A Cumberland Vendetta....................................................................................................................................1

John Fox, Jr. .............................................................................................................................................1

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THE cave had been their hidingplace as children; it was a secret refuge now against hunger or darkness

when they were hunting in the woods. The primitive meal was finished; ashes were raked over the red coals;

the slice of bacon and the little bag of meal were hung high against the rock wall; and the two stepped from

Parting the bushes toward the dim light, they stood on a massive shoulder of the mountain, the river girding it

far below, and the afternoon shadows at their feet. Both carried gunsthe tall mountaineer, a Winchester; the

boy, a squirrel rifle longer than himself. Climbing about the rocky spur, they kept the same level over log and

bowlder and through bushy ravine to the north. In half an hour, they ran into a path that led up home from the

river, and they stopped to rest on a cliff that sank in a solid black wall straight under them. The sharp edge of

a steep cornfield ran near, and, stripped of blade and tassel, the stalks and 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. Over there a

drought was on it; and when drifting thistleplumes marked the noontide of the year, each yellow stalk had

withered blades and an empty sheath. Everywhere a look of vague trouble lay upon the face of the

mountains, and when the wind blew, the silver of the leaves showed ashen. Autumn was at hand.

There was no physical sign of kinship between the two, halfbrothers though they were. The tall one was

dark; the boy, a foundling, had flaxen hair, and was stunted and ~lender. He was a dreamy~looking little

fellow, and one may easily find his like throughout the Cumberland paler than his fellows, from staying

much indoors, with halfhaunted face, and eyes that are deeply pathetic when not cunning; ignorantly

credited with idiocy and uncanny powers; treated with much forbearance, some awe, and a little contempt;

"I tell ye, Rome," he said, taking up the thread of talk that was broken at the cave, "when Uncle Gabe says

he's afeard thar's trouble comm', hit's acomm'; 'n' I want you to git me a Winchester. I'm agittin' big enough

now. I kin shoot might' nigh as good as you, 'n' whut am I fit fer with this hyeh old pawpaw popgun?"

"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'

Don't ye? " cried the boy, with sharp contempt" with ole Jas Lewallen adevilin' Uncle Rufe, 'n' that

blackheaded young Jas aclimbin' on stumps over thar 'cross the river, n' crowin' n' sayin' out open in Hazlan

that ye air afeard o him? Yes; 'n' he called me a idgit." The boy'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'll tend to him when the time comes."

Rome spoke with rough kindness, but ugly lines had gathered at his mouth and forehead. The boy's tears

came and went easily. He drew his sleeve across his eyes, and looked up the river. Beyond the bend, three

huge birds rose into the sunlight and floated toward them. Close at hand, they swerved sidewise.

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

Again the eagles swerved, and two shot across the river. The third dropped with shut wings to the bare crest

"Hit's a young un, Rome Y" said the boy, excitedly. "He's goin' to wait thar tell the old uns come back.

Catching up the Winchester, he slipped over the ledge; and Rome leaned suddenly forward, looking down at

A group of horsemen had ridden around the bend, and were coming at a walk down the other shore. Every

man carried something across his saddlebow. There was a gray horse among them young Jasper's and an

evil shadow came into Rome's face, and quickly passed. Near a strip of woods the gray turned up the

mountain from the party, and on its back he saw the red glint of a woman's dress. With a halfsmile he

watched the scarlet figure ride from the woods, and climb slowly up through the sunny corn. On the spur

above and full in the rich yellow light, she halted, half turning in her saddle. He rose to his feet, to his full

height, his head bare, and thrown far back between his big shoulders, and, still as statues, the man and the

woman looked at each other across the gulf of darkening air. A full minute the woman sat motionless, then

The eagle under Rome leaped one stroke in the air, and dropped like a clod into the sea of leaves. The report

of the gun and a faint cry of triumph rose from below. It was good marksmanship, but on the cliff Rome did

not heed it. Something had fluttered in the air above the girl's head, and he laughed aloud. She was waving

JUST where young Stetson stood, the mountains racing along each bank of the Cumberland had sent out

against each other, by mutual impulse, two great spurs. At the river's brink they stopped sheer, with crests

uplifted, 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. Today the crags looked seamed by thwarted passion; and, sullen with firs,

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 lived as enemies nearly half a century. There was hostility before the war,

but, until then, little bloodshed. Through the hatred of change, characteristic of the mountaineer the world

over, the Lewallens were for the 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 a heritage of lawlessness that for mutual protection made necessary the very means

used by their feudal forefathers; personal hatred supplanted its dead issues, and with them the war went on.

The Stetsons had a good strain of AngloSaxon blood, and owned valleylands; the Lewallens kept store and

made "moonshine"; so kindred and debtors and kindred and tenants were arrayed with one or the other leader,

and gradually the retainers of both settled on one or the other side of the river. In time of hostility the

Cumberland came to be the boundary between life and death for the dwellers on each shore. It was feudalism

Above one of the spurs each family had its home; the Stetsons, under the seared face of Thunderstruck Knob;

the Lewallens, just beneath the wooded rim of Wolf's Head. The eaves and chimney of each cabin were

faintly visible from the porch of the other. The first light touched the house of the Stetsons; the last, the

Lewallen cabin. So there were times when the one could not turn to the sunrise nor the other to the sunset but

For years there had been peace. The death of Rome Stetson's father from ambush, and the fight in the

courthouse square, had forced it. After that fight only four were leftold Jasper Lewallen and young Jasper,

the boy Rome and his uncle, Rufe Stetson. Then Rufe fled to the West, and the 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

deep in 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 had lost husbands or sons or lovers; and the friends and kin of each had little 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 was that peace had lived so long. Now trouble was at hand. Rufe Stetson had come back

at last, a few months since, and had quietly opened store at the countyseat, Hazlana little town five miles

up the river, where Troubled Fork runs seething into the Cumberlanda point of neutrality for the factions,

and consequently a battIeground. Old Jasper's store was at the other end of the town, and the old man had

never been known to brook competition. He had driven three men from Hazlan during the last term of peace

for this offence, and everybody knew that the fourth must leave or fight. Already Rufe Stetson had been

warned not to appear outside his door after dusk. Once or twice his wife had seen skulking shadows under the

trees across the road, and a tremor of anticipation ran along both banks of the Cumberland.

A FORTNIGHT later, court came. Rome was going to Hazlan, and the feeble old Stetson mother limped

across the porch from the kitchen, trailing a Winchester behind her. Usually he went unarmed, but he took the

The boy Isom was not well, and Rome had told him to ride the horse. But the lad had gone on afoot to his

duties at old Gabe Bunch's mill, and Rome himself rode down Thunderstruck Knob through the mist and dew

of the early morning. The sun was coming up over Virginia, and through a dip in Black Mountain the

foothills beyond washed in blue waves against its white disk. A little way down the mountain, the rays shot

through the gap upon him, and, lancing the mist into tatters, and lighting the dewdrops, set the birds singing.

Rome rode, heedless of it all, under primeval oak and poplar, and along rainclear brooks and happy

waterfalls, shut in by laurel and rhododendron, and singing past mossy stones and lacelike ferns that brushed

his stirrup. On the brow of every cliff he would stop to look over the trees and the river to the other shore,

where the gray line of a path ran aslant Wolf's Head, and was lost in woods above and below.

At the river he rode upstream, looking still across it. Old Gabe Bunch halloed to him from the doorway of

the mill, as he splashed through the creek, and Isom's thin face peered through a breach in the logs. At the

ford beyond, he checked his horse with a short oath of pleased surprise. Across the water, a scarlet dress was

moving slowly past a brown field of corn. The figure was bonneted, but he knew the girl's walk and the poise

of her head that far away. Just who she was, however, he did not know, and he sat irresolute. He had seen her

first a month since, paddling along the other shore, erect, and with bonnet off and hair down; she had taken

the Lewallen path up the mountain. Afterward, he saw her 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 his enemies. He thought

her the girl people said young Jasper was going to marry, and he had watched her the more closely. From the

canoe she seemed never to notice him; but he guessed, from the quickened sweep of her paddle, that she

knew he was looking at her, and once, when he halted on his way home up the mountain, she half turned in

her saddle and looked across at him. This happened again, and then she waved her bonnet at him. It was bad

enough, any Stetson seeking any Lewallen for a wife, and for him to court young Jasper's sweetheartit was a

thought to laugh at. But the mischief was done. The gesture thrilled him, whether it meant defiance or

goodwill, and the mere deviltry of such a courtship made him long for it at every sight of her with the river

between 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 less oftenfor a week, indeed, he had not seen her at all till this dayand the

forces that hindrance generates in an imperious nature had been at work within him. The chance now was one

of gold, and with his life in his hand he turned into the stream. Across, he could see something white on her

shoulderan empty bag. It was grinding~day, and she was going to the millthe Lewallen mill. She stopped

as he galloped up, and turned, pushing back her bonnet with one hand; and he drew rein. But the friendly,

expectant light in her face kindled to such a blaze of anger in her eyes that he struck his horse violently, as

though the beast had stopped of its own accord, and, cursing himself, kept on. A little farther, he halted again.

Three horsemen, armed with Winchesters, were jogging along toward town ahead of him, and he wheeled

about sharply. The girl, climbing rapidly toward Steve Brayton's cabin, was out of the way, but he was too

late to reach the ford again. Down the road two more Lewallens with guns were in sight, and he lashed his

horse into the stream where the water was deep. Old Gabe, looking from the door of his mill, quit laughing to

himself; and under cover of the woods, the girl watched man and horse fighting the tide. Twice young Stetson

turned his head. But his enemies apparently had not seen him, and horse and rider scrambled up the steep

bank and under shelter of the trees. The girl had evidently learned who he was. Her sudden anger was

significant, as was 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 cartridge into 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's bushy

head through the open door, and Lewallens and Braytons crowded out on the steps and looked after him. All

were armed. Twenty paces farther he met young Jasper on his gray, and the look on his enemy's face made

him grip his rifle. With a flashing crossfire from eye to eye, the two passed, each with his thumb on the

hammer of his Winchester. The groups on the courthouse steps stopped talking as he rode by, and turned to

look at him. He saw none of his own friends, and he went on at a gallop to Rufe Stetson's store. His uncle was

not in sight. Steve Marcum and old Sam Day stood in the porch, and inside a woman was crying. Several

He knew what the matter was before Steve spoke. His uncle had been driven from town. A last warning had

come to him on the day before. The hand of a friend was in the caution, and Rufe rode away at dusk. That

night his house was searched by men masked and armed. The Lewallens were in town, and were ready to

BACK at the mill old Gabe was troubled. Usually he sat in a canebottomed chair near the hopper, whittling,

while the lad tended the mill, and took pay in an oaken tolldish smooth with the use of half a century. But

the incident across the river that morning had made the old man uneasy, and he moved restlessly from his

chair to the door, and back again, while the boy watched him, wondering what the matter was, but asking no

"Hain't been to town. Reckon fightin' 's goin' on thar from whut I heerd." The careless, highpitched answer

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 whittling fast, and looking anxiously toward Hazlan. The boy was in a fever of

unrest, and old Gabe could hardly keep him in the mill. In the middle of the afternoon the report of a rifle

came down the river, breaking into echoes against the cliffs below, and Isom ran out the door, and stood

listening for another, with an odd contradiction of fear and delight on his 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 with passion, and his eyes were heavy with drink.

