-I war out a-huntin'--when the revenuers made the
raid. There war a scrimmage 'twixt the raiders an' the distillers, an'
an outsider that hed nuthin' ter do with the Federal law--he war the
constable o' the deestrick, an' jes rid with the gang ter see the fun
or ter show them the way--he war killed. An' account o' _him_, the State
law kem into the game. Them other moonshiners war captured, an' they
swore ag'in' me 'bout the shootin' ter save tharselves, but I hearn thar
false oaths hev done them no good, they being held as accessory. An' I
be so ez I can't prove an alibi--I can't _prove_ it, though it's God's
truth. But before high heaven"--he lifted his gaunt right hand--"I am
innercent, I am inner-cent."

She could not have said why,--perhaps she realized afterward,--but
she believed him absolutely, implicitly. A fervor of sympathy for his
plight, of commiseration, surged up in her heart. "I wisht it war so I
could gin ye some pervisions," she sighed, "though ye do 'pear toler'ble
triflin' ter lack game."

Then the dread secret was told. "Gal,"--he used the word as a polite
form of address, the equivalent of the more sophisticated "lady,"--"ef
ye will believe me, all my ammunition is spent. Not a ca'tridge lef',
not a dust of powder."

Meddy caught both her hands to her lips to intercept and smother a cry
of dismay.

"I snared a rabbit two days ago in a dead-fall. My knife-blade is bruk,
but I reckon thar is enough lef' ter split my jugular whenst the eend is
kem at last."

The girl suddenly caught her faculties together. "What sorter fool talk
is that!" she demanded sternly.' "Ye do my bid, ef ye knows what's good
fer ye. Git out'n this trap of a tree an' hide 'mongst the crevices
of the rocks till seben o 'clock ternight. Then kem up ter Gran'dad
Kettison's whenst it is cleverly dark an' tap on the glass winder--not
on the batten shutter. An' I'll hev cartridges an' powder an' ball for
ye' an' some victuals ready, too."

But the fugitive, despite his straits, demurred. "I don't want ter git
old man Kettison into trouble for lendin' ter me."

"'T ain't his'n. 'T is my dad's old buckshot ca'tridges an' powder an'
ball. They belong ter me. The other childern is my half-brothers, bein'
my mother war married twice. Ye kin _steal_ this gear from me, ef that
will make ye feel easier."

"But what will yer gran'dad say ter me?" "He won't know who ye be; he
will jes 'low ye air one o' the boys who air always foolin'