Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 May 1891 — CHUB. [ARTICLE]

CHUB.

A Romance of West Virginia.

BY DAVID LOWRY.

CHAPTER XIII. THE CLIMAX AT THE CORNERS. ■“Well, I will give you an opportunity first.” The crowd pricked up their ears. “Wlhat were you doing on the road near Biggers’ about three o’clock this morning?” ■“Wlho says we werewi the road?” “Am e-wer. ” ~Who says it? How’d you know it?” “I was on the road. ” “Oh, you was! What was you doin’ on the road, the®? Didn't you tell the folks you’d stop till daylight at Biglers’?” “Yes.’” “But you didn’t. ” “IN©? Least my recollection is I met one of youT gang on the way home. ” “Well, why don’t you tell why you said one thing and did another?” “You haven’t answered my question.” “Nor you mine.” “You deny being on the road.” “I can prove we weren’t. ” “How? All of your associates will ■swear it, will they?” “No matter—l can prove I wasn’t on the road, nor five miies near Biggers’, if that’s pla,in enough. ” “Well, I suppose you don’t know who shot Tom Biggers’ dog along about three this morning?” “Didn't know it was shot. ” “Yon didn’t shoot it?” “No.” “Nor your brother Ned, nor Pete, nor fSq.uatty there?” “I guess not- May be the dog shot ihisself.” The Monks laughed mow. It was very funny. “Say, Hank Dawson, how do you know Dan Bash didn't run ioff— kind a rued, am’ lit nut in time?” “Wihat<k> you mean, Bill Monk? Put it in plain words. ” “Why ’taint the first time a man’s changed his mind. And if he did, whose business is it, ’cept yours? The hull county ain’t interested im it, or oughtn’t to foe” “No! Very true My friends might be. Weil, any more, Bill? Speak freely now wkatsoever's in your mind. ” “Since yon want to know, I think—and there's more’n me thinks it’s nighty curias how a chap nobody knows anythin' about, ceptin' he’s spry an’ sharp an’ a erack shot and jumper, can come here an’ get a school, an’ put on a heap o’ airs over people as were here afore he was born.” “Yes,” said Ned Monk. “Who is this here Dan Bush anyhow? Nobody knows where he come from, ao they? Don’t know if he has folks, or whether he hain’t something to keep dark about, and sneaked off up here in the mountains, where nobody would think of looking for him. ” “Lots o’ people are saying just the same thing, Hank Dawson,” said Bill Monk, with an ug.y leer at those nearest him. “Are you through now?” inquired Chub Dawson, quietly. The Monks stepped closer together; there was a movement as though they were preparing for an attack. “O, don’t mind your pistols and knives just yet. Let’s talk a little longer. You, Ned and Bill Monk you know you tried to murder Dan Bash once. You dare not deny it ” “O, pshaw! you mean the fight we had that day right here. ” “No, I don’t. I mean when you two and one of your gang laid among the bushes by the spring, and when Ned aimed at Dan, I scared him, shooting over his head. When you jumped out on the road with a knife on Dan, and the coward with you had a club. But I shot your arm—you dare not bare It now—and Dan and me drove you three down the road like dogs.” . As Chub uttered these words, she extended her hand toward the Monks, who fell back in dismay. They rallied, however, again, and Bill Monk laughed—a hard, unnatural laugh it was. "Go on! Why, that’s as good as what