At the door of the mill he swung from his horse, and for a moment was hardly able to speak from rage. 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 the store all day, and

all day Lewallens on horseback and on foot were in sight; and each was a taunt to every Stetson, and, few as

they were, the young and hotheaded wanted to go out and fight. In the afternoon a talebearer had brought

some of Jasper's boasts to Rome, and, made reckless 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 left town. The Stetsons, too, disbanded, and on the way home a last

drop of gall ran Rome's cup of bitterness over. Opposite Steve Brayton's cabin a jet of smoke puffed from the

bushes across the river, and a bullet furrowed the road in front of him. That was the shot they had heard at the

mill. Somebody was drawing a deadline," and Rome wheeled his horse at the brink of it. A mocking yell

came over the river, and a gray horse flashed past an open space in the bushes. Rome knew the horse and

knew the yell; young Jasper was "bantering" him. Nothing maddens the mountaineer like this childish

method of insult; and telling of it, Rome sat in a corner, and loosed a torrent of curses against young

Old Gabe had listened without a word, and the strain in his face was eased. Always the old man had stood for

peace. He believed it had come after the courthouse fight, and he had hoped against hope, even when Rufe

came back to trade against old Jasper; for Rufe was big and goodnatured, and unsuspected of resolute

purpose, and the Lewallens' power had weakened. So, now that Rufe was gone again, the old miller half

believed he was gone for good. Nobody was hurt; there was a chance yet 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 boy turned eagerly

to a crevice in the logs and, trembling with excitement, searched the other bank for Jasper's gray horse, going

He called me a idgit," he said to himself, with a threatening shake of his head. "Jes wouldn't I like to hev a

There was no moving point of white on the broad face of the mountains nor along the river road. Jasper was

yet to come and, with ears alert to every word behind him, the lad fixed his eyes where he should see him

"Oh, he didn't mean to hit me. Not that he ain't mean enough to shoot from the bresh," Rome broke out

savagely. "That's jes whut I'm afeard he will do. Thar was too much daylight fer him. Ef he jes don't come

asneakin' over hyeh, 'n' waitin' in the lorrel atter dark fer me, it's all I axe."

Waitin' in the lorrel! " Old Gabe could hold back no longer. "Hit's a shame, a burnin' shame! I don' know

whut things air comm' to! 'Pears like all you young folks think about is killin' somebody. Folks usen to talk

about how fer they could kill a deer; now it's how fer they kin kill a man. I hev knowed the time when a man

would 'a' been druv out o' the county fer drawin' a knife ur a pistol; 'n' ef a feller was ever killed, 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 been gittin' wuss ever sence, 'n' now hit's dirk 'n' Winchester, 'n' shootin' from the bushes all the time. Hit's

The old miller's indignation sprang from memories of a better youth. For the courtesies of the code went on to

the Blue Grass, and before the war the mountaineer fought with English fairness and his fists. It was a

disgrace to use a deadly weapon in those days; it was a disgrace now not to use it.

Oh, I know all the excuses folks make," he went on: " hit's fa'r fer one as 'tis fer t'other; y'u can't fight a man

fa'r 'n' squar' who'll shoot you in the back; a pore man can't fight money in the couhts; 'n' thar hain't no

witnesses in the lorrel but leaves; 'n' dead men don't hev much to say. I know it all. Hit's cur'us, but it

act'ally looks like lots o' decent young folks hev got usen to the ideethar's so much of it goin' on, 'n' thar's

so much talk 'bout killin' 'n' layin' out in the lorrel. Reckon folks 'll git to pesterm' women n' strangers

bimeby, 'n' robbin' 'n' thievin'. Hit's bad enough thar's so leetle law thet folks hev to take it in their own hands

oncet in a while, but this shootin' from the breshhit's p'int'ly a sin 'n' shame! Why," he concluded, pointing

his remonstrance as he always did, "I seed your grandad and young Jas's fight up thar in Hazlan full two

hours 'fore the warfist and skull'n' your grandad was whooped. They got up and shuk hands. I don'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 this killin' o' people like hogs. Thar's nobody left but you four. But thar's no chance o' that, I reckon."

"I'll fight him anyway, 'n' I reckon ef he don't die till I lay out in the lorrel fer him, he'll live a long time. Ef a

Nother hev I," said the old man, with quick justice. " You air a overbearin' 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 stopped with 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 across the

river. He could just see a canoe in the shadows under them, and with quick suspicion his brain pictured

Jasper's horse hitched in the bushes, and Jasper stealing across the river to waylay Rome. But the canoe

moved slowly out of sight downstream and toward the deep water, the paddler unseen, and the boy looked

around with a weak smile. Neither seemed to have 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 again to his watch.

Jasper did not come. Isom's eyes began to ache from the steady gaze, and now and then he would drop them

to the water swirling beneath. A slow wind swayed the overhanging branches at the mouth of the stream, and

under them was an eddy. Escaping this, the froth and bubbles raced out to the gleams beating the air from the

sunlit river. He saw one tiny fleet caught; a mass of yellow scum bore down and, sweeping through bubbles

and eddy, was itself struck into fragments by something afloat. A tremulous shadow shot through a space of

sunlight into the gloom cast by a thicket of rhododendrons, and the boy caught his breath sharply. A moment

more, and the shape of a boat and a human figure quivered on the water running under him. The stern of a

The old miller rose to his feet. The boy threw himself behind the sacks of grain. Rome wheeled for his rifle,

and stood rigid before the door. There was a light step without, the click of a gunlock within; a shadow fell

across the doorway, and a girl stood at the threshold with an empty bag in her hand.

WITH a little cry she shrank back a step. Her face paled and her lips trembled, and for a moment she could

not speak. But her eyes swept the group, and were fixed in two points of fire on Rome.

"I hev heerd that the Stetsons have got to makin war on womenfolks, but I never believed it afore." Then

Kin I git some more meal hyeh? " she asked. " Or have ye stopped sellin' to folks on t'other side? " she added,

"The mill on Dead Crick is broke ag'in," she continued, " 'n' co'n is skeerce on our side. We'll have to begin

buyin' purty soon, so I thought I'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 the mountain ag'in, I'll let ye have that comm' out o'

The girl sat down in the low chair, and, loos ening the strings of her bonnet, pushed it back from her head. An

oldfashioned horn comb dropped to the floor, and when she stooped to pick it up she let her hair fall in a

head about her shoulders. Thrusting one hand under it, she calmly tossed 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 head thrown back

and throat bared, she shook it from side to side, and, slowly coiling it, pierced it with the coarse comb. Then

passing her hands across her forehead and temples, as women do, she folded them in her lap, and sat

motionless. The boy, crouched near, held upon her the mesmeric look of a serpent. Old Gabe was peering

covertly from under the brim of his hat, with a chuckle at his lips. Rome had fallen back to a corner 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 down at sight of the girl, and her cutting rebuke made him hot again with shame. He was angry,

toomore than angrybecause he felt so helpless, a sensation that was new and stifling. The scorn of her face,

as he remembered it that morning, hurt him again while he looked at her. A spirit of contempt was still in her

eyes, and quivering about her thin lips and nostrils. She had put him beneath further notice, and yet every toss

of her head, every movement of her hands, seemed meant for him, to irritate him. And once, while she

combed her hair, his brain whirled with an impulse to catch the shining stuff in one hand and to pinion both

her wrists with the other, Just to show her that he was master, and still 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 her hair,

perhaps, would have caught the casual eye. She wore red homespun and coarse shoes; her hands were brown

and hardened. Her arms and shoulders looked muscular, her waist was rather largebeing as nature meant

itand her face in repose had a heavy look. But the poise of her head suggested native pride and dignity; her

eyes were deep, and full of changing lights; the scarlet dress, loose as it was, showed rich curves in her

figure, and her movements had a certain childlike grace. Her brow was low, and her mouth had character; the

"I reckon thar's enough to fill the sack, Isom," said the old miller, breaking the strained silence of the group.

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

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

"I sells fer the same, ef co'n is high ur low," was the answer. "This side 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 old miller was honored by both factions, and

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

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. The girl had caught the rope, and drawn the rude dugout along the shore.

"Look hyeh, Rome Stetson"the sound of his name from her lips almost startled him"I'll hev ye understan'

Turning, she gave an impatient sweep with her paddle. The prow of the canoe dipped and was motionless.

Rome had caught the stern, and the girl wheeled in hot anger. Her impulse to strike may have been for the

moment and no longer, or she may have read swiftly no unkindness in the mountaineer's steady look; for the

"I've got nothin' ag'in' you," he said, slowly, Jas Lewallen hev been threatenin' me, 'n' I thought it was him, 'n'

I was ready fer him, when you come into the mill. I wouldn't hurt you nur no other woman. Y'u ought to

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

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

She turned on him a sharp look of suspicion. "I reckon I do be a friend o' hisn," she said, deliberately; and

then she saw that he was in earnest. A queer little smile went like a ray of light from her eyes to her lips, and

she gave a quick stroke with her paddle. The boat shot into the current, and was carried swiftly toward the

Cumberland. The girl stood erect, swaying through light and shadow like a great scarlet flower blowing in the

wind; and Rome watched her till she touched the other bank. Swinging the sack out, she stepped lightly after

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

Who is that gal? " he asked, slowly. It seemed somehow that he had known her a long while ago. A puzzled

"You aaxin' who she be, 'n' she aaxin who you be, 'n' both o' ye aknowin' one 'nother sence ye was

IN a flash of memory Rome saw the girl as vividly as when he last saw her years ago. They had met at the

mill, he with his father, she with hers. There was a quarrel, and the two men were held apart. But the old sore

as usual was opened, and a week later Rome's father was killed from the brush. He remembered his mother's

rage and grief, her calls for vcngeance, the uprising, the fights, plots, and ambushes. He remembered the look

When fighting began, she had been sent for safety to the sister of her dead mother in another county. When

peace came, old Jasper married again and the girl refused to come home. Lately the stepmother, too, had

passed away, and then she came back to live. All this the old miller told in answer to Rome's questions as the

two walked away in the twilight. This was why he had not recognized her, and why her face yet seemed

Over thar in the mill." The miller was watching the young mountaineer closely. The manner of the girl was

significant when she asked who Rome was, and the miller knew but one reason possible for his foolhardiness

"Why, yes, come to think about it, three or four times while Isom was sick, and whut she come fer I can't

make out. The mill over thar wasn't broke long, 'n' why she didn't go thar or bring more co'n at a time, to save

"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 one day, '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 himself grew serious.

"Rome," he said, earnestly, "I wish to the good Lord ye wasn't in sech doin's. Ef that had been young Jas 'stid

The two had stopped at a rickety gate swinging open on the road. The young mountaineer was pushing a

stone about with the toe of his boot. He had never before listened to remonstrance with such patience, and old

"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 let it alone."

