that Bill Dale could not under-
stand.
It was after midnight before he
slept. He woke at the break of day,
arose and dressed himself, and went
out. Going toward the flower-filled
front yard, he found himself facing a
very angry John Moreland.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Matter enough," clipped the-'moun-
talrveer. "Bill Dale, I'm a-goin' to ax
you a question, and I want the truth.
Will I git it?"
"You'll get the truth if you^get any-
thing." Shoot the question."
"All. right. What do you know about
my gun?"
"About as much as you know of the
left hind wheel of Ben Hur's chariot.
What's wrong with it?"
Moreland's eyes were steady and
doorway; he was lazily cutting a new
midday sun mark in the place of tht
worn old one. Behind him sat his
mother, who was busily knitting a
gray yarn stocking.
The moonshiner looked up and start
ed quickly to his feet.
"Hi, thar, Bill, old boy!" he greeted
cordially. "My gosh, but ye've come
at the right time, shore. We're a-goin
to have young squirrels fo' dinner, and
a b'iled hamshank with string bea^s,
and cawnbread made with the yellet
o' hen aigs. Live whilst ye do live,
says I. Come right in, Bill, old boy."
"La, la, la!" cried Granny Heck,
looking over the brass rims of her
spectacles. "How glad I am to see y~
Mr. Bill! Coine right in and tell us
the news."
Bill Dale crossed the threshold and
accepted a creaking chair. His eyes
took in at a sweeping glance the home
THE MARKETS
Supplied bv . RurtaM of ^Tarketa^.
Department of Agriculture, Washington.)
D. C.
"Mad at You?" Asked Dale.
made dining table with its cover of red
Washington, D. C., July 18, 1921. i
GRAIN:—After the 12th and 13thS
prices trended upward, influenced by|
black rust, hot weather and damage re-j
ports and drouth in Europe. Outsida;
buying increased considerably the lat-
ter half of week and helped to sustaini
values. On the 16th September andl
December wheat sold at new high
points. July closed weak account ruling;
of board of directors of Chicago ex-'
'change ruling after Monday grain in1
cars shall be deemed valid tender onj
contracts. Black rust and damage re-
ports continue. Liberal export business]
reported with Germany and England.;
Country offerings corn small; scattered1
rains and slightly lower temperatures
over corn belt. In Chicago cash mar-
ket No. 2 red winter wheat closed at
$1.30; No. 2 hard $1.31; No. 3 mixed
corn 61c; No. 2 yellow corn 61c; No. 3
white oats 38c. For the week Chicago!
July wheat up 8%c closing at $1.31 ;j
July corn up 2c at 63 3-4c. Minneapolis
July wheat up 17%c at $1.42. Chicago;
'September wheat up 11c at $1.32 3-4;|
September corn up lc at 62c. Minneap-i
,olis Sept. wheat up 12c at $1.38 3-4 ;i
^Kansas City September 91/s>° at $1.23'
j3-8. Winnipeg October wheat up 15c1
at $1.57 5-8.
HAY:—Receipts generally very light.
Eastern markets up about $2 for the
week. Prices higher at Chicago also,
and prairie now beginning to arrive
which will probably increase receipts.
Other central western and southern'
markets dull and No. 1 alfalfa Memphisi
$21, Atlanta $29. No. 1 prairie Minne-1
apolis $15, Chicago $23.
PEED:—Market firmer with strong
.upward tendency particularly for high
protein feeds. Export demand good. Cot-
tonseed meal advanced $2 per ton. Do-
mestic demand fair. Stocks in dealers
hands generally good. Hominy feed
slightly firmer. Gluten feed steady. Al-
falfa meal demand unimproved. Quoted:•
Bran $14, middlings $13.50, flour mid-
dlings $20 Minneapolis; 36 per cent cot-
tonsed meal $34.50 Memphis, $33 Atlan-
ta; hominy feed, white $21.50 St. Louis;
'Gluten feed $27.50 Chicago; No. 1 al-
falfa meal $19.20 Kansas City.
FRUITS AND VEGETABLES:—Texas
tomatoes slow and weak in Chicago at
50c to 75c per 4 basket carrier. Elberta*
peaches have been firm, closing at $1.75
to 2 per six bskt. carrier f. o. b. track.1
Texas shipping points report moderate
haulings with best demand for large
stock. Tom Watsons, 22 to 30 lb. av-
erage, $80 to $300 per car, f.o.b. cash,
.track to growers.
