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Chevrons
By LEONARD NASON
' %
ILLUSTRATIONS BY !
IRWIN MYERS, D.S.C.
Copyright by George H. Dorau Company. j
WNU Service
CHAPTER X
J
f
Home.
FROM a little way south of I3or
deau almost to the Spanish
border stretches a desolate waste!
of sand, forested with pitch pine. I
Shepherds live there and gatherers
of pitch, and a few fisherman and
during the war the French estab
lished training camps for their Sen
egalese and Annamite battalions
among the pines. The poorest,
intfst out of the way, and the worst
constructed of these camps was Le
Corueau.
o'■ A man stood at the main gate of
the camp in the early hoars of the
morning, watching the details going!
out to work, and the companies be-j
ing marched to drill. The man wasi
Sergeant Kadie and it was the
morning after his arrival at Let
Corueau. It was cold, a damp, raw!
wind that kept the thermometer j
hovering around the freezing pointi
drove before it a cold rain, and the!
marching men bent their heads
against it. What a useless thing an
overseas cap In a rain!
Eadie had breakfasted on sour
hash and bacon, with a cupful of cof
fee grounds to wash It down with. He
hud slept in his clothes and over
coat, but even then he had been
cold. First call from drill bad
blown, and then assembly, but Ea
;rv. die bad not assisted at roll call. Fit
£ bad been in this camp before and
be knew that it would be se 'eral
days before his name would appear
on the roster. He had also gone
away from this camp the last time
without the formality of a travel
order.
“F think I’ll do it again,” mnt
■ tered the sergeant. ‘‘It’s cold,
though, now, and the trains don’t
run to the front any more. Where j
would a guy go?”
J" Yet why rush away? He had
, dnly been here n few hours. They 1
'1 might be going to send him home
from here after all. Le Corneau j
was the artillery replacement camp!
: for the A. E. F. mid would be tin 1
logical plac to send an artillery-1
maw who had.no outfit. He couldn’t
expect to go home all by himself,
like a returning tourist. And his
nurse friend had said she had seen
his name on the order to go home.
Yell, but when? The whole A. E. F.,
was going home some day.
Eadie faced the other way and I
looked at tin wall of forest across J
the road. The last time he had j
been here be used to go into those!
woods every day and lie up under i
the pines until the hopr for drill j
was over. It had been summer then :
and warm. The pines looked dreary i
enough now. dripping,with rain and !
swaying in the wind. Still the ser- j
geant had better be getting under'
cover, for a man standing about I
with no evident purpose would be j
the prey of the first oflicer that '
went by in search of some one to
cut kindling wood or dig a laterine,
no matter it the man had as many
stripes as u zebra on his arm. Ea
die turned and moved out of the
gate to the road, where lie stopped
to consider the best route to take.!
"(Jet the h—1 back inside' that
gate!” 4
horsemen there, that, riding on lliei
grass beside the road. had ap
proached without his hearing them. (
They were armed with pistols and;
had rifles in their gun boots.
"Gwan!” snarled the mnn again.
“G—d d—n you, get lie h—1 back
there! Where the li—I do you
think you are, anyway?”
Eadie still looked at the two
men. They were not military po
lice, for they wore no brassards.,
They had campaign hats, with ro(l|
hat cords, and must be a part of;
the permanent personnel of the
camp. They had heavy, unintelli-j
gent faces and cruel mouths with
tobacco-stained lips. One of the:
men spurred bis liorse toward the'
sergeant and kicked at him"savage-1
, ly with his spurred heel/ Eadie!
turned and went back inside the |
gate. What good would it do him
to stay in the road to resist those!
two brutes? The guardhouse, per-1
haps. Even suppose he hurled a
^ rock at one of them, the other
\ would shoot him down. “Killed by I
accident.” the casualty list would j
read. A fine ending to a military!
career. The mounted men looked
at him n minute or two and then I
rode on.
“They’re a fine pair o’ birds, ain't
they?”
Eadie turned. Another soldier j
stood beside him, a red-faced man.j
Older than Eadie, and this man
ft Iso wore the campaign hat that I
marked him os a member of the |
camp personnel.