Rome made no denial, no defence. "Uncle Gabe," he said slowly, still busied with the stone, " hev that gal

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

Rome turned abruptly, and the two separated with no word of parting. For a moment the miller watched the

"I have been atter peace a good while," he said to himself, " but I reckon thar's a bigger hand aworkin' now

than mine." Then he lifted his voice. "Ef Isom's too sick to come down to the mill tomorrer, I wish you'd

Rome nodded back over his shoulder, and went on, with head bent, along the river road. Passing a clump of

"Uncle Gabe's about right, I reckon," he said, half aloud; and he raised it above his head to hurl it away, but

checked it in midair. For a moment he looked at the colorless liquid, then, with quick nervousness, pulled

the cork of sassafras leaves, gulped down the pale moonshine, and dashed the bottle against the trunk of a

beech. The fiery stuff does its work in a hurry. He was thirsty when he reached the mouth of a brook that

tumbled down the mountain along the pathway that would lead him home, and he stooped to drink where the

water sparkled in a rift of dim light from overhead. Then he sat upright on a stone, with his wide hatbrim

curved in a crescent over his forehead, his hands caught about his knees, and his eyes on the empty air.

He was scarcely over his surprise that the girl was young Lewallen's sister, and the discovery had wrought a

curious change. The piquant impulse of rivalry was gone, and something deeper was taking its place. He was

confused and a good deal troubled, thinking it all over. He tried to make out what the girl meant by looking at

him from the mountainside, by waving her bonnet at him, and by coming to old Gabe's mill when she could

have gone to her own. To be sure, she did not know then who he was, and she had stopped coming when she

learned; but why had she crossed again that day? Perhaps she too was bantering him, and he was at once

angry and drawn to her; for her mettlesome spirit touched his own love of daring, even when his humiliation

was most bitterwhen she told him he warred on women; when he held out to her the branch of peace and she

swept it aside with a stroke of her oar. But Rome was little conscious of the weight of subtle facts like these.

His unseeing eyes went back to her as she combed her hair. He saw the color in her cheeks, the quick light in

her eyes, the naked, full throat once more, and the wavering forces of his unsteady brain centred in a stubborn

resolutionto see it all again. He would make Isom stay at home, if need be, and he would take the boy's

place at the mill. If she came there no more, he would cross the river again. Come peace or war, be she friend

or enemy, he would see her. His thirst was fierce again, and, with this halfdrunken determination in his

heart, he stooped once more to drink from the cheerful little stream. As he rose, a loud curse smote the air.

The river, pressed between two projecting cliffs, was narrow at that point, and the oath came across the water.

An instant later a man led a lamed horse from behind a bowlder, and stooped to examine its leg. The dusk

was thickening, but Rome knew the huge frame and gray beard of old Jasper Lewallen. The blood beat in a

sudden tide at his temples, and, half by instinct, he knelt behind a rock, and, thrusting his rifle through a

Again the curse of impatience came over the still water, and old Jasper rose and turned toward him. The

glistening sight caught in the centre of his beard. That would take him in the throat; it might miss, and he let

the sight fall till the bullet would cut the fringe of gray hair into the heart. Old Jasper, so people said, had

killed his father in just this way; he had driven his uncle from the mountains; he was trying now to revive the

feud. He was the father of young Jasper, who had threatened his life, and the father of the girl whose

contempt had cut him to the quick twice that day. Again her taunt leaped through his heated brain, and his

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

NEXT day the news of Rufe Stetson's flight went down the river on the wind, and before nightfall the spirit

of murder was loosed on both shores of the Cumberland. The more cautious warned old Jasper. The Stetsons

were gaining strength again, they said; so were their feudsmen, the Marcums, enemies of the Braytons, old

Jasper's kinspeople. Keeping store, Rufe had made money in the West, and money and friends right and left

through the mountains. With all his goodnature, he was a persistent hater, and he was shrewd. He had

waited the chance to put himself on the side of the law, and now the law was with him. But old Jasper

laughed contemptuously. Rufe Stetson was gone again, he said, as he had gone before, and this time for good.

Rufe had tried to do what nobody had done, or could do, while he was alive. Anyway, he was reckless, and

he cared little if war did come again. Still, the old man prepared for a fight, and Steve Marcum on the other

It was like the breaking of peace in feudal days. The close kin of each leader were already about him, and

now the close friends of each took sides. Each leader trading in Hazlan had debtors scattered through the

mountains, and these rallied to aid the man who had befriended them. There was no grudge but served a

pretext for partisanship in the coming war. Political rivalry had wedged apart two strong families, the

Marcums and Braytons; a boundary line in dispute was a chain of bitterness; a suit in a country court had

sown seeds of hatred. Sometimes it was a horsetrade, a fence left down, or a gate left open, and the

trespassing of cattle; in one instance, through spite, a neighbor had docked the tail of a neighbor's horsehad

" muled his critter," as the owner phrased the outrage. There was no old sore that was not opened by the

crafty leaders, no slumbering bitterness that they did not wake to life. " Help us to revenge, and we will he!p

you," was the whispered promise. So, had one man a grudge against another, he could set his foot on one or

Others there were, friends of neither leader, who, under stress of poverty or hatred of work, would fight with

either for food and clothes; and others still, the ne'erdowells and outlaws, who fought by the day or 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 the fight, if there was one, would be fought to a quick and decisive end. The day

for the leisurely feud, for patient planning, and the slow picking off of men from one side or the other, was

gone. The people in the Blue Grass, who had no feuds in their own country, were trying to 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 ordeal of trial by a jury of "bigoted

furriners." On the heels of the soldiers came a young preacher up from the Jellico hills, half " citizen," half

furriner," with long black hair and a scar across his forehead, who was stirring 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 was already

perceptible around Hazlan. In past days every pair of lips was sealed with fear, and the noncombatants left

crops and homes, and moved down the river, when trouble began. Now only the timid considered this way of

escape. Steve and old Jasper found a few men who refused to enter the fight. Several, indeed, talked openly

against the renewal of the feud, and somebody, it was said, had dared to hint that he would send to the

Governor for aid if it should break out again. But these were rumors touching few people.

For once again, as time and time again before, one bank of the Cumberland was arrayed with mortal enmity

against the other, and old Gabe sat, with shaken faith, in the door of his mill. For years he had worked and

prayed for peace, and for a little while the Almighty seemed lending aid. Now the friendly grasp was

loosening, and yet the miller did all he could. He begged Steve Marcum to urge Rufe to seek aid from the law

when the latter came back; and Steve laughed, and asked what justice was possible for a Stetson, with a

Lewallen for a judge and Braytons for a jury. The miller pleaded with old Jasper, and old Jasper pointed to

"I hev triumphed ag'in' my enemies time 'n' ag'in," he said. "The Lord air on my side, 'n' I gits a better

Christian ever' year." The old man spoke 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 Gabe indeed who had threatened to send to

the Governor for soldiers, and this he would have done, perhaps, had there not been one hope left, and only

one. A week had gone, and there was no word from Rufe Stetson. Up on Thunderstruck Knob the old Stetson

mother was growing pitiably eager and restless. Every day she slipped like a ghost through the leafless woods

and in and out the cabin, kindling hatred. At every dawn or dusk she was on her porch peering through the

dim light for Rufe Stetson. Steve Marcum was ill at ease. Rome Stetson alone seemed unconcerned, and his

He took little interest and no hand in getting ready for the war. He forbade the firing of a gun till Rufe came

back, else Steve should fight his fight alone. He grew sullen and morose. His old mother's look was a thorn 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 handled anything but a horse, a plough, or a rifle, settled himself, to the

bewilderment of the Stetsons, into the boy's duties, and nobody dared question him. Even old Gabe jested no

Meanwhile the winter threw off the last slumbrous mood of autumn, as a sleeper starts from a dream. A

fortnight was gone, and still no message came from the absent leader. One shore was restive, uneasy; the

other confident, mocking. Between the two, Rome Stetson waited his chance at the mill.

DAY was whitening on the Stetson shore. Across the river the air was still sharp with the chill of dawn, and

the mists lay like flocks of sheep under shelter of rock and crag. A peculiar cry radiated from the Lewallen

cabin with singular resonance on the crisp airthe mountain cry for straying cattle. A soft low came from a

distant patch of laurel, and old Jasper's girl, Martha, folded. her hands like a conch at her mouth, and the

Ye better come, ye pieded cowbrute." Picking up a cedar piggin, she stepped from the porch toward the

meek voice that had answered her. Temper and exertion had brought the quick blood to her face. Her head

was bare, her thick hair was loosely coiled, and her brown arms were naked almost to the shoulder. At the

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

The young mountaineer looked up, whistled softly, and laughed. But when he brought his horse to the door

"As ye air so powerful sot on goin' to mill, whether or no, I'll leave this hyeh sack at the bend O' the road, 'n'

ye kin git it thar. I'll bring the meal back ef ye puts it in the same place. I hates to see womenfolks aridin'

The horse was a dapplegray of unusual beauty, and as the girl reached out her hand to stroke his throat, he

"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.

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

Old Jasper had lounged out of the kitchen door, and stood with his huge bulk against a shrinking pillar of the

porch. The two men were much alike. Both had the same black, threatening brows meeting over the bridge of

the nose. A kind of grim humor lurked about the old man's mouth, which time might trace about young

Jasper's. The girl's face had no humor; the same square brows, apart and clearly marked, gave it a strong,

serious cast, and while she had the Lewallen fire, she favored her mother enough, so the neighbors said, "to

You're right, Jas," the old mountaineer said; "the hoss air a sin 'n' temptation. Hit do me good ever' time I

The boy started away, and the old man followed, and halted him out of the 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' to happen."

Young Jasper nodded his head, and struck his horse into a gallop. The old man lighted his pipe, and turned

"Thar ain't no use goin' to Gabe Bunch's fer yer grist," he said. " The mill on Dead Crick's arunnin' ag'in, 'n'

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

Yes, dad; I heerd ye," she answered, adding to herself, " But I don't heed ye." In truth, the girl heeded

nobody. It was not her way to ask consent, even her own, nor to follow advice. At the bend of the road she

found the bag, and for an instant she stood wavering. An impulse turned her to the river, and she loosed the

boat, and headed it across the swift, shallow water from the ford and straight toward the mill. At every 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 her hair, and, tugging at her skirts, draped her like a statue; and she fought them, wind and

water, with mouth set and a smile in her eyes. One sharp struggle still, where the creek leaped into freedom;

the mouth grew a little firmer, the eyes laughed more, the keel grated on pebbles, and the boat ran its nose

A tall gray figure was pouring grain into the hopper when she reached the door of the mill. She stopped

abruptly, Rome Stetson turned, and again the two were face to face. No greeting passed. The girl lifted her

head with a little toss that deepened the set look about the mountaineer's mouth; her lax figure grew tense as

though strung suddenly against some coming harm, and her eyes searched the shadows without once resting

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

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

The girl was confused. She stayed in the doorway, a little helpless and suspicious. What was Rome Stetson

doing here? His mastery of the situation, his easy confidence, puzzled and irritated her. Should she leave?

