from the quaint old
Kentucky home. A sob broke from his lips, and his face sank on the arm
of the old aristocrat,--he was instinctively boyish in his grief,
returning once more to the shelter of that paternal shoulder.

Mandy had returned with a glass of stimulant, which she held to the
colonel's lips. The draught refreshed him immensely. He gently patted
the shoulders of his son, and continued with firmer tones:

"There, Warren boy, pull yourself together. The doctor will be along in
his buggy soon. He dressed my wound, two days ago, and he sat with your
dear mother ever since she received the shock of the shooting. I sent
the Marlowe girls back to their house just an hour ago to rest, because
they were worn out.... Everyone has been good and tried to help, but it
is no use.... Leave us alone, Mandy."

The woman stepped unsteadily through the door, her hands covering her
twitching face. There she bumped into a fat, coal-black darky, he who
had accompanied the son on the long ride. She drew him into the shelter
of the corridor, leaving father and son together for the final
confidences.

"But, father, it was all so sudden? Are you comfortable now? Where is
your wound?"

Warren rose more upright on his knees. He now observed the swathings
about the elder's breast, beneath the crumpled soft shirt. He caressed
the shattered frame with affectionate simplicity.

"I must speak quickly, Warren, for although I suffer no more pain, Dr.
Grayson told me the truth--my strength is going every hour. Your mother
had been in poor health, and I had ridden down to the village to see
the doctor, for a tonic for her. On the way out again, I passed
Henley's poolroom, where the cheap gamblers are still running their
crooked betting on the Louisville and Lexington races. Jim Marcum
crossed from the front of the saloon, and I had to rein in quickly to
keep from running him down. He looked up at me, with his hand on his
hip. 'Trying the same old trick on me that you did with my brother Ed?'
he called. I had nothing to say to Jim Marcum--you know, Warren, that
old feud was over these thirty years, as far as I was concerned. I
looked him in the eye, and he dropped his gaze, like a wolf which
daren't stare back at you. Then I rode on. As I turned the corner, past
the little church, I heard a shot and tumbled forward in the saddle."

Warren's hands clenched until the nails cut his palms.

"The cowardly hound!" he muttered.

"Just as my fa