“Them kind o’ guys are springin'
up oil over France,” observed tlie i
man without waiting for (Sadie's j
answer. “The war is over an’ they1
ain’t afraid of bein’ sent to the
lines any more. War Is hell, but it |
ain’t got nothin’ on peace.”
'Til say,” agreed Eadie. *Tvo
seen hard-boiled RI. P.’s In my time,
hut i alwoy ki ew that under his
hard-boiled skin the M. P. was just |
a soldier trying to keep himself out
of the guardhouse like Hie rest of*
us. But those two slave drivers!
They’re brutes, that’s the word.
Imagine Americans putting thugs
like that to guard other Ameri
cans!”
“How long yuh been here?”
grinned the other nmn.
*w*v **i've just come," said Eadie. "I
was here last summer and went
over the hill to get away. I’m going
to do it again.” . _ . __
“Don’t.'' sni<l the other man so
berly. “The guys tlint’s A. \V. O. L.
is S. O. L. now. The first thing
they do when they entoh ynh is to
pass yuh a heatin’. There was a
buddy o’ mine that went up to Bor
deaux an’ hadn’t tnore’n got off the
train before they had him. He was
in the Casino de Lilas a month, jug
gin’ rails all day. Then he got
sent down here an’ got three
months more for hein’ absent in
Bordeaux. It didn’t make no dif
ference that he was in the mill up
there; he was gone a month on’
that was enough.’’
“Well, what do they do with the
men here now?’’ asked Eadie.
“Flow long do they keep a guy
here? They used 10 send up re
placements every week, hut they
don’t need replacements any more.”
“They send wounded men here
for classification,” said the other.
“A guy in A class goes back to Ids
outfit, B gets duty in an cflice or
gets a job in a camp like this, C
gets convalescent camp, an’ D gets
sent home right off. You’ll he
goin’ over ln‘>, day or two If you
come in yesterday. The doc looks
’em over.”
►Suppose a guy gets D class, how
long before he’d go home?” '
‘‘Oh,” said the other, “if you got
D now you ought to bo home for
Fourth of July. How long did it
take to get the A. E. F. to France?
Nigh to two years. How they gon
na get ’em home any quicker?”
“I guess it’s going to be a hard
winter!” remarked Kadie sadly.
“Jt is that.” agreed the other,
“but if you go try ill* to get away
an’ get caught, it’ll be lots harder!”
ICadie went back to the cold bar
racks. The lints were unheated
and, in addition, open to any wan
dering breeze. The weather was
just cold enough to be raw and un
comfortable, like a rainy day in
late September at home. Men sat
about on the double deck bunks,
their hands plunged into their coat
pockets and their heads sunk into
their coat collars. They were all
strangers to each other and no one
felt like making friends with his
neighbor. Each wanted to he alone
with his own black thoughts.
A meager dinner of slum began
the afternoon. After dinner the
well men marched sullenly away to
drill and the sick, lame, and iazy
slunk hack to the cheerless huts.
The third day of his stay in Le
Corneau Kadie was summoned to
the company office and ordered to
report to the hospital for classifi
cation.
“Suppose a guy is classified defi
nitely,” Kadie asked the clerk, “how
long before he gets shoved out of
here?”
“That depends on the classifica
tion. If he gets D or <J lie’s liable
to be here for some time.”
“And A or B?”
“They get sent, out pretty soon.”
said the clerk “We’re always get
ting calls for men.”
Kadie thought deeply as he
tramped across the camp to the
hospital. Desertion from the camp
was impossible, lie had made sure
of that. The roads, were patrolled
by cavalry, the camp provost de
tachment. military police- and de
tachments furnished by the main
guard. On the other band, life in
I be camp was intolerable. It had
been bud enough when be had been
there the first time, but now the
type of soldier had changed. Be
fore, the men had been the average
American wounded, from the Reg
ular and National CJuard divisions,
volunteers, every one of them. Now
the camp was filled with the scum
of every nation on the face of the
earth, the dregs of the famous
American melting pot that the long
arm of the draft had stirred up.