The mountaineer was a Stetson, a worm to tread on if it crawled across the path. It would be like backing

down before an enemy. He might laugh at her after she was gone, and, at that thought, she sat down in the

chair with composed face, looking through the door at the tumbling water, which broke with a thousand tints

under the sun, but able still to 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

Well, it's plumb cur'us. Isom's been that way lately. Isom's sick, ye know. Uncle Gabe's got the rheumatiz, 'n'

Isom's mighty fond o' Uncle Gabe, 'n' the boy pestered me till I come down to he'p him. Hit p'int'ly air strange

to hear him talkin'. He's jes aravin' 'bout hell 'n' heaven, 'n' the sin o' killin' folks. You'd ha' thought he hed

been convicted, though none o' our fambly hev been much atter religion. He says as how the wrath uv a livin'

God is agoin' to sweep these mount ins, ef some mighty tall repentin' hain't done. Of co'se he got all them

notions from Gabe. But Isom al'ays was quar, 'n' seed things hisself. He ain't no fool!"

The girl was listening. Morbidly sensitive to the supernatural, she had turned toward him, and her face was

"He's havin' dreams 'n' sechlike now, 'n' I reckon thar's nothing he's seed or heerd that he don' talk about.

He's been agoin' on about you," he added, abruptly. The girl's hands gave a nervous twitch. "Oh, he don't

say nothin' ag'in' ye. I reckon he tuk a fancy to ye. Mam was plumb distracted, not knowin' whar he had seed

ye. She thought it was like his other talk, 'n' I never let onaknowin' how mam was." A flush rose 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'm sorry myself that trouble's acomm'." He dropped all pretence now. "I've been awatchin' fer ye

over thar on t' other shore a good deal lately. I didn'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 want to tell ye now what I tol' ye

then: I've got nothin' ag'in you. I was hopin' ye mought come over ag'inhit was sorter cur'us that y'u was the

His selfcontrol left him; he was halting in speech, and blundering he did not know where. Fumbling an

empty bag at the hopper, he had not dared to look at the girl till he heard her move. She had risen, and was

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

The girl's suspicion, lulled by his plausible explanation, had grown sharp again. The mountaineer knew that

she had been coming there. He was at the mill for another reason than to take the boy's place; and with swift

He got angry as she rode awayangry with himself that he had let her go; and the same halftender,

halfbrutal impulse seized him as when he saw her first. This time he yielded. His horse was at hand, and the

river not far below was narrow. The bridlepath that led to the Lewallen cabin swerved at one place to a cliff

overlooking the river, and by hard riding and a climb of a few hundred feet on foot he could overtake her

The plan was no more than shaped before he was in the saddle and galloping down the river. The set of his

face changed hardly a line while 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 the dust of the path, going down. There were none

returning, and he had not long to wait. A scarlet bit of color soon flashed through the gray bushes below him.

The girl was without her bag of corn. She was climbing slowly, 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 had done. She had been

pleased at first, as would have been any woman, when she saw the big mountaineer watching her, for her life

was lonely. She had waved her bonnet at him from mere mischief. She hardly knew it herself, but she had

gone across the river to find out who he was. She had shrunk from him as from a snake thereafter, and had

gone no more until old Jasper had sent her because the Lewallen mill was broken, and because she was a

woman, and would be safe from harm. She had met him then when she could not help herself. But now she

had gone of her own accord. 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 of letting him grind her corn. And he knew how often she

had gone to the mill, and he could not know that she had ever been sent. Perhaps he thought that she had

come to make overtures of peace, friendship, even more. The suspicion reddened her face with shame, and

her anger at him was turned upon herself. Why she had gone again that day she hardly knew. But if there was

another reason than simple perversity, it was the memory of Rome Stetson's face when he caught her boat

and spoke to her in a way she could not answer. The anger of the moment came with every thought of the

incident afterward, and with it came too this memory of his look, which made her at once defiant and uneasy.

She saw him now only when she was quite close, and, startled, she stood still; his stern look brought her the

The question was too abrupt, too savage, and the girl looked straight at him, and her lips tightened with a

"Y'u puts hell into me, Marthy Lewallen; y'u puts downright hell into me." 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 next minute I'd jump

off atter ye. Y'u've 'witched me, gal! I forgits who ye air 'n' who I be, 'n' sometimes I want to come over hyeh

'n' kerry ye out'n these mount ins, n' nuver come back. You know whut I've been watchin' the river fer sence

the fust time I seed ye. You know whut I've been astayin' at the mill fer, 'n' Steve mad 'n' mam

ajowerin''n' alookin' over hyeh fer ye night 'n' day! Y'u know whut I've jes swum over hyeh fer! Whut's

Martha was not looking for a confession like this. It took away her shame at once, and the passion of it

thrilled her, and left her trembling. While he spoke her lashes drooped quickly, her face softened, and the

color came back to it. She began intertwining her fingers, and would 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' ashakin' yer bonnet at me, 'n' paddlin' to Gabe's fer yer grist, when the mill on

Dead Crick's been arunnin', 'n' I know it? You've been banterin' me, hev ye? "the blood rose to his eyes

again. " Ye mustn't fool with me, gal, by , ye mustn't. Whut hev you been goin' over thar fer? " He even took

a threatening step toward her, and, with a helpless gesture, 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 her head suddenly to listen to something below. At last she did speak.

"Somebody's comm'! " she said. " You'd better git out O' the way," she went on, hurriedly. "Somebody's

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 a horse's hoofs. He was unarmed, and he knew it was death for him to be seen on that

forbidden mountain; but he was beyond caution, and ready to welcome any vent to his passion, and he merely

Ef it's Satan hisself, I hain't goin' to run." The hoofbeats came nearer. The rider must soon see them from the

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, and the 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 pushed him away, and without a word he sprang

from the road and let himself noiselessly down the cliff. The hoofbeats thundered above his head, and

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

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

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

The two passed out of hearing, and Rome went plunging down the mountain, swinging recklessly from one

little tree to another, and wrenching limbs from their sockets out of pure physical ecstasy. When he reached

his horse he sat down, breathing heavily, on a bed of moss, with a strange new yearning in his heart. If peace

should come! Why not peace, if Rufe should not come back? He would be the leader then, and without him

there could be no war. Old Jasper had killed his father. He was too young at the time to feel poignant sorrow

now, and somehow he could look even at that 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 a Lewallen, until one end of the chain of

deaths was lost, and the first fault could not be placed, though each clan put it on the other. In every

generation there had been compromises periods of peace; why not now? Old Gabe would gladly help him.

He might make friends with young Jasper; he might even end the feud. And thenhe and Marthawhy not?

He closed his eyes, and for one radiant moment t all seemed possible. And then 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 Lewallen race. He remembered she had smiled

for the first time when she heard of the new troublethe flight of his uncle and the hope of conflict. She had

turned to him with her eyes on fire and her old hands clinched. She had said nothing, but he understood her

look. And nowGood God! what would she think and say if she could know what he had done? His whole

frame twitched at the thought, and, with a nervous spring to escape it, he was on his feet, and starting down

Close to the river he heard voices below him, and he turned his horse quickly aside into the bushes. Two

women who had been washing clothes passed, carrying white bundles home. They were talking of the

"That ar young Stetson ain't much like his dad," said one. "Young Jas has been adarin' 'n' abanterin' him, 'n'

When he reached the Stetson cabin three horses with drooping heads were hitched to the fence. All had

travelled a long way. One wore a man's saddle; on the others were thick blankets tied together with leathern

In the dark porch sat several men. Through the kitchen door he could see his mother getting supper. Inside a

dozen rifles leaned against the wall in the firelight, and about their butts was a pile of ammunition. In the

ALL were smoking and silent. Several spoke from the shadows as Rome stepped on the porch, and Rufe

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

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 the brilliant glow was white, and his eyes shone

feverishly. " Rome," he said, excitedly, " Uncle Rufe's hyeh, 'n' they laywayed him, 'n'____" He paused

abruptly. His mother came in, and at her call the mountaineers trooped through the covered porch, and sat

down to supper in the kitchen. They ate hastily and in silence, the mother attending their wants, and Rome

helping her. The meal finished, they drew their chairs about the fire. Pipes were lighted, and Rufe Stetson

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

The mother stopped clearing the table, and sat on the rock hearth close to the fire, her withered lips shut tight

about a lighted pipe, and her sunken eyes glowing like the coal of fire in its black bowl. Now and then she

would stretch her knotted hands nervously into the flames, or knit them about her knees, looking closely at

the heavy faces about her, which had lightened a little with expectancy. Rufe Stetson stood before the blaze,

his hands clasped behind him, and his huge figure bent in reflection. At intervals he would look with

halfshut eyes at Rome, who Sat with troubled face outside the firelight. Across the knees of Steve Marcum,

the best marksman in the mountains, lay the barrel of a new Winchester. Old Sam Day, Rufe's fatherinlaw

and counsellor to the Stetsons for a score of years, sat as if asleep on the opposite side of the fireplace from

the old mother, with his big square head pressed down between his misshapen shoulders.

"The time hev come, Rome." Rufe spoke between the puffs of his pipe, and Rome's heart quickened, for

every eye was upon him. Thar's goin' to be trouble now. I hear as how young Jasper hev been talkin' purty tall

Rome felt his mother's burning look. He did not turn toward her nor Rufe, 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, quietlytoo

quietly, for the old mother stirred uneasily, and significant glances went from eye to eye. Rufe did not look

up from the floor. He had been told about Rome's peculiar conduct, and, while the reason for it was beyond

guessing, he knew the temper of the boy and how to kindle it. He had thrust a thorn in a tender spot, and he

let it rankle. How sorely it did rankle he little knew. The voice of the woman across the river was still in

Rome 5 ears. Nothing cuts the mountaineer to the quick like the name of coward. It stung him like the lash of

an oxwhip then; it smarted all the way across the river and up the mountain. Young Jasper had been

charging him broadcast with cowardice, and Jasper's people no doubt believed it. Perhaps his own did his

uncle, his mother. The bare chance of such a humiliation set up an inward rage. He wondered how he could

ever have been such a fool as to think of peace. The woman's gossip had swept kindly impulses from his

heart with a fresh tide of bitterness, and, helpless now against its current, he sullenly gave way, and let his

"Whar d' ye git the guns, Rufe? " Steve was testing the action of the Winchester with a kindling look, as the

"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

The question was from a Marcum, who had come in late, and several laughed. Rufe threw back his dusty

They seed me well 'nough fer that," he said, grimly, and then he looked toward Rome, who thought of old

Jasper, and gave back a gleam of fierce sympathy. There were several nods of approval along with the laugh

that followed. It was a surpriseso little consideration of an escape so narrowfrom Rufe; for, as old Gabe

said, Rufe was big and goodnatured, and was not thought fit for leadership. But there was a change in him

when he came back from the West. He was quieter; he laughed less No one spoke of the difference; it was too

vague; but every one felt it, and it had an effect. His flight had made many uneasy, but his return, for that

reason, brought a stancher fealty from these; and this was evident now. All eyes were upon him, and all

"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 scarfaced Jellico preacher hev broke up the fightin' over thar, 'n' ef we

don't watch out, they'll be adoin' it hyeh, when we start our leetle frolic. We hain't got no time to fool. Old

Jas knows this 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'r fightin' 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, ef God A'mighty's willin', the thing's agoin' to

He stopped a moment to think. The men's breathing could be heard, so quiet was the room, and Rufe went on

telling in detail, slowly, as if to himself, the wrongs the Lewallens had done his people. When he came to old

"Now old Jas have got to the p'int whar he says as how nobody in this county kin undersell him 'n' stay hyeh.

