A CUMBERLAND VENDETTA

By John Fox Jr. 

TO MINERVA AND ELIZABETH

I

THE cave had been their hiding-place as children; it was a secret refugenow against hunger or darkness when they were hunting in the woods. Theprimitive meal was finished; ashes were raked over the red coals; theslice of bacon and the little bag of meal were hung high againstthe rock wall; and the two stepped from the cavern into a thicket ofrhododendrons. 

Parting the bushes toward the dim light, they stood on a massiveshoulder of the mountain, the river girding it far below, and theafternoon shadows at their feet. Both carried guns-the tall mountaineer, a Winchester; the boy, a squirrel rifle longer than himself. Climbingabout the rocky spur, they kept the same level over log and bowlder andthrough bushy ravine to the north. In half an hour, they ran into a paththat led up home from the river, and they stopped to rest on a cliffthat sank in a solid black wall straight under them. The sharp edge of asteep corn-field ran near, and, stripped of blade and tassel, the stalksand hooded ears looked in the coming dusk a little like monks at prayer. In the sunlight across the river the corn stood thin and frail. Overthere a drought was on it; and when drifting thistle-plumes marked thenoontide of the year, each yellow stalk had withered blades and an emptysheath. Everywhere a look of vague trouble lay upon the face of themountains, and when the wind blew, the silver of the leaves showedashen. Autumn was at hand. 

There was no physical sign of kinship between the two, half-brothersthough they were. The tall one was dark; the boy, a foundling, hadflaxen hair, and was stunted and slender. He was a dreamy-looking littlefellow, and one may easily find his like throughout the Cumberland-palerthan his fellows, from staying much indoors, with half-haunted face, andeyes that are deeply pathetic when not cunning; ignorantly credited withidiocy and uncanny powers; treated with much forbearance, some awe, anda little contempt; and suffered to do his pleasure-nothing, or much thatis strange-without comment. 

"I tell ye, Rome, " he said, taking up the thread of talk that was brokenat the cave, "when Uncle Gabe says he's afeard thar's trouble comm', hit's a-comm'; 'n' I want you to git me a Winchester. I'm a-gittin' bigenough now. I kin shoot might' nigh as good as you, 'n' whut am I fitfer with this hyeh old pawpaw pop-gun?"

"I don't want you fightin', boy, I've told ye. Y'u air too little 'n'puny, 'n' I want ye to stay home 'n' take keer o' mam 'n' the cattle-effightin' does come, I reckon thar won't be triuch. "

"Don't ye?" cried the boy, with sharp contempt--"with ole Jas Lewallena-devilin' Uncle Rufe, 'n' that blackheaded young Jas a-climbin' onstumps over thar 'cross the river, n' crowin' n' sayin' out open inHazlan that ye air afeard o him? Yes; 'n' he called me a idgit. " Theboy's voice broke into a whimper of rage. 

"Shet up, Isom! Don't you go gittin' mad now. You'll be sick ag'in. I'lltend to him when the time comes. " Rome spoke with rough kindness, butugly lines had gathered at his mouth and forehead. The boy's tears cameand went easily. He drew his sleeve across his eyes, and looked up theriver. Beyond the bend, three huge birds rose into the sunlight andfloated toward them. Close at hand, they swerved side-wise. 

"They hain't buzzards, " he said, standing up, his anger gone; "look atthem straight wings!"

Again the eagles swerved, and two shot across the river. The thirddropped with shut wings to the bare crest of a gaunt old poplar underthem. 

"Hit's a young un, Romey, " said the boy, excitedly. "He's goin' to waitthar tell the old uns come back. Gimme that gun!"

Catching up the Winchester, he slipped over the ledge; and Rome leanedsuddenly forward, looking down at the river. 

A group of horsemen had ridden around the bend, and were coming ata walk down the other shore. Every man carried something across hissaddle-bow. There was a gray horse among them--young Jasper's--and anevil shadow came into Rome's face, and quickly passed. Near a strip ofwoods the gray turned up the mountain from the party, and on its back hesaw the red glint of a woman's dress. With a half-smile he watched thescarlet figure ride from the woods, and climb slowly up through thesunny corn. On the spur above and full in the rich yellow light, shehalted, half turning in her saddle. He rose to his feet, to his fullheight, his head bare, and thrown far back between his big shoulders, and, still as statues, the man and the woman looked at each other acrossthe gulf of darkening air. A full minute the woman sat motionless, thenrode on. At the edge of the woods she stopped and turned again. 

The eagle under Rome leaped one stroke in the air, and dropped like aclod into the sea of leaves. The report of the gun and a faint cry oftriumph rose from below. It was good marksmanship, but on the cliff Romedid not heed it. Something had fluttered in the air above the girl'shead, and he laughed aloud. She was waving her bonnet at him. 

II

JUST where young Stetson stood, the mountains racing along each bank ofthe Cumberland had sent out against each other, by mutual impulse, two great spurs. At the river's brink they stopped sheer, with crestsuplifted, as though some hand at the last moment had hurled them apart, and had led the water through the breach to keep them at peace. To-daythe crags looked seamed by thwarted passion; and, sullen with firs, theymade fit symbols of the human hate about the base of each. 

When the feud began, no one knew. Even the original cause was forgotten. Both families had come as friends from Virginia long ago, and had livedas enemies nearly half a century. There was hostility before thewar, but, until then, little bloodshed. Through the hatred of change, characteristic of the mountaineer the world over, the Lewallens were forthe Union. The Stetsons owned a few slaves, and they fought for them. Peace found both still neighbors and worse foes. The war armed them, and brought back an ancestral contempt for human life; it left them aheritage of lawlessness that for mutual protection made necessary thevery means used by their feudal forefathers; personal hatred supplantedits dead issues, and with them the war went on. The Stetsons had a goodstrain of Anglo-Saxon blood, and owned valley-lands; the Lewallenskept store and made "moonshine"; so kindred and debtors and kindred andtenants were arrayed with one or the other leader, and gradually theretainers of both settled on one or the other side of the river. In timeof hostility the Cumberland came to be the boundary between life anddeath for the dwellers on each shore. It was feudalism born again. 

Above one of the spurs each family had its home; the Stetsons, underthe seared face of Thunderstruck Knob; the Lewallens, just beneath thewooded rim of Wolf's Head. The eaves and chimney of each cabin werefaintly visible from the porch of the other. The first light touched thehouse of the Stetsons; the last, the Lewallen cabin. So there were timeswhen the one could not turn to the sunrise nor the other to the sunsetbut with a curse in his heart, for his eye must fall on the home of hisenemy. 

For years there had been peace. The death of Rome Stetson's father fromambush, and the fight in the court-house square, had forced it. Afterthat fight only four were left-old Jasper Lewallen and young Jasper, theboy Rome and his uncle, Rufe Stetson. Then Rufe fled to the West, andthe Stetsons were helpless. For three years no word was heard of him, but the hatred burned in the heart of Rome's mother, and was traced deepin her grim old face while she patiently waited the day of retribution. It smouldered, too, in the hearts of the women of both clans who hadlost husbands or sons or lovers; and the friends and kin of each hadlittle to do with one another, and met and passed with watchful eyes. Indeed, it would take so little to turn peace to war that the wonder wasthat peace had lived so long. Now trouble was at hand. Rufe Stetson hadcome back at last, a few months since, and had quietly opened store atthe county-seat, Hazlan-a little town five miles up the river, whereTroubled Fork runs seething into the Cumberland-a point of neutralityfor the factions, and consequently a battle-ground. Old Jasper's storewas at the other end of the town, and the old man had never been knownto brook competition. He had driven three men from Hazlan during thelast term of peace for this offence, and everybody knew that the fourthmust leave or fight. Already Rufe Stetson had been warned not to appearoutside his door after dusk. Once or twice his wife had seen skulkingshadows under the trees across the road, and a tremor of anticipationran along both banks of the Cumberland. 

III

A FORTNIGHT later, court came. Rome was going to Hazlan, and the feebleold Stetson mother limped across the porch from the kitchen, trailing aWinchester behind her. Usually he went unarmed, but he took the gun now, as she gave it, in silence. 

The boy Isom was not well, and Rome had told him to ride the horse. Butthe lad had gone on afoot to his duties at old Gabe Bunch's mill, andRome himself rode down Thunderstruck Knob through the mist and dew ofthe early morning. The sun was coming up over Virginia, and through adip in Black Mountain the foot-hills beyond washed in blue waves againstits white disk. A little way down the mountain, the rays shot throughthe gap upon him, and, lancing the mist into tatters, and lighting thedew-drops, set the birds singing. Rome rode, heedless of it all, under primeval oak and poplar, and along rain-clear brooks and happywaterfalls, shut in by laurel and rhododendron, and singing past mossystones and lacelike ferns that brushed his stirrup. On the brow of everycliff he would stop to look over the trees and the river to the othershore, where the gray line of a path ran aslant Wolf's Head, and waslost in woods above and below. 

At the river he rode up-stream, looking still across it. Old Gabe Bunchhalloed to him from the doorway of the mill, as he splashed through thecreek, and Isom's thin face peered through a breach in the logs. At theford beyond, he checked his horse with a short oath of pleased surprise. Across the water, a scarlet dress was moving slowly past a brown fieldof corn. The figure was bonneted, but he knew the girl's walk and thepoise of her head that far away. Just who she was, however, he didnot know, and he sat irresolute. He had seen her first a month since, paddling along the other shore, erect, and with bonnet off and hairdown; she had taken the Lewallen path up the mountain. Afterward, he sawher going at a gallop on young Jasper's gray horse, bareheaded again, and with her hair loose to the wind, and he knew she was one of hisenemies. He thought her the girl people said young Jasper was goingto marry, and he had watched her the more closely. From the canoe sheseemed never to notice him; but he guessed, from the quickened sweepof her paddle, that she knew he was looking at her, and once, when hehalted on his way home up the mountain, she half turned in her saddleand looked across at him. This happened again, and then she waved herbonnet at him. It was bad enough, any Stetson seeking any Lewallen for awife, and for him to court young Jasper's sweetheart-it was a thought tolaugh at. But the mischief was done. The gesture thrilled him, whetherit meant defiance or good-will, and the mere deviltry of such acourtship made him long for it at every sight of her with the riverbetween them. At once he began to plan how he should get near her, but, through some freak, she had paid no further heed to him. He saw her lessoften-for a week, in-deed, he had not seen her at all till this day-andthe forces that hindrance generates in an imperious nature had been atwork within him. The chance now was one of gold, and with his life inhis hand he turned into the stream. Across, he could see something whiteon her shoulder-an empty bag. It was grinding-day, and she was going tothe mill--the Lewallen mill. She stopped as he galloped up, and turned, pushing back her bonnet with one hand; and he drew rein. But thefriendly, expectant light in her face kindled to such a blaze of angerin her eyes that he struck his horse violently, as though the beasthad stopped of its own accord, and, cursing himself, kept on. A littlefarther, he halted again. Three horsemen, armed with Winchesters, werejogging along toward town ahead of him, and he wheeled about sharply. The girl, climbing rapidly toward Steve Bray-ton's cabin, was out of theway, but he was too late to reach the ford again. Down the road twomore Lewallens with guns were in sight, and he lashed his horse into thestream where the water was deep. Old Gabe, looking from the door of hismill, quit laughing to himself; and under cover of the woods, the girlwatched man and horse fighting the tide. Twice young Stetson turned hishead. But his enemies apparently had not seen him, and horse and riderscrambled up the steep bank and under shelter of the trees. The girl hadevidently learned who he was. Her sudden anger was significant, aswas the sight of the Lewallens going armed to court, and Rome rode on, uneasy. 

When he reached Troubled Fork, in sight of Hazlan, he threw a cartridgeinto place and shifted the slide to see that it was ready for use. Passing old Jasper's store on the edge of the town, he saw the old man'sbushy head through the open door, and Lewallens and Braytons crowded outon the steps and looked after him. All were armed. Twenty paces fartherhe met young Jasper on his gray, and the look on his enemy's face madehim grip his rifle. With a flashing cross-fire from eye to eye, the twopassed, each with his thumb on the hammer of his Winchester. The groupson the court-house steps stopped talking as he rode by, and turned tolook at him. He saw none of his own friends, and he went on at a gallopto Rufe Stetson's store. His uncle was not in sight. Steve Marcum andold Sam Day stood in the porch, and inside a woman was crying. SeveralStetsons were near, and all with grave faces gathered about him. 

He knew what the matter was before Steve spoke. His uncle had beendriven from town. A last warning had come to him on the day before. Thehand of a friend was in the caution, and Rufe rode away at dusk. Thatnight his house was searched by men masked and armed. The Lewallens werein town, and were ready to fight. The crisis had come. 

IV

BACK at the mill old Gabe was troubled. Usually he sat in acane-bottomed chair near the hopper, whittling, while the lad tended themill, and took pay in an oaken toll-dish smooth with the use of half acentury. But the incident across the river that morning had made the oldman uneasy, and he moved restlessly from his chair to the door, and backagain, while the boy watched him, wondering what the matter was, butasking no questions. At noon an old mountaineer rode by, and the millerhailed him. 

"Any news in town?" he asked. 

"Hain't been to town. Reckon fightin' 's goin' on thar from whut Iheerd. " The careless, high-pitched answer brought the boy with wide eyesto the door. 

"Whut d'ye hear?" asked Gabe. "Jes heerd fightin' 's goin' on!"

Then every man who came for his meal brought a wild rumor from town, and the old miller moved his chair to the door, and sat there whittlingfast, and looking anxiously toward Hazlan. The boy was in a fever ofunrest, and old Gabe could hardly keep him in the mill. In the middle ofthe afternoon the report of a rifle came down the river, breaking intoechoes against the cliffs below, and Isom ran out the door, and stoodlistening for another, with an odd contradiction of fear and delight onhis eager face. In a few moments Rome Stetson galloped into sight, and, with a shrill cry of relief, the boy ran down the road to meet him, and ran back, holding by a stirrup. Young Stetson's face was black withpassion, and his eyes were heavy with drink. At the door of the millhe swung from his horse, and for a moment was hardly able to speak fromrage. There had been no fight. The Stetsons were few and unprepared. They had neither the guns nor, without Rufe, the means to open the war, and they believed Rufe had gone for arms. So they had chafed in thestore all day, and all day Lewallens on horseback and on foot were insight; and each was a taunt to every Stetson, and, few as they were, the young and hot-headed wanted to go out and fight. In the afternoona tale-bearer had brought some of Jasper's boasts to Rome, and, madereckless by moonshine and much brooding, he sprang up to lead them. Steve Marcum, too, caught up his gun, but old Sam's counsel checked him, and the two by force held Rome back. A little later the Lewallens lefttown. The Stetsons, too, disbanded, and on the way home a last drop ofgall ran Rome's cup of bitterness over. Opposite Steve Brayton's cabina jet of smoke puffed from the bushes across the river, and a bulletfurrowed the road in front of him. That was the shot they had heard atthe mill. Somebody was drawing a dead-line, and Rome wheeled his horseat the brink of it. A mocking yell came over the river, and a gray horseflashed past an open space in the bushes. Rome knew the horse andknew the yell; young Jasper was "bantering" him. Nothing maddens themountaineer like this childish method of insult; and telling of it, Romesat in a corner, and loosed a torrent of curses against young Lewallenand his clan. 