There were henvy-jowled, stolid
Greeks, round-headed filthy Rus
sian Jews, Italians of the lowest
sort, a crowd of men that scarcely
spoke English, dirty, undisciplined
ignorant men who addressed an
officer as “boss” and a sergeant as
‘‘He.v, Jack!” They lived and ate
and slept like animals and the
sight of them smacking and crunch
ing their food would turn even a
soldier’s stomach. What then
could a man do? To go over the
hill meant disaster, and to stay was
impossible. Still, there might’ be a
way. A man that could make his
way through the woods at night In
enemy territory ought to be able
to elude a few police. But where
to go? Where was the outfit? The
outfit!
“1 m going bael;, b.v c;—d m cried
Eadie suddenly. “Why dicin’. I
think of it before?" Me’walked on
more briskly. But could It be done?
lie was still .very weak, ho slept
every afternoon, and a walk from
the barracks to (lie comp gate ex
hausted him. And bow about home,
where a man could take off Ills uni
form and forget it all?”
"Nix." said Endie aloud. “I'm a
noncommissioned officer of the lleg
ular army and wherever my bunk
Is, is homo to me."
lie went into the hospital, into a
large room full of men and he re
moved his clothes as the other
men had. Three doctors stood In
tlte circle of naked men, ami the
men went through various exer
cises, rising on their toes, extend
ing their arms, bending down, all
with the Intention of displaying any
loss of movement to the three doc
tors. Then the men leaped up and
down In place for some time, and
after that the doctors went about
with stethoscopes listening to
hearts and asking each man [he na
ture of his wound. The doctor
paused before Eadie and poked Ids
sc. r with n stubby linger.
"What gave you that?” asked the
doctor.
"Appendicitis,” replied Eadie.
“Hmmm. They did n poor Job on
yeu. How do you feel?” * ’
"Fine," replied Eadie.
"Want to go back to your outfit?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant.
“Put him down 'A,'” directed the
doctor, and went on to the next
man.
A week at he Corneau I Was
there any hell of battle to be com
pared to It? No. But the week
dually passed and on the eighth
day Eadie found himself acting first
sergeant of a detachment of r*
\
placements for the Army of Oreo
pation. They went away early in
the afternoon in third-class car.*
and Endie began his third jo.irnej
to rejoin his buttery. It was not
like the old wartime trips, with a
trainload of shouting, singing , sol
diers full of red wine and getting
fuller every time the train stopped
with men failing out of ears and off
the roofs and losing the train at
stations and appearing at the next
stop, having caught an express, and
finally disappearing for good. No.
times had changed. Every station
was guarded by an inflexible bar
rage of police. Where the tank
cars full of red wine used to stand
unguarded there were now railway
employees still in the blue of the
army, and wise to all the tricks of
the soldiers. No more was there
that rough bon cnmnrade spirit,
the “soldiers all and to h—1 with
civilians,” that Ead*e had known.
Every one was disgusted, every
one begrudging every minute he
spent in uniform. At Metz the
Beene suddenly changed. The^
slouchy French in civilian clothes
and army overcoat that crowded
the station platforms disappeared,
and in their place appeared very
snappy soldiers with bayoneted
rifles, chasseurs a I pi ns, tirailleurs,
colonials in red bats, Senegalese, oc
casional British, and then, Anally,
Americans, alert, clean, well
dressed, shaven, shoes polished in
spite of the mud, men to make an
other American weep tears of joy.
Gone were the round heads, the
curly heads, and the dirty heads.
Americans, well-kept, in new, finely
fitting uniforms. Eadie took off his I
overcoat and looked critically at
his own salvage blouse and
breeches. Well, he would he paid
at tlie outfit and then he was going,
to buy himself a new uniform, from
putts to cap.
stripes, sergeant?” asked one of the
men in the compartment.
“I was wounded twice,” replied
Eadie coldly.
“Oh,” said the other. The other
men all grinned.
“It ain’t nothin’ to us,” said a
man in the corner, grinning, “only
look out when you get to the out
fit. I heard you tell the doctor you
had appendicitis.”