Old Jas druv Bond Vickers out'n the mount 'ins fer tryin' hit. He druv Jess Hale away; 'n' them two air our

The big mountaineer turned then, and knocked the ashes from his pipe. His eyes grew a little brighter, and his

The gesture lighted memories of personal wrongs in every breast; he had tossed a firebrand among fagots,

"Ye know, too, that he thinks he has played the same game with me; but ye don't know, I reckon, that he had

ole Jim Stover 'n' that mis'able Eli Crump ahidin' in the bushes to shoot me "again he grasped the torn

lapel; "that a body warned me to git away from Hazlan; n' the night I left home they come thar to kill me, 'n'

The mountaineer's selfcontrol was lost suddenly in a furious oath. The men did know, but in fresh anger

they leaned forward in their chairs, and twisted about with smothered curses. The old woman had stopped

smoking, and was rocking her body to and fro. Her lips were drawn in upon her toothless gums, and her pipe

was clinched against her sunken breast. The head of the old mountaineer was lifted, and his eyes were open

"I hear as how he says I'm gone fer good. Well, I have been kinder easygoin', hatin' to fight, but sence the

day I seed Rome's dad thar dead in his blood, I hev had jes one thing I wanted to do. Thar wasn't no use

stayin' hyeh; I seed that. Rome thar was too leetle, and they was too 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 jeswhut I'm going to do

now." He wheeled suddenly upon Rome, with one huge hand lifted. Under it the old woman's voice rose in a

Yes; 'n' I want to see it done befoh I die. I hain't hyeh fer long, but I hain't goin' to leave as long as ole Jas is

hyeh, 'n' I want ye all to know it. Ole Jas hev got to go fust. You hear me, Rome? I'm atalkin' to you; I'm

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

"Yes, Rome! They killed him, boy. They sneaked on him, 'n' shot him to pieces from the bushes. Yes; hit's

yo' time now! Look hyeh, boys! " He reached above the fireplace and took down an old riflehis

brother'swhich the old mother had suffered no one to touch. He held it before the fire, pointing to two

crosses made near the flashpan. " 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 wildeyed 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 a claspknife 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 whitc face. Rome had strode forward.

The mother had the knife outstretched. Rome took it, and the scratch of the point on the hard steel went twice

through the stillnessone more fer the young un"; the voice was the old mother'sthen twice again.

The moon was sinking when Rome stood in the door alone. The tramp of horses was growing fainter down

the mountain. The trees were swaying in the wind below him, and he could just see the gray cliffs on the

other shore. The morning seemed far away; it made him dizzy looking back to it through the tumult of the

day. Somewhere in the haze was the vision of a girl's white facewhite with distress for him. Her father and

her brother he had sworn to kill. He had made a cross for each, and each cross was an oath. He closed the

door; and then he gave way, and sat down with his head in both hands. The noises in the kitchen ceased. The

fire died away, and the chill air gathered about him. When he rose, the restless eyes of the boy were upon him

IT was courtday in Hazlan, but so early in the morning nothing was astir in the town that hinted of its life on

such a day. But for the ring of a blacksmith's anvil on the quiet air, and the fact that nowhere was a

churchspire visible, a stranger would have thought that the peace of Sabbath overlay a village of

Godfearing people. A burly figure lounged in the porch of a rickety house, and yawned under a swinging

sign, the rude letters of which promised" private entertainment " for the traveller unlucky enough to pass that

way. In the one long, narrow main street, closely flanked by log and framed houses, nothing else human was

in sight. Out from this street, and in an empty square, stood the one brick building in the place, the

courthouse, brick without, brick within; unfinished, unpencilled, unpainted; panes out of the windows, a

shutter off here and there, or swinging drunkenly on one hinge; the door wide op en, as though there was no

privacy withina poor structure, with the look of a good man gone shiftless and fast going wrong.

Soon two or three lank brown figures appeared from each direction on foot; 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 courthouse square

were filled with horses and mules, and even steers. The mountaineers crowded the narrow street: idling from

side to side; squatting for a bargain on the wooden sidewalks; grouping on the porch of the rickety hotel, and

on the courthouse steps loitering in and out of the one store in sight. Out in the street several stood about a

horse, looking at his teeth, holding his eyes to the sun, punching his ribs, twisting his 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; but nobody spoke of a

Lewallen or a Stetson unless he knew his listener's heart, and said it in a whisper. For nobody knew when the

powder would flash, or who had taken sides, or that a careless word might not array him with one or the other

A motley throng it wasin brown or gray homespun, with trousers in cowhide boots, and slouched hats with

brims curved according to temperament, but with striking figures in it; the patriarch with long, white hair,

shorn even with the base of the neck, and bearded only at the throata justice of the peace, and the sage of his

district; a little mountaineer with curling black hair and beard, and dark, fine features; a grizzled giant with a

head rugged enough to have been carelessly chipped from stone; a bragging candidate claiming everybody's

notice; a square shouldered fellow surging through the crowd like a stranger; an openfaced, devilmay

care young gallant on fire with moonshine; a skulking figure with brutish mouth and shifting eyes. Indeed,

every figure seemed distinct; for, living apart from his neighbor, and troubling the law but little in small

matters of dispute, the mountaineer preserves independence, and keeps the edges of his individuality unworn.

Apparently there was not a woman in town. Those that lived there kept housed, and the fact was significant.

Still, it was 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,

and whetted impatience by sly trips in twos and three to stables or side alleys for "mountain dew." Now and

then the sheriff, a little man with a mighty voice, would appear on the courthouse steps, and summon a

witness to court, where a frightened judge gave instructions to a frightened jury. But few went, unless called;

for the interest was outside; every man in the streets knew that a storm was nigh, and was waiting to see it

Noon passed. A hoarse bell and a whining hound had announced dinner in the hotel. The guests were coming

again into the streets. Eyes were brighter, faces a little more flushed, and the "moonshine" was passed more

openly. Both ways the crowd watched closely. The quiet at each end of the street was ominous, and the delay

could last but little longer. The lookerson themselves were getting quarrelsome. The vent must come soon,

Thar comes Jas Lewallen! " At last. A dozen voices spoke at once. A horseman had appeared far down the

street from the Lewallen end. The clouds broke from about the sun, and a dozen men knew the horse that

bore him; for the gray was prancing the street sidewise, and throwing the sunlight from his flanks. Nobody

followed, and the crowd was puzzled. Young Jasper carried a Winchester across his saddlebow, and,

The wonder ceased. Young Jasper was reeling. Two or three Stetsons slipped from the crowd, and there was a

galloping of hoofs the other way. Another horseman appeared from the Lewallen end, riding hastily. The

newcomer's errand was to call Jasper back. But the young daredevil was close to the crowd, and was

Come back hyeh, Jas! Come hyeh!" The newcomer was shouting afar off while he galloped. Horses were

being untethered from the side alleys. Several more Lewallen riders came in sight. They could see the gray

shining in the sunlight amid the crowd, and the man sent after him halted at a safe distance, gesticulating; and

Hello, boys! " young Jasper was calling out, as he swayed from side to side, the people everywhere giving

"Fun today, by ! fun today! Who'll hev a drink? Hyeh's hell to the Stetsons, whar some of 'em '11 be

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 Winchester to his

shoulder, fired, and before his yell had died on his lips horse and rider were away like a shaft of light. The

crowd melted like magic from the street. The Stetsons, chiefly on foot, did not return the fire, but halted up

the street, as if parleying. Young Jasper joined his party, and they, too, stood still a moment, puzzled by the

"Watch out! they're gittin' round ye! Run for the courthouse, ye fools !ye, run! " The voice came in a loud

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 the

courthouse 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 courthouse, were puffing a stream of fire and smoke from

The streets were a bedlam. The Stetsons were yelling with triumph. The Lewallens were divided, and Rufe

placed three Stetsons with Winchesters on each side of the courthouse, and kept them firing. Rome, pale and

stern, hid his force between the square and the Lewallen store. He was none too quick. The rest were coming

on, led by old Jasper. It was reckless, riding that way right into death; but the old man believed young

Jasper's life at stake, and the men behind asked no questions when old Jasper led them. The horses' hoofs beat

the dirt street like the crescendo of thunder. The fierce old man's hat was gone, and his manelike hair was

shaking in the wind. Louderand still the Stetsons were quietquiet too long. The wily old man saw the trap,

and, with a yell, whirled the column up an alley, each man flattening over his saddle. From every window,

from behind every corner and tree, smoke belched from the mouth of a Winchester. Two horses went down;

one screamed; the other struggled to his feet, and limped away with an empty saddle. One pf the fallen men

sprang into safety behind a house, and one lay still, with his arms stretched out and his face in the dust.

From behind barn, house, and fence the Lewallens gave back a scattering fire; but the Stetsons crept closer,

and were plainly in greater numbers. Old Jasper was being surrounded, and he mounted again, and all,

followed by a chorus of bullets and triumphant yells, fled for a wooded slope in the rear of the courthouse.

A dozen Lewallens were prisoners, and must give up or starve. There was savage joy in the Stetson crowd,

Despite sickness and Rome's strict order, Isom had ridden down to the mill. Standing in the doorway, he and

old Gabe saw up the river, where the water broke into foam over the ford, a riderless gray horse plunging

across. Later it neighed at a gate under Wolf's Head, and Martha Lewallen ran out to meet it. Across under

Thunderstruck Knob that night the old Stetson mother listened to Isom's story of the fight with ghastly joy in

ALL night the courthouse was guarded and on guard. At one corner of the square Rufe Stetson, with a few

men, sat on watch in old Sam Day's cabinthe fortress of the town, built for such a purpose, and used for it

many times before. The prisoners, too, were alert, and no Stetson ventured into the open square, for the moon

was high; an exposure anywhere was noted instantly by the whistle of a rifleball, and the mountaineer takes

few risks except under stress of drink or passion. Rome Stetson had placed pickets about the town wherever

surprise was possible. All night he patrolled the streets to keep his men in such readiness as he could for the

attack that the Lewallens would surely make 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

As the night deepened without attack the Stetsons drank more, and grew reckless. A dance was started. Music

and "moonshine" were given to every man who bore a Winchester. The night was broken with drunken yells,

the random discharge of firearms, and the monotone of heavy feet. The two leaders were helpless, and the

inaction of the Lewallens puzzled them. Chafed with anxiety, they kept their eyes on the courthouse or on

the thicket of gloom where their enemies lay. But the woods were as quiet as the pall of shadows over them.