DAIRY PRODUCTS:—Butter markets
have been very firm all week at higher
prices. Undertone now unsettled. Feel-
ing prevails in some quarters that pri-
ces are top heavy. Continued hot weath-
er, lower quality with scarcity of fancy
*
. grades, and lighter receipts have been
oilcloth, the broken cast-iron stove, the factors lending support to market. There,
strings of dried peppers hanging on are unconfirmed rumors of Danish of-
the log walls, the broken stillworm ferings. Closing prices 92 score: New
, . . ,, York 41%; Chicago 40%c; Philadelphia
lying in the corner, < 40y2C. Bo2ston 421/2C_
The Littlefords," said Dale, "have COTTON:—Spot cotton prices advanc-
declared War." e<* about 36 points during the week,
' , , ,, , . closing around 11:43c per pound. New*
Sakes. laughed the old woma « yor]{ July futures up 33 points clos-
W'e knowed that last night when we ing at $12.28c.
Moreland's Eyes Were Steady arid
Cold.
twmbsto&c so fei as tellin' is coa-j "I thought you Wouldn't care to [he keeps his word the same as I do,
cold. He thrust his hands into the
pockets of his corduroy trousers. Then
his face softened a trifle.
"I reckon I ought to ax yore par-
don," he said in a low voice. "Ye see,
my gun's plumb gone!"
"You had it only last night," Dale
said. "Did it disappear—"
"Whilst I slept," cut in the hillman.
"Both o' my guns is gone. And Luke's
repeater is gone, and so is Cale's, and
we hain't got notliin' at all to fight
them d—d Littlefords with !"
"Gone!" Dale exclaimed wondering-
ly and—it seemed to him—asininely.
"It must ha' been the Littlefords, I
guess," frowned Moreland. "Fo' be-
cause who else would ha' done it?, But
to save the life o' me I cain't see how
they got in and took my rifle without
wakin' me up, Bill Dale. I slept twicet
as light as a sick mouse."
Within ten more minutes, every man
of the Morelands was gathered there
at the house of their chief—and every
man of them had lost their weapons
during the night!
John Moreland called Dale aside
and said to him:
"You're high on the good side o'
them thar triflin' Hecks, and, so fer
as they know, you ain't int'rested in
the feud. I wisht you'd go down thar
and see By and his mother, and see
ef ye can find out whar our rifles
went."
When Dale had gone off down the
dusty oxwagon road, Caleb Moreland
climbed a tall ash that grew behind
his father's cabin and kept a watch
toward the Littleford side of the river.
He saw a group of men standing in
Ben Littleford's cabin yard, and noth-
ing else.
A little more than a quarter of an
hour after Dale left John Moreland
he entered by the gateless gateway at
the cabin of the Hecks. It was a di-
lapidated place, and it stood not far
from the river. By sat in the front j
heered them ten shots."
"And all the Moreland rifles are-
missing." Dale watched the effect of
his words.
"What!" the Hecks cried in one
voice.
Their surprise seemed genuine.
Dale pressed the subject further and
learned only that if they knew any-
thing Concerning the disappearance
of the rifles they were not going to
tell. Then he started homeward by way
of the pool ab^ve the blown-down syc-
amore.
There was a chance that Ben Little-
ford's daughter would be there fishing,
Dale told himself, and it was barely
possible that she could throw some
light on the mystery of the rifles.
He crossed the river by means of
the prostrate tree. Babe was there;
she sat 011 the stone on which she had
been sitting the morning before; her
back was to him, and her bare feet
were in the water to her ankles. Dale
went up close, stopped and gathered
a handful of violets and dropped them
over her shoulder and into her lap.
Babe looked around and smiled.
"What luck. Miss Littleford?"
"Nothin'. I don't much want to
ketch anything," she said slowly, a
spirit of sadness in her musical voice,
"I—I jest come off down here to be
"whar it's quiet. You ought to hear the
noise 'at pap and the rest of 'em is
a-makin!"
Dale narrowed his eyes. "Are they—
er, making a noise? And what about?"
"My goodness gracious alive! You'd
think so ef ye could hear 'em! Y'ought
to hear pap cuss John Moreland!"
She shrugged her pretty shoulders,
lifted the small end of her rod to its
proper place, land went on, "I never
did see pap half as mad as' he was
when he got home last night from
a-follerin' me."