a clown tells tn the circus. But. it’s a lie— a He ««* of whole cloth, Chub Dawaonl* “Very well I suppose you are ready to swear now you weren’t on the road this morning?” “Of course we will swear it—and prove it!* “And you didn’t see Dan Bash?” “No.” “Not since the day he rode over from Biggers’?” “No.” “You didn’t look for him?” “No. ’Twan't none of our business. You was lookin’ for him. ” “You hadn’t any one out on the road, neither?” “Nary one. ” “Didn’t kill Biggers’ dog?” “I’m glad It’s dead though, for it bit me once. ” “There’s a good many witnesses herp—mind what the Monks say, ” said Chub, calmly. “Now, then," said Chub, suddenly, as she stepped back and grasped her rifle from Eli Potts’ hand, “throw up your hands!” As the two Monks facing her obeyed reluctantly, Pete and one or two of the gang found themselves covered with rifles drawn by the crowd. Then Chub addressed herself to the •crowd: “Take their knives and guns, boys.” The Monks were speedily disarmed. “Squatty, come here!” Squatty approached her in fear. His cheeks were pale—his hand trembled. The Monks looked at him curiously. “Squatty, you can choose now. Will you keep your promise, or will you take your chances with the Monks. Choose quick. The Sheriff will soon take a hand in this matter.” “He ought to be at my house now, ” said Hank Dawson, coolly. “Least that was our understanding.” “No matter, dad. If the Sheriff's lost his way, or anything’s happened him or his horse, I reckon you and I can take them into the town,” said Chub, calmly. “You’ll wish you hadn’t, Chub,” said Bill Monk. “Squatty. ” Squatty stood beside her. “Did the Monks send you upon the road to our house between two and three this morning?” “Don’t ask me. ” “Yes, or no!” thundered Hank Dawson. “Yes. ” “It’s a lie!” said Bill Monk. “It’s true —1 caught him with the help of my dog.” said Tom Biggers. “And I’ll swear It in court,” added Hank Dawson. The Monks turned wrathfully upon him and scowled. “I tell you, we never touched Dan Bash. We don’t know anything about him, and Squatty’s lying if he says we do.” “Wait till he does say it,” replied Chub, calmly. “He only confesses you sent him on the road. That proves you are interested. ” “Nobody will believe Squatty.” “When we swear the same thing may be they will,” said Tom Biggers. “Now, then, Squatty; look me in the eye.” Poor Squatty could with difficulty obey Chub. “Were you at the spring on the day Ned and Bill Monk planned to kill Dan Bash?” “Don’t ask me —don’t. ” “Yes or no!” said Hank Dawson. “I—l —l was.” “You was in the plot?” “I—l was.” “But when I suspected what they were up to, and followed Dan—cutting across the near way—did or did I not shoot Bill Monk’s arm; and then he, and you, and Ned were afraid to fight us both, or of the consequences if they killed me and Dan—and they and you slunk off. Is that true or not, Squatty?” “It's the God’s truth; but they’ll kill me for telling Ohub." “We’ll see to that. Now. then, dad, if the sheriff doesn’t show up in five minutes, you'd best take the whole gang to town.* As she ceased speaking, a horse's hoofs were heard clankering along the stony road, and the sheriff was soon in the midst of the excited crowd. “I'm an hour late. Some whelp’s been foolin’ with my horse. I had to get Another on the road,” said the sheriff. “Maybe the Monks will explain it,” said Chub, pointing to them. “I shouldn’t wonder a unite, ” said the sheriff* “Take ’em along. Sheriff. I’ll be in town in time to see they don’t get out on straw bail. Mind —the charge is—murder!” “Hem! You make it?” “No! I do,” said Chub. “It’s all the same. Sheriff,” said Hank Dawson, with a smile. “Yes, it’s in the family,” said the sheriff. Now then—l’m ready to move on.” And soon the sheriff, with a strong guard of volunteers, rode off to the town with the Monks and Squatty, who was held both as a principal and witness. CHAPTER XIV. THE COUNTERFEIT BANK NOTE. “I reckon that was the best way out of it,” said Hank Dawson slowly as the sheriff disappeared with his prisoners. “We’ve got to makes a light sooner or later with that gang. But I don’t like the way they talked about Dan Bash. It was most too true, Chub. ” “What, dad?” They were alone now. Tom Biggers had gone off with the sheriff. “Why, about Dan's poop e. We never knew nuthin’ about his folks much. He never talked about them. ” “No. But ’twasn’t because he hadn't reason to be proud of them. ” “How do you know. Chub?” “Well, dad, I couldn't just tell yon—but I know. He’d smile curiously when he spoke about the great folks he’d met. You make up your mind, his folks are above the common.” “I hope so, Chub—for your sake. ” “But I know it, dad—there’s ways of finding out a girl can’t just explain. You’ll sqe Dan’s folks are tip-top. And Dan's good as gold. ” “Oh, Dan's all right himself, Chub. ” “And he's not dead; I said murder — but I meant the plot to kill him—and to hold them till he is found—as he will De. ” At that moment a traveler on a horse that looked as if it was hard ridden, stopped at the Corn' rs tavern and dismounting entered and called for some liquor. Eli Potts waited on him, and the traveler was leaving the door with his wallet in h;s hand when he suddenly ■topped. “Hello! What's this?" He turned, and EH, who had followed