Once Rome, making his rounds, saw a figure crawling through a field of corn. It looked like Crump's, but

before he could fire the man rolled like a ball down the bushy bank to the river. An instant later some object

went swiftly past a side streetsomebody on horsebackand a picket fired an alarm. The horse kept on, and

Rome threw his rifle on a patch of moonlight, but when the object flashed through, his finger was numbed at

the trigger. In the moonlight the horse looked gray, and the rider was seated sidewise. A bullet from the

courthouse clipped his hatbrim as he ran recklessly across the street to where Steve Marcum stood in the

"Jim Hale 'll git him as he goes up the road," said Steve, calmlyand then with hot impatience, "Why the hell

Rome started forward in the moonlight, and Steve caught his arm. Two bullets hissed from the courthouse,

A shot sounded from the bushes far away from the road. The horse kept on, and splashed into Troubled Fork,

"Hit hain't Jim. Hit's that mis'able Bud Vickers; he's been astan 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

Rome's mouth was half open. He looked white and sick, and Steve thought he had been hit, but he took off

his hat. " Purty close! " he said, with a laugh, pointing at the bullethole through the brim.

Steve, unsuspicious, went on: "Hit was a spy, I tell ye. Bud was afeard to 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 through this night,

The night did pass in safety, darkness wore away without attack, and morning broke on the town in its

drunken stupor. Then the curious silence of the Lewallens was explained. The rumor came that old Jasper

was dead, and it went broadcast. Later, friends coming to the edge of the town for the bodies of the dead

Lewallens confirmed it. A random ball had passed through old Lewallen's body in the wild flight for the

woods, and during the night he had spent his last breath in a curse against the man who fired it.

Then each Stetson, waked from his drunken sleep, drank again when he heard of the death. The day bade fair

to be like the night, and again the anxiety of the leaders was edged with fear. Old Jasper dead and young

Jasper a prisoner, the chance was near to end the feud, or there would be no Lewallen left to lead their

enemies. But, again, they were wellnigh helpless. Already they had barely enough men to guard their

prisoners. Of the Marcums, Steve alone was able to handle a Winchester, and outside the sounds of the

carousal were in the air and growing louder. In a little while, if the Lewallens but knew it, escape would be

Oh, they know it," said Steve. "They'll be awhoopin' down out O' them woods purty soon, 'n' we re goin to

ketch hell. I'd like to know mighty well who that spy was last night. That cussed Bud Vickers says it was a

ha'nt, on a white hoss, with long hair flyin' in the wind, 'n' that he shot plumb through it. I jus' wish I'd a had a

Still, noon came again without trouble, and the imprisoned Lewallens had been twentyfour hours without

food. Their ammunition was getting scarce. The firing was less frequent, though the watch was as close as

ever, and twice a Winchester had sounded a signal of distress. All knew that a response must come soon; and

come it did. A picket, watching the river road, saw young Jasper's horse coming along the dark bushes far up

the river, and brought the news to the group standing behind old Sam's cabin. The gray galloped into sight,

and, skirting the woods, came straight for the townwith a woman on his back. The stirrup of a man's saddle

dangled on one side, and the woman's bonnet had fallen from her head. Some one challenged her.

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

Rome ran from the cabin with a revolver in each hand. A drunken mountaineer was raising a Winchester to

his shoulder, and, springing from the back of the gray at the courthouse steps, was Martha Lewallen.

"I'll kill the fust man that lifts his finger to hurt the gal," Rome said, knocking the drunken man's gun in the

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 the opening door, she threw the sack of food within. Then she stood a moment

talking and, turning, climbed to her saddle. The gray was spotted with foam, and showed the red of his

nostrils with every breath as, with face flushed and eyes straight before her, she rode slowly toward the

crowd. What was she about? Rome stood rigid, his forgotten pistols hanging at each side; the mouth of the

drunken mountaineer was open with stupid wonder; the rest fell apart as she came around the corner of the

cabin and, through the space given, rode slowly, her skirt almost brushing Rome, looking neither to the right

nor to the left; and when she had gone quite through them all, she wheeled and rode, still slowly, through the

open fields toward the woods which sheltered the Lewallens, while the crowd stood in bewildered silence

looking after her. Yells of laughter came from the old courthouse. Some of the Stetsons laughed, too; some

swore, a few grumbled; but there was not one who was not stirred by the superb daring of the girl, though she

" 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 was more'n sump'n to eat in that bag! They air up to some dodge."

Rufe Stetson had watched the incident through a porthole of the cabin, and his tone was at once jesting and

"That grub won't last more'n one day, I reckon," said the drunken mountaineer. We'll watch out fer the gal

"She rid through us to find out how many of us wasn't dead drunk," said Steve Marcum, still watching the girl

as she rode on, toward the woods; "'n' I'm athinkin' they'll be down on us purty soon now, 'n' I reckon we'll

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

"Well, whut in the! "he said, with slow emphasis, and then he leaped from the door with a yell. The bonnet

was a signal to the beleaguered Lewallens. The rear door of the courthouse had been quietly opened, and the

prisoners were out in a body and scrambling over the fence before the pickets could give an alarm. The

sudden yells, the crack of Winchesters, startled even the revellers and all who could, headed by Rome and

Steve Marcum, sprang into the square, and started in pursuit. But the Lewallens had got far ahead, and were

running in zigzag lines to dodge the balls flying after them. Halfway to the woods was a gully of red clay,

and into this the fleetest leaped, and turned instantly to cover their comrades. The Winchesters began to rattle

"Thup! Thup! Thup! " there were three of themthe peculiar soft, dull messages of hot lead to living

flesh. A Stetson went down; another stumbled; Rufe Stetson, climbing the fence, caught at his breast with an

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 gully leaped from it, and ran under the Lewallen fire for shelter in the woods. The

"That was a purty neat trick," said Steve, wiping a red streak from his cheek. " Nex' time she tries that, she'll

At nightfall the wounded leader and the dead one were carried up the mountain, each to his home; and there

was mourning far into the night on one bank of the Cumberland, and, serious though Rufe Stetson's wound

was, 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 reaction had set in when he saw the girl flash in the moonlight past the sights of his

Winchester, and her face that day had again loosed within him a flood of feeling that drove the lust for

revenge from his veins. Even now, while he sat in his own cabin, his thoughts were across the river where

Martha, broken at last, sat at her death vigils. He knew what her daring ride that day had cost her, with old

Jasper dead out there in the woods; and as she passed him he had grown suddenly humbled, shamed. He grew

heartsick now as he thought of it all; and the sight of his mother on her bed in the corner, close to death as

she was, filled him with bitterness. There was no help for him. He was alone now, pitted against young Jasper

alone. On one bed lay his unclenigh to death. There was the grim figure in the corner, the implacable spirit

of hate and revenge. His rifle was against the wall. If there was any joy for him in old Jasper's death, it was

that his hand had not caused it, and yetGod help him!there was the other cross, the other oath.

THE star and the crescent were swinging above Wolf's Head, and in the dark hour that breaks into dawn a

cavalcade of Lewallens forded the Cumberland, and galloped along the Stetson shore. At the head rode young

Swift changes had followed the courthouse fight. In spite of the death of Rufe Stetson from his wound, and

several other Stetsons from ambush, the Lewallens had lost ground. Old Jasper's store had fallen into the

hands of creditors " furriners "for debts, and it was said his homestead must follow. In a private war a

leader must be more than leader. He must feed and often clothe his followers, and young Jasper had 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 battle alone. So

Jasper avoided open combat and resorted to ambush and surprise; and, knowing in some way every move

made by the Stetsons, with great daring and success. It was whispered, too, that he no longer cared who

owned what he might want for himself. Several dark deeds were traced to him. In a little while he was a terror

to good citizens, and finally old Gabe asked aid of the Governor. Soldiers from the settlements were looked

for any day, and both factions knew it. At the least this would delay the war, and young Jasper had got ready

Half a mile on the riders swerved into a wooded slope. There they hid their horses in the brush, and climbed

the spur stealthily. The naked woods showed the cuplike shape of the mountains therea basin from which

radiated upward wooded ravines, edged with ribs of rock. In this basin the Stetsons were encamped. The

smoke of a fire was visible in the dim morning light, and the Lewallens scattered to surround the camp, but

the effort was vain. A picket saw the creeping figures; his gun echoed a warning from rock to rock, and with

yells the Lewallens ran forward. Rome sprang from his sleep near the fire, bareheaded, rifle in hand, his body

plain against a huge rock, and the bullets hissed and spat about him as he leaped this way and that, firing as

he sprang, and shouting for his men. Steve Marcum alone answered. Some, startled from sleep, had fled in a

panic; some had run deeper into the woods for shelter. And bidding Steve save himself, Rome turned up the

mountain, running from tree to tree, and dropped unhurt behind a fallen chestnut. Other Stetsons, too, had

turned, and answering bullets began to whistle to the enemy, but they were widely separated and ignorant of

one another's position, and the Lewallens drove them one by one to new hidingplaces, scattering them more.

To his right Rome saw Steve Marcum speed like a shadow up through a little open space, but he feared to

move, for several Lewallens had recognized him, and were watching him alone. He could not even fire; at the

least exposure there was a chorus of bullets about his ears. In a moment they began to come obliquely from

each sidethe Lewallens were getting around him. In a moment more death was sure there, and once again he

darted up the mountain. The bullets sang after him like maddened bees. He felt one cut his hat and another

sting his left arm, but he raced up, up, till the firing grew fainter as he climbed, and ceased an instant

altogether. Then, still farther below, came a sudden crash of reports. Stetsons were pursuing the men who

were after him, but he could not join them. The Lewallens were scattered everywhere between him and his

own man, and a desccnt might lead him to the muzzle of an enemy's Winchester. So he climbed over a ledge

of rock and lay there, peeping through a crevice between two bowlders, gaining his breath. The firing was far

below him now, and was sharp. Evidently his 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 kept hidden, and, searching the cliffs

below him for a sheltered descent, he saw something like a slouched hat just over a log, scarcely fifty feet

below him. Presently the hat was lifted a few inches; a figure rose cautiously and climbed toward the ledge,

shielding itself behind rock and tree. Very quietly Rome crawled back to the face of the cliff behind him, 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 floor of rock between themthe Lewallen would be at his mercyand Rome, with

straining eyes, waited. There was a footfall on the other side of the ledge; a soft clink of metal against stone.

The Lewallen was climbing slowlyslowly. Rome could hear his heavy breathing. A grimy hand slipped over

the sharp comb of the ledge; another appeared, clinched about a Winchesterthen the slouched hat, and under

it the dark, crafty face of young Jasper. Rome sat like the stone before him, with a halfsmile on his lips.

Jasper peered about with the sly caution of a fox, and his face grew puzzled and chagrined as he looked at the

He was drawing himself over the ledge, and the low, stern voice startled him, as a knife might have done,

thrust suddenly from the empty air at his breast. Rome rose upright against the cliff, with his resolute face

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 hollow of his arm, and the two young leaders faced each other for the first time

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

The Lewallen took his stand against the cliff. Rome picked up the fallen rifle 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 at the

eend o' this Winchester. I reckon you would 'a' shot me dead ef I had poked my head over a rock as keerless

as you." That is just what he would have done, and Jasper did not answer. "I've swore to kill ye, too," added

The Lewallen was no coward. Outcry or resistance was useless. The Stetson meant to taunt him, to make

death more bitter; for Jasper expected death, and he sullenly waited for it against the cliff.