Old Gabe had listened without a word, and the strain in his face waseased. Always the old man had stood for peace. He believed it had comeafter the court-house fight, and he had hoped against hope, evenwhen Rufe came back to trade against old Jasper; for Rufe was big andgood-natured, and unsuspected of resolute purpose, and the Lewallens'power had weakened. So, now that Rufe was gone again, the old millerhalf believed he was gone for good. Nobody was hurt; there was a chanceyet for peace, and with a rebuke on his tongue and relief in his face, the old man sat back in his chair and went on whittling. The boyturned eagerly to a crevice in the logs and, trembling with excitement, searched the other bank for Jasper's gray horse, going home. 

"He called me a idgit, " he said to himself, with a threatening shake ofhis head. "Jes wouldn't I like to hev a chance at him! Rome ull git him!Rome ull git him!"

There was no moving point of white on the broad face of the mountainsnor along the river road. Jasper was yet to come and, with ears alertto every word behind him, the lad fixed his eyes where he should see himfirst. 

"Oh, he didn't mean to hit me. Not that he ain't mean enough to shootfrom the bresh, " Rome broke out savagely. "That's jes whut I'm afeardhe will do. Thar was too much daylight fer him. Ef he jes don't comea-sneakin' over hyeh, 'n' waitin' in the lorrel atter dark fer me, it'sall I axe. "

"Waitin' in the lorrel!" Old Gabe could hold back no longer. "Hit's ashame, a burn-in' shame! I don' know whut things air comm' to! 'Pearslike all you young folks think about is killin' somebody. Folks usento talk about how fer they could kill a deer; now it's how fer they kinkill a man. I hev knowed the time when a man would 'a' been druv outo' the county fer drawin' a knife ur a pistol; 'n' ef a feller was everkilled, it was kinder accidental, by a Barlow. I reckon folks got use'to weepons 'n' killin' 'n' bushwhackin' in the war. Looks like it's beengittin' wuss ever sence, 'n' now hit's dirk 'n' Winchester, 'n' shootin'from the bushes all the time. Hit's wuss 'n stealin' money to take afeller-creetur' s life that way!"

The old miller's indignation sprang from memories of a better youth. Forthe courtesies of the code went on to the Blue Grass, and before thewar the mountaineer fought with English fairness and his fists. It was adisgrace to use a deadly weapon in those days; it was a disgrace now notto use it. 

"Oh, I know all the excuses folks make, " he went on: "hit's fa'r fer oneas 'tis fer t'other; y'u can't fight a man fa'r 'n' squar' who'll shootyou in the back; a pore man can't fight money in the couhts; 'n' tharhain't no witnesses in the lorrel but leaves; 'n' dead men don't hevmuch to say. I know it all. Hit's cur'us, but it act'-ally looks likelots o' decent young folks hev got usen to the idee-thar's so much ofit goin' on, 'n' thar's so much talk 'bout killin' 'n' layin' out in thelorrel. Reckon folks 'll git to pesterm' women n' strangers bimeby, 'n'robbin' 'n' thievin'. Hit's bad enough thar's so leetle law thet folkshev to take it in their own hands oncet in a while, but this shootin'from the bresh-hit's p'int'ly a sin 'n' shame! Why, " he concluded, pointing his remonstrance as he always did, "I seed your grandad andyoung Jas's fight up thar in Hazlan full two hours 'fore the war-fistand skull-'n' your grandad was whooped. They got up and shuk hands. Idon't see why folks can't fight that way now. I wish Rufe 'n' old Jas'n' you 'n' young Jas could have it out fist and skull, 'n' stop thiskillin' o' people like hogs. Thar's nobody left but you four. But thar'sno chance o' that, I reckon. "

"I'll fight him anyway, 'n' I reckon ef he don't die till I lay out inthe lorrel fer him, he'll live a long time. Ef a Stetson ever done sechmeanness as that I never heerd it. "

"Nother hev I, " said the old man, with quick justice. "You air aover-bearin' race, all o' ye, but I never knowed ye to be that mean. Hit's all the wus fer ye thet ye air in sech doin's. I tell ye, Rome--"

A faint cry rose above the drone of the millstones, and old Gabe stoppedwith open lips to listen. The boy's face was pressed close to the logs. A wet paddle had flashed into the sunlight from out the bushes acrossthe river. He could just see a canoe in the shadows under them, and withquick suspicion his brain pictured Jasper's horse hitched in the bushes, and Jasper stealing across the river to waylay Rome. But the canoe movedslowly out of sight downstream and toward the deep water, the paddlerunseen, and the boy looked around with a weak smile. Neither seemed tohave heard him. Rome was brooding, with his sullen face in his hands;the old miller was busy with his own thoughts; and the boy turned againto his watch. 

Jasper did not come. Isom's eyes began to ache from the steady gaze, andnow and then he would drop them to the water swirling beneath. A slowwind swayed the overhanging branches at the mouth of the stream, andunder them was an eddy. Escaping this, the froth and bubbles raced outto the gleams beating the air from the sunlit river. He saw one tinyfleet caught; a mass of yellow scum bore down and, sweeping throughbubbles and eddy, was itself struck into fragments by something afloat. A tremulous shadow shot through a space of sunlight into the gloom castby a thicket of rhododendrons, and the boy caught his breath sharply. Amoment more, and the shape of a boat and a human figure quivered on thewater running under him. The stern of a Lewallen canoe swung into thebasin, and he sprang to his feet. 

"Rome!" The cry cut sharply through the drowsy air. "Thar he is! Hit'sJas!"

The old miller rose to his feet. The boy threw himself behind the sacksof grain. Rome wheeled for his rifle, and stood rigid before the door. There was a light step without, the click of a gun-lock within; a shadowfell across the doorway, and a girl stood at the threshold with an emptybag in her hand. 

V

WITH a little cry she shrank back a step. Her face paled and her lipstrembled, and for a moment she could not speak. But her eyes swept thegroup, and were fixed in two points of fire on Rome. 

"Why don't ye shoot!" she asked, scornfully. 

"I hev heerd that the Stetsons have got to makin war on women-folks, butI never believed it afore. " Then she turned to the miller. 

"Kin I git some more meal hyeh?" she asked. "Or have ye stopped sellin'to folks on t'other side?" she added, in a tone that sought no favor. 

"You kin have all ye want, " said old Gabe, quietly. 

"The mill on Dead Crick is broke ag'in, " she continued, "'n' co'n isskeerce on our side. We'll have to begin buyin' purty soon, so I thoughtI'd save totin' the co'n down hyeh. " She handed old Gabe the empty bag. 

"Well, " said he, "as it air gittin' late, 'n' ye have to climb themountain ag'in, I'll let ye have that comm' out o' the hopper now. Takea cheer. "

The girl sat down in the low chair, and, loosening the strings of herbonnet, pushed it back from her head. An old-fashioned horn comb droppedto the floor, and when she stooped to pick it up she let her hair fallin a head about her shoulders. Thrusting one hand under it, she calmlytossed the whole mass of chestnut and gold over the back of the chair, where it fell rippling like water through a bar of sunlight. With headthrown back and throat bared, she shook it from side to side, and, slowly coiling it, pierced it with the coarse comb. Then passing herhands across her forehead and temples, as women do, she folded them inher lap, and sat motionless. The boy, crouched near, held upon her themesmeric look of a serpent. Old Gabe was peering covertly from under thebrim of his hat, with a chuckle at his lips. Rome had fallen back to acorner of the mill, sobered, speechless, his rifle in a nerveless hand. The passion that fired him at the boy's warning had as swiftly gone downat sight of the girl, and her cutting rebuke made him hot again withshame. He was angry, too-more than angry-because he felt so helpless, a sensation that was new and stifling. The scorn of her face, as heremembered it that morning, hurt him again while he looked at her. Aspirit of contempt was still in her eyes, and quivering about her thinlips and nostrils. She had put him beneath further notice, and yet everytoss of her head, every movement of her hands, seemed meant for him, to irritate him. And once, while she combed her hair, his brain whirledwith an impulse to catch the shining stuff in one hand and to pinionboth her wrists with the other, Just to show her that he was master, andstill would harm her not at all. But he shut his teeth, and watched her. Among mountain women the girl was more than pretty; elsewhere only herhair, perhaps, would have caught the casual eye. She wore red homespunand coarse shoes; her hands were brown and hardened. Her arms andshoulders looked muscular, her waist was rather large-being as naturemeant it-and her face in repose had a heavy look. But the poise of herhead suggested native pride and dignity; her eyes were deep, and full ofchanging lights; the scarlet dress, loose as it was, showed rich curvesin her figure, and her movements had a certain childlike grace. Her browwas low, and her mouth had character; the chin was firm, the upper lipshort, and the teeth were even and white. 

"I reckon thar's enough to fill the sack, Isom, " said the old miller, breaking the strained silence of the group. The girl rose and handed hima few pieces of silver. 

"I reckon I'd better pay fer it all, " she said. "I s'pose I won't be overhyeh ag'in. "

Old Gabe gave some of the coins back. 

"Y'u know whut my price al'ays is, " he said. 

"I'm obleeged, " answered the girl, flushing. 

"Co'n hev riz on our side. I thought mebbe you charged folks over tharmore, anyways. "

"I sells fer the same, ef co'n is high ur low, " was the answer. "Thisside or t'other makes no diff'unce to me. I hev frien's on both sides, 'n' I take no part in sech doin's as air a shame to the mountains. "

There was a quick light of protest in the girl's dark eyes; but the oldmiller was honored by both factions, and without a word she turned tothe boy, who was tying the sack. 

"The boat's loose!" he called out, with the string between his teeth;and she turned again and ran out. Rome stood still. 

"Kerry the sack out, boy, 'n' holp the gal. " Old Gabe's voice was stern, and the young mountaineer doggedly swung the bag to his shoulders. Thegirl had caught the rope, and drawn the rude dugout along the shore. 

"Who axed ye to do that?" she asked, angrily. 

Rome dropped the bag into the boat, and merely looked her in the face. 

"Look hyeh, Rome Stetson"--the sound of his name from her lips almoststartled him--"I'll hev ye understan' that I don't want to be bounden toyou, nor none o' yer kin. "

Turning, she gave an impatient sweep with her paddle. The prow of thecanoe dipped and was motionless. Rome had caught the stern, and the girlwheeled in hot anger. Her impulse to strike may have been for themoment and no longer, or she may have read swiftly no unkindness in themountaineer's steady look; for the uplifted oar was stayed in the air, as though at least she would hear him. 

"I've got nothin' ag'in' you, " he said, slowly, "Jas Lewallen hev beenthreatenin' me, 'n' I thought it was him, 'n' I was ready fer him, whenyou come into the mill. I wouldn't hurt you nur no other woman. Y'uought to know it, 'n' ye do know it. "

The words were masterful, but said in a way that vaguely soothed thegirl's pride, and the oar was let slowly into the water. 

"I reckon y'u air a friend o' his, " he added, still quietly. "I've seedye goin' up thar, but I've got nothin' ag'in' ye, whoever ye be. "

She turned on him a sharp look of suspicion. "I reckon I do be a friendo' hisn, " she said, deliberately; and then she saw that he was inearnest. A queer little smile went like a ray of light from her eyesto her lips, and she gave a quick stroke with her paddle. The boat shotinto the current, and was carried swiftly toward the Cumberland. Thegirl stood erect, swaying through light and shadow like a great scarletflower blowing in the wind; and Rome watched her till she touched theother bank. Swinging the sack out, she stepped lightly after it, and, without looking behind her, disappeared in the bushes. 

The boy Isom was riding away when Rome, turned, and old Gabe waswatching from the door of the mill. 

"Who is that gal?" he asked, slowly. It seemed somehow that he had knownher a long while ago. A puzzled frown overlay his face, and the oldmiller laughed. 

"You a-axin' who she be, 'n' she a-axin who you be, 'n' both o' yea-knowin' one 'nother sence ye was knee-high. Why, boy, hit's oldJasper's gal--Marthy!"

VI

IN a flash of memory Rome saw the girl as vividly as when he last sawher years ago. They had met at the mill, he with his father, she withhers. There was a quarrel, and the two men were held apart. But the oldsore as usual was opened, and a week later Rome's father was killedfrom the brush. He remembered his mother's rage and grief, her calls forvengeance, the uprising, the fights, plots, and ambushes. He rememberedthe look the girl had given him that long ago, and her look that day waslittle changed. 

When fighting began, she had been sent for safety to the sister of herdead mother in another county. When peace came, old Jasper married againand the girl refused to come home. Lately the step-mother, too, hadpassed away, and then she came back to live. All this the old millertold in answer to Rome's questions as the two walked away in thetwilight. This was why he had not recognized her, and why her face yetseemed familiar even when he crossed the river that morning. 

"Uncle Gabe, how do you reckon the gal knowed who I was?"

"She axed me. "

"She axed you! Whar?"

"Over thar in the mill. " The miller was watching the young mountaineerclosely. The manner of the girl was significant when she asked who Romewas, and the miller knew but one reason possible for his foolhardinessthat morning. 

"Do you mean to say she have been over hyeh afore?"

"Why, yes, come to think about it, three or four times while Isom wassick, and whut she come fer I can't make out. The mill over thar wasn'tbroke long, 'n' why she didn't go thar or bring more co'n at a time, tosave her the trouble o' so many trips, I can't see to save me. "

Young Stetson was listening eagerly. Again the miller cast his bait. 

"Mebbe she's spyin'. "

Rome faced him, alert with suspicion; but old Gabe was laughingsilently. 

"Don't you be a fool, Rome. The gal comes and goes in that boat, 'n'she couldn't see a soul without my knowin' it. She seed ye ridin' by oneday, 'n' she looked mighty cur'us when I tole her who ye was. "

Old Gabe stopped his teasing, Rome's face was so troubled, and himselfgrew serious. 

"Rome, " he said, earnestly, "I wish to the good Lord ye wasn't in sechdoin's. Ef that had been young Jas 'stid o' Marthy, I reckon ye would'a' killed him right thar. "

"I wasn't going to let him kill me, " was the sullen answer. 

The two had stopped at a rickety gate swinging open on the road. Theyoung mountaineer was pushing a stone about with the toe of his boot. He had never before listened to remonstrance with such patience, and oldGabe grew bold. 