"Mad at you?" asked Dale.
"No; but he would ha' been ef he
hadn't ha' had all his madness turned
ag'in them Morelands. You knowed
about pap's trouble on yan side o' the
river last night?"
"Yes, 1 knew about that," Dale an
swered slowly. "But John Moreland
thought your father was my antago
nist of yesteray."
"An—antagonist?" Babe muttered
inquiringly. "What's that?"
"1 mean Adam Ball, y'know."
"Oh. That's what 1 told pap. But
pap he wouldn't believe it, and he
won't never believe it—'cause he don't
want to believe it. 1 told him 'at John
LIVESTOCK AND MEATS:—With
the exception of fat lambs and year-
ling wethers prices of practically alt
classes of livestock at Chicago show
moderate net advances compared with
a week ago. Hogs gained 15c to 60o
beef steers 15c to 30c per 100 lbs. Bet-
ter grades of butcher cows and heifers
generally 25c higher. Veal calves up
.50 c to 75c; fat lambs 25c; fat ewes
steady to 10c higher. Fat lambs de-
clined 75c to 90c per 100 pounds. While
yearlings weak to 25c lower. July 15
Chicago prices; Hogs top, $10.40 bulk
of sales $8,90 to $10.35; medium and
good beef steers $7.25 to $8.80; butcher
cows and heifers $3.75 to $8.75; feeder
steers $5.50 to $7.50; light and medium,
weight veal calves to }H,25; fat
lambs $8.25 to $10.25; feeding lambs $8
to $7; yearlings $6 to $8.50; fat eweg
$3 to $5.35. Stocker feeds* shipments
from 10 important pmrkets during the
week ending July 8 were: Cattle and,
calves 16.687; hog's 4,318; sheep 9.763,
$75,000 FIRE LOSS IS
SUSTAINED AT TRINIDAD
Corsicana, Texas.—An entire block
With the exception of one building,
was destroyed by fire at 2 o'clock
Friday morning and caused a loss es-
timated at $75,'000 at Trinidad. 22i
miles east of here. 1
The fire was first discovered by H.
R. Barnes, cashier of the Guaranty
State Bank of Trinidad, in the gen-
eral mercantile 'store belonging to
Bob Brown. He gave the alarm and,
a bucket brigade was formed but their
efforts proved of no avail and the
flames soon spread to the adjoining
buildings. Four brick buildings and
three frame buildings were soon a
heap of smoking ruins. No injuries are
reported.
B. A. Crofford of Corsicana is one.
of the heaviest losers, his general
store and warehouse being totally de-
stroyed. He is also president of the
Guaranty State bank there, which*
building and fixtures were also a total;
loss.
The postoffice, which was located in
B. J. Trotman's feed store, was also,
burned along with the store.
Many Silver Mines Close
Monterey, Mexico.—Clifford Cro.well,,
mine engineer and operator for many
years past, stopped here a day or two^
on his way to San Antonio, his home.,
Information given by him indicates!
that most of the silver mining proper-
ties have made serenuous efforts toi
keep their works going, but found the|
Moreland wasn't a-shootin' to hit, and expense too great to operate without!
he wouldn't believe that, neither. Pap's '.osing money so that only those who
as hard-headed as a brindle cow, when most favorably situated can avoid
he gits a fool notion on him. What—
what did them Morelands say about
their guns a-bein' gone?"
Dale straightened.
"How did you find that out?"
"Don't matter how I" She smiled
almost saucily. "1 knowed about It
afore you did, Mr. Bill Dale. Don't
you think whoever done it done a kind
thing?"
closing down.
/
Annual Farmers' Union Meet Opens,
Lubbock, Texas.—Senator Bledsoe,L
Burkett and Representative Baldwin;
were the principal speakers before the)
opening session of the nineteenth an-,
nual Farmers' Union convention.
I might' nigh wisht I was
dead.
(TO BE CONTINUED j
Pushing Receiver for Ranger National)
Houston, Texas.—Colonel E. B.j
Dushing, consulting engineer, has]
been appointed receiver for the Ran-i
§er National Bank. The appointment |
was announced from Washington I
Thursday.
1
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Dunlap, Levi A. The Meridian Tribune (Meridian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 7, Ed. 1 Friday, July 22, 1921, newspaper, July 22, 1921; Meridian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth415618/m1/3/: accessed July 12, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Meridian Public Library.