"You've been banterin me a long time now, 'lowin' as how ye air the better man o' the two; n' I've got a notion

o' givin' ye a chance to prove 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 reason fer not killin' yeef 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'll

sw'ar on a stack o' Bibles as high as that tree thar that y'u'll leave these mount'ins ef I whoops ye, 'n' nuver

come back ag'in as long as you live. 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. But Jasper's face was dark with suspicion, and

Rome studied it keenly. The Lewallens once had been men whose word was good, but he did not like Jasper's

"I reckon I'll trust ye," he said, at last, more through confidence in his own strength than faith in his enemy;

foi Jasper whipped would be as much at his mercy as he was now. So Rome threw off his coat, and began

winding his homespun suspenders about his waist. Watching him closely, Jasper did the same.

The firing below had ceased. A flock of mountain vultures were sailing in great circles over the thick woods.

Two eagles swept straight from the rim of the sun above Wolf's Head, beating over a turbulent sea of mist for

the cliffs, scarcely fifty yards above the ledge, where a pinetree grew between two rocks. At the instant of

lighting, they wheeled away, each with a warning scream to the other. A figure lying flat behind the pine had

frightened them, and now a face peeped to one side, flushed with eagerness over the coming fight. Both were

ready now, and the Lewallen grew suddenly white as Rome turned again and reached down for the guns.

"I reckon I'll put 'em a leetle furder out o' the way," he said, kicking the knife over the cliff; and, standing on

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

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 primeval men who had not yet learned even the use of clubs. For an instant both

stood close, like two wild beasts crouched for a spring, and circling about to get at each other's throats, with

mouths set, eyes watching eyes, and hands twitching nervously. Young Jasper leaped first, and the Stetson,

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 was longer; 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 heavy fist 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 his enemy's head back with one hand, rained blow after blow in his face with the other.

One terrible stroke on the jaw, and Jasper's arms were loosed; the two fell apart, the one stunned, the other

breathless. One dazed moment only, and for a third time the Lewallen came on. Rome had been fighting a

man; now he faced a demon. Jasper's brows stood out like bristles, 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 this time he got

his face under the Stetson's chin, 'id the heavy fist fell upon 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 fiercely lockedtheir corded

arms as tense as serpents. Around and around they whirled, straining, tripping, breaking the silence only with

deep, quick breaths and the stamping of feet, Jasper firm on the rock, and Rome's agility saving him from

being lifted in the air and tossed from the cliff. There was no pause for rest. It was a struggle to the end, and a

quick one; and under stress of excitement the figure at the pinetree had risen to his knees jumping even to

his feet in plain view, when the short, strong arms of the Lewallen began at last to draw Rome closer still, and

to bend him backward. The Stetson was giving way at last. The Lewallen's vindictive face grew blacker, and

his white teeth showed between his snarling lips as he fastened one leg behind his enemy's, and, with chin

against his shoulder, bent him slowly, slowly back. The two breathed in short, painful gasps; their swollen

muscles trembled under the strain as with ague. Back back the Stetson was falling; he seemed almost

down, whenthe trick is an old onewhirling with the quickness of light, he fell heavily on his opponent, and

The only answer was a fierce struggle. Rome felt the Lewallen's teeth sinking in his arm, and his fingers

tightened like twisting steel, till Jasper caught his breath as though strangling to death.

No answer; tighter clinched the fingers. The Lewallen shook his head feebly; his purple face paled suddenly

Rome rose dizzily to one knee. Jasper turned, gasping, and lay with his face to the rock. For a while both

were quiet, Rome, panting with open mouth and white with exhaustion, looking down now and then at the

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

"I've whooped ye, Jas," Rome said, at last; "I've whooped ye in a fa'r fight, 'n' I've got nothin' now to say 'bout

yer tall talk, 'n' I reckon you hevn't nuther. Now, hit's understood, hain't it, that y'u'll leave these mount'ins?

Y'u kin go West," he continued, as the Lewallen did not answer. " Uncle Rufe used to say thar's a good deal

to do out thar, 'n' nobody axes questions. Thar's nobody left hyeh but you 'n' me, but these mount'ins was

never big 'nough fer one Lewallen 'n' one Stetson, 'n' you've got to go. I reckon ye won't believe me, but I'm

glad I didn't hev to kill ye. But you've promised to go, now, 'n' I'll take yer word fer it." He turned his face,

A wild curse burst from Rome's lips, and both leaped for the guns. The Lewallen 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 of the

Winchesters above his head and his face aflame with fury. Asking no mercy, Rome hid his face with one arm

and waited, stricken faint all at once, and numb. One report struck his ears, muffled, whiplike. A dull

wonder came to him that the Lewallen could have missed at such close range, and he waited for another.

Some one shouteda shrill hallo. A loud laugh followed; a light seemed breaking before Rome's eyes, and he

lifted his head. Jasper was on his face again, motionless; and Steve Marcum's tall figure was climbing over a

"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, I reckon. I had dead aim on him, 'n' I was jest athinkin' hit was a purty good

thing fer you that old longnosed Jim Stover chased me up hyeh, when, damn me, ef that boy up thar didn't

let his ole gun loose. I'd agot Jas myself ef he hadn't been so allfired quick o' trigger."

Up at the root of the pinetree Isom stood motionless, with his long rifle in one hand and a little cloud of

smoke breaking above his white face. When Rome looked up he started down without a word. Steve swung

"I heerd the shootin'," said the boy, " up thar at the cave, 'n' I couldn'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, his face

shrivelled, and Steve, hanging with one hand to the ledge, watched him curiously.

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

That day the troops cameyoung Blue Grass Kentuckians. That night, within the circle of their campfires, a

last defiance was cast in the teeth of law and order. Flames rose within the old court house, and before

midnight the moonlight fell on four black walls. That night, too, the news of young Jasper's fate was carried

to the deathbed of Rome's mother, and before day the old woman passed in peace. That day Stetsons and

Lewallens disbanded. The Lewallens had no leader; the Stetsons, no enemies to fight. Some hid, some left the

mountains, some gave themselves up for trial. Upon Rome Stetson the burden fell. Against him the law was

set. A price was put on his head, his house was burneda last act of Lewallen hateand Rome was homeless,

WITH the start of a few hours and the sympathy of his people one mountaineer can defy the army of the

United States; and the mountaineers usually laugh when they hear troops are coming. For the time they stop

fighting and hide in the woods; and when the soldiers are gone, they come out again, and begin anew their

little pleasantries. But the soldiers can protect the judge on his bench and the countyseat in time of court,

The search for Rome Stetson, then, was useless. His friends would aid him; his enemies feared to betray him.

So the soldiers marched away one morning, and took their prisoners for safe keeping in the Blue Grass, until

Meantime, spring came and deepenedthe mountain spring. The berries of the wintergreen grew scarce, and

Rome Stetson, " hiding out," as the phrase is, had to seek them on thc northem face of the mountains. The

moss on the naked winter trees brightened in color, and along the river, where willows drooped, ran faint

lines of green. The trailing arbutus gave out delicate pink blossoms, and the south wind blew apart the petals

of the anemone. Soon violets unfolded above the dead leaves; azaleas swung their yellow trumpets through

the undergrowth; overhead, the dogwood tossed its snowflakes in gusts through the green and gold of new

leaves and sunlight; and higher still waved the poplar blooms, with honey ready on every crimson heart for

the bees. Down in the valley Rome Stetson could see about every little cabin pink clouds and white clouds of

peach and of apple blossoms. Amid the ferns about him shadeloving trilliums showed their manyhued

faces, and every opening was thickly peopled with larkspur seeking the sun. The giant magnolia and the

umbrellatree spread their great creamy flowers; the laurel shook out myriads of pink and white bells, and the

queen of mountain flowers was stirring from sleep in the buds of the rhododendron.

With the spring new forces pulsed the mountain air. The spirit of the times reached even Hazlan. A railroad

was coming up the river, so the rumor was. When winter broke, surveyors had appeared; after them, mining

experts and purchasers of land. New ways of breadmaking were open to all, and the feudsman began to see

that he could make food and clothes more easily and with less danger than by sleeping with his rifle in the

woods, and by fighting men who had done him no harm. Many were tired of fighting; many, forced into the

feud, had fought unwillingly. Others had sold their farms and wild lands, and were moving toward the Blue

Grass or westward. The desperadoes of each faction had fled the law or were in its clutches. The last

Lewallen was dead; the last Stetson was hidden away in the mountains. There were left Mareums and

Braytons, but only those who felt safest from indictment; in these a spirit of hostility would live for years,

and, roused by passion or by drink, would do murder now on one side of the Cumberland and now on the

All these things the miller told Rome Stetson, who well knew what they meant. He was safe enough from the

law while the people took no part in his capture, but he grew apprehensive when he learned of the changes

going 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 hope to remain hidden long. Still, with that love of the mountains characteristic of

all races born among them, he clung to his own land. He would rather stay where he was the space of a year

But there was another motive, and he did not hide it. On the other side he had one enemy leftthe last, too, of

her racewho was more to him than his own dead kindred, who hated him, who placed at his door all her

sorrows. For her he was living like a wolf in a cave, and old Gabe knew it. Herhe would not leave.

"I tell ye, Rome, you've got to go. Thar's no use talkin'. Court comes the 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 be spyin', 'n' mebbe

hit'll git me into trouble, too, aidin' 'n' abettin' a man to git away who air boun' to the law."

The two were sitting on the earthen floor of the cave before a little fire, and Rome, with his hands about his

knees and his brows knitted, was staring into the yellow blaze. His unshorn hair fell to his shoulders; his face

was pale from insufficient food and exercise, and tense with a look that was at once caged and defiant.

"Uncle Gabe," he asked, quietly, for the old man's tone was a little querulous, " air ye sorry ye holped me?

"No," said the old miller, answering both questions; "I don't. I believe whut ye tol' me. Though, even ef ye

had 'a' done it, I don't know as I'd blame ye, seem' that it was a fa'r fight. I don't doubt he was doin' his best to

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

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 anxious to 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 of a suddint folks seem to be gittin'

down on a man as kills his fellowcreetur; '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

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 was throwed about as by two bucks in springtime. Steve says he didn't do it, 'n' he

wouldn't say you didn't. Looks to me like Steve did the kuhn', 'n' was lyin' a leetle. He hain't goin' to confess

hit to save your neck; 'n' he can't no way, fer he hev lit out o' these mount'inslong ago."

If Steve was out of danger, suspicion could not harm him, and Rome said nothing.

"Isom's got the lingerin' fever ag'in, 'n' he's out"i his head. He's ravin' '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 him ef you go 'way; but he

He air the same feller who hev been spyin' ye all the time this war's been goin' on; hit's that driedfaced,

snaky Eli Crump, who ye knocked down 'n' choked up in Hazlan one day fer sayin' something ag'in Isom."

