to the end. Kinnard Towers, hirer of assassins
though he was, spoke with a certain dignity that savored of sound
logic. "Moreover, ye knows right well thet when I rid over hyar with
yore war-whoop skitterin' from hill-top ter hill-top, an' yore men
trapesin' along highways an' through ther timber trails, I traveled, in
a manner of speakin', with my neck in a halter. I was willin' ter risk
ther shot from the la'rel because, in a fashion, you an' me holds ther
lives an' ther welfare of our people in ther hollers of our hands. I
fared hither seekin' peace; aimin' ter stand side by side with ye in
huntin' down ther men thet sought ter murder you an' yore friend from
down below."

A crimson flush mantled on the full jowl and bull-like neck. The voice
shook with antagonism. "But I didn't come over hyar ter _sue_ fer
peace--an' the day hain't dawned yit when any man kin order me ter
leave ther mountings whar I belongs."

"By God in heaven!" Bear Cat Stacy leaned forward and his words cracked
like flame in green wood. "Ye says ye stands fer law--an' ye' makes
slaves of ther men thet runs ther co'tes of law! Ye says ye stands fer
ther people an' ye fosters thar ign'rance and denies 'em roads an'
schools. Ye sacrifices everything fer yore own gain--an' ther profit of
yore boot-lickers thet seeks ter run blockade stills. Wa'al ef thet's
law, I'm goin' ter start ter-day makin' war on ther law. I'm goin' ter
see what an outlaw kin do! I aims ter give thet message to them thet's
gathered hyar this afternoon--an' as soon as I'm done talkin' I'm goin'
ter commence actin'. Atter ter-day thar'll be decent Towerses alongside
of me and worthless Stacys 'longside of _you_!" His voice fell--then
leaped again to passion. "I reckon ther time's ripe. Let's go now an'
talk with 'em. I've jest been a-waitin' fer ye ter get hyar."

Deeply perplexed and depressed with the foreboding of one who fights
enemies shadowy and ill-defined, yet forced, since he had come so far,
to go forward, Kinnard Towers followed, as Bear Cat led the way to a
huge rock which afforded a natural rostrum.

"Men," cried Turner Stacy when a semi-circle of lowering faces had
pressed close and attentive about the shallow eminence, "last night Mr.
Henderson an' me come sore wounded from ther Quarterhouse, whar a
murder hed done been hatched: a murder thet partly failed. I sent out
messengers ter call ye tergether fer counsel as ter whether ther truce
hed been busted. I hain