d been destroyed, but to find his
brother's slayer and accord him the justice of the hills.

To the mountain people the processes of the law seemed vague and
uncertain. They preferred their own methods. A well-loaded gun, a sure
aim, and a few months of hiding among relatives and friends until the
vigilance of the emissaries of the law had subsided was the rule with
them. Thus had Frale's father twice escaped either prison or the rope,
and during the last four years of his life he had never once ventured
from his mountain home for a day at the settlements below; while among
his friends his prowess and his skill in evading pursuit were his glory.

Now it was Frale's thought to dare the worst,--to walk to the station
like any village youth, buy his ticket, and take the train for Carew's
Crossing, and from there make his way to his haunt while yet Giles
Teasley was taking his first sleep.

He reasoned, and rightly, that his enemy would linger about several days
searching for him, and never dream of his having made his escape by
means of the train. Since the first scurry of search was over, it was no
longer the officers of the law Frale feared, but this same lank,
ill-favored mountaineer, who was now warming his coffee and eating his
raw salt pork and corn-bread by the stream, while his drooling cattle
stood near, sleepily chewing their cuds.

CHAPTER XV

IN WHICH JERRY CAREW GIVES DAVID HIS VIEWS ON FUTURE PUNISHMENT, AND
LITTLE HOYLE PAYS HIM A VISIT AND IS MADE HAPPY

Uncle Jerry Carew had led David's horse down to the station ready
saddled to meet him, according to agreement, and side by side they rode
back, the old man beguiling the way with talk of mountain affairs most
interesting to the young doctor, who led him on from tales of his own
youthful prowess, "when catamounts and painters war nigh as frequent as
woodchucks is now," until he felt he knew pretty well the history of all
the mountain side.

"Yas, when I war a littlin', no highah'n my horse's knees, I kin
remember thar war a gatherin' fer a catamount hunt on Reed's Hill ovah
to'ds Pisgah. Catamounts war mighty pesterin' creeters them days. Ev'y
man able to tote a gun war thar. Ol' man Caswell--that war Miz
Merlin--she war only a mite of a baby then--her gran'paw, he war the
oldest man in th' country; he went an' carried his rifle his paw fit in
th' Revolution with. He fit at King's Mountain, an' all about here he
fit."

"Did he fight in the