"I knowed itI knowed itoh, ef I could git my fingers roun' his throat once morejes once moreI'd be 'mos'

He stretched out his hands as he strode back and forth, with his fingers crooked like talons; his shadow leaped

from wall to wall, and his voice, filling the cave, was, for the moment, scarcely human. The old man waited

"Hit 'u'd do no good, Rome," he said, rising to go. "You've got enough on ye now, without the sin o' takin' his

life. You better make up yer mind to leave the mount ins now right 'way. You're agittin' no more'n

halfhuman, livin' up hyeh like a catamount. I don't see how ye kin stand it. Thar's no hope o' things blowin'

over, boy, 'n' givin' ye a chance o' comm' out ag'in, as yer dad and yer grandad usen to do afore ye. The

citizens air gittin' tired o' these wars. They keeps out the furriners 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 hev been ag'in' all this fightin' fer a

long time, but they was too skeery to say so. They air talkin' mighty big now, seem' they kin git soldiers hyeh

to pertect 'em. So ye mought as well give up the idea o' staying hyeh, 'less'n ye want to give yourself up to the

The two stepped from the cave, and passed through the rhododendrons till they stood on the cliff overlooking

the valley. The rich light lay like a golden mist between the mountains, and through it, far down, the river

"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' ye at young Jas's burial, 'lowin' that she'd hunt ye down herse'f, ef the

soldiers didn't ketch ye. I hain't seed her sence she got sick; 'pears like ever'body's sick. Mebbe she's a leetle

settled down nowno tellin'. No use foolin' with her, Rome. You git away from hyeh. Don't you worry 'bout

IsomI'll take keer o' him, 'n' when he gits well, he'll want to come atter ye, 'n' I'll let him go. He couldn't live

With hands clasped behind him, Rome stood and watched the bent figure slowly pick its way around the

"I reckon I've got to go. She's ag'in' me; they're all ag'in' me. I reckon I've jes got to go. Somehow, I've been

kinder hopin'" He closed his lips to check the groan that rose to them, and turned again into the gloom

JUNE came. The wild rose swayed above its image along every little shadowed stream, and the scent of wild

grapes was sweet in the air and as vagrant as a bluebird's note in autumn. The rhododendrons burst into

beauty, making gray ridge and gray cliff blossom with purple, hedging streams with snowy clusters and

shining leaves, and lighting up dark coverts in the woods as with white stars. The leaves were full,

With June came circuit court once moreand the soldiers. Faint music pierced the dreamy chant of the river

one morning as Rome lay on a bowlder in the summer sun; and he watched the guns flashing like another

stream along the water, and then looked again to the Lewallen cabin. Never, morning, noon, or night, when

he came from the rhododendrons, or when they closed about him, did he fail to turn his eyes that way. Often

he 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 it disappear. 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 his heart with pity. She had been ill a long while.

The "furriners " had seized old Jasper's cahin and land. The girl was homeless, and she did not know it, for no

one had the heart to tell her. She was living with the Braytons; and every day she went to the cabin, "moonin''

Once more the miller camefor the last time, he said, firmly. Crump had trailed him, and had learned where

Rome was. The search would begin next dayperhaps that very nightand Crump would guide the soldiers.

Now he must 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 the message; but he had promised to deliver it, and he did. Rome

wavered then; Steve and himself gone, no suspicion would fall on the lad. If he were caught, the boy might

confess. With silence Rome gave assent, and the two parted in an apathy that was like heartlessness. Only old

Gabe's shrunken breast heaved with something more than weariness of descent, and Rome stood watching

him a long time before he turned back to the cave that had sheltered him from his enemies among beasts and

men. In a 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 the river. When he reached it he glanced at the sun, and stopped in

indecision. Straight above him was a knoll, massed with rhododendrons, the flashing leaves of which made it

like a great seawave in the slanting sun, while the blooms broke slowly down over it like foam. Above this

was a gray sepulchre of dead, standing trees, more gaunt and spectrelike than ever, with the rich life of

summer about it. Higher still were a dark belt of stunted firs and the sandstone ledge, and above thesehome.

He was risking his liberty, his life. Any clump of bushes might bristle suddenly with Winchesters. If the

soldiers sought for him at the cave they would at the same time guard the mountain paths; they would guard,

too, the Stetson cabin. But no matterthe sun was still high, and he turned up the steep. The ledge passed, he

stopped with a curse at his lips and the pain of a knifethrust at his heart. A heap of blackened stones and

ashes was before him. The wild mountaingrass was growing up about it. The beegums were overturned

and rifled. The garden was a tangled mass of weeds. The graves in the little family buryingground were

unprotected, the fence was gone, and no boards 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 to him, as the girl's kinspeople had

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

to leave the ruins as they were; and yet he would rather leave weeds and ashes than, like Martha, have some

day to know that his home was in the hands of a stranger. When he thought of the girl he grew calmer; his

own sorrows gave way to the thought of hers; and half from habit he raised his face to look across the river.

Two eagles swept from a dark ravine under the shelf of rock where he had fought young Jasper, and made for

a sunlighted peak on the other shore. From them his gaze fell to Wolf's Head and to the cabin beneath, and a

Then he took the path to the river, and he found the canoe where old Gabe had hidden it. Before the young

moon rose he pushed into the stream and drifted with the current. At the mouth of the creek that ran over old

THAT night Rome passed in the woods, with his rifle, in a bed of leaves. Before daybreak he had built a fire

in a deep ravine to cook his breakfast, and had scattered the embers that the smoke should give no sign. The

sun was high when he crept cautiously in sight of the Lewallen cabin. It was much like his own home on the

other shore, except that the house, closed and desolate, was standing, and the bees were busy. At the corner of

the kitchen a rusty axe was sticking in a halfcut piece of timber, and on the porch was a heap of kindling

and fire woodthe last work old Jasper and his son had ever done. In the Lewallens' garden, also, two graves

All the morning he waited in the edge of the laurel, peering down the path, watching the clouds race with

their shadows over the mountains, or pacing to and fro in his covert of leaves and flowers. He began to fear at

last that she was not coming, that she was ill, and once he started down the mountain toward Steve Brayton's

cabin. The swift descent brought him to his senses, and he stopped halfway, and climbed back again to his

hidingplace. What he was doing, what he meant to do, he hardly knew. Midday passed; the sun fell toward

the mountains, and once more came the fierce impulse to see her, even though he must stalk into the Brayton

cabin. Again, halfcrazed, he started impetuously through the brush, and shrank back, and stood quiet. A

little noise down the path had reached his ear. In a moment he could hear slow footfalls, and the figure of

the girl parted the pinkandwhite laurel blossoms, which fell in a shower about her when she brushed

through them. She passed quite near him, walking slowly, and stopped for a moment to rest against a pillar of

the porch. She was very pale; her face was traced deep with suffering, and she was, as old Gabe said, much

changed. Then she went on toward the garden, stepping with an effort over the low fence, and leaned as if

weak and tired against the appletree, the boughs of which shaded 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 looking at 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 the sunken, upturned eyes

"Marthy! " He couldn't help itthe thick, low cry broke like a groan from his lips, and the girl was on her feet,

facing him. She did not know the voice, nor the shaggy, halfwild figure in the shade of the laurel; and she

started back as if to run; but seeing that the man did not mean to harm her, she stopped, looking for a moment

with wonder and even with quick pity at the hunted face with its white appeal. Then a sudden spasm caught

her throat, and left her body rigid, her hands shut, and her eyes dry and hardshe knew him. A slow pallor

drove the flush of surprise from her face, and her lips moved once, but there was not even a whisper from

them. Rome raised one hand before his face, as though to ward off something. " Don't look at mc that way,

Marthymy God, don't! I didn't kill him. I sw'ar it! I give him a chance fer his life. I know, I knowSteve

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't believe me? " He went swiftly toward her, his gun outstretched. Hyeh, gal! I heerd ye swore ag' in'

me out thar in the gyarden'lowin' that you was goin' to hunt me down yerself if the soldiers didn't. Hyeh's

The girl shrank away from him, too startled to take the weapon; and he leaned it against her, and stood away,

Kill me ef ye think I'm alyin' to ye," he said. "Y'u kin git even with me now. But I want to tell ye fust "the

girl had caught the muzzle of the gun convulsively, and was bending over it, her eyes burning, her face

inscrutablehit was a fa'r fight betwixt us, 'n' I whooped him. He got his gun then, 'n' would 'a' killed me

ag'in' his oath ef he hadn't been shot fust Hit's so, too, 'bout the crosses. I made 'em; they're right thar on that

gun; but whut could I do with mam astandin' right thar with the gun 'n' Uncle Rufe atellin' 'bout my own

dad layin' in his 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' killed yer 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 I hain't done nothin' sence I seed ye over thar in the

mill that day that wasn't done fer ye. Somehow ye put me dead ag'in' my own kin, 'n' tuk away all my hate

ag'in' yourn. I couldn't fight fer thinkin' I was fightin' you, 'n' when I seed ye comm' through the bushes jes

now, so white 'n' sicklylike, I couldn't hardly git breath, athinkin' I was the 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 thinks I'm lyin' to

The gun had fallen to the earth. The girl, trembling at the knees, sank to her seat on the porch, and, folding

her arms against the pillar, pressed her forehead against them, her face unseen. Rome stooped to pick up the

"I'm goin' 'way now," he went on, slowly, after a little pause, "but I couldn'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 awaitin' thar in the

lorrel fer ye sence mornin'. Uncle Gabe tol' me ye come hyeh ever' 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' n ever, 'n'

that the soldiers mean to ketch me. The gov'ner out thar in the 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 hev done 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 these

mount'ins. Reckon I'll nuver see 'em ag'in. Been livin' like a catamount over thar on the knob. I could jes see

you over hyeh, 'n' I reckon I 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 to know that I been stayin' over thar fer nothin' on earth

but jes to see you ag'in; 'n' I want ye to know that I was asorrowin' fer ye when y'u was sick, 'n' apinin' to

see ye, 'n' ahopin' some day y'u mought kinder git over yer hate fer me." He had been talking with low

tenderness, half to himself, and with his face to the river, and he did not see the girl's tears falling to the

porch. Her sorrow gave way in a great sob now, and he turned with sharp remorse, and stood quite near her.

"Don't cry, Marthy," he said. "God knows hit's hard to think I've brought all this on ye when I'd give all these

"I hain't cryin' fer myself," she said, faintly, and then she said no more; but the first smile that had passed

over Rome's face for many a day passed then, and he put out one big hand, and let it rest on the heap of

"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 reckon I'll be all alone wharever I go, ef you stay hyeh. I got a boat down thar on

the river, 'n' I'm goin' out West whar Uncle Rufe use to live. I know I hain't good fer nothin' much "he spoke

almost huskily; he could scarcely get the words to his lips" but I want ye to go with me. Won't ye?"

The girl did not answer, but her sobbing ceased slowly, while Rome stroked her hair; and at last she lifted her

face, and for a moment looked to the other shore. Then she rose. There is a strange pride in the Kentucky

"As you say, Rome, thar's nobody left but you, 'n' nobody but me; but they burned you out, we hain't

evenyit." Her eyes were on Thunderstruck Knob, where the last sunlight used to touch the Stetson cabin.

"Hyeh, Rome!" He knew what she meant, and he kneeled at the pile of kindlingwood near the kitchen door.

Then they stood back and waited. The sun dipped below a gap in the mountains, the sky darkened, and the

flames rose to the shingled porch, and leaped into the gathering dusk. On the outer edge of the quivering

light, where it touched the blossomed laurel, the two stood till the blaze caught the eaves of the cabin; and

then they turned their faces where, burning to ashes in the west, was another fire, whose light blended in the