Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

nearness. A flood of passionate tenderness surged through him, and his bruised hands clenched themselves mto knotted fists. The veins stood out 6n his lacerated face and a Jump came into his throat. “ As slim—an’ as bright as a sickle moon when hit’s new,” he said chokingly.-“‘ But I reckon ye hain’t fer me—an’ I’ve got ther need ter hold thet knowledge right spang afore my thoughts, day in an’ day out— in sunshine and in moonlight. I’ve got ter do hit, because God, He Enows ef I ever let hit slip I’d be bodaciously ruint.” He lifted her again with tender care and plodded on toward home. As he climbed the stile with his burden, Aunt Erie: came running out, her eyes asking questions aud her eyes answering them. Together they carried Cynthia into her room and laid her on her bed. “They nigh broke every bone inside her,” said Wade grimly. “ An’ ef I’d been a minute tardier I’d hev been too late.” He paused, then said: “ Thar’s a wrecked schoolhouse back thar on ther creek, an’ I reckon her bones hain’t ther only ones thet’s broke, but—” Aunt Erie’s eyes were ablaze. “ But what?” she demanded with an up- leaping of ferocity. ‘ But I reckon thar’s a new war on now. I reckon hit’s im ther bilin’ clar back ter ther branchwaters—wharever a boy goes back an’ gives my message ter his pa.” This woman, whose husband had been brought home to her murdered, nodded a sober head. The blaze had died out in her eyes, and into them had come a quiet, en- during steadfastness. Her voice was. calm. “Let hit come, son,” she said. ‘“ Ther sin of hit won’t rest on us—an’ when hit’s over ther sorrow won't all rest an us nuther!”’ CHAPTER XT. THAT LOSING GAME. | LFTHOUGH the settlement school at Doe Rum was only a little more than twenty miles distant from the waters of Little Fimty, i¢ was still in a separate and to all intents and purposes, BA THE HILLS. 865 a distant community. Mountam miles are cumbered with hazardous difficulties, pitched downward and flung upward until they take on a meaning and a meamness of their own. Two or three ambitious children from Wade Murrell’s neighborhood, like his sis- ter Lake, had gone over there to Doe Run, and the hunger for “ }’arnin’”’ had spread —but as yet it had been a mostly unsatis- fied hunger. Riding now, on the day after her vit to Aunt Erie, and thinking with medita- tively drawn brows of the girl she had met fhere so out of the picture in appropriate- ness, Anne Purviance came to the house of Murrell Coates, from whom she had had several unusual letters. It was to confer about the subject of these letters and others: of similar purport from neighbors of like mind that the woman had ridden the long way from Dee Run. It was in a spirit of unofficial friendlimess that she had stopped at Aunt Erie’s house. Now sittmg before the door of Murrelt Coates, while his sons were afield and wife was busily carding wool, Anne found her- self looking into a bearded, sober face on which @ stamp of earmestness was. deeply etched. “I don’t look atter wealth fer ’em,” the man was declaring with a reserved throb of patient eagerness in his deep voice. “What I craves fer is ter see our young uns fotehed up fer sarve ther livin’ God an’—senee thet makes. a right good begin- nin’—ter sarve theirselves.” “That ought to be the aim of all edv- cation,” the teacher agreed. ““ We've done studied an’ pondered what ye’ve a’ready compassed over thar at Doe Run,” went on Coates. “ Children hev done gone thar ragged an’ lost ter knowledge, an’ they’ve done come back atter a spelt with a new sparklelight in thar cyes an’ @ new sperit in thar heart. We wants a school ther Itke of thet over hyar, ma'am. We're hurtin’ fer hit like a sick man herts fer a doctor.” Anne Purvianee leaned forward. “ Are you ready for a schoo! like thet-— over here, Mr. Coates?” she asked. “ When we began over there we found a mighty COnniEaoo () SS Co