n the race, and had openly avowed their desire to see him
bite the dust. The inimical feeling between the families culminated one
rainy autumnal day in the town where the quarterly county court was in
session.

A fire had been kindled in the great rusty stove, and crackled away with
grudging merriment inside, imparting no sentiment of cheer to the gaunt
bare room, with its dusty window-panes streaked with rain, its shutters
drearily flapping in the wind, and the floor bearing the imprint of
many boots burdened with the red clay of the region. The sound of slow
strolling feet in the brick-paved hall was monotonous and somnolent.

Squire Quimbey sat in his place among the justices. Despite his pride of
office, he had not the heart for business that might formerly have been
his. More than once his attention wandered. He looked absently out of
the nearest window at the neighboring dwelling--a little frame-house
with a green yard; a well-sweep was defined against the gray sky, and
about the curb a file of geese followed with swaying gait the wise old
gander. "What a hand for fow-_els_ Eveliny war!" he muttered to himself;
"an' she hed luck with sech critters." He used the obituary tense, for
Evelina had in some sort passed away.

He rubbed his hand across his corrugated brow, and suddenly he became
aware that her husband was in the room, speaking to the chairman of the
county court, and claiming a certificate in the sum of two dollars each
for the scalps of one wolf, "an' one painter," he continued, laying the
small furry repulsive objects upon the desk, "an' one dollar fur the
skelp of one wild-cat." He was ready to take his oath that these animals
were killed by him running at large in this county.

He had stooped a little in making the transfer. He came suddenly to
his full height, and stood with one hand in his leather belt, the other
shouldering his rifle. The old man scanned him curiously. The crude
light from the long windows was full upon his tall slim figure; his
yellow hair curled down upon the collar of his blue jeans coat; his
great miry boots were drawn high over the trousers to the knee; his
pensive deer-like eyes brightened with a touch of arrogance and enmity
as, turning slowly to see who was present, his glance encountered his
father-in-law's fiery gaze.

"Mr. Cheerman! Mr. Cheerman!" exclaimed the old man, tremulously, "lemme
examinate that thar wild-cat skelp. Thanky, sir; thanky, sir; I wanter
see ef