"You've been drinkin' ag'in, Rome, " he said, sharply, "'n' I know it. Hit's been moonshine that's whooped you Stetsons, not the Lewallens, long as I kin rickollect, 'n' it ull be moonshine ag'in ef ye don't letit alone. "

Rome made no denial, no defence. "Uncle Gabe, " he said slowly, stillbusied with the stone, "hev that gal been over hyeh sence y'u tol' herwho I was?"

The old man was waiting for the pledge that seemed on his lips, but hedid not lose his temper. 

"Not till to-day, " he said, quietly. 

Rome turned abruptly, and the two separated with no word of parting. For a moment the miller watched the young fellow striding away under hisrifle. 

"I have been atter peace a good while, " he said to himself, "but Ireckon thar's a bigger hand a-workin' now than mine. " Then he lifted hisvoice. "Ef Isom's too sick to come down to the mill to-morrer, I wishyou'd come 'n' holp me. "

Rome nodded back over his shoulder, and went on, with head bent, alongthe river road. Passing a clump of pines at the next curve, he pulled abottle from his pocket. 

"Uncle Gabe's about right, I reckon, " he said, half aloud; and he raisedit above his head to hurl it away, but checked it in mid-air. For amoment he looked at the colorless liquid, then, with quick nervousness, pulled the cork of sassafras leaves, gulped down the pale moonshine, anddashed the bottle against the trunk of a beech. The fiery stuff doesits work in a hurry. He was thirsty when he reached the mouth of a brookthat tumbled down the mountain along the pathway that would lead himhome, and he stooped to drink where the water sparkled in a rift ofdim light from overhead. Then he sat upright on a stone, with his widehat-brim curved in a crescent over his forehead, his hands caught abouthis knees, and his eyes on the empty air. 

He was scarcely over his surprise that the girl was young Lewallen'ssister, and the discovery had wrought a curious change. The piquantimpulse of rivalry was gone, and something deeper was taking its place. He was confused and a good deal troubled, thinking it all over. Hetried to make out what the girl meant by looking at him from themountain-side, by waving her bonnet at him, and by coming to old Gabe'smill when she could have gone to her own. To be sure, she did not knowthen who he was, and she had stopped coming when she learned; but whyhad she crossed again that day? Perhaps she too was bantering him, andhe was at once angry and drawn to her; for her mettlesome spirit touchedhis own love of daring, even when his humiliation was most bitter-whenshe told him he warred on women; when he held out to her the branchof peace and she swept it aside with a stroke of her oar. But Rome waslittle conscious of the weight of subtle facts like these. His unseeingeyes went back to her as she combed her hair. He saw the color in hercheeks, the quick light in her eyes, the naked, full throat once more, and the wavering forces of his unsteady brain centred in a stubbornresolution-to see it all again. He would make Isom stay at home, if needbe, and he would take the boy's place at the mill. If she came there nomore, he would cross the river again. Come peace or war, be she friendor enemy, he would see her. His thirst was fierce again, and, with thishalf-drunken determination in his heart, he stooped once more to drinkfrom the cheerful little stream. As he rose, a loud curse smote the air. The river, pressed between two projecting cliffs, was narrow at thatpoint, and the oath came across the water. An instant later a man led alamed horse from behind a bowlder, and stooped to examine its leg. Thedusk was thickening, but Rome knew the huge frame and gray beard of oldJasper Lewallen. The blood beat in a sudden tide at his temples, and, half by instinct, he knelt behind a rock, and, thrusting his riflethrough a crevice, cocked it softly. 

Again the curse of impatience came over the still water, and old Jasperrose and turned toward him. The glistening sight caught in the centre ofhis beard. That would take him in the throat; it might miss, and he letthe sight fall till the bullet would cut the fringe of gray hair intothe heart. Old Jasper, so people said, had killed his father in justthis way; he had driven his uncle from the mountains; he was tryingnow to revive the feud. He was the father of young Jasper, who hadthreatened his life, and the father of the girl whose contempt had cuthim to the quick twice that day. Again her taunt leaped through hisheated brain, and his boast to the old miller followed it. His fingertrembled at the trigger. 

"No; by ----, no!" he breathed between his teeth; and old Jasper passed on, unharmed. 

VII

NEXT day the news of Rufe Stetson's flight went down the river on thewind, and before nightfall the spirit of murder was loosed on bothshores of the Cumberland. The more cautious warned old Jasper. TheStetsons were gaining strength again, they said; so were their feudsmen, the Marcums, enemies of the Braytons, old Jasper's kinspeople. Keepingstore, Rufe had made money in the West, and money and friends rightand left through the mountains. With all his good-nature, he was apersistent hater, and he was shrewd. He had waited the chance to puthimself on the side of the law, and now the law was with him. But oldJasper laughed contemptuously. Rufe Stetson was gone again, he said, ashe had gone before, and this time for good. Rufe had tried to dowhat nobody had done, or could do, while he was alive. Anyway, he wasreckless, and he cared little if war did come again. Still, the old manprepared for a fight, and Steve Marcum on the other shore made ready forRufe's return. 

It was like the breaking of peace in feudal days. The close kin of eachleader were already about him, and now the close friends of each tooksides. Each leader trading in Hazlan had debtors scattered through themountains, and these rallied to aid the man who had befriended them. There was no grudge but served a pretext for partisanship in the comingwar. Political rivalry had wedged apart two strong families, the Marcumsand Braytons; a boundary line in dispute was a chain of bitterness; asuit in a country court had sown seeds of hatred. Sometimes it was ahorse-trade, a fence left down, or a gate left open, and the trespassingof cattle; in one instance, through spite, a neighbor had docked thetail of a neighbor's horse--had "muled his critter, " as the ownerphrased the outrage. There was no old sore that was not opened by thecrafty leaders, no slumbering bitterness that they did not wake to life. "Help us to revenge, and we will help you, " was the whispered promise. So, had one man a grudge against another, he could set his foot on oneor the other shore, sure that his enemy would be fighting for the other. 

Others there were, friends of neither leader, who, under stress ofpoverty or hatred of work, would fight with either for food and clothes;and others still, the ne'er-do-wells and outlaws, who fought by the dayor month for hire. Even these were secured by one or the other faction, for Steve and old Jasper left no resource untried, knowing well that thefight, if there was one, would be fought to a quick and decisive end. The day for the leisurely feud, for patient planning, and the slowpicking off of men from one side or the other, was gone. The people inthe Blue Grass, who had no feuds in their own country, were tryingto stop them in the mountain. Over in Breathitt, as everybody knew, soldiers had come from the "settlemints, " had arrested the leaders, and had taken them to the Blue Grass for the feared and hated ordealof trial by a jury of "bigoted furriners. " On the heels of the soldierscame a young preacher up from the Jellico hills, half "citizen, " half"furriner, " with long black hair and a scar across his forehead, who wasstirring up the people, it was said, "as though Satan was atter them. "Over there the spirit of the feud was broken, and a good effect wasalready perceptible around Hazlan. In past days every pair of lips wassealed with fear, and the non-combatants left crops and homes, and moveddown the river, when trouble began. Now only the timid considered thisway of escape. Steve and old Jasper found a few men who refused to enterthe fight. Several, indeed, talked openly against the renewal of thefeud, and somebody, it was said, had dared to hint that he would send tothe Governor for aid if it should break out again. But these were rumorstouching few people. 

For once again, as time and time again before, one bank of theCumberland was arrayed with mortal enmity against the other, and oldGabe sat, with shaken faith, in the door of his mill. For years he hadworked and prayed for peace, and for a little while the Almighty seemedlending aid. Now the friendly grasp was loosening, and yet the millerdid all he could. He begged Steve Marcum to urge Rufe to seek aid fromthe law when the latter came back; and Steve laughed, and asked whatjustice was possible for a Stetson, with a Lewallen for a judge andBraytons for a jury. The miller pleaded with old Jasper, and old Jasperpointed to the successes of his own life. 

"I hev triumphed ag'in' my enemies time 'n' ag'in, " he said. "The Lordair on my side, 'n' I gits a better Christian ever' year. " The old manspoke with the sincerity of a barbarism that has survived the dark ages, and, holding the same faith, the miller had no answer. It was old Gabeindeed who had threatened to send to the Governor for soldiers, and thishe would have done, perhaps, had there not been one hope left, and onlyone. A week had gone, and there was no word from Rufe Stetson. Up onThunderstruck Knob the old Stetson mother was growing pitiably eager andrestless. Every day she slipped like a ghost through the leafless woodsand in and out the cabin, kindling hatred. At every dawn or dusk shewas on her porch peering through the dim light for Rufe Stetson. SteveMarcum was ill at ease. Rome Stetson alone seemed unconcerned, and hisname was on every gossiping tongue. 

He took little interest and no hand in getting ready for the war. Heforbade the firing of a gun till Rufe came back, else Steve should fighthis fight alone. He grew sullen and morose. His old mother's look was athorn in his soul, and he stayed little at home. He hung about the mill, and when Isom became bedfast, the big mountaineer, who had never handledanything but a horse, a plough, or a rifle, settled him-self, to thebewilderment of the Stetsons, into the boy's duties, and nobody daredquestion him. Even old Gabe jested no longer. The matter was tooserious. 

Meanwhile the winter threw off the last slumbrous mood of autumn, as asleeper starts from a dream. A fortnight was gone, and still no messagecame from the absent leader. One shore was restive, uneasy; the otherconfident, mocking. Between the two, Rome Stetson waited his chance atthe mill. 

VIII. 

DAY was whitening on the Stetson shore. Across the river the air wasstill sharp with the chill of dawn, and the mists lay like flocks ofsheep under shelter of rock and crag. A peculiar cry radiated from theLewallen cabin with singular resonance on the crisp air-the mountain cryfor straying cattle. A soft low came from a distant patch of laurel, andold Jasper's girl, Martha, folded her hands like a conch at her mouth, and the shrill cry again startled the air. 

"Ye better come, ye pieded cow-brute. " Picking up a cedar piggin, shestepped from the porch toward the meek voice that had answered her. Temper and exertion had brought the quick blood to her face. Her headwas bare, her thick hair was loosely coiled, and her brown arms werenaked almost to the shoulder. At the stable a young mountaineer wasoverhauling his riding-gear. 

"Air you goin' to ride the hoss to-day, Jas?" she asked, querulously. 

"That's jes whut I was aimin' to do. I'm a-goin' to town. "

"Well, I 'lowed I was goin' to mill to-day. The co'n is 'mos' gone. "

"Well, y'u 'lowed wrong, " he answered, imperturbably. 

"Y'u're mean, Jas Lewallen, " she cried, hotly; "that's whut ye air, mean--dog-mean!"

The young mountaineer looked up, whistled softly, and laughed. But whenhe brought his horse to the door an hour later there was a bag of cornacross the saddle. 

"As ye air so powerful sot on goin' to mill, whether or no, I'll leavethis hyeh sack at the bend O' the road, 'n' ye kin git it thar. I'llbring the meal back ef ye puts it in the same place. I hates to seewomen-folks a-ridin' this horse. Hit spiles him. "

The horse was a dapple-gray of unusual beauty, and as the girl reachedout her hand to stroke his throat, he turned to nibble at her arm. 

"I reckon he'd jes as lieve have me ride him as you, Jas, " she said. "Me 'n' him have got to be great friends. Ye orter n't to be so stingy. "

"Well, he ain't no hoss to be left out'n the bresh now, 'n' I hain'tgoin' to 'low it. "

Old Jasper had lounged out of the kitchen door, and stood with his hugebulk against a shrinking pillar of the porch. The two men were muchalike. Both had the same black, threatening brows meeting over thebridge of the nose. A kind of grim humor lurked about the old man'smouth, which time might trace about young Jasper's. The girl's face hadno humor; the same square brows, apart and clearly marked, gave it astrong, serious cast, and while she had the Lewallen fire, she favoredher mother enough, so the neighbors said, "to have a mighty mild, takin'way about her ef she wanted. "

"You're right, Jas, " the old mountaineer said; "the hoss air a sin 'n'temptation. Hit do me good ever' time I look at him. Thar air no sechhoss, I tell ye, this side o' the settlements. "

The boy started away, and the old man followed, and halted him out ofthe girl's hearing. 

"Tell Eli Crump 'n' Jim Stover to watch the Breathitt road close now, "he said, in a low voice. "See all them citizens I tol' ye, 'n' tell'em to be ready when I says the word. Thar's no tellin' whut's goin' tohappen. "

Young Jasper nodded his head, and struck his horse into a gallop. Theold man lighted his pipe, and turned back to the house. The girl, bonnetin hand, was starting for the valley. 

"Thar ain't no use goin' to Gabe Bunch's fer yer grist, " he said. "Themill on Dead Crick's a-runnin' ag'in, 'n' I don't want ye over thar axinfavors, specially jes now. "

"I lef' somethin' fer ye to eat, dad, " she replied, "ef ye gits hungrybefore I git back. "

"You heerd me?" he called after her, knitting his brows. 

"Yes, dad; I heerd ye, " she answered, adding to herself, "But I don'theed ye. " In truth, the girl heeded nobody. It was not her way to askconsent, even her own, nor to follow advice. At the bend of the road shefound the bag, and for an instant she stood wavering. An impulse turnedher to the river, and she loosed the boat, and headed it across theswift, shallow water from the ford and straight toward the mill. Atevery stroke of her paddle the water rose above the prow of the boat, and, blown into spray, flew back and drenched her; the wind loosed herhair, and, tugging at her skirts, draped her like a statue; and shefought them, wind and water, with mouth set and a smile in her eyes. One sharp struggle still, where the creek leaped into freedom; the mouthgrew a little firmer, the eyes laughed more, the keel grated on pebbles, and the boat ran its nose into the withered sedge on the Stetson shore. 

A tall gray figure was pouring grain into the hopper when she reachedthe door of the mill. She stopped abruptly, Rome Stetson turned, andagain the two were face to face. No greeting passed. The girl liftedher head with a little toss that deepened the set look about themountaineer's mouth; her lax figure grew tense as though strung suddenlyagainst some coming harm, and her eyes searched the shadows without onceresting on him. 

"Whar's Uncle Gabe?" She spoke shortly, and as to a stranger. 

"Gone to town, " said Rome, composedly. "He had schooled himself for thismeeting. "

"When's he comm' back?"

"Not 'fore night, I reckon. "

"Whar's Isom?"

"Isom's sick. "

"Well, who's tendin' this mill?"

For answer he tossed the empty bag into the corner and, without lookingat her, picked up another bag. 

"I reckon ye see me, don't ye?" he asked, coolly. "Hev a cheer, andrest a spell. Hit's a purty long climb whar you come from. "

The girl was confused. She stayed in the doorway, a little helplessand suspicious. What was Rome Stetson doing here? His mastery of thesituation, his easy confidence, puzzled and irritated her. Should sheleave? The mountaineer was a Stetson, a worm to tread on if it crawledacross the path. It would be like backing down before an enemy. He mightlaugh at her after she was gone, and, at that thought, she sat down inthe chair with composed face, looking through the door at the tumblingwater, which broke with a thousand tints under the sun, but able stillto see Rome, sidewise, as he moved about the hopper, whistling softly. 

