rame twitched at the thought, and, with a nervous spring to escape it,
he was on his feet, and starting down the mountain.

Close to the river he heard voices below him, and he turned his horse
quickly aside into the bushes. Two women who had been washing clothes
passed, carrying white bundles home. They were talking of the coming
feud.

"That ar young Stetson ain't much like his dad," said one. "Young Jas
has been a-darin' 'n' a-banterin' him, 'n' he won't take it up. They say
he air turnin' out a plumb coward."

When he reached the Stetson cabin three horses with drooping heads were
hitched to the fence. All had travelled a long way. One wore a man's
saddle; on the others were thick blankets tied together with leathern
thongs.

In the dark porch sat several men. Through the kitchen door he could see
his mother getting supper. Inside a dozen rifles leaned against the wall
in the firelight, and about their butts was a pile of ammunition. In the
doorway stood Rufe Stetson.

IX

ALL were smoking and silent. Several spoke from the shadows as Rome
stepped on the porch, and Rufe Stetson faced him a moment in the
doorway, and laughed.

"Seem kinder s'prised?" he said, with a searching look. "Wasn't lookin'
for me? I reckon I'll s'prise sev'ral ef I hev good-luck."

The subtlety of this sent a chuckle of appreciation through the porch,
but Rome passed in without answer.

Isom lay on his bed within the circle of light, and his face in the
brilliant glow was white, and his eyes shone feverishly. "Rome," he
said, excitedly, "Uncle Rufe's hyeh, 'n' they laywayed him, 'n'----"
He paused abruptly. His mother came in, and at her call the mountaineers
trooped through the covered porch, and sat down to supper in the
kitchen. They ate hastily and in silence, the mother attending their
wants, and Rome helping her. The meal finished, they drew their chairs
about the fire. Pipes were lighted, and Rufe Stetson rose and closed the
door.

"Thar's no use harryin' the boy," he said; "I reckon he'll be too puny to
take a hand."

The mother stopped clearing the table, and sat on the rock hearth close
to the fire, her withered lips shut tight about a lighted pipe, and her
sunken eyes glowing like the coal of fire in its black bowl. Now and
then she would stretch her knotted hands nervously into the flames, or
knit them about her knees, looking closely at the heavy faces about her,
which had lightened a little with expectancy.