Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 May 1891 — CHUB. [ARTICLE]

CHUB.

A Romance of West Virginia.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER XL ANOTHER SURPRISE. “Well,” said Tom Bigger 9, “this is the gaul-darndest idee out yet. ” “I can’t understand it,” said Hank Dawson. “I do, dad. ” Chub spoke cheerily. It was wonderful the pluck Chub Dawson displayed. Nothing could dash her bright spirits. Although upward of forty-eight, hours had passed since she had seen her beitrothed —he had met her at a neighbor’s the morning of the day set for their wedding—although everybody gave Dan Bash up for dead, or worse than dead if living, Chub’s faith in him, her belief in his restoration to her, was not lessened an iota. “Dad! we’re all wrong. Maybe it Isn’t as we’d a right to think. Maybe something else has happened to Dan. The Monks maybe ain’t in it at all —or, leastways, I believe Squatty don’t know just now any more than we do. Say, Squatty, where’s the rest of your gang?” “We11,.1 suppose Ned and Bill will be nigh your house now. ” “?What are they doing there?” demanded Hank Dawson, fiercely. “O! don't you make any mistake, Mr. Dewson. Nobody would go to your house to touch a hate. You might hang all you’ve got on your fence and none of the Monks would come nigh it.” “I believe you,” said Tom Biggers g’imly. “You’d rather tackle a locomoti /e with a full head of steam on ” “Well, what are they over at mv place for?” “Why—didn’t I just tell you.” “Speak out. ” “They’ve a notion maybe Dan Bash would be making for your house.” “Well? What then?” “O, dad! Don’t you see? Why, the Monks would catch him and do something with him. ” “Kill him, do you mean?” asked Tom Biggers. “No! They’re so mad at me, it would do them more good to keep him somewhere and torment him. That’s more like the Monks. Ain’t that what they were after, Squatty?” Chub asked. “Yes.” “I knew it, dad.” There was a brief silence after this confession, extorted from Squatty’s trembling lips. The trio looked at the trembling wretch, then at each other. Poor Squatty’s hands were shaking now like those of a paralytic. ““I guess we’ve got all he’s able to tell us,” said Hank Dawson gloomily. “What will we do next, Chub?” “In the first place, dad, let us decide what we’ll do with Squatty." “My God! you won’t do nothin’ to me. I couldn’t help it. They made me do it. I’d get shot in my tracks if I didn’t do as they told me. ” “Stop your whining,” said Hank Dawson. “It’s a pity the Almighty lets such carrion as you live. You’re no more account than a crow—you’re a durn sight meaner. ” “I know I am,” said Squatty. “Shut up!” exclaimed Tom Biggers, angrily. “I tell you what, dad,” said Chub. “Let us send Squatty on ahead of us, just the same as if he’d not been interfered with. Then we'll follow, and go on to the Corners, and maybe we’ll meet the Monks. They wont want to fight you, I reekon. “What if Squatty tells about meetin’ us.”

“I won’t —I swear I won’t," said Squatty. •“Let him," said Chub contemptuously. “Let him, if he dares, break his word to me." “I won’t—l won’t, Chub.” “Of course you won’t,” said Tom Diggers. “You’d best say your orayers if you do " “I don’t exactly follow your idea, Chuh, ” said her father, “but I guess you know what you want. You just mean that this hound is to be let go, and join the gang of cutthroats that he belongs to, and we’rfe to spy on them, instead of them takin’ us unawares. ” “That’s it, dad. ” “That’s all right. You can go, Squatty—git out.” “Yes—light out,” said Tom Biggers. “Not yet, Squatty,” said Chub, in warning tones; “you’ve found ways to obey the Monks. If you don’t find a way to let us know just where the gang is by 10 o’clock—mind, that’s six or seven hours yet—plenty of time to get around —if you don’t let me know where the gang is, or the Monks at least—look out for trouble ” “I’ll mind you. Be sure I’ll let you know. ” The next moment Squatty hurried off in the darkness. “I’m most sorry I didn’t let the dog follow him,” said Tdm Biggers. “A bargain s a bargain,” said Chub. “Not with that gang,” said Tom Biggers. “I wouldn't believe one of them—not if the rope was around his neck, and his legs in the giave. ” Whereat Hank Dawson coughed. It was the first sign of change in his mood. His fierceness had evaporated. “Lord! Did any one ever see such a toward as that poor fellow ” “I don't think he Is a bit worse than the Monks, dad. Did any one ever know them to show fight unless there were two or three of them together. ” As nobody had. there wa, no more to be said on that subject “Listen, ” said Tom Biggers “That’s him breaking his way to the road.” “I’m net so sure about that,” sa ! d Chub, as she inclined an cars. “Dad, don't that sound seem to come from below, instead of above?” “It does. Chub. ” “Let’s go back on the road quick as we can." They were already in their saddles again; Hank Dawson had held the pine knot until it was nearly all burned out “Throw it down, dad,” said Chub. “Maybe its best to be qu'et—so’s nobody’ll suspect us. We’ll hurry up on , them. ” As they rode back to the road it was very evident Chub’s surmise was correct The sounds they heard did rmt come from the part of the road iSquatty said he wou'd take ~ , “Queer,” said Hack Lawson. “Sup- \ \