Once she looked around, fancying she saw a smile on his sober face. Their eyes came near meeting, and she turned quite away. 

"Ever seed a body out'n his head?"

The girl's eyes rounded with a start of surprise. 

"Well, it's plumb cur'us. Isom's been that way lately. Isom's sick, yeknow. Uncle Gabe's got the rheumatiz, 'n' Isom's mighty fond o' UncleGabe, 'n' the boy pestered me till I come down to he'p him. Hit p'int'lyair strange to hear him talkin'. He's jes a-ravin' 'bout hell 'n'heaven, 'n' the sin o' killin' folks. You'd ha' thought he hed beenconvicted, though none o' our fambly hev been much atter religion. Hesays as how the wrath uv a livin' God is a-goin' to sweep these mountins, ef some mighty tall repentin' hain't done. Of co'se he got all themnotions from Gabe. But Isom al'ays was quar, 'n' seed things hisself. Heain't no fool!"

The girl was listening. Morbidly sensitive to the supernatural, she hadturned toward him, and her face was relaxed with fear and awe. 

"He's havin' dreams 'n' sech-like now, 'n' I reckon thar's nothing he'sseed or heerd that he don' talk about. He's been a-goin' on about you, "he added, abruptly. The girl's hands gave a nervous twitch. "Oh, hedon't say nothin' ag'in' ye. I reckon he tuk a fancy to ye. Mam wasplumb distracted, not knowin' whar he had seed ye. She thought it waslike his other talk, 'n' I never let on-a-knowin' how mam was. " A flushrose like a flame from the girl's throat to her hair. "But hit's this, "Rome went on in an unsteady tone, "that he talks most about, 'n' I'msorry myself that trouble's a-comm'. " He dropped all pretence now. "I'vebeen a-watchin' fer ye over thar on t' other shore a good deal lately. Ididn't know ye at fust, Marthy"--he spoke her name for the first time--"'n' Gabe says y'u didn't know me. I remembered ye, though, 'n' I wantto tell ye now what I tol' ye then: I've got nothin' ag'in you. I washopin' ye mought come over ag'in--hit was sorter cur'us that y'u was thesame gal--the same gal--"

His self-control left him; he was halting in speech, and blunderinghe did not know where. Fumbling an empty bag at the hopper, he had notdared to look at the girl till he heard her move. She had risen, andwas picking up her bag. The hard antagonism of her face calmed himinstantly. 

"Hain't ye goin' to have yer grist ground?"

"Not hyeh, " she answered, quickly. 

"Why, gal--" He got no further. Martha was gone, and he followed her tothe bank, bewildered. 

The girl's suspicion, lulled by his plausible explanation, had grownsharp again. The mountaineer knew that she had been coming there. He wasat the mill for another reason than to take the boy's place; and withswift intuition she saw the truth. 

He got angry as she rode away--angry with himself that he had let her go;and the same half-tender, half-brutal impulse seized him as when he sawher first. This time he yielded. His horse was at hand, and the rivernot far below was narrow. The bridle-path that led to the Lewallencabin swerved at one place to a cliff overlooking the river, and by hardriding and a climb of a few hundred feet on foot he could overtake herhalf-way up the mountain steep. 

The plan was no more than shaped before he was in the saddle andgalloping down the river. The set of his face changed hardly a linewhile he swam the stream, and, drenched to the waist, scaled the cliff. When he reached the spot, he found the prints of a woman's shoe in thedust of the path, going down. There were none returning, and he hadnot long to wait. A scarlet bit of color soon flashed through the graybushes below him. The girl was without her bag of corn. She was climbingslowly, and was looking at the ground as though in deep thought. Reckless as she was, she had come to realize at last just what she haddone. She had been pleased at first, as would have been any woman, whenshe saw the big mountaineer watching her, for her life was lonely. She had waved her bonnet at him from mere mischief. She hardly knew itherself, but she had gone across the river to find out who he was. Shehad shrunk from him as from a snake thereafter, and had gone no moreuntil old Jasper had sent her because the Lewallen mill was broken, andbecause she was a woman, and would be safe from harm. She had met himthen when she could not help herself. But now she had gone of her ownaccord. She had given this Stetson, a bitter enemy, a chance to see her, to talk with her. She had listened to him; she had been on the point ofletting him grind her corn. And he knew how often she had gone to themill, and he could not know that she had ever been sent. Perhaps hethought that she had come to make overtures of peace, friendship, evenmore. The suspicion reddened her face with shame, and her anger at himwas turned upon herself. Why she had gone again that day she hardlyknew. But if there was another reason than simple perversity, it was thememory of Rome Stetson's face when he caught her boat and spoke to herin a way she could not answer. The anger of the moment came with everythought of the incident afterward, and with it came too this memory ofhis look, which made her at once defiant and uneasy. She saw him nowonly when she was quite close, and, startled, she stood still; his sternlook brought her the same disquiet, but she gave no sign of fear. 

"Whut's the matter with ye?"

The question was too abrupt, too savage, and the girl looked straight athim, and her lips tightened with a resolution not to speak. The movementput him beyond control. 

"Y'u puts hell into me, Marthy Lewallen; y'u puts downright hell intome. " The words came between gritted teeth. "I want to take ye up 'n'throw ye off this cliff clean into the river, 'n' I reckon the nextminute I'd jump off atter ye. Y'u've 'witched me, gal! I forgits who yeair 'n' who I be, 'n' sometimes I want to come over hyeh 'n' kerryye out'n these mountins, n' nuver come back. You know whut I've beenwatchin' the river fer sence the fust time I seed ye. You know whut I'vebeen a-stayin' at the mill fer, 'n' Steve mad 'n' mam a-jowerin'--'n'a-lookin' over hyeh fer ye night 'n' day! Y'u know whut I've jes swumover hyeh fer! Whut's the matter with ye?"

Martha was not looking for a confession like this. It took awayher shame at once, and the passion of it thrilled her, and left hertrembling. While he spoke her lashes drooped quickly, her face softened, and the color came back to it. She began intertwining her fingers, andwould not look up at him. 

"Ef y'u hates me like the rest uv ye, why don't ye say it right out? 'N'ef ye do hate me, whut hev you been lookin' 'cross the river fer, 'n'a-shakin' yer bonnet at me, 'n' paddlin' to Gabe's fer yer grist, whenthe mill on Dead Crick's been a-runnin', 'n' I know it? You've beenbanterin' me, hev ye?"--the blood rose to his eyes again. "Ye mustn'tfool with me, gal, by ----, ye mustn't. Whut hev you been goin' over tharfer?" He even took a threatening step toward her, and, with a helplessgesture, stopped. The girl was a little frightened. Indeed, she smiled, seeing her power over him; she seemed even about to laugh outright;but the smile turned to a quick look of alarm, and she bent herhead suddenly to listen to something below. At last she did speak. "Somebody's comm'!" she said. "You'd better git out o' the way, " shewent on, hurriedly. "Somebody's comm', I tell ye! Don't ye hear?"

It was no ruse to get rid of him. The girl's eyes were dilating. Something was coming far below. Rome could catch the faint beats of ahorse's hoofs. He was unarmed, and he knew it was death for him to beseen on that forbidden mountain; but he was beyond caution, and ready towelcome any vent to his passion, and he merely shook his head. 

"Ef it's Satan hisself, I hain't goin' to run. " The hoof-beats camenearer. The rider must soon see them from the coil below. 

"Rome, hit's Jas! He's got his rifle, and he'll kill ye, 'n' me too!"The girl was white with distress. She had called him by his name, andthe tone was of appeal, not anger. The black look passed from his face, and he caught her by the shoulders with rough tenderness; but she pushedhim away, and without a word he sprang from the road and let himselfnoiselessly down the cliff. The hoof-beats thundered above his head, andYoung Jasper's voice hailed Martha. 

"This hyeh's the bigges' meal I ever straddled. Why d'n't ye git thegrist ground?"

For a moment the girl did not answer, and Rome waited, breathless. "Wasn't the mill runnin'? Whyn't ye go on 'cross the river?

"That's whut I did, " said the girl, quietly. "Uncle Gabe wasn't thar, 'n'Rome Stetson was. I wouldn't 'low him to grin' the co 'n, 'n' so I totedhit back. "

"Rome Stetson!" The voice was lost in a volley of oaths. 

The two passed out of hearing, and Rome went plunging down the mountain, swinging recklessly from one little tree to another, and wrenching limbsfrom their sockets out of pure physical ecstasy. When he reached hishorse he sat down, breathing heavily, on a bed of moss, with a strangenew yearning in his heart. If peace should come! Why not peace, if Rufeshould not come back? He would be the leader then, and without him therecould be no war. Old Jasper had killed his father. He was too young atthe time to feel poignant sorrow now, and somehow he could look even atthat death in a fairer way. His father had killed old Jasper's brother. So it went back: a Lewallen killed a Stetson; that Stetson had killed aLewallen, until one end of the chain of deaths was lost, and the firstfault could not be placed, though each clan put it on the other. Inevery generation there had been compromises--periods of peace; why notnow? Old Gabe would gladly help him. He might make friends with youngJasper; he might even end the feud. And then-he and Martha-why not? Heclosed his eyes, and for one radiant moment t all seemed possible. Andthen a gaunt image rose in the dream, and only the image was left. It was the figure of his mother, stern and silent through the years, opening her grim lips rarely without some curse against the Lewallenrace. He remembered she had smiled for the first time when she heard ofthe new trouble-the flight of his uncle and the hope of conflict. Shehad turned to him with her eyes on fire and her old hands clinched. Shehad said nothing, but he understood her look. And now-Good God! whatwould she think and say if she could know what he had done? His wholeframe twitched at the thought, and, with a nervous spring to escape it, he was on his feet, and starting down the mountain. 

Close to the river he heard voices below him, and he turned his horsequickly aside into the bushes. Two women who had been washing clothespassed, carrying white bundles home. They were talking of the comingfeud. 

"That ar young Stetson ain't much like his dad, " said one. "Young Jashas been a-darin' 'n' a-banterin' him, 'n' he won't take it up. They sayhe air turnin' out a plumb coward. "

When he reached the Stetson cabin three horses with drooping heads werehitched to the fence. All had travelled a long way. One wore a man'ssaddle; on the others were thick blankets tied together with leathernthongs. 

In the dark porch sat several men. Through the kitchen door he could seehis mother getting supper. Inside a dozen rifles leaned against the wallin the firelight, and about their butts was a pile of ammunition. In thedoorway stood Rufe Stetson. 

IX

ALL were smoking and silent. Several spoke from the shadows as Romestepped on the porch, and Rufe Stetson faced him a moment in thedoorway, and laughed. 

"Seem kinder s'prised?" he said, with a searching look. "Wasn't lookin'for me? I reckon I'll s'prise sev'ral ef I hev good-luck. "

The subtlety of this sent a chuckle of appreciation through the porch, but Rome passed in without answer. 

Isom lay on his bed within the circle of light, and his face in thebrilliant glow was white, and his eyes shone feverishly. "Rome, " hesaid, excitedly, "Uncle Rufe's hyeh, 'n' they laywayed him, 'n'----"He paused abruptly. His mother came in, and at her call the mountaineerstrooped through the covered porch, and sat down to supper in thekitchen. They ate hastily and in silence, the mother attending theirwants, and Rome helping her. The meal finished, they drew their chairsabout the fire. Pipes were lighted, and Rufe Stetson rose and closed thedoor. 

"Thar's no use harryin' the boy, " he said; "I reckon he'll be too puny totake a hand. "

The mother stopped clearing the table, and sat on the rock hearth closeto the fire, her withered lips shut tight about a lighted pipe, and hersunken eyes glowing like the coal of fire in its black bowl. Now andthen she would stretch her knotted hands nervously into the flames, orknit them about her knees, looking closely at the heavy faces about her, which had lightened a little with expectancy. Rufe Stetson stood beforethe blaze, his hands clasped behind him, and his huge figure bent inreflection. At intervals he would look with half-shut eyes at Rome, whoSat with troubled face outside the firelight. Across the knees of SteveMarcum, the best marksman in the mountains, lay the barrel of a newWinchester. Old Sam Day, Rufe's father-in-law and counsellor to theStetsons for a score of years, sat as if asleep on the opposite side ofthe fireplace from the old mother, with his big square head pressed downbetween his misshapen shoulders. 

"The time hev come, Rome. " Rufe spoke between the puffs of his pipe, andRome's heart quickened, for every eye was upon him. "Thar's goin' tobe trouble now. I hear as how young Jasper hev been talkin' purty tallabout ye--'lowin' as how ye air afeard O' him. "

Rome felt his mother's burning look. He did not turn toward her norRufe, but his face grew sullen, and his voice was low and harsh. "I reckon he'll find out about that when the time comes, " he said, quietly-too quietly, for the old mother stirred uneasily, andsignificant glances went from eye to eye. Rufe did not look up from thefloor. He had been told about Rome's peculiar conduct, and, while thereason for it was beyond guessing, he knew the temper of the boy andhow to kindle it. He had thrust a thorn in a tender spot, and he let itrankle. How sorely it did rankle he little knew. The voice of the womanacross the river was still in Rome's ears. Nothing cuts the mountaineerto the quick like the name of coward. It stung him like the lash ofan ox-whip then; it smarted all the way across the river and up themountain. Young Jasper had been charging him broadcast with cowardice, and Jasper's people no doubt believed it. Perhaps his own did--hisuncle, his mother. The bare chance of such a humiliation set up aninward rage. He wondered how he could ever have been such a fool as tothink of peace. The woman's gossip had swept kindly impulses from hisheart with a fresh tide of bitterness, and, helpless now against itscurrent, he sullenly gave way, and let his passions loose to drift withit. 

"Whar d' ye git the guns, Rufe?" Steve was testing the action of theWinchester with a kindling look, as the click of the locks struck softlythrough the silence. 

"Jackson; 'way up in Breathitt, at the eend of the new road. "

"No wonder y'u've been gone so long. "

"I had to wait thar fer the guns, 'n' I had to travel atter dark comm'back, 'n' lay out'n the bresh by day. Hit's full eighty mile up thar. "

"Air ye shore nobody seed ye?"

The question was from a Marcum, who had come in late, and severallaughed. Rufe threw back his dusty coat, which was ripped through thelapel by a bullet. 

"They seed me well 'nough fer that, " he said, grimly, and then he lookedtoward Rome, who thought of old Jasper, and gave back a gleam of fiercesympathy. There were several nods of approval along with the laugh thatfollowed. It was a surprise--so little consideration of an escape sonarrow--from Rufe; for, as old Gabe said, Rufe was big and good-natured, and was not thought fit for leadership. But there was a change in himwhen he came back from the West. He was quieter; he laughed less No onespoke of the difference; it was too vague; but every one felt it, and ithad an effect. His flight had made many uneasy, but his return, for thatreason, brought a stancher fealty from these; and this was evident now. All eyes were upon him, and all tongues, even old Sam's, waited now forhis to speak. 