The next day the train rattled
through suburbs that reminded a
man vaguely of St. Louis or In
dianapolis, clattered over a great
iron bridge and came to a halt. The
place swarmed with Americans. It
was Coblenz, the headquarters of
the Army of Occupation.
“What’s the next stop?” Eadte
asked the driver.
“Brigade headquarters,” ah*
swered the driver shortly.
They rattled through the streets
and finally came out info the snow
clad country. Eadie turned up the
collar of his overcoat and shivered.
“Bow's the soldiering here?” be
asked.
“’Tain’t bad," replied the driver.
“It’s better'd it was in France. You
a replacement?”
“No,” said Eadie, “I was wound
ed.”
“Where was you wounded?” de
manded the driver suspiciously, so
that Eadie gasped at his vehem
ence.
“Why, In the Argonne.'” an
swered Eadie, aghast. “At Mont
fa neon.”
“Huh,” grunted the driver, “you
don’t look it.”
“Well, I was. I’ll show you the
wound if you want to see it.”
“I don’t want to see it,” said the
driver. “It ain’t nothin’ to me, ^nly
every goldbrick an’ camoufluger an’
sick an’ lame an’ lazy gimmick that
ever heard o’ the Third division Is
coinin’ back now that the war is
over. ‘Lots o’ beer an’ frauleins in
Germany, let’s go,’ they say, and
they come outta their holes where
they been ail through the war an’
comes back here with some line o’
bull they was wounded or in bos
pital or somethin’. Huh!”
! Eadie made no reply and the
truck covered several kilometers.
“Another thing that riles me,”
said the driver, “is that these here
.Johns show up with their arms ail
plastered with wound stripes, and
gold stars, and canteen medals on
their chests and fourrageres and
God knows what, and not a d—n
one of ’em rates nrv IliimM Well
the provest marshal Is out for ’em
now. If a man ain’t got an order j
for a stripe or a medal right in his |
pocket, he don’t wear it.”
“Listen,” said Eadie. “What’s the !
idea of popping oiT at me? I was |
wounded and back at the front [
again while you were still trying j
to make up your mind who the war |
was with. And I’m rankest ser
geant of battery A of the Seventy
ninth and I can put any man in
this division in the can, too. 1 was
wounded right in back of the guns
and the whole d—d First battalion
saw me get it. Now! What do you
think of that for gooseberries?”
“I wasn’t say In' nothin’ about
you,” said the driver. “A man’s got
a right to speak his mind, ain’t he?
You got on two wound stripes. I j
seen ’em when you was puttin’ on
your coat. How the h—I cam a
man get two wound stripes between)
July and November and still get I
back to Itis outfit at New Year’s?”
“One of ’cm’s for appendicitis!’
said a voice from the buck of the)
truck.
The driver blew his horn and
shifted gears for a long hill.
Brigade headquarters was in ai
small town, a clean, whitewashed,
low-eaved [dace, where stiff-hacked
soldiers marched solemnly down
the street, coming hack from drill;
stern sentries with bayoneted rilles
were everywhere, and stolid Ger
mans looked curiously at Ladle. 11
he grinned back at them they
smiled and chuckled and bobbed
their heads with delighL At brigade
headquarters Eadie gave his name
and they sent him with an orderly
down the street to n ration dump,
from which a truck was soon leay-/
ing for ills battalion, quartered in a
neighboring town.
Again Eadie mounted the driver's
seat, again the truck grunted and'
banged its way out of town and
through the snow-covered fields'
tgaflle was alone and the back 01
the truck full of rations, so that fits
Titling i ho font dhl not proclaim
Itiui a noncom.
“What omfit .vuli out of. buddy?”
asked the new driver after a while.
“A,” replied Fadic from his. coat
collar.
“Wounded?” asked the driver.
“No I” harked Fadie, “I’m a re
placement.”
‘‘Funny/’ commented the driver,
“you look a lot like a sergeant out*
ta A that got wounded.”
They passed a held where a
mounted hand was formed on white
horses. The leader’s saber glit
tered.
“Itegimental call, adjutant’s call,”
t*.o command came clearly across
the snow. The saber dropped and
the-‘cold cry of the trumpets blared.
Fadie’s skin prickled. Efts band I
That was his out (it's hand!
