and silence fell upon them as his
searching gaze scanned them one by one.

"Whar's Job Grinnell?" he demanded, abruptly.

There was a shuffling of feet, as if those members most experienced
relief from the constraint that silence had imposed upon the party. A
vibration from the violin--a sigh as if the instrument had been suddenly
moved rather than a touch upon the strings--intimated that the young
musician was astir. But it was Spears, the blacksmith, who spoke.

"Kem in, Roger," he called out, cordially, as he rose, his massive
figure and his sleek head showing in the dull red light on the other
side of the anvil, his bare arms folded across his chest. "Naw, Job
ain't hyar; hain't been hyar for a right smart while."

There was a suggestion of disappointment in the attitude of the
motionless figure at the door. The deeply earnest, pondering face,
visible albeit the red light from the forge-fire was so dull, was keenly
watched. For the inquiry was fraught with peculiar meaning to those
cognizant of the long and bitter feud.

"I ax," said Purdee, presently, "kase Grinnell sent me a mighty cur'ous
word the t'other day." He lifted his head. "Hev enny o' you-uns hearn
him 'low lately ez I claim ennything ez ain't mine?"

There was silence for a moment. Then the forge was suddenly throbbing
with the zigzagging of the bow of the violin jauntily dandering along
the strings. His keen sensibility apprehended the sudden jocosity as
a jeer, but before he could say aught the blacksmith had undertaken to
reply.

"Waal, Purdee, ef ye hedn't axed me, I warn't layin' off ter say nuthin
'bout'n it. 'Tain't no con-sarn o' mine ez I knows on. But sence ye
_hev_ axed me, I hold my jaw fur the fear o' no man. The words ain't
writ ez I be feared ter pernounce. An' ez all the kentry hev hearn
'bout'n it 'ceptin' you-uns, I dunno ez I hev enny call ter hold my jaw.
The Lord 'ain't set no seal on my lips ez I knows on."

"Naw, sir!" said Purdee, his great eyes glooming through the dusk and
flashing with impatience. "He 'ain't set no seal on yer lips, ter jedge
by the way ye wallop yer tongue about inside o' 'em with fool words.
Whyn't ye bite off what ye air tryin' ter chaw?"

"Waal, then," said the admonished orator, bluntly, "Grinnell 'lows ye
don't own that thar lan' around them rocks on the bald, no more'n ye
read enny writin' on 'em."

"Not them rocks!" cried Purdee, standing suddenly erect--"the tables o'
the Law, writ with th