"Whut we've got to do, we've got to do mighty quick, " he began, at last. "Things air changin'. I seed it over thar in Breathitt. The soldiers'n' that scar-faced Jellico preacher hev broke up the fightin' overthar, 'n' ef we don't watch out, they'll be a-doin' it hyeh, when westart our leetle frolic. We hain't got no time to fool. Old Jas knowsthis as well as me, 'n' thar's goin' to be mighty leetle chance fer'em to layway 'n' pick us off from the bresh. Thar's goin' to be fa'rfightin' fer once, thank the Lord. They bushwhacked us dunn' the war, 'n' they've laywayed us 'n' shot us to pieces ever sence; but now, efGod A'mighty's willin', the thing's a-goin' to be settled one way ort'other at last, I reckon. "

He stopped a moment to think. The men's breathing could be heard, soquiet was the room, and Rufe went on telling in detail, slowly, as if tohimself, the wrongs the Lewallens had done his people. When he came toold Jasper his voice was low, and his manner was quieter than ever. 

"Now old Jas have got to the p'int whar he says as how nobody in thiscounty kin undersell him 'n' stay hyeh. Old Jas druv Bond Vickers out'nthe mount 'ins fer tryin' hit. He druv Jess Hale away; 'n' them two airour kin. "

The big mountaineer turned then, and knocked the ashes from his pipe. His eyes grew a little brighter, and his nostrils spread, but with asweep of his arm he added, still quietly:

"Y' all know whut he's done. "

The gesture lighted memories of personal wrongs in every breast; he hadtossed a fire-brand among fagots, and an angry light began to burn fromthe eyes that watched him. 

"Ye know, too, that he thinks he has played the same game with me; butye don't know, I reckon, that he had ole Jim Stover 'n' that mis'ableEli Crump a-hidin' in the bushes to shoot me"--again he grasped the tornlapel; "that a body warned me to git away from Hazlan; n' the night Ileft home they come thar to kill me, 'n' s'arched the house, 'n' skeeredMollie n' the leetle gal 'most to death. "

The mountaineer's self-control was lost suddenly in a furious oath. Themen did know, but in fresh anger they leaned forward in their chairs, and twisted about with smothered curses. The old woman had stoppedsmoking, and was rocking her body to and fro. Her lips were drawn inupon her toothless gums, and her pipe was clinched against her sunkenbreast. The head of the old mountaineer was lifted, and his eyes wereopen and shining fiercely. 

"I hear as how he says I'm gone fer good. Well, I have been kindereasy-goin', hatin' to fight, but sence the day I seed Rome's dad thardead in his blood, I hev had jes one thing I wanted to do. Thar wasn'tno use stayin' hyeh; I seed that. Rome thar was too leetle, and they wastoo many fer me. I knowed it was easier to git a new start out West, 'n' when I come back to the mount'in, hit was to do jes-whutI'm--going--to--do--now. " He wheeled suddenly upon Rome, with one hugehand lifted. Under it the old woman's voice rose in a sudden wail:

"Yes; 'n' I want to see it done befoh I die. I hain't hyeh fer long, butI hain't goin' to leave as long as ole Jas is hyeh, 'n' I want ye all toknow it. Ole Jas hev got to go fust. You hear me, Rome? I'm a-talkin' toyou; I'm a-talkin' to you. Hit's yo' time now!"

The frenzied chant raised Rome from his chair. Rufe himself took up thespirit of it, and his voice was above all caution. 

"Yes, Rome! They killed him, boy. They sneaked on him, 'n' shot him topieces from the bushes. Yes; hit's yo' time now! Look hyeh, boys!"He reached above the fireplace and took down an old rifle--hisbrother's--which the old mother had suffered no one to touch. He heldit before the fire, pointing to two crosses made near the flash-pan. "Thar's one fer ole Jim Lewallen! Thar's one fer ole Jas! He got Jim, but ole Jas has got him, 'n' thar's his cross thar yit! Whar's yo' gun, Rome? Shame on ye, boy!"

The wild-eyed old woman was before him. She had divined Rufe's purpose, and was already at his side, with Rome's Winchester in one hand and aclasp-knife in the other. Every man was on his feet; the door was open, and the boy Isom was at the threshold, his eyes blazing from his whiteface. Rome had strode forward. 

"Yes, boy; now's the time, right hyeh before us all!"

The mother had the knife outstretched. Rome took it, and the scratch ofthe point on the hard steel went twice through the stillness--"one morefer the young un;" the voice was the old mother's--then twice again. 

The moon was sinking when Rome stood in the door alone. The tramp ofhorses was growing fainter down the mountain. The trees were swaying inthe wind below him, and he could just see the gray cliffs on the othershore. The morning seemed far away; it made him dizzy looking back to itthrough the tumult of the day. Somewhere in the haze was the vision ofa girl's white face--white with distress for him. Her father and herbrother he had sworn to kill. He had made a cross for each, and eachcross was an oath. He closed the door; and then he gave way, and satdown with his head in both hands. The noises in the kitchen ceased. Thefire died away, and the chill air gathered about him. When he rose, therestless eyes of the boy were upon him from the shadows. 

X

IT was court-day in Hazlan, but so early in the morning nothing wasastir in the town that hinted of its life on such a day. But for thering of a blacksmith's anvil on the quiet air, and the fact that nowherewas a church-spire visible, a stranger would have thought that thepeace of Sabbath overlay a village of God-fearing people. A burly figurelounged in the porch of a rickety house, and yawned under a swingingsign, the rude letters of which promised "private entertainment" forthe traveller unlucky enough to pass that way. In the one long, narrowmain street, closely flanked by log and framed houses, nothing elsehuman was in sight. Out from this street, and in an empty square, stoodthe one brick building in the place, the court-house, brick without, brick within; unfinished, unpencilled, unpainted; panes out of thewindows, a shutter off here and there, or swinging drunkenly on onehinge; the door wide op en, as though there was no privacy within--a poorstructure, with the look of a good man gone shiftless and fast goingwrong. 

Soon two or three lank brown figures appeared from each direction onfoot; then a horseman or two, and by and by mountaineers came in groups, on horse and on foot. In time the side alleys and the court-house squarewere filled with horses and mules, and even steers. The mountaineerscrowded the narrow street: idling from side to side; squatting for abargain on the wooden sidewalks; grouping on the porch of the ricketyhotel, and on the court-house steps loitering in and out of the onestore in sight. Out in the street several stood about a horse, lookingat his teeth, holding his eyes to the sun, punching his ribs, twistinghis tail; while the phlegmatic owner sat astride the submissive beast, and spoke short answers to rare questions. Everybody talked politics, the crop failure, or the last fight at the seat of some private war; butnobody spoke of a Lewallen or a Stetson unless he knew his listener'sheart, and said it in a whisper. For nobody knew when the powder wouldflash, or who had taken sides, or that a careless word might not arrayhim with one or the other faction. 

A motley throng it was--in brown or gray homespun, with trousersin cowhide boots, and slouched hats with brims curved according totemperament, but with striking figures in it; the patriarch with long, white hair, shorn even with the base of the neck, and bearded onlyat the throat-a justice of the peace, and the sage of his district; alittle mountaineer with curling black hair and beard, and dark, finefeatures; a grizzled giant with a head rugged enough to have beencarelessly chipped from stone; a bragging candidate claiming everybody'snotice; a square-shouldered fellow surging through the crowd like astranger; an open-faced, devil-may-care young gallant on fire withmoonshine; a skulking figure with brutish mouth and shifting eyes. Indeed, every figure seemed distinct; for, living apart from hisneighbor, and troubling the law but little in small matters of dispute, the mountaineer preserves independence, and keeps the edges of hisindividuality unworn. Apparently there was not a woman in town. Thosethat lived there kept housed, and the fact was significant. Still, itwas close to noon, and yet not a Stetson or a Lewallen had been seen. The stores of Rufe and old Jasper were at the extremities of the town, and the crowd did not move those ways. It waited in the centre, andwhetted impatience by sly trips in twos and three to stables or sidealleys for "mountain dew. " Now and then the sheriff, a little man with amighty voice, would appear on the courthouse steps, and summon a witnessto court, where a frightened judge gave instructions to a frightenedjury. But few went, unless called; for the interest was outside; everyman in the streets knew that a storm was nigh, and was waiting to see itburst. 

Noon passed. A hoarse bell and a whining hound had announced dinnerin the hotel. The guests were coming again into the streets. Eyes werebrighter, faces a little more flushed, and the "moonshine" was passedmore openly. Both ways the crowd watched closely. The quiet at each endof the street was ominous, and the delay could last but little longer. The lookers-on themselves were getting quarrelsome. The vent must comesoon, or among them there would be trouble. 

"Thar comes Jas Lewallen!" At last. A dozen voices spoke at once. Ahorseman had appeared far down the street from the Lewallen end. Theclouds broke from about the sun, and a dozen men knew the horse thatbore him; for the gray was prancing the street sidewise, and throwingthe sunlight from his flanks. Nobody followed, and the crowd waspuzzled. Young Jasper carried a Winchester across his saddle-bow, and, swaying with the action of his horse, came on. 

"What air he about?"

"He's a plumb idgit. "

"He mus' be crazy. "

"He's drunk!"

The wonder ceased. Young Jasper was reeling. Two or three Stetsonsslipped from the crowd, and there was a galloping of hoofs the otherway. Another horseman appeared from the Lewallen end, riding hastily. The new-comer's errand was to call Jasper back. But the young dare-devilwas close to the crowd, and was swinging a bottle over his head. 

"Come back hyeh, Jas! Come hyeh!" The new-comer was shouting afar offwhile he galloped. Horses were being untethered from the side alleys. Several more Lewallen riders came in sight. They could see the grayshining in the sunlight amid the crowd, and the man sent after himhalted at a safe distance, gesticulating; and they, too, spurredforward. 

"Hello, boys!" young Jasper was calling out, as he swayed from side toside, the people everywhere giving him way. 

"Fun to-day, by ----! fun to-day! Who'll hev a drink? Hyeh's hell to theStetsons, whar some of 'em 'll be afore night!"

With a swagger he lifted the bottle to his lips, and, stopping short, let it fall untouched to the ground. He had straightened in his saddle, and was looking up the street. With a deep curse he threw the Winchesterto his shoulder, fired, and before his yell had died on his lips horseand rider were away like a shaft of light. The crowd melted like magicfrom the street. The Stetsons, chiefly on foot, did not return thefire, but halted up the street, as if parleying. Young Jasper joined hisparty, and they, too, stood still a moment, puzzled by the irresolutionof the other side. 

"Watch out! they're gittin' round ye! Run for the court-house, yefools!-ye, run!" The voice came in a loud yell from somewhere down thestreet, and its warning was just in time. 

A wreath of smoke came about a corner of the house far down the street, and young Jasper yelled, and dashed up a side alley with his followers. A moment later judge, jury, witnesses, and sheriff were flying down thecourt-house steps at the point of Lewallen guns; the Lewallen horses, led by the gray, were snorting through the streets; their riders, barricaded in the forsaken court-house, were puffing a stream of fireand smoke from every window of court-room below and jury-room above. 

The streets were a bedlam. The Stetsons were yelling with triumph. TheLewallens were divided, and Rufe placed three Stetsons with Winchesterson each side of the courthouse, and kept them firing. Rome, pale andstern, hid his force between the square and the Lewallen store. Hewas none too quick. The rest were coming on, led by old Jasper. It wasreckless, riding that way right into death; but the old man believedyoung Jasper's life at stake, and the men behind asked no questions whenold Jasper led them. The horses' hoofs beat the dirt street likethe crescendo of thunder. The fierce old man's hat was gone, and hismane-like hair was shaking in the wind. Louder-and still the Stetsonswere quiet-quiet too long. The wily old man saw the trap, and, witha yell, whirled the column up an alley, each man flattening over hissaddle. From every window, from behind every corner and tree, smokebelched from the mouth of a Winchester. Two horses went down; onescreamed; the other struggled to his feet, and limped away with an emptysaddle. One of the fallen men sprang into safety behind a house, and onelay still, with his arms stretched out and his face in the dust. 

From behind barn, house, and fence the Lewallens gave back a scatteringfire; but the Stetsons crept closer, and were plainly in greaternumbers. Old Jasper was being surrounded, and he mounted again, and all, followed by a chorus of bullets and triumphant yells, fled for a woodedslope in the rear of the court-house. A dozen Lewallens were prisoners, and must give up or starve. There was savage joy in the Stetson crowd, and many-footed rumor went all ways that night. 

Despite sickness and Rome's strict order, Isom had ridden down to themill. Standing in the doorway, he and old Gabe saw up the river, wherethe water broke into foam over the ford, a riderless gray horse plungingacross. Later it neighed at a gate under Wolf's Head, and MarthaLewallen ran out to meet it. Across under Thunderstruck Knob thatnight the old Stetson mother listened to Isom's story of the fight withghastly joy in her death-marked face. 

XI

ALL night the court-house was guarded and on guard. At one corner ofthe square Rufe Stetson, with a few men, sat on watch in old Sam Day'scabin--the fortress of the town, built for such a purpose, and used forit many times before. The prisoners, too, were alert, and no Stetsonventured into the open square, for the moon was high; an exposureanywhere was noted instantly by the whistle of a rifle-ball, and themountaineer takes few risks except under stress of drink or passion. Rome Stetson had placed pickets about the town wherever surprise waspossible. All night he patrolled the streets to keep his men in suchreadiness as he could for the attack that the Lewallens would surelymake to rescue their living friends and to avenge the dead ones. 

But the triumph was too great and unexpected. Two Braytons were dead;several more were prisoners with young Jasper in the courthouse; anddrinking began. 

As the night deepened without attack the Stetsons drank more, and grewreckless. A dance was started. Music and "moonshine" were given to everyman who bore a Winchester. The night was broken with drunken yells, therandom discharge of fire-arms, and the mono-tone of heavy feet. The twoleaders were helpless, and the inaction of the Lewallens puzzled them. Chafed with anxiety, they kept their eyes on the court-house or on thethicket of gloom where their enemies lay. But the woods were as quietas the pall of shadows over them. Once Rome, making his rounds, saw afigure crawling through a field of corn. It looked like Crump's, butbefore he could fire the man rolled like a ball down the bushy bankto the river. An instant later some object went swiftly past a sidestreet-somebody on horseback-and a picket fired an alarm. The horsekept on, and Rome threw his rifle on a patch of moonlight, but when theobject flashed through, his finger was numbed at the trigger. In themoonlight the horse looked gray, and the rider was seated sidewise. Abullet from the court-house clipped his hat-brim as he ran recklesslyacross the street to where Steve Marcum stood in the dark behind oldSam's cabin. 

