eless feet
of the dancers kept time, but there was profound silence among those in
the kitchen. Uncle Jake took advantage of this pause to renew his
acquaintance with the jug.

Deputy-Marshal Woodward knew of the killing of Jackson Ricks; that is
to say, he was familiar with the version of the affair which had been
depended upon to relieve the revenue officers of the responsibility of
downright murder; but he was convinced that the story told by Uncle
Jake Norris was nearer the truth.

As the young man rode down the mountain, leaving the fiddle and the
dancers to carry the frolic into the grey dawn, he pictured to himself
the results of the raid that he would be expected to lead against Hog
Mountain--the rush upon Poteet's, the shooting of the old Moonshiner,
and the spectacle of the daughter wringing her hands and weeping
wildly. He rode down the mountain, and, before the sun rose, he had
written and mailed his resignation. In a private note to the marshal,
enclosed with this document, he briefly but clearly set forth the fact
that, while illicit distilling was as unlawful as ever, the man who
loved a Moonshiner's daughter was not a proper instrument to aid in its
suppression.

But his letter failed to have the effect he desired, and in a few weeks
he received a communication from Atlanta setting forth the fact that a
raid had been determined upon.

Meantime, while events were developing, some of the old women of the
Hog Mountain Range had begun to manifest a sort of motherly interest in
the affairs of Woodward and Sis Poteet. These women, living miles apart
on the mountain and its spurs, had a habit of "picking up their work"
and spending the day with each other. Upon one occasion it chanced that
Mrs. Sue Parmalee and Mrs. Puritha Hightower rode ten miles to visit
Mrs. Puss Poteet.

"Don't lay the blame of it onter me, Puss," exclaimed Mrs.
Hightower,--her shrill, thin voice in queer contrast with her fat and
jovial appearance; "don't you lay the blame onter me. Dave, he's been
a-complainin' bekaze they wa'n't no salsody in the house, an' I rid over
to Sue's to borry some. Airter I got ther', Sue sez, se' she; 'Yess us
pick up an' go an' light in on Puss,' se' she, 'an' fine out sump'n'
nuther that's a-gwine on 'mongst folks,' se' she."

"Yes, lay it all onter me," said Mrs. Parmalee, looking over her
spectacles at Mrs. Poteet; "I sez to Purithy, s' I, 'Purithy, yess go
down an' see Puss,' s' I; 'maybe we'll g