Ralph Grangers Fortunes | Page 4

two had come to an open and violent rupture.
When the boy came in sight of the cabin he beheld his grandparent
seated in the doorway absorbed, apparently in deep reflection.
Ralph crossed the foot log, opened the gate and walked up to the door.
"I am sorry I displeased you today," he began, "but I just couldn't do
what you wanted me to do----"
"Shet your mouth!" interrupted Granger harshly. "You are a disgrace to

your kin. I never would a believed it if my eyes hadn't a seen and my
ears a heard. You are no longer a grandson of mine. D'ye hear?"
Ralph's perplexed and distressed look seemed to again infuriate the old
man.
"Pack up your traps and get outn here!" he raged, brandishing his
walking stick. "My house is no longer a home for such as you."
"Wh--where shall I go?" asked Ralph, still dazed over this astounding
outcome of the Vaughn incident.
"Mebbe you'd better go over to Jase Vaughn's," sneered old Granger.
"His father killed yourn, but you don't care for such a little thing as
that."
"Grandpa," cried Ralph, stung to indignation at last, "it is cruel of you
to treat me so, simply because I wouldn't commit murder. Yes--murder.
I say it would have been murder! I'm no coward; and it is cowardly to
shoot down a man and him not knowing."
"You reprobate!" gasped the obdurate old mountaineer. "I've a notion
to thrash you--right here."
He again shook his cane and glared his hatred of Ralph's conduct. But
the boy only said:
"I'd rather you beat me than do what I always would be miserable over.
Let's drop it, grandpa."
He passed into the cabin and observed a small pile of clothing on the
floor.
"There's your duds, boy," said Bras Granger grimly. "Pick 'em up and
pull your freight outn here."
Ralph surveyed the old man curiously; but as he noted the latter's stern,
unyielding aspect he said no more until he had rolled up a clean shirt
and a pair of socks. A tear or two fell as he tied the bundle in a large

handkerchief.
"Am I to take the gun?" asked he, gulping down his emotion as best he
could.
"No!" almost shouted the old man. "What business you got with a gun?
Come now; are you ready?"
Ralph nodded; his heart was too full to speak.
The old man stood aside and pointed to the door. Ralph held out his
hand.
"Good by," he managed to falter forth. "May God forgive you for
turnin' me out this day."
He passed through the yard, feeling for the gate, for his eyes were dim
with moisture. Crossing the foot log, he walked on until he came to a
rise of ground just where the road made a sudden turn.
Then he wheeled, dashed the tears away, and took a last look at the
place where he was born and had always lived.
Shut in by wild and rugged mountains, far from the world's great life,
humble and homely, it was still the only place on earth where the
orphaned lad had felt that he had any natural right to be. And now, even
this slender thread had been rudely severed by his nearest living
relative.
"Good-by, old home," said he audibly, as he waved his hand in a
farewell gesture. "I hate to leave you when it comes to the pinch, but if
I live I'll make my way somewhere's else. There's other places beside
these mountains where a boy can get on, I know."
He resumed his way, forcing back the tears, and soon found his
emotions subside.
A conviction that he had acted right throughout the altercation with old
Bras, helped him to bear more cheerfully the hard fact that he was not

only homeless but almost moneyless. This last misfortune did not press
on him heavily, as in that secluded region people were universally
hospitable. Ralph had never paid for a meal or a night's lodging in his
life.
As he happened to take an easterly course he kept it merely because it
would lead him to the lowlands and the towns as quickly as any other
route.
He had at once resolved to leave his native mountains. Inexperienced as
he was, he instinctively felt that there were better things in store for an
energetic lad in other parts of the country than he would be apt to find
anywhere near his home.
He struck a lively pace and had walked nearly a mile, with his bundle
under his arm, when he met Jase Vaughn returning from the mill.
"Hello, youngster!" quoth that worthy man as cordially as if Ralph and
himself had been warm friends all along. "Where you carryin' yourself
to? Old man got in