him to the door, looked at him In astonishment as he held up a bank note. “Eh? Ain't it good?” “Good? Look at it" Eli looked at it closely. “That’s good as wheat Good as wheat ” Chub signed to her father quickly. Hank moved to Ell. .“Let me look at it EH.” “Well?” The traveler regarded Hank attentively. Then he glanced at Chub and bowed slightly. “I think it’s good. It’s a little worn—-ragged-like—but I’ve seen worse printed notes than that sir.” “So have I. ” The stranger looked very soberly at Eli Potts now. The blood mounted to the landlord’s cheeks. “You—you—you don’t think ” “I’m paid to think. ” “Pshaw! That’s good enough, but if you don’t like it, I’ll give you another.” “No. This will do me. Your name is Potts?” “Yes; Eli Potts, and I don’t care who knows it, and I ain’t carin’ for any one’s opinion. I can live or get along without keepin’ tavern, and I don’t pass no bad money. ” “I didn’t say you did.” “Yes, you did. You’ve as good as said it’s bad. ’Tain’t like the times when we’d State banks, • and the bank busted. You insinuated it wasn’t genooine.” “It isn’t.” EH recoiled in alarm. His wife came to the door. “What is it, Eli’” “This man says I’ve put a counterfeit note onto him—a counterfeit ten-dollar note He gave me a twenty to change —said he’d no small change—and now he says ” Here Eli’s anger choked him. “Don't get in a passion. Keep your shirt on, Mr. Potts. Keep cool; I’m cool.” “Nobody said you was passing counterfeit money.” “Will yon allow me to see the note?” said Chub, suddenly. The stranger handed it to her, keeping a keen eye on her all the while. “It looks all right,” said Chub, handing it back to the traveler, who carefully deposited it in his pocketbook. “Mr. Potts, you know who gave it to you?” said Chub. “To be sure I do; so does Susan here. She seen me make the change for that ten —she brought me the bills. ” “Then you have no hesitation in telling who gave it to you?” The stranger looked at EH keenly. “None in the least” “And you,” to Mrs Potts, “can explain all the circumstances?” “Why, to be sure. ” “Then how was it?” “Why, the man that gave Eli the bill laid it on top of the bar'l there—l seed it. And Elf said to me, ‘You bring me change for that money.’ Isays, ‘ls it a ten?’ And he said ’twas. I brought the bills to Eli. and when he put the ten in his pocketbook I looked at the money, and that was the solitary ten-dollar note in the pile.” “That’s plain. Will you swear to that, madam?” “I reckon—if it's necessary." “Who gave you the ten-dollar note, Mr. Potts?” It was Cnub's voice cutting in clear and brisk. “Why, ’twas just Bill Monk.” “I thought so.” The stranger turned and looked at her now keenly. “Why did you think so?” “Excuse me, sir. You are a stranger to me.” The traveler smiled, then said in an indifferent manner: “There’s a good deal of counterfeit money circulating in the middle of the State —not much in Pine County, but there’s the marks of Pine County on the make.” “What's that?” said Hank Dawson quickly. “I say there's reason to believe there’s a factory up here, or a place where it is collected for distribution. “Are you a Government officer?” said Chub quickly. The man smiled again. “lam not .at liberty to answer that question. Supposing 1 am, what then?” “We could help you find the factory, I think,” said Chub, in low tones. “There's money in it if you do. ” “I don't want money. I’ve more than I can use now.” Chub looked disdainfully at the stranger. “I beg your pardon, miss. ” *N© offense. You don't know us, I reckon, that's all.” “This Monk —is he ” “We’ve just sent him to town with the Sheriff on account of Dan Bash. * “Dan Bash!” “Yes —what do you know of Dan Bash?” “What do you know?” “Me—oh! I’ve just heard of him, that’s aIL You know him, then?” “Everybody in Pine County knew we were to be married last Wednesday.” “Yes,” said Hank Dawson. “He has disappeared. We think the Monks made way with him. They had quarreled lrom the time Bash came here.” “Hum. So —just so.” The traveler was making mental notes of the father and daughter. The notes read thus: “As straight as a die —and fearless. Pluck and grit—and enormous grip all over him. Great beauty—splendid form! Like her father—only quicker. Die for their friends and never squeal once.” But aloud he said, in very calm tones, “Mr. Potts —it will be necessary for you to explain how you came bjr this note. I shall arrest you—don’t be alarmed —a mere matter of form—your friend here, Mr. ” “Dawson. ” “Dawson will bail you—then I will make regular charges against Mr. Bill Monk, and ” “If you’ll be guided by me,” said Chun, “you'll do nothing of the sort.” “Eh! —how?” “I said you’ll put your foot in it if you go about it in that way." “Well, then, will you be able to give me a better plan?” “Easily. ” “Pray inform me. ” “I will. Mr. Potts, please step outside with dad and ihe—Mrs. Pqtts can attend to the house —and she mustn’t speak a word of this.” “Indeed, I won’t—mercy knows I shan't, ” said Mrs. Potts. Then Eli Potts, the traveler, and Chub stood beside Hank Dawson, in close deliberation. [to B£ CONTINUED.] This country is so rich that the fingers of all its washer-women are full of wrings.