po*e you go ahead with your dog, Tom, or send the dog on. ” Tom acted on the hint. Hero bounded away,, and soon the party were on the traveled road. At that moment Hero gave tongue. Then there was a pistol shot, and all was silent —as silent as the grave. “Blast It all! they’ve killed my dog!” exclaimed Tom Biggers iu a rage. CHAPiER XIL THE MEETING AT THE CORNER. “What does It mean, anyhow?” said Biggers, turning to Chub. “It means we’re tricked—fooled by that skunk Squatty,” said Hank Dawson, “if I had him now, I’d smash his bones ” “Maybe we’re wrong, dad,” said Chub. “How do we know it aint the Monks been stealing along after Squatty, and the dogs 9cented them, and they’ve shot him.” “Well, let us turn back and see, ” said Hank. “No! Don’t, dad. ” “Why, Chub?” “It’s one thing to meet them at home, another to fight them up here, where they’re at home, and you don’t know who you’ve got again you!” “That’s so, too. ” “Everybody would know who to go for to try in court if they.came to you—up here, it’s hard to tell each other. The Monks would swear out of it. ” “That’s so, too. ” “I wonder if the dog's dead?” said Tom, slowly. The words were scarcely uttered when Hero limped back to the spot they stood on, whined, fell, and dropped in his tracks. Tom got off his horse and cursed as roundly under his breath as if the ruffians had killed his dearest relative. “Is he dead, Tom?” “Dead as a stone. Now, then, you may bet I’ll get even with them as killed Hero. If I have to hunt ’em ten years, I'll get even with em ” “Let us go back, dad,” said Chub. The trio retraced their steps, but no sound was heard. At one time Chub thought she heard a moan, but it was dismissed as idle fancy, and they moved on. “It’s no use, Chub.” “No, I see it isn’t, father,” said Chub sadly. “I reckon we may as well give it up now, and go after Squatty. ” So they turned their horses’ heads again and resumed their journey home cautiously. They were on the lookout, and rode along iu silence, trusting that fortune might enable them to hear or see something that would assist them in clearing up the terrible mystery that involved the fate of Dan Bash. But they were doomed to disappointment. They reached Hank Dawson s witfiout encountering anything unusual* All was as it should be at Hank Dawson’s. They rode on to the Corners. The morn was beginning to get pray at this time. The Corners was as silent as the grave. Not a soul was in view. So they turned over the sloping hillside, and putting up their horses and feeding them well, the party entered Hank Dawson’s comfortab.e home. What a picture was presented there! The dishes prepared for the feast were as they were left by the merrymakers. Many of the rich viands were as yet untouched. The evidences of a grand frolic were on every side. “This don’t look much like a wedding,” said Chub as she made room for Tom Biggers, “but you mark what I tell you. They’ll be the jolliest time here when Dan Bash gets back, as he s sure to do. ” “Don’t tain that way, Chub,” said her father sorrowfully. “Why not, dad? I feel that way, and I’m going to talk that way till Dan is found, as he’s sure to be soon.” “Tell you what,Chub,” said her father. “Let’s a|j go to bed for an hour or two and bigin again.” “After we get a little to eat, dad. Nan and Tom must be pecky, and I know I’ll be the better of a bite.” She busied herself, and while her father made a big blazing fire in a few minutes, Chub soon had a pot of tea ready, which they all appreciated, and after eating heartily they all ret red for an hour or two of sound rest As Chub lay sleeping she had a strange dream.

