too close to a blockade still. They named it to me that Creed
had done killed one of the Turrentine boys--is that so?"

"No," returned Nancy stoutly. "By the best of what I kin git out o'
Creed, him and Blatch was walkin' along, an' Blatch missed his footin'
and fell off o' Foeman's Bluff. Creed tried to he'p him, an' fell an' got
scratched some. I reckon the Turrentines'll tell it different, but that's
what I make out from what Creed says."

"Lord, how folks will lie!" admired Keziah, piously. "Now they tell that
Blatch was not only killed up, but that some one--Creed, or some o' them
that follers him--tuck the body away befo' they could git to it. They say
they was blood all over the bushes, an' a great drug place whar Blatch
had been toted off. One feller named a half-dug hole sorter like a grave;
but thar! I never went over to see for myse'f, an' ye cain't believe the
half o' what ye hear."

"Well, I'd say not," snapped Nancy. "Not ef hit was sech a pack o' lies
as that."

Thread in hand old Keziah lingered till Arley Kittridge came with his
mother's baking-pan and request for a little risin'. Arley it seemed had
been commissioned to find out what he could on behalf of the Kittridge
family. And so it went till breakfast-time.

How these things travel in a neighbourhood where there is no telephone,
postman, milkman, nor morning paper, and where the distances are
considerable, is one of the mysteries of the mountains--yet travel they
do, and when time came for court to open Creed found that he had a crowd
which would at any other juncture have been highly gratifying.

Every man that came in glanced first at the cut on his cheek, swiftly
noted the pale face, sunken, purple-rimmed eyes, the scratched hands,
then looked hastily away. Several made proffers of an alliance with him,
being at outs with the Turrentines. All reiterated the story of the
missing body.

"You done exactly right," old Tubal Kittridge told him. "With a man like
Blatchley Turrentine, hit's hit first or git hit. I wonder he ever let ye
git as far as Foeman's Bluff; but if you made good use o' yo' time, I
reckon you found out what you aimed to," and he winked laboriously at
poor Creed's crimsoning countenance.

"I wasn't trying to find out anything, Mr. Kittridge. Blatch forced the
quarrel upon me. I was on my way home at the time."

"Well, a lee-tle out of yo' way, wasn't ye?" objected Kittridge, slightly
offended at not being offered Bonbr