it's all I
axe."
Waitin' in the lorrel! " Old Gabe could hold back no longer. "Hit's a
shame, a burn-in' shame! I don' know whut things air comm' to! 'Pears
like all you young folks think about is killin' somebody. Folks usen to
talk about how fer they could kill a deer; now it's how fer they kin kill a
man. I hev knowed the time when a man would 'a' been druv out o' the
county fer drawin' a knife ur a pistol; 'n' ef a feller was ever killed, it
was kinder accidental, by a Barlow. I reckon folks got use' to weepons
'n' killin' 'n' bushwhackin' in the war. Looks like it's been gittin' wuss
ever sence, 'n' now hit's dirk 'n' Winchester, 'n' shootin' from the bushes
all the time. Hit's wuss 'n stealin' money to take a feller-creetur' s life
that way!
The old miller's indignation sprang from memories of a better youth.
For the courtesies of the code went on to the Blue Grass, and before the
war the mountaineer fought with English fairness and his fists. It was a
disgrace to use a deadly weapon in those days; it was a disgrace now
not to use it.
Oh, I know all the excuses folks make," he went on: " hit's fa'r fer one
as 'tis fer t'other; y'u can't fight a man fa'r 'n' squar' who'll shoot you in
the back; a pore man can't fight money in the couhts; 'n' thar hain't no
witnesses in the lorrel but leaves; 'n' dead men don't hev much to say. I
know it all. Hit's cur'us, but it act'-ally looks like lots o' decent young
folks hev got usen to the idee-thar's so much of it goin' on, 'n' thar's so
much talk 'bout killin' 'n' layin' out in the lorrel. Reckon folks 'll git to
pesterm' women n' strangers bimeby, 'n' robbin' 'n' thievin'. Hit's bad
enough thar's so leetle law thet folks hev to take it in their own hands
oncet in a while, but this shootin' from the bresh-hit's p'int'ly a sin 'n'
shame! Why," he concluded, pointing his remonstrance as he always
did, "I seed your grandad and young Jas's fight up thar in Hazlan full
two hours 'fore the war-fist and skull-'n' your grandad was whooped.
They got up and shuk hands. I don't see why folks can't fight that way
now. I wish Rufe 'n' old Jas 'n' you 'n' young Jas could have it out fist
and skull, 'n' stop this killin' o' people like hogs. Thar's nobody left but
you four. But thar's no chance o' that, I reckon."
"I'll fight him anyway, 'n' I reckon ef he don't die till I lay out in the
lorrel fer him, he'll live a long time. Ef a Stetson ever done sech
meanness as that I never heerd it."
Nother hev I," said the old man, with quick justice. " You air a
over-bearin' race, all o' ye, but I never knowed ye to be that mean. Hit's
all the wus fer ye thet ye air in sech doin's. I tell ye, Rome--
A faint cry rose above the drone of the millstones, and old Gabe
stopped with open lips to listen. The boy's face was pressed close to the
logs. A wet paddle had flashed into the sunlight from out the bushes
across the river. He could just see a canoe in the shadows under them,
and with quick suspicion his brain pictured Jasper's horse hitched in the
bushes, and Jasper stealing across the river to waylay Rome. But the
canoe moved slowly out of sight downstream and toward the deep
water, the paddler unseen, and the boy looked around with a weak
smile. Neither seemed to have heard him. Rome was brooding, with his
sullen face in his hands; the old miller was busy with his own thoughts;
and the boy turned again to his watch.
Jasper did not come. Isom's eyes began to ache from the steady gaze,
and now and then he would drop them to the water swirling beneath. A
slow wind swayed the overhanging branches at the mouth of the stream,
and under them was an eddy. Escaping this, the froth and bubbles raced
out to the gleams beating the air from the sunlit river. He saw one tiny
fleet caught; a mass of yellow scum bore down and, sweeping through
bubbles and eddy, was itself struck into fragments by something afloat.
A tremulous shadow shot through a space of sunlight into the gloom
cast by a thicket of rhododendrons, and the boy caught his breath
sharply. A moment more, and the shape of a boat and a human figure
quivered on the water running under him. The stern of a Lewallen
canoe swung
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