"Jim Hale 'll git him as he goes up the road, " said Steve, calmly--andthen with hot impatience, "Why the hell don't he shoot?"

Rome started forward in the moonlight, and Steve caught his arm. Twobullets hissed from the court-house, and he fell back. 

A shot sounded from the bushes far away from the road. The horse kepton, and splashed into Troubled Fork, and Steve swore bitterly. 

"Hit hain't Jim. Hit's that mis'able Bud Vickers; he's been a-stan din'guard out'n the bushes 'stid o' the road. That was a spy, I tell ye, 'n'the coward let him in and let him out. They'll know now we're all drunk!Whut's the matter?"

Rome's mouth was half open. He looked white and sick, and Steve thoughthe had been hit, but he took off his hat. "Purty close!" he said, witha laugh, pointing at the bullet-hole through the brim. 

Steve, unsuspicious, went on: "Hit was a spy, I tell ye. Bud was afeardto stan' in the road, 'n' I'm goin' out thar 'n' twist his damned neck. We've got 'em, Rome! I tell ye, we've got 'em! Ef we kin git throughthis night, and git the boys sober in the morning, we've got 'em shore!"

The night did pass in safety, darkness wore away without attack, andmorning broke on the town in its drunken stupor. Then the curioussilence of the Lewallens was explained. The rumor came that old Jasperwas dead, and it went broadcast. Later, friends coming to the edge ofthe town for the bodies of the dead Lewallens confirmed it. A randomball had passed through old Lewallen's body in the wild flight for thewoods, and during the night he had spent his last breath in a curseagainst the man who fired it. 

Then each Stetson, waked from his drunken sleep, drank again when heheard of the death. The day bade fair to be like the night, and againthe anxiety of the leaders was edged with fear. Old Jasper dead andyoung Jasper a prisoner, the chance was near to end the feud, or therewould be no Lewallen left to lead their enemies. But, again, they werewell-nigh helpless. Already they had barely enough men to guard theirprisoners. Of the Marcums, Steve alone was able to handle a Winchester, and outside the sounds of the carousal were in the air and growinglouder. In a little while, if the Lewallens but knew it, escape would beeasy and the Stetsons could be driven from the town. 

"Oh, they know it, " said Steve. "They'll be a-whoopin' down out O' themwoods purty soon, 'n' we re goin to ketch hell. I'd like to know mightywell who that spy was last night. That cussed Bud Vickers says it was aha'nt, on a white hoss, with long hair flyin' in the wind, 'n' that heshot plumb through it. I jus' wish I'd a had a chance at it. "

Still, noon came again without trouble, and the imprisoned Lewallenshad been twenty-four hours without food. Their ammunition was gettingscarce. The firing was less frequent, though the watch was as close asever, and twice a Winchester had sounded a signal of distress. All knewthat a response must come soon; and come it did. A picket, watching theriver road, saw young Jasper's horse coming along the dark bushes far upthe river, and brought the news to the group standing behind old Sam'scabin. The gray galloped into sight, and, skirting the woods, camestraight for the town-with a woman on his back. The stirrup of a man'ssaddle dangled on one side, and the woman's bonnet had fallen from herhead. Some one challenged her. 

"Stop, I tell ye! Don't ye go near that courthouse! Stop, I tell ye! I'llshoot! Stop!"

Rome ran from the cabin with a revolver in each hand. A drunkenmountaineer was raising a Winchester to his shoulder, and, springingfrom the back of the gray at the court-house steps, was Martha Lewallen. 

"I'll kill the fust man that lifts his finger to hurt the gal, " Romesaid, knocking the drunken man's gun in the air. "We hain't fightin'women!"

It was too late to oppose her, and the crowd stood helplessly watching. No one dared approach, so, shielding with her body the space of theopening door, she threw the sack of food within. Then she stood a momenttalking and, turning, climbed to her saddle. The gray was spotted withfoam, and showed the red of his nostrils with every breath as, with faceflushed and eyes straight before her, she rode slowly toward the crowd. What was she about? Rome stood rigid, his forgotten pistols hanging ateach side; the mouth of the drunken mountaineer was open with stupidwonder; the rest fell apart as she came around the corner of the cabinand, through the space given, rode slowly, her skirt almost brushingRome, looking neither to the right nor to the left; and when she hadgone quite through them all, she wheeled and rode, still slowly, throughthe open fields toward the woods which sheltered the Lewallens, whilethe crowd stood in bewildered silence looking after her. Yells oflaughter came from the old court-house. Some of the Stetsons laughed, too; some swore, a few grumbled; but there was not one who was notstirred by the superb daring of the girl, though she had used it only toshow her contempt. 

"Rome, you're a fool; though, fer a fac', we can't shoot a woman; 'n'anyways I ruther shoot her than the hoss. But lemme tell ye, thar wasmore'n sump'n to eat in that bag! They air up to some dodge. "

Rufe Stetson had watched the incident through a port-hole of the cabin, and his tone was at once jesting and anxious. 

"That grub won't last more'n one day, I reckon, " said the drunkenmountaineer. "We'll watch out fer the gal nex' time. We're boun' to git'em one time or t'other. "

"She rid through us to find out how many of us wasn't dead drunk, " saidSteve Marcum, still watching the girl as she rode on, toward the woods;"'n' I'm a-thinkin' they'll be down on us purty soon now, 'n' I reckonwe'll have to run fer it. Look thar boys!"

The girl had stopped at the edge of the woods; facing the town, shewaved her bonnet high above her head. 

"Well, whut in the--!" he said, with slow emphasis, and then he leapedfrom the door with a yell. The bonnet was a signal to the beleagueredLewallens. The rear door of the courthouse had been quietly opened, andthe prisoners were out in a body and scrambling over the fence beforethe pickets could give an alarm. The sudden yells, the crack ofWinchesters, startled even the revellers and all who could, headed byRome and Steve Marcum, sprang into the square, and started in pursuit. But the Lewallens had got far ahead, and were running in zigzag lines tododge the balls flying after them. Half-way to the woods was a gullyof red clay, and into this the fleetest leaped, and turned instantly tocover their comrades. The Winchesters began to rattle from the woods, and the bullets came like rain from everywhere. 

"T-h-up! T-h-up! T-h-up!" there were three of them--the peculiar soft, dull messages of hot lead to living flesh. A Stetson went down; anotherstumbled; Rufe Stetson, climbing the fence, caught at his breast withan oath, and fell back. Rome and Steve dropped for safety to the ground. Every other Stetson turned in a panic, and every Lewallen in the gullyleaped from it, and ran under the Lewallen fire for shelter in thewoods. The escape was over. 

"That was a purty neat trick, " said Steve, wiping a red streak from hischeek. "Nex' time she tries that, she'll git herself into trouble. "

At nightfall the wounded leader and the dead one were carried up themountain, each to his home; and there was mourning far into the nighton one bank of the Cumberland, and, serious though Rufe Stetson's woundwas, exultation on the other. But in it Rome could take but little part. There had been no fault to find with him in the fight. But a reactionhad set in when he saw the girl flash in the moonlight past the sightsof his Winchester, and her face that day had again loosed within him aflood of feeling that drove the lust for revenge from his veins. Evennow, while he sat in his own cabin, his thoughts were across the riverwhere Martha, broken at last, sat at her death vigils. He knew what herdaring ride that day had cost her, with old Jasper dead out there in thewoods; and as she passed him he had grown suddenly humbled, shamed. Hegrew heart-sick now as he thought of it all; and the sight of his motheron her bed in the corner, close to death as she was, filled him withbitterness. There was no help for him. He was alone now, pitted againstyoung Jasper alone. On one bed lay his uncle-nigh to death. Therewas the grim figure in the corner, the implacable spirit of hate andrevenge. His rifle was against the wall. If there was any joy for him inold Jasper's death, it was that his hand had not caused it, and yet--Godhelp him!--there was the other cross, the other oath. 

XII

THE star and the crescent were swinging above Wolf's Head, and in thedark hour that breaks into dawn a cavalcade of Lewallens forded theCumberland, and galloped along the Stetson shore. At the head rode youngJasper, and Crump the spy. 

Swift changes had followed the court-house fight. In spite of the deathof Rufe Stetson from his wound, and several other Stetsons from ambush, the Lewallens had lost ground. Old Jasper's store had fallen intothe hands of creditors--"furriners"--for debts, and it was said hishomestead must follow. In a private war a leader must be more thanleader. He must feed and often clothe his followers, and young Jasperhad not the means to carry on the feud. The famine had made corn dear. He could feed neither man nor horse, and the hired feudsmen fell away, leaving the Lewallens and the Braytons and their close kin to battlealone. So Jasper avoided open combat and resorted to ambush andsurprise; and, knowing in some way every move made by the Stetsons, withgreat daring and success. It was whispered, too, that he no longer caredwho owned what he might want for himself. Several dark deeds were tracedto him. In a little while he was a terror to good citizens, and finallyold Gabe asked aid of the Governor. Soldiers from the settlements werelooked for any day, and both factions knew it. At the least this woulddelay the war, and young Jasper had got ready for a last fight, whichwas close at hand. 

Half a mile on the riders swerved into a wooded slope. There they hidtheir horses in the brush, and climbed the spur stealthily. The nakedwoods showed the cup-like shape of the mountains there-a basin fromwhich radiated upward wooded ravines, edged with ribs of rock. In thisbasin the Stetsons were encamped. The smoke of a fire was visible in thedim morning light, and the Lewallens scattered to surround the camp, butthe effort was vain. A picket saw the creeping figures; his gun echoeda warning from rock to rock, and with yells the Lewallens ran forward. Rome sprang from his sleep near the fire, bareheaded, rifle in hand, hisbody plain against a huge rock, and the bullets hissed and spat abouthim as he leaped this way and that, firing as he sprang, and shoutingfor his men. Steve Marcum alone answered. Some, startled from sleep, had fled in a panic; some had run deeper into the woods for shelter. Andbidding Steve save himself, Rome turned up the mountain, runningfrom tree to tree, and dropped unhurt behind a fallen chestnut. OtherStetsons, too, had turned, and answering bullets began to whistle tothe enemy, but they were widely separated and ignorant of one another'sposition, and the Lewallens drove them one by one to new hiding-places, scattering them more. To his right Rome saw Steve Marcum speed likea shadow up through a little open space, but he feared to move, forseveral Lewallens had recognized him, and were watching him alone. Hecould not even fire; at the least exposure there was a chorus of bulletsabout his ears. In a moment they began to come obliquely from eachside-the Lewallens were getting around him. In a moment more death wassure there, and once again he darted up the mountain. The bullets sangafter him like maddened bees. He felt one cut his hat and another stinghis left arm, but he raced up, up, till the firing grew fainter as heclimbed, and ceased an instant altogether. Then, still farther below, came a sudden crash of reports. Stetsons were pursuing the men who wereafter him, but he could not join them. The Lewallens were scatteredeverywhere between him and his own man, and a descent might lead him tothe muzzle of an enemy's Winchester. So he climbed over a ledge of rockand lay there, peeping through a crevice between two bowlders, gaininghis breath. The firing was far below him now, and was sharp. Evidentlyhis pursuers were too busy defending themselves to think further of him, and he began to plan how he should get back to his friends. But he kepthidden, and, searching the cliffs below him for a sheltered descent, hesaw something like a slouched hat just over a log, scarcely fifty feetbelow him. Presently the hat was lifted a few inches; a figure rosecautiously and climbed toward the ledge, shielding itself behind rockand tree. Very quietly Rome crawled back to the face of the cliff behindhim, and crouched behind a rock with his cocked rifle across his knees. The man must climb over the ledge; there would be a bare, level floorof rock between them-the Lewallen would be at his mercy--and Rome, withstraining eyes, waited. There was a footfall on the other side of theledge; a soft clink of metal against stone. The Lewallen was climbingslowly-slowly. Rome could hear his heavy breathing. A grimy hand slippedover the sharp comb of the ledge; another appeared, clinched about aWinchester--then the slouched hat, and under it the dark, crafty face ofyoung Jasper. Rome sat like the stone before him, with a half-smile onhis lips. Jasper peered about with the sly caution of a fox, and hisface grew puzzled and chagrined as he looked at the cliffs above him. 

"Stop thar!"

He was drawing himself over the ledge, and the low, stern voice startledhim, as a knife might have done, thrust suddenly from the empty air athis breast. Rome rose upright against the cliff, with his resolute faceagainst the stock of a Winchester. 

"Drap that gun!"

The order was given along Stetson's barrel, and the weapon was dropped, the steel ringing on the stone floor. Rome lowered his gun to the hollowof his arm, and the two young leaders faced each other for the firsttime in the life of either. 

"Seem kinder s'prised to see me, " said the Stetson, grimly. "Hev ye gota pistol?"

Young Jasper glared at him in helpless ferocity. 

"Naw!"

"Knife?"

He drew a long-bladed penknife from his pocket, and tossed it at Rome'sfeet. 

"Jes' move over thar, will ye?"

The Lewallen took his stand against the cliff. Rome picked up the fallenrifle and leaned it against the ledge. 

"Now, Jas Lewallen, thar's nobody left in this leetle trouble 'cept you'n' me, 'n' ef one of us was dead, I reckon t'other could live hyeh, 'n'thar'd be peace in these mount'ins. I thought o' that when I had ye atthe eend o' this Winchester. I reckon you would 'a' shot me dead ef Ihad poked my head over a rock as keerless as you. " That is just whathe would have done, and Jasper did not answer. "I've swore to kill ye, too, " added Rome, tapping his gun; "I've got a cross fer ye hyeh. "

The Lewallen was no coward. Outcry or resistance was useless. TheStetson meant to taunt him, to make death more bitter; for Jasperexpected death, and he sullenly waited for it against the cliff. 

"You've been banterin me a long time now, 'lowin' as how ye air thebetter man o' the two; n' I've got a notion o' givin' ye a chance toprove yer tall talk. Hit's not our way to kill a man in cold blood, 'n'I don't want to kill ye anyways ef I kin he'p it. Seem s'prised ag'in. Reckon ye don't believe me? I don't wonder when I think o' my own dad, 'n' all the meanness yo folks have done mine; but I've got a good reasonfer not killin' ye--ef I kin he'p it. Y'u don't know what it is, 'n'y'u'll never know; but I'll give yer a chance now fer yer life ef y'u'llsw'ar on a stack o' Bibles as high as that tree thar that y'u'll leavethese mount'ins ef I whoops ye, 'n' nuver come back ag'in as long as youlive. I'll leave, ef ye whoops me. Now whut do ye say? Will ye sw'ar?

"I reckon I will, seem' as I've got to, " was the surly answer. ButJasper's face was dark with suspicion, and Rome studied it keenly. TheLewallens once had been men whose word was good, but he did not likeJasper's look. 