“You e’n "it off here,” tho driver
said, slowing down the truck. “The
r\ (’. is right down that street.”
Kadie got down and then, pack in
hand, looked around.
“By G—d, if it ain’t him!” cried
two voices simultaneously.
“I told yuh he’d never die,” said
a third. Faille turned. Ham. Bal
rty and Short Mack fell upon his
neck.
cried I In in. ‘'Here we been here
iwo months mi’ through li—1 mi*
just ns they begin to let up on us
n bit, you come:”
“Come on down to the club.*’said
1 hi lily. “The noncoms rale u spe
cial mess an* bein’ all sergeants
now, we can talk there easier than
here. I been made since 1 seen you
last. Did you have much of a time
with that wound?”
“Tell the truth an’ say ‘no,’” ad
vised Short .Mack as they went
down the street. “Tell the truth, it
didn’t no mere than knock the* wind
out of yuh.”
They entered a house a short dis
tance down the street. It bore all
the marks of a barroom, but inside
was clean and warm.
A strongly built, blue-eyed girl
appeared and grinned at the four
men. “Her mother's the cook,” ex
plained Ham.
“Vier bier!” ordered Short, sit
ting down at the long table.
“Schnell!” added ltaldy.
“Wie gehts?” asked Ilam. The
three turned their eyes question
ingl.v on Eadie, as if to say, “What*
dyuh think o’ that for German,
kid?”
“.\nd you birds all speak German
now!” exclaimed Eadie with ad
miration.
“It was tough lenrnin’ it,” said
Ham. “There was a time when if
you batted an eye at a German,
man or woman, the mill and a six
months’ blind for you. It’s changed
n little now. The orders is still on,
but we got so we can beat ’em now
an’ then. You sure come back in u
good time.”
“Boy. you wore lucky you didn’t
make the march into Germany with
us!” cried Short. “No goldbricking
behind the caisson then. We
■ changed colonels .hist before we
A Strongly Built, Blue-Eyed Girl |
Appeared and Grinned at the
Four Men.
started and the one we got was j
rarin* to make us snjip out of if.
You'd never know some o’ the ofli
cers, they got so hard-boiled over
night.”
“It makes a different with a guv
when lie knows that there’s no
chance o’ some one’s easin’ a bullet
into him in the excitement o’ the
fight!” remarked Baldy.
“It ain’t had now,” said Ham.
“Eadie, you're In luck. They’re
d.iliin’ us as if they were gettin
ready for another war, but there’s
a new rumor out that we're goin’
home, so maybe it won’t last long."
“Eadie, you was always lons.v
with luck,” remarked Short. “We
used to thin1 of you when we was
hikin’ through/the cold rain, tired
an’ hungry, an’ It gettin’ dark an
the guns an’ carriages to wash an’
horses to water before we’d gel any
sleep, an’ you snug an’ warm in a
white bed boldin’ a good-lookin’
nurse’s hand!”
Eadie grunted. It was warm In
lhe room and he arose and removed
his overcoat. Then he sat down
again, resting his arms on the
t°ble. The beer arrived, but no one
drank. They were nil looking at
Sadie's sleeve. On his right cull
was the mark of stripes, such ns
one sees on the sleeve of n newly
busted noncom. There were Utile
bitn of thread there and a tear
where the knife had slipped.
“You ain’t wenrin’ no wound
stripes?” questioned Ham, after an
embarrassed pause.
“No,” said Eadie, reaching out |
for a glass of beer. “This whole]
outfit knows 1 was wounded.” He]
took a draught of beer and
smacked Ids lips. “All you get by;
wearing wound stripes Is a lot oi|
d*eap conversation !’* £ ,]
[THE END]
NOTICE OF SALE
Under and by virtue of the
powers contained in a certain mort
gage deed, executed by Jesse Da
vis and wife Civil Annie Davis, to
The Wellons Company, on the 10
day of November, 1923, and re
corded in Book 136, at pag*e 14 of
the Registry of Johnston county,
default having been made in the
payment of the same, the under
signed will sell for. cash to the
highest bidder, at the courthouse
door in the town of Smithfield, N.