She thought she was walking on a bright morning a ong a mountain path. The path seemed natural at first, but as Chub strolled on she realized that it was a strange freak of nature. It was not a path at all. It was a channel cut in the rocks—a cleft. The vines grew in it; the sun shone straight dqwn in it, but she could not see on either side. She could see the tops of the trees. She heard the birds clearlyfelt the breeze blow her hair. Then something seemed to hold her there. She was-unable to go forward or back. She was paralyzed. She was not afraid, however. She simply wondered what was the matter. Then she discovered suddenly that the vines formed a vast network; they held her arms, her feet She was like one tied, bound hand and foot. She could not move a finger. She was crying out for help when she awoke. “What is ft, Chub?” It was her father’s voice calling her. “O! I’ve had such a strange dream, dad.” Then Chub got up and dressed herself with nervous haste. Hank rose at once too, and soon their guest joined them. “I've had the strangest dream, dad. I know where Dan is now.” “Where is he, Chub?” “He’s caught —he’s held fast somewhere. Them Monks, I reckon, can tell. Leastways we’ll hunt ’em up, right away now, and make them talk. ” The breakfast was speedily prepared. They were so anxious to resume the inquiry that they ate sparingly. Then they saw to tbeir horses, and half an hour later they were on the road, and at the Corners The sun was hours h’gh, and all was bustle at the Corners, where Eli Potts was waiting on his customers at the bar, and his wife Susan was scolding her help ior not being able to waft on her eust imers as fast as breakfast was called for. Manv were late callers —si c i a rush was never known at the Corners Tavern before since Eli Potts took charge of it As Chub and her father rode up they beheld a number of horse- and men near the tavern. Chief among tne group was Ned Monk, and a little distance from him was his brother Bill. A little further from the main group, Pete Monk stood talking with Bob Squatty. Besides these three, there were one or two others who were associates of the Monks The crowd were talking of the mysterious disappearance of Dan Bash Nobody made any pretense of conceal-

ment The entire county was aroused now. Pine County wa9 excited as it had never been excited by anything before. The crowd of loungers looked at Hank Dawson and his daughter and Tom Biggers as they rode up and dismounted. Hank was in quest of news—others sought to learu from him whether anything had been discovered that would throw light on the strange case. Chub Dawson addressed those whom she was intimate with cheerfully and hopefully. Thdre was a sparkle in her bright eyes as she glanced at the Monks, who affected indifference. The indifference was poorly assumed. They felt uneasy, and to make up for lack of ease, they talked very loud. They had been drinking freely too. early as it was. They all swaggered more or less, as was their wont The latest comer in quest of news, and on the lookout for fresh developements in the mystery that thrilled all Pine County, had been served. Eli Potts and his wife stood at the door. The dozen or more loungers on the porch, and the half score leaning on the bars and around their horses, were suddely startled by Chub Dawson, who said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all there: “Now, dad, I reckon it’s time to talk to the Monks.” Ned and Bill Monks suddenly stood shoulder to shoulder. Pete and Squatty shuffled up behind them. “We are right here,” said Ned Monk. “Anybody kin talk to ns,” added Bill, with a sly look and a strange smile that made his countenance, evil as it was, appear more villainous. “Humph!” exclaimed Hank Dawson dryly, “you're most too ready, for the majority as knows you, Bill.” Then pausing to add effect to his words, he added, “and as for being here when you're wanted —by gum! it’s the first time I ever lcuow'd you to be on hand when you was wanted for anythin’ useful, Nod Monk.” The Monks exchanged looks of rage, while the listeners laughed at the thrust the brawny blacksmith gave them. As for Hank Dawson, he laughed himself, laughed loudly. Then he changed his mood suddenly. Turning to Ned and Bill Monk sternly, he said: “Now, then! what have you done with Dan Bash?” The crowd approached, gathered closer around the principals of this strange scene. They foresaw something extraordinary. “Answer me! Say it right out now! and mind —mind what yon say, for you’re in mighty close quarters!” The giant of Pine County faced them as if he felt able to deal with the Monk gang individually and collectively. “Say, out with it! What have you done with Dan Bash?” Bill Monk looked at Ned, Ned looked at Bill, then Bill cleared his throat, put a bold face on, and said: “I reckon that’s a question you can answer; you seem to know. ” [to ue continued.]