"I reckon I'll trust ye, " he said, at last, more through confidence inhis own strength than faith in his enemy; for Jasper whipped would be asmuch at his mercy as he was now. So Rome threw off his coat, and beganwinding his homespun suspenders about his waist. Watching him closely, Jasper did the same. 

The firing below had ceased. A flock of mountain vultures were sailingin great circles over the thick woods. Two eagles swept straight fromthe rim of the sun above Wolf's Head, beating over a turbulent seaof mist for the cliffs, scarcely fifty yards above the ledge, wherea pine-tree grew between two rocks. At the instant of lighting, theywheeled away, each with a warning scream to the other. A figure lyingflat behind the pine had frightened them, and now a face peeped to oneside, flushed with eagerness over the coming fight. Both were ready now, and the Lewallen grew suddenly white as Rome turned again and reacheddown for the guns. 

"I reckon I'll put 'em a leetle furder out o' the way, " he said, kickingthe knife over the cliff; and, standing on a stone, he thrust them intoa crevice high above his head. 

"Now, Jas, we'll fight this gredge out, as our grandads have done aforeus. "

Lewallen and Stetson were man to man at last. Suspicion was gone now, and a short, brutal laugh came from the cliff. 

"I'll fight ye! Oh, by God, I'll fight ye!"

The ring of the voice struck an answering gleam from Rome's gray eyes, and the two sprang for each other. It was like the struggle of primevalmen who had not yet learned even the use of clubs. For an instant bothstood close, like two wild beasts crouched for a spring, and circlingabout to get at each other's throats, with mouths set, eyes watchingeyes, and hands twitching nervously. Young Jasper leaped first, and theStetson, wary of closing with him, shrank back. There were a few quick, heavy blows, and the Lewallen was beaten away with blood at his lips. Then each knew the advantage of the other. The Stetson's reach waslonger; the Lewallen was shorter and heavier, and again he closed in. Again Rome sent out his long arm. A turn of Jasper's head let the heavyfist pass over his shoulder. The force of the blow drove Rome forward;the two clinched, and Jasper's arms tightened about the Stetson's waist. With a quick gasp for breath Rome loosed his hold, and, bending hisenemy's head back with one hand, rained blow after blow in his facewith the other. One terrible stroke on the jaw, and Jasper's arms wereloosed; the two fell apart, the one stunned, the other breathless. Onedazed moment only, and for a third time the Lewallen came on. Rome hadbeen fighting a man; now he faced a demon. Jasper's brows stood out likebristles, and the eyes under them were red and fierce like a mad bull's. Again Rome's blows fell, but again the Lewallen reached him, and thistime he got his face under the Stetson's chin, --'id the heavy fist fellupon the back of his head, and upon his neck, as upon wood and leather. Again Rome had to gasp for breath, and again the two were fiercelylocked-their corded arms as tense as serpents. Around and around theywhirled, straining, tripping, breaking the silence only with deep, quickbreaths and the stamping of feet, Jasper firm on the rock, and Rome'sagility saving him from being lifted in the air and tossed from thecliff. There was no pause for rest. It was a struggle to the end, anda quick one; and under stress of excitement the figure at the pine-treehad risen to his knees--jumping even to his feet in plain view, whenthe short, strong arms of the Lewallen began at last to draw Rome closerstill, and to bend him backward. The Stetson was giving way at last. The Lewallen's vindictive face grew blacker, and his white teeth showedbetween his snarling lips as he fastened one leg behind his enemy's, and, with chin against his shoulder, bent him slowly, slowly back. Thetwo breathed in short, painful gasps; their swollen muscles trembledunder the strain as with ague. Back--back--the Stetson was falling;he seemed almost down, when--the trick is an old one-whirling with thequickness of light, he fell heavily on his opponent, and caught him bythe throat with both hands. 

"'Nough?" he asked, hoarsely. It was the first word uttered. 

The only answer was a fierce struggle. Rome felt the Lewallen's teethsinking in his arm, and his fingers tightened like twisting steel, tillJasper caught his breath as though strangling to death. 

"'Nough?" asked the hoarse voice again. 

No answer; tighter clinched the fingers. The Lewallen shook his headfeebly; his purple face paled suddenly as Rome loosed his hold, and hislips moved in a whisper. 

"'Nough!"

Rome rose dizzily to one knee. Jasper turned, gasping, and lay with hisface to the rock. For a while both were quiet, Rome, panting withopen mouth and white with exhaustion, looking down now and then at theLewallen, whose face was turned away with shame. 

The sun was blazing above Wolf's Head now, and the stillness about themlay unbroken on the woods below. 

"I've whooped ye, Jas, " Rome said, at last; "I've whooped ye in a fa'rfight, 'n' I've got nothin' now to say 'bout yer tall talk, 'n' I reckonyou hevn't nuther. Now, hit's understood, hain't it, that y'u'll leavethese mount'ins?

"Y'u kin go West, " he continued, as the Lewallen did not answer. "UncleRufe used to say thar's a good deal to do out thar, 'n' nobody axesquestions. Thar's nobody left hyeh but you 'n' me, but these mount'inswas never big 'nough fer one Lewallen 'n' one Stetson, 'n' you've got togo. I reckon ye won't believe me, but I'm glad I didn't hev to killye. But you've promised to go, now, 'n' I'll take yer word fer it. "He turned his face, and the Lewallen, knowing it from the sound of hisvoice, sprang to his feet. 

"Oh--!"

A wild curse burst from Rome's lips, and both leaped for the guns. TheLewallen had the start of a few feet, and Rome, lamed in the fight, stumbled and fell. Before he could rise Jasper had whirled, with one ofthe Winchesters above his head and his face aflame with fury. Asking nomercy, Rome hid his face with one arm and waited, stricken faint all atonce, and numb. One report struck his ears, muffled, whip-like. A dullwonder came to him that the Lewallen could have missed at such closerange, and he waited for another. Some one shouted--a shrill hallo. Aloud laugh followed; a light seemed breaking before Rome's eyes, andhe lifted his head. Jasper was on his face again, motionless; and SteveMarcum's tall figure was climbing over a bowlder toward him. 

"That was the best fight I've seed in my time, by God, " he said, coolly, "'n', Rome, y'u air the biggest fool this side o' the settlements, Ireckon. I had dead aim on him, 'n' I was jest a-thinkin' hit was a purtygood thing fer you that old long-nosed Jim Stover chased me up hyeh, when, damn me, ef that boy up thar didn't let his ole gun loose. I'da-got Jas myself ef he hadn't been so all-fired quick o' trigger. "

Up at the root of the pine-tree Isom stood motionless, with his longrifle in one hand and a little cloud of smoke breaking above his whiteface. When Rome looked up he started down without a word. Steve swunghimself over the ledge. 

"I heerd the shootin', " said the boy, "up thar at the cave, 'n' Icouldn't stay thar. I knowed ye could whoop him, Rome, 'n' I seed Steve, too, but I was afeard--" Then he saw the body. His tongue stopped, hisface shrivelled, and Steve, hanging with one hand to the ledge, watchedhim curiously. 

"Rome, " said the boy, in a quick whisper, "is he daid?"

"Come on!" said Steve, roughly. "They'll be up hyeh atter us in aminute. Leave Jas's gun thar, 'n' send that boy back home. "

That day the troops came--young Blue Grass Kentuckians. That night, within the circle of their camp-fires, a last defiance was cast in theteeth of law and order. Flames rose within the old court-house, andbefore midnight the moonlight fell on four black walls. That night, too, the news of young Jasper's fate was carried to the death-bed of Rome'smother, and before day the old woman passed in peace. That day Stetsonsand Lewallens disbanded. The Lewallens had no leader; the Stetsons, no enemies to fight. Some hid, some left the mountains, some gavethemselves up for trial. Upon Rome Stetson the burden fell. Against himthe law was set. A price was put on his head, his house was burned--alast act of Lewallen hate--and Rome was homeless, the last of his race, and an outlaw. 

XIII

WITH the start of a few hours and the sympathy of his people onemountaineer can defy the army of the United States; and the mountaineersusually laugh when they hear troops are coming. For the time they stopfighting and hide in the woods; and when the soldiers are gone, theycome out again, and begin anew their little pleasantries. But thesoldiers can protect the judge on his bench and the county-seat in timeof court, and for these purposes they serve well. 

The search for Rome Stetson, then, was useless. His friends would aidhim; his enemies feared to betray him. So the soldiers marched away onemorning, and took their prisoners for safe-keeping in the Blue Grass, until court should open at Hazlan. 

Meantime, spring came and deepened the mountain spring. The berries ofthe wintergreen grew scarce, and Rome Stetson, "hiding out, " as thephrase is, had to seek them on the northern face of the mountains. Themoss on the naked winter trees brightened in color, and along the river, where willows drooped, ran faint lines of green. The trailing arbutusgave out delicate pink blossoms, and the south wind blew apart thepetals of the anemone. Soon violets unfolded above the dead leaves;azaleas swung their yellow trumpets through the undergrowth; over-head, the dogwood tossed its snow-flakes in gusts through the green and goldof new leaves and sunlight; and higher still waved the poplar blooms, with honey ready on every crimson heart for the bees. Down in the valleyRome Stetson could see about every little cabin pink clouds andwhite clouds of peach and of apple blossoms. Amid the ferns about himshade-loving trilliums showed their many-hued faces, and every openingwas thickly peopled with larkspur seeking the sun. The giant magnoliaand the umbrella-tree spread their great creamy flowers; the laurelshook out myriads of pink and white bells, and the queen of mountainflowers was stirring from sleep in the buds of the rhododendron. 

With the spring new forces pulsed the mountain air. The spirit of thetimes reached even Hazlan. A railroad was coming up the river, so therumor was. When winter broke, surveyors had appeared; after them, miningexperts and purchasers of land. New ways of bread-making were open toall, and the feudsman began to see that he could make food and clothesmore easily and with less danger than by sleeping with his rifle in thewoods, and by fighting men who had done him no harm. Many were tired offighting; many, forced into the feud, had fought unwillingly. Others hadsold their farms and wild lands, and were moving toward the Blue Grassor westward. The desperadoes of each faction had fled the law or werein its clutches. The last Lewallen was dead; the last Stetson was hiddenaway in the mountains. There were left Mareums and Braytons, but onlythose who felt safest from indictment; in these a spirit of hostilitywould live for years, and, roused by passion or by drink, would domurder now on one side of the Cumberland and now on the other; but theStetson-Lewallen feud, old Gabe believed, was at an end at last. 

All these things the miller told Rome Stetson, who well knew what theymeant. He was safe enough from the law while the people took no partin his capture, but he grew apprehensive when he learned of the changesgoing on in the valley. None but old Gabe knew where he was, to be sure, but with his own enemies to guide the soldiers he could not hopeto remain hidden long. Still, with that love of the mountainscharacteristic of all races born among them, he clung to his own land. He would rather stay where he was the space of a year and die, he toldold Gabe passionately, than live to old age in another State. 

But there was another motive, and he did not hide it. On the other sidehe had one enemy left--the last, too, of her race--who was more to himthan his own dead kindred, who hated him, who placed at his door all hersorrows. For her he was living like a wolf in a cave, and old Gabe knewit. Her he would not leave. 

"I tell ye, Rome, you've got to go. Thar's no use talkin'. Court comesthe fust Monday in June. The soldiers ull be hyeh. Hit won't be safe. Thar's some that s'picions I know whar ye air now, 'n' they'll bespyin', 'n' mebbe hit'll git me into trouble, too, aidin' 'n' abettin' aman to git away who air boun' to the law. "

The two were sitting on the earthen floor of the cave before a littlefire, and Rome, with his hands about his knees and his brows knitted, was staring into the yellow blaze. His unshorn hair fell to hisshoulders; his face was pale from insufficient food and exercise, andtense with a look that was at once caged and defiant. 

"Uncle Gabe, " he asked, quietly, for the old man's tone was a littlequerulous, "air ye sorry ye holped me? Do ye blame me fer whut I'vedone?"

"No, " said the old miller, answering both questions; "I don't. I believewhut ye tol' me. Though, even ef ye had 'a' done it, I don't know as I'dblame ye, seem' that it was a fa'r fight. I don't doubt he was doin' hisbest to kill you. "

Rome turned quickly, his face puzzled and darkening. 

"Uncle Gabe, whut air you drivin' at?" The old man spat into the fire, and shifted his position uneasily, as Rome's hand caught his knee. 

"Well, ef I have to tell ye, I s'pose I must. Thar's been nothin'pertickler ag'in ye so fer, 'cept fer breakin' that confederatin'statute 'bout bandin' fightin' men together; 'n' nobody was very anxiousto git hol' o' ye jes fer that, but now"--the old man stopped a moment, for Rome's eyes were kindling--"they say that ye killed Jas Lew allen, 'n' that ye air a murderer; 'n' hit air powerful strange how all ofa suddint folks seem to be gittin' down on a man as kills hisfellow-creetur; 'n' now they means to hunt ye til they ketch ye. "

It was all out now, and the old man was relieved. Rome rose to his feet, and in sheer agony of spirit paced the floor. 

"I tol' ye, Uncle Gabe, that I didn't kill him. "

"So ye did, 'n' I believe ye. But a feller seed you 'n' Steve comm'from the place whar Jas was found dead, 'n' whar the dirt 'n' rock wasthrowed about as by two bucks in spring-time. Steve says he didn'tdo it, 'n' he wouldn't say you didn't. Looks to me like Steve did thekilln', 'n' was lyin' a leetle. He hain't goin' to confess hit tosave your neck; 'n' he can't no way, fer he hev lit out o' thesemount'ins--long ago. "

If Steve was out of danger, suspicion could not harm him, and Rome saidnothing. 

"Isom's got the lingerin' fever ag'in, 'n' he's outin his head. He'sravin' 'bout that fight. Looks like ye tol' him 'bout it. He says, 'Don't tell Uncle Gabe'; 'n' he keeps sayin' it. Hit'll 'most kill himef you go 'way; but he wants ye to git out o' the mount'ins; 'n', Rome, you've got to go. "

"Who was it, Uncle Gabe, that seed me 'n' Steve comm' 'way from thar?"

"He air the same feller who hev been spyin' ye all the time this war'sbeen goin' on; hit's that dried-faced, snaky Eli Crump, who ye knockeddown 'n' choked up in Hazlan one day fer sayin' something ag'in Isom. "

"I knowed it--I knowed it--oh, ef I could git my fingers roun' his throatonce more--jes once more--I'd be 'mos' ready to die. "

He stretched out his hands as he strode back and forth, with his fingerscrooked like talons; his shadow leaped from wall to wall, and his voice, filling the cave, was, for the moment, scarcely human. The old manwaited till the paroxysm was over and Rome had again sunk before thefire. 

