LIGHTNIN'

BY FRANK BACON

After the Play of the Same Name by
WINCHELL SMITH and FRANK BACON

With Illustrations from
PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE PLAY

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright 1920, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published February, 1920

YOU LOOKED INTO LIGHTNIN'S SHREWDLY HUMOROUS EYES, AND YOU SMILED—SMILED WITH HIM

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX

By BOOTH TARKINGTON
By MARY ROBERTS RINEHART
By GENE STRATTON-PORTER
By ZANE GREY

ILLUSTRATIONS

You Looked into Lightnin's Shrewdly Humorous Eyes, and You Smiled—Smiled with Him

"Promise Me You Won't Sign the Deed" ... Bill Hesitated

Lightnin', in His Faded G. A. R. Uniform ... Listened Attentively

...He Took It from His Pocket, Saying, "Millie, I Want to Show You Something"

LIGHTNIN'

CHAPTER I

"Him?" the local postmaster of Calivada would say, in reply to your question about the quaint little old man who had just ambled away from the desk with a bundle of letters stuffed in his pocket. "Why, that's Lightnin' Bill Jones! We call him Lightnin' because he ain't. Nature didn't give no speed to Bill. No, sir, far as I know, Lightnin' 'ain't never done a day's work in his life—but there ain't none of us ever thinks any the less of him for that! Bill's got a way with him, an' he kin tell some mighty good yarns. Lightnin's all right!"

And when you met Bill Jones you agreed with the postmaster. You looked into Lightnin's twinkling, shrewdly humorous eyes and you smiled—smiled with him. You thought of the reply he made to a stranger who protested against his indolence.

"Well," Bill said, with that shrewd glance of his, "I ain't keepin' you from makin' a million dollars, am I?"

Old Bill was full of remarks like that, and sometimes those about him were not so sure as to his lack of speed, in spite of his aimless, easy-going habits. You never can tell from the feet alone. Those closest to him were not sure at all; he "had them guessing." There was no doubt that his wife, simple, earnest, hard-working woman that she was, loved him. She mothered him and did not seem to worry much about his shiftless ways. He was her husband, and that was enough for her. What Mrs. Jones thought of her husband's mental acumen would be another question, perhaps, but up to the present she had always consulted Bill's wishes and sought his advice. Their adopted daughter, Millie, a pretty, wholesome, brown-haired girl of nineteen, worshiped Bill. Any one who said a word against "daddy" had Millie to deal with. The third person Bill had guessing was John Marvin, a young man who owned a tract of land and a cabin a few miles down the trail. Marvin had a lot on his mind,