Ralph Grangers Fortunes | Page 2

old man led the
way to a half decayed log of immense size, that lay behind a thick
fringe of bushes, at an angle just beyond where the road crossed the
creek.
It was a deadly spot for an ambuscade.
"Lay down behind that log," said old Granger. "Now, can you draw a
good bead on him when he comes in sight?"
Young Granger squinted along the rifle barrel, now resting across the
log. Though apparently concealed himself, he had a fair view of the
road for sixty yards in both directions. Where it entered the brook it
was barely thirty feet away.
"Take him right forninst the left shoulder, 'bout the time his mule
crosses the creek; then your poor father'll rest easy in his grave."
"Why ain't you killed him afore?" demanded Ralph.
"My hand hasn't been steady these nine year; not since them Vaughns
burned our house down the night your grandmother died. It was cold
and snowin', and bein' out in it was more'n she could stand."
"I remember," said the boy gloomily. "But that was a long time ago. I
can't stay mad nine year."
"I'm madder now than I was then!" almost shouted the infuriated
mountaineer. "After they got your pap, I 'lowed I'd wait 'twel you was
fifteen. Then you'd be big enough to know how sweet revenge is. Heap

sweeter than sugar, ain't it?"
"Hark?" interjected Ralph, without replying. "Some one is comin' up
the road."
A trample of hoofs became audible, and presently a man mounted on a
mule, with a sack of corn under him, was to be seen approaching the
ambuscade.
Seated before him was a child of perhaps four or five, who laughed and
prattled to the man's evident delight. Old Granger's eyes shown with a
ferocious joy.
"That's him!" he exclaimed in tremulously eager tones. "He's got his
brat along. I wish ye could get 'em both, then there'd be an end of the
miserable brood for one while. Wait, boy--wait 'twel he gets to the
creek afore ye shoot. Think of your poor pap, when ye draw bead."
But Ralph's face did not betoken any kindred enthusiasm. He was tired
to death of hearing about the everlasting feud between the families.
If the Vaughns had fought the Grangers, it was equally certain that the
Grangers had been no whit behind in sanguinary reprisals. He
remembered seeing this same Jase Vaughn, now riding unsuspectingly
toward the loaded rifle, at a corn shucking once. Ralph then thought
him a very jolly, amusing fellow.
"Now lad--now lad!" whispered the old man. "Get down and take your
sight. I've seen ye shoot the heads offn squirrels. Just imagine that
feller's head is a squirrel's. As for the child----"
"Grandpa, I will not shoot. It would be murder. I'll meet him fair and
square, though, and if he's sorry for what his father done, I'll let it pass.
He couldn't help it anyhow, if he wanted to, I reckon."
To the old man's intense disgust, Ralph leaped lightly over the log and
advanced into the road, rifle in hand. His grandfather followed him,
raving in his futile rage.

"Hello!" exclaimed Jase Vaughn, thrusting his hand behind him quickly.
"Here's old Granger and his son's kid. I wish you was at home, Clelly."
This last to his boy who, not at all alarmed, was smiling at Ralph in a
very friendly manner.
When the lad saw Jase throw back his hand, he dropped his rifle into
the hollow of his left arm and brought the trigger to a half cock,
advancing at the same time squarely into the middle of the road.
"Grandpa tells me that you are the son of the man who shot my father,
here, just six years ago," began the boy. "I knew it myself, but I didn't
'low you was to blame, 'less you uphilt him in it."
"Suppose I do; what then?" Jase eyed the two Grangers steadily, though
not in anger as far as Ralph could see.
"Then we'll settle it right here," said the latter firmly. "I could have shot
you from the bushes, as your father did mine, but I wouldn't."
"The more fool you!" hissed the vindictive old man. "I ought to have
kept the gun myself."
"Suppose I don't uphold the deed?" added Vaughn, still totally
undisturbed.
"Then you can go, for all of me. I'm sick of the feud."
"Shake my boy!" Jase held out a large brown paw. "So am I. If I could
'a' had my way your pap never would a been killed."
Ralph hesitated an instant, when suddenly little Clelly reached forth his
small, chubby fingers, and the boy surrendered. He suffered Vaughn to
shake his hand, then frankly took the child's and pressed it warmly.
"I like