f'n ther
old block, only his Daddy is worse nur him. He's worse nur the old devil
hisself, an' they won't rest till they're torn the earth up around ther
mountain, an' dug a hole deep 'nough ter put a dozen good men in."

Old Peter paused again, while Wade looked down toward the earth with a
troubled expression on his face.

"What's the matter with the law in this country?" asked Wade, although
he knew that law and order were unknown to these people.

"Ther hain't any law," replied Peter. "Ther law tried ter git out here
onct, an' I seed old Jim Thompson kill two officers. I seed it with my
own eyes, an' Tom a-comin' yonder saw him shoot one down in his tracks.
They want no more in town what'd tackle comin' after him, an' he's
still hyar a-doin' business in ther same old way."

Jack Wade was considerably puzzled. Here was an old farmer, who he had
calculated to shoot through the heart some day, now giving him advice
which he thought would save his life--at least would save him much
trouble. Here was a man who had just related to him that the Riders had
at one time swooped down on him and destroyed his home and all else he
had possessed save what he took out to the field; here was a man that
rumor said was one of the very leaders of a band of lawless desperadoes
who sought the lives of all good citizens of the community, now telling
him of a man whose deeds were enough to turn the heart of a less brave
man into a channel of terrible fear. This man was now trying to save his
life, would himself rather put a bullet into his brain than see others
do it or know that others had done so. That was friendship bordering on
love. What kind of a man is he?

The mysteries of the hill deepen, the mysteries of the valley broaden.
The closer he seems to have got to his desired end the further is he
away from it. His plans seem crumbling to decay, his strong heart was
bound in utter weakness. One glance from the firm, dark eyes of Nora
Judson took all the manhood out of his soul. One touch of her finger
tips made weak his stalwart frame. Now he must stand idle, in meek
submission, while his sworn enemies burned his cabin and filled the air
with their curses because they could not find the object of their
vengeance and tear him to pieces bit by bit.

Jack Wade cursed under his breath and bit his lips till the blood
flowed, as he looked down toward his lonesome little cabin home, which
he had come to look upon as a true friend. His