C., on Monday, January 16, 1023
at 12 o’clock M., the> following de
scribed real estate:
Beginning at a stake on the
north bank of Mill Creek Rahsom
Bryant’s coiner; thence N 2* 78
poles to a stake; thence E lOVa
poles; thence N 2 E 76 poles to a
stake, Willis Lassiter (now Tom
Holt’s) corner; thence his line N
8514 to a stake, L. L. Hines’ cor
ner; thence his line S along the
road to Mill Creek; thence down
the creek as it meanders to the
beginning* containing about 26 ac
res, more or less. Same being part
of the land devised to Sam Joyner
by W. R. Joyner.
This December 13, 1027. •
THE WELLON SCOMPANY,
Mortgagee.
WELLONS & WELLONS, Attys.
CERTIFICATE OF
DISSOLUTION
STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA,
DEPARTMENT OF STATE.
To All To Whom These Pres
ents May Come—Greeting:
WHEJiEAS, it appears to my
satisfaction, by duly authenticated
record of the proceedings for the
voluntary dissolution thereof by
the unanimous consent of all tho
stockholders, .deposited in my of
fice, that the Hamilton Realty Com
pany, a corporation of this State,
whose principal office is situated at
Smithtield, County of Johnston,
State of North Carolina (Leon G.
Stevens being the agent therein
and in charge thereof, upon whom
process may be served), has com
plied with the requirements of
Chapter 22, Consolidated Statutes,
entitled “Corporations,” prelimi
nary to the issuing of this certif
icate of dissolution:
Now therefore, I, W. N. Everett,
Secretary of State of North Caro
lina, do hereby certify that the
said corporation did, on the 6th day
of December, 1027, file in my of
fice a duly executed and attested
consent in writing to the dissolu
tion of said corporation, executed
by all tlie stockholders thereof,
which said consent and tho record
of the proceedings aforesaid are
now on lile in my said office as
provided by law.
In testimony whereof, I have
hereto set my hand and affixed my
official seal at Raleigh, this 8th
day of December, A. D. 1927.
W. N. EVERETT,
Secretary of State.
(SEAL)
NOTICE OF SALE
Under and by virtue of the pow
er of sale contained in a certain
deed of trust executed the 1st day
of April, 1927, by W. A. Eason and
wife, Lela Eason, to the undersign
ed trustee, which deed of trust is
recorded in the office of the Reg
ister of Deeds for Johnston coun
ty in Book 203, page 218; default
having been made in the payment
of the indebtedness thereby se
cured and the holder of the note
having applied to the undersigned
for a foreclosure of said deed of
trust and a sale of said land, the
undersigned trustee, will on Thurs
day, January 12, 1928 at 12 o’clock
noon, at the courthouse door in
Johnston county, N. C., expose to
public sale to the last and highest
bidder for cash, a certain tract of
land, lying and being in Johnston
county, N. C., bounded and describ
ed as follows:
Beginning at a stake on the
South side of Tims Creek,- T. M.
Wall comer, runs with TJ M.
Wall’s line 80 degrees 30’ East
2(5.80 chains to an iron stake,
Wall’s corner; thence with Wall’s
line S 8 degrees, 30 W 1900 chains
to a stake, Wall’s corner; thence
_with J. T. Ellington line to a
stake on the run of Tims Creek;
thence up said creek N 16 degrees
15’ E 2.85 chains to bend of the
creek; thence up creek N 3 de
grees E 4.40 chains; thence up
creek N 17 degrees 30’ E 2.65
chains; thence up creek N 30 de
grees 15’ E 12.24 chains; thence
up creek N 79 degrees 15’ E 2.72
chains to a stake, the point of be
ginning, containing 64.46 acres,
more or less.
This 12 day of December, 1927.
H. E. PERRY, Trustee.
CERTIFICATE OF
DISSOLUTION
STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA,
DEPARTMENT OF STATE.
