Travers seemed to him to have the quiet
deadliness of the cobra. There was something about him that repelled.
The men released him. He straightened his long black coat, smoothed the
full ruffles of his shirt and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Skelly ceased to struggle. The aspect of the crowd, which was largely
hostile, sobered him. Steve Allison, the town constable, appeared and,
putting his hand heavily upon the mountaineer's shoulder, said:

"You come with me, Skelly."

But old Judge Kendrick intervened.

"Let him go, Steve," he said. "Send him back to the mountains."

"But he tried to kill a man, Judge."

"I know, but extraordinary times demand extraordinary methods. A great
and troubled period has come into all our lives. Maybe we're about to
face some terrible crisis. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," replied the crowd.

"Then we must not hurry it or make it worse by sudden action. If Skelly
is punished, the mountaineers will say it is political. I appeal to you,
Dr. Russell, to sustain me."

The white head of the principal showed above the crowd.

"Judge Kendrick is right," he said. "Skelly must be permitted to go.
His action, in fact, was due to the strained conditions that have long
prevailed among us, and was precipitated by the alarming message that
has come today. For the sake of peace, we must let him go."

"All right, then," said Allison, "but he goes without his pistol."

Skelly was put upon his mountain pony, and he rode willingly away amid
the snow and the coming dusk, carrying, despite his release, a bitter
heart into the mountains, and a tale that would inflame the jealousy
with which upland regarded lowland.

The crowd dispersed. Gardner returned to his office, and Harry went
home. He lived in the best house in or about Pendleton and his father
was its wealthiest citizen. George Kenton, having inherited much land
in Kentucky, and two or three plantations further south had added to
his property by good management. A strong supporter of slavery, actual
contact with the institution on a large scale in the Gulf States had not
pleased him, and he had sold his property there, reinvesting the money
in his native and, as he believed, more solid state. His title of
colonel was real. A graduate of West Point, he had fought bravely with
Scott in all the battles in the Valley of Mexico, but now retired and a
widower, he lived in Pendleton with Harry, his only child.

Harry appr