Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

$66 Strong current of opposition running against U—a pretty powerful suspicion of * fotched-on, newfangled notions.’ ” “ Aye, an’ ye'll find a lavish of ’em hyar- abouts, too, but thet only goes ter prove how jedgmatically much we needs ye. But over erginst thet sperit of contrariness ye'll find some siv’ral men like Wade Murrell an’ me ter stand clost ter yore elbow an’ hold up yore hands when they wearies. All I owns in ther world air my Jand—but I stands ready an’ willin’ ter give ye half of thet, measured acre fer measured acre, an’ more ef need be. I stands ready ter fell an’ saw lumber-wood an’ see ter yore fust house-raisin’—an’ Wade, he stands ready, too.” “And Lesher Skidmore?” the woman made dubious inquiry. “If he threw his influence against us—wouldn’t it defeat us and open up the feud feeling to boot?” The elderly hillsman nodded his head gravely. “ Ef so be ther peace bruck down,” he admitted, “thar wouldn’t be no elbow room hyarabouts fer naught else save war —but Wade, he’s mouty heedful ter hold ther truce safe, an’ Lesher, he acks like he seed hit in ther same light. Belike he kin be persuaded.” He paused, then went on: “ What's ther profit of strivin’ atler peace jest amongst ther old an’ headstrong unles- sen ther young uns kin be reared up ter esteem hit, too? Old trees is gnarled an’ sot in th’ar shapes, but young saplin’s kin be started straight. Thet’s what we're strivin’ atter, ma'am, an’ thet’s what schools like yourn kin compass.” He paused and waved his hand outwardv “Take ye a sight an’ a see over them thar hills an’ coves. Ther folks thet fust come hyar they was pioneers—frontwards lookin’ and frontwards farin’. They've done dwelt hyar like pioneers from thet day on. They brags thet they bain’t changed none, an’ yit they’ve done changed ther same fashion ¢s a tree thet’s stopped growin’ an’ commenced ter root—in thém old days, men fashioned outen what nature give ’em whatsoever things they needed—an’ they fashioned ’em good. Thar warn’t no better rifle-cuns nowhars then what our gun- smiths turned out; that warn’t no. sturdier ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, linsey-woolsey then what our women wove. We was folks out ahead of civilization blaz- in’ ther way—an’ then we sot down like folks aimin’ ter despair an’ quit.” His eyes were agleam with a rude poetry of visioning. His voice was touched with a fire of untaught eloquence. ‘We're ther folks thet hewed out ther road fer all ther citizens of ther land—an’ now we hain’t got no roads-of our own. We says ther pioneers esteemed simple qualities an’ so we aims ter stay thetaway. But I tells ye p'int-blank we’ve done sot down. We’ve done lost our holt on all, ther knowledge of ther past an’ we hain’t seized holt on none of ther knowledge of ther pres- ent. We hain’t got no eye fer ther future. We're jest p’intedly crumblin’ away an! boggin’ down—an’ our young uns air a- growin’ wild an’ pizen-rank like weeds, Hit’s my notion thet pioneers shoves for- ‘ard, an’ when they quits shovin they hain’t pioneers no more. Thet’'s fer why—” Suddenly he broke off to listen to a rapid hoof patter beyond the turn of the sandy road that ran by his house just beyond the swinging bridge which spanned the creek. “Thar’s some person,” he interrupted himself, “ thet’s a-comin’ hither in right tormentin’ haste.” Young Velmer Coates, a fifteen-year-old nephew, “lit down” from his mount and blundered up to.the door. He was young enough to permit himself the abandon of excitement which older stoics must learn to repress, “Pap bade me ter tell ye thet grievous words done come from Wade Murrell. Ther fotched-on woman at his dwellin’-house hes done been rocked at ther schoolhouse—an’ I reckon they’ve done well-nigh ruint every bone she’s got.” ~ The informant broke off pantingly after this contribution of news, then he caught his breath and rushed on to a fresh start. “Pap heered tell thet Daws Small fo- mented hit an’ Wade he feathered inter him an’ nigh bruck every bone inside Atm. Pap, he ‘lows thar’s a hell-broth a-brewin a0’ bit p’int-blank looks like old Covey Small aims ter rile ther Murrells up ergin Wade an’ spew him outen th’ar mouths.” The lad, with youth’s ability to derive GOMIGDOOo C SS Co