To All Whom These Present's
May Come—Greetings:
Whereas, it appears to my sat
isfaction, by duly authenticated
record of the proceedings for the
voluntary dissolution thereof by
the unanimous consent of all the
stockholders, deposited in my of
fice, that the Clayton Telephone
Company, a corporation of this
state, whose principal office is sit
uated in the town of Clayton,
County of Johnston, State of North
Carolina, (Jesse C. Ellis being the
agent therein and in charge there
of, upon whom process may be
served), has complied with the
requirements of Chapter 22, Con
solidated Statutes, entitled “Cor
porations,” preliminary to the is
suing of this Certificate of Disso
lution:
Now therefore, I, W. N. Ever
ett, Secretary of State of the State
of North Carolina, do hereby cer
tify that the said corporation did,
on the 10 day of December, 1927,
file in my office a duly executed and
attested consent in writing to the
dissolution of said corporation ex
ecuted by all the stockholders
thereof, which said consent and
the record of the proceedings
aforesaid are now on file in my
said office as provided by law'.
In testimony whereof, I have
hereto set my hand and affixed my
official seal at Raleigh, this 10th
day of December, A. D. 1927.
W. N. EVERETT,
Secretary of State.
NOTICE OF LAND SALE
Under and by virtdc of author
ity contained in a certain mort
gage deed executed by C. 0. Davis
and Minnie C. Davis to Chester
field Atkinson on the 25 day of
October, 1923, which mortgage
deed is recorded in Book No. 12(T,
page 275, Registry of Johnston
county, default having been made
in the payment of the note and
the interest thereon, thereby ma
turing the entire indebtedness,
therefore the undersigned mort
gagee will offer for sale at public
auction in front of the courthous'c
:loor in Smithfield, N. C., on Mon
lay, January 16, 1928, between the
hours of 12:00 M. and 1:00 p. m.,
the following described real es
tate, to-wit:
First Tract: Beginning at a
white oak on the bank,of Little
(liver, and runs S 4Va W 91 poles
to a stake; thence N 71 Va W 91
loles to a stake on the bank of
Little River; thence up said River
:o the beginning, containing* 30
acres, more or less.
Second Tract: Beginning at a
corner in William Bass line and
*uns with it to another corner,
Mary Willoughby Tilton’s' corner;
thence West to the bank of Lit
tle River, a corner of George Wil
loughby’s land; thence East 112
poles to the beginning at a stake,
containing 30 acres, more or less.
Tliis is a purchase money mort
gage given to secure the payment
of the balance due on the purchase
price of the above described land
which has been conveyed by deed
from Chesterfield Atkinson and
wife to C. C. Davis by deed bear
ing even date with this mortgage
and reference is hereby made to
said deed and the same is hereby
made a part hereof. This is the
identical land conveyed to Chester
field Atkinson, by deed from Paul
D. Grady and wife, Lelia S. Grady,
and is known as the Pate land.
This 13th day December, 3927.
Date of sale, January 16, 1928.
Time of sale, between the hours
of 12:00 M. and 1:00 p. m.
Place of sale, courthouse door
in Smithfield, N. C.
Terms of sale, cash.
CHESTERFIELD ATKINSON,
Mortgagee. 1
NOTICE OF SALE OF VALU
ABLE LAND UNDER MORT
GAGE.
I Under and by virtue of the au
thority contained in the power of
sale of that certain mort
gage deed e x e cuted
by Henderson Sanders and wife
l Annie Sanders to S. B. Johnson,
t*h© same being duly recorded in
the Registry of Johnston county in
Book No. 173 at page 115, default
having been made in the payment
■and liquidation of the same the
undersigned mortgagee will offer
for sale for cash in front of the
| courthouse door in the town of
! Smithfield, Johnston county, on
Monday the 30 day of January, at
32 o'clock M., the following here
inafter described property, to
! wit:
Beginning at a corner Willie
Sanders and Moses Barfield’s and
runs North to a lightwood knot;
thence West to another lightwood
knot; thence south to- a lightwood
knot; thence East to a lightwood
knot; containing two (2) acfes,
more or less.
The same being a portion of lot
No. 2 in the division of the lands
of Wesley Bell, dec’d.
This 30 day of December, 1927.
S. B. JOHNSON, Mortgagee.
JOHN A. NARRON, Attorney.
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