"Hit 'u'd do no good, Rome, " he said, rising to go. "You've got enoughon ye now, without the sin o' takin' his life. You better make up yermind to leave the mountins now right 'way. You're a-gittin' no more'nhalf-human, livin' up hyeh like a catamount. I don't see how ye kinstand it. Thar's no hope o' things blowin' over, boy, 'n' givin' ye achance o' comm' out ag'in, as yer dad and yer grandad usen to do aforeye. The citizens air gittin' tired o' these wars. They keeps out thefurriners who makes roads 'n' buys lands; they air ag'in' the law, ag'in' religion, ag'in' yo' pocket, 'n' ag'in' mine. Lots o' folks hevbeen ag'in' all this fightin' fer a long time, but they was too skeeryto say so. They air talkin' mighty big now, seem' they kin git soldiershyeh to pertect 'em. So ye mought as well give up the idea o' stayinghyeh, 'less'n ye want to give yourself up to the law. "

The two stepped from the cave, and passed through the rhododendrons tillthey stood on the cliff overlooking the valley. The rich light lay likea golden mist between the mountains, and through it, far down, the rivermoaned like the wind of a coming storm. 

"Did ye tell the gal whut I tol' ye?"

"Yes, Rome; hit wasn't no use. She says Steve's word's as good as yourn;'n' she knowed about the crosses. Folks say she swore awful ag'in' yeat young Jas's burial, 'lowin' that she'd hunt ye down herse'f, ef thesoldiers didn't ketch ye. I hain't seed her sence she got sick; 'pearslike ever'body's sick. Mebbe she's a leetle settled down now--no tellin'. No use foolin' with her, Rome. You git away from hyeh. Don't you worry'bout Isom--I'll take keer o' him, 'n' when he gits well, he'll want tocome atter ye, 'n' I'll let him go. He couldn't live hyeh without you. But y'u must git away, Rome, 'n' git away mighty quick. "

With hands clasped behind him, Rome stood and watched the bent figureslowly pick its way around the stony cliff. 

"I reckon I've got to go. She's ag'in' me; they're all ag'in' me. Ireckon I've jes got to go. Somehow, I've been kinder hopin'--" He closedhis lips to check the groan that rose to them, and turned again into thegloom behind him. 

XIV

JUNE came. The wild rose swayed above its image along every littleshadowed stream, and the scent of wild grapes was sweet in the air andas vagrant as a bluebird's note in autumn. The rhododendrons burst intobeauty, making gray ridge and gray cliff blossom with purple, hedgingstreams with snowy clusters and shining leaves, and lighting updark coverts in the woods as with white stars. The leaves were full, woodthrushes sang, and bees droned like unseen running water in thewoods. 

With June came circuit court once more-and the soldiers. Faint musicpierced the dreamy chant of the river one morning as Rome lay on abowlder in the summer sun; and he watched the guns flashing like anotherstream along the water, and then looked again to the Lewallen cabin. Never, morning, noon, or night, when he came from the rhododendrons, orwhen they closed about him, did he fail to turn his eyes that way. Oftenhe would see a bright speck moving about the dim lines of the cabin, and he would scarcely breathe while he watched it, so easily would itdisappear. Always he had thought it was Martha, and now he knew it was, for the old miller had told him more of the girl, and had wrung hisheart with pity. She had been ill a long while. The "furriners" hadseized old Jasper's cabin and land. The girl was homeless, and she didnot know it, for no one had the heart to tell her. She was livingwith the Braytons; and every day she went to the cabin, "moonin'n'sorrowin' aroun', " as old Gabe said; and she was much changed. 

Once more the miller came-for the last time, he said, firmly. Crump hadtrailed him, and had learned where Rome was. The search would begin nextday-perhaps that very night-and Crump would guide the soldiers. Now hemust go, and go quickly. The boy, too, sent word that unless Rome went, he would have something to tell. Old Gabe saw no significance in themessage; but he had promised to deliver it, and he did. Rome waveredthen; Steve and himself gone, no suspicion would fall on the lad. If hewere caught, the boy might confess. With silence Rome gave assent, andthe two parted in an apathy that was like heartlessness. Only old Gabe'sshrunken breast heaved with something more than weariness of descent, and Rome stood watching him a long time before he turned back to thecave that had sheltered him from his enemies among beasts and men. Ina moment he came out for the last time, and turned the opposite way. Climbing about the spur, he made for the path that led down to theriver. When he reached it he glanced at the sun, and stopped inindecision. Straight above him was a knoll, massed with rhododendrons, the flashing leaves of which made it like a great sea-wave in theslanting sun, while the blooms broke slowly down over it like foam. Above this was a gray sepulchre of dead, standing trees, more gaunt andspectre-like than ever, with the rich life of summer about it. Higherstill were a dark belt of stunted firs and the sandstone ledge, andabove these-home. He was risking his liberty, his life. Any clump ofbushes might bristle suddenly with Winchesters. If the soldiers soughtfor him at the cave they would at the same time guard the mountainpaths; they would guard, too, the Stetson cabin. But no matter-the sunwas still high, and he turned up the steep. The ledge passed, he stoppedwith a curse at his lips and the pain of a knife-thrust at his heart. A heap of blackened stones and ashes was before him. The wildmountain-grass was growing up about it. The bee-gums were overturned andrifled. The garden was a tangled mass of weeds. The graves in the littlefamily burying-ground were unprotected, the fence was gone, and noboards marked the last two ragged mounds. Old Gabe had never told him. He, too, like Martha, was homeless, and the old miller had been kind tohim, as the girl's kinspeople had been to her. 

For a long while he sat on the remnant of the burned and broken fence, and once more the old tide of bitterness rose within him and ebbed away. There were none left to hate, to wreak vengeance on. It was hard toleave the ruins as they were; and yet he would rather leave weeds andashes than, like Martha, have some day to know that his home was in thehands of a stranger. When he thought of the girl he grew calmer; his ownsorrows gave way to the thought of hers; and half from habit he raisedhis face to look across the river. Two eagles swept from a dark ravineunder the shelf of rock where he had fought young Jasper, and made fora sun-lighted peak on the other shore. From them his gaze fell to Wolf'sHead and to the cabin beneath, and a name passed his lips in a whisper. 

Then he took the path to the river, and he found the canoe where oldGabe had hidden it. Before the young moon rose he pushed into the streamand drifted with the current. At the mouth of the creek that ran overold Gabe's water-wheel he turned the prow to the Lewallen shore. 

"Not yit! Not yit!" he said. 

XV

THAT night Rome passed in the woods, with his rifle, in a bed ofleaves. Before daybreak he had built a fire in a deep ravine to cook hisbreakfast, and had scattered the embers that the smoke should give nosign. The sun was high when he crept cautiously in sight of the Lewallencabin. It was much like his own home on the other shore, except that thehouse, closed and desolate, was standing, and the bees were busy. At thecorner of the kitchen a rusty axe was sticking in a half-cut piece oftimber, and on the porch was a heap of kindling and fire wood-the lastwork old Jasper and his son had ever done. In the Lewallens' garden, also, two graves were fresh; and the spirit of neglect and ruin overhungthe place. 

All the morning he waited in the edge of the laurel, peering down thepath, watching the clouds race with their shadows over the mountains, orpacing to and fro in his covert of leaves and flowers. He began to fearat last that she was not coming, that she was ill, and once he starteddown the mountain toward Steve Brayton's cabin. The swift descentbrought him to his senses, and he stopped half-way, and climbed backagain to his hiding-place. What he was doing, what he meant to do, hehardly knew. Mid-day passed; the sun fell toward the mountains, and oncemore came the fierce impulse to see her, even though he must stalk intothe Brayton cabin. Again, half-crazed, he started impetuously throughthe brush, and shrank back, and stood quiet. A little noise down thepath had reached his ear. In a moment he could hear slow foot-falls, andthe figure of the girl parted the pink-and-white laurel blossoms, whichfell in a shower about her when she brushed through them. She passedquite near him, walking slowly, and stopped for a moment to rest againsta pillar of the porch. She was very pale; her face was traced deep withsuffering, and she was, as old Gabe said, much changed. Then she wenton toward the garden, stepping with an effort over the low fence, andleaned as if weak and tired against the apple-tree, the boughs of whichshaded the two graves at her feet. For a few moments she stood there, listless, and Rome watched her with hungry eyes, at a loss what to do. She moved presently, and walked quite around the graves without lookingat them; then came back past him, and, seating herself in the porch, turned her face to the river. The sun lighted her hair, and in thesunken, upturned eyes Rome saw the shimmer of tears. 

"Marthy!" He couldn't help it--the thick, low cry broke like a groanfrom his lips, and the girl was on her feet, facing him. She did notknow the voice, nor the shaggy, half-wild figure in the shade of thelaurel; and she started back as if to run; but seeing that the man didnot mean to harm her, she stopped, looking for a moment with wonder andeven with quick pity at the hunted face with its white appeal. Then asudden spasm caught her throat, and left her body rigid, her hands shut, and her eyes dry and hard--she knew him. A slow pallor drove the flush ofsurprise from her face, and her lips moved once, but there was not evena whisper from them. Rome raised one hand before his face, as though toward off something. "Don't look at me that way, Marthy--my God, don't! Ididn't kill him. I sw'ar it! I give him a chance fer his life. I know, I know--Steve says he didn't. Thar was only us two. Hit looks ag'in'me; but I hain't killed one nur t'other. I let 'em both go. Y'u don'tbelieve me?" He went swiftly toward her, his gun outstretched. "Hyeh, gal! I heerd ye swore ag' in' me out thar in the gyarden--'lowin' thatyou was goin' to hunt me down yerself if the soldiers didn't. Hyeh's yerchance!"

The girl shrank away from him, too startled to take the weapon; and heleaned it against her, and stood away, with his hands behind him. 

"Kill me ef ye think I'm a-lyin' to ye, " he said. "Y'u kin git even withme now. But I want to tell ye fust"--the girl had caught the muzzle ofthe gun convulsively, and was bending over it, her eyes burning, herface inscrutable--"hit was a fa'r fight betwixt us, 'n' I whooped him. Hegot his gun then, 'n' would 'a' killed me ag'in' his oath ef he hadn'tbeen shot fust. Hit's so, too, 'bout the crosses. I made 'em; they'reright thar on that gun; but whut could I do with mam a-standin' rightthar with the gun 'n' Uncle Rufe a-tellin' 'bout my own dad layin' inhis blood, 'n' Isom 'n' the boys lookin' on! But I went ag'in' my oath;I gave him his life when I had the right to take it. I could 'a' killedyer dad once, 'n' I had the right to kill him, too, fer killin' mine;but I let him go, 'n' I reckon I done that fer ye, too. 'Pears like Ihain't done nothin' sence I seed ye over thar in the mill that day thatwasn't done fer ye. Somehow ye put me dead ag'in' my own kin, 'n' tukaway all my hate ag'in' yourn. I couldn't fight fer thinkin' I wasfightin' you, 'n' when I seed ye comm' through the bushes jes now, sowhite 'n' sickly-like, I couldn't hardly git breath, a-thinkin' I wasthe cause of all yer misery. That's all!" He stretched out his arms. "Shoot, gal, ef ye don't believe me. I'd jes as lieve die, ef ye thinksI'm lyin' to ye, 'n' ef ye hates me fer whut I hain't done. "

The gun had fallen to the earth. The girl, trembling at the knees, sankto her seat on the porch, and, folding her arms against the pillar, pressed her forehead against them, her face unseen. Rome stooped to pickup the weapon. 

"I'm goin' 'way now, " he went on, slowly, after a little pause, "but Icouldn't leave hyeh without seem' you. I wanted ye to know the truth, 'n' I 'lowed y'u'd believe me ef I tol' ye myself. I've been a-waitin'thar in the lorrel fer ye sence mornin'. Uncle Gabe tol' me ye come hyehever' day. He says I've got to go. I've been hopin' I mought come out o'the bushes some day. But Uncle Gabe says ever'body's ag'in' me more' never, 'n' that the soldiers mean to ketch me. The gov'ner out thar inthe settlements says as how he'll give five hundred dollars fer me, livin' or dead. He'll nuver git me livin'--I've swore that--'n' as I hevdone nothin' sech as folks on both sides hev done who air walkin'roun' free, I hain't goin' to give up. Hit's purty hard to leave thesemount'ins. Reckon I'll nuver see 'em ag'in. Been livin' like a catamountover thar on the knob. I could jes see you over hyeh, 'n' I reckonI hain't done much 'cept lay over thar on a rock 'n' watch ye movin'round. Hit's mighty good to feel that ye believe me, 'n' I want ye toknow that I been stayin' over thar fer nothin' on earth but jes to seeyou ag'in; 'n' I want ye to know that I was a-sorrowin' fer ye wheny'u was sick, 'n' a-pinin' to see ye, 'n' a-hopin' some day y'umought kinder git over yer hate fer me. " He had been talking with lowtenderness, half to himself, and with his face to the river, and he didnot see the girl's tears falling to the porch. Her sorrow gave way ina great sob now, and he turned with sharp remorse, and stood quite nearher. 

"Don't cry, Marthy, " he said. "God knows hit's hard to think I'vebrought all this on ye when I'd give all these mount'ins to save yefrom it. Whut d' ye say? Don't cry. "

The girl was trying to speak at last, and Rome bent over to catch thewords. 

"I hain't cryin' fer myself, " she said, faintly, and then she said nomore; but the first smile that had passed over Rome's face for many aday passed then, and he put out one big hand, and let it rest on theheap of lustrous hair. 

"Marthy, I hate to go 'way, leavin' ye hyeh with nobody to take keer o'ye. You're all alone hyeh in the mount'ins; I'm all alone; 'n' I reckonI'll be all alone wharever I go, ef you stay hyeh. I got a boat downthar on the river, 'n' I'm goin' out West whar Uncle Rufe use to live. Iknow I hain't good fer nothin' much"--he spoke almost huskily; he couldscarcely get the words to his lips--"but I want ye to go with me. Won'tye?"

The girl did not answer, but her sobbing ceased slowly, while Romestroked her hair; and at last she lifted her face, and for a momentlooked to the other shore. Then she rose. There is a strange pride inthe Kentucky mountaineer. 

"As you say, Rome, thar's nobody left but you, 'n' nobody but me; butthey burned you out, we hain't even--yit. " Her eyes were on ThunderstruckKnob, where the last sunlight used to touch the Stetson cabin. 

"Hyeh, Rome!" He knew what she meant, and he kneeled at the pile ofkindling-wood near the kitchen door. Then they stood back and waited. The sun dipped below a gap in the mountains, the sky darkened, and theflames rose to the shingled porch, and leaped into the gathering dusk. On the outer edge of the quivering light, where it touched the blossomedlaurel, the two stood till the blaze caught the eaves of the cabin; andthen they turned their faces where, burning to ashes in the west, wasanother fire, whose light blended in the eyes of each with a light olderand more lasting than its own--the light eternal. 

THE END