The Last Stetson | Page 8

who had mocked him, and had driven Rome from the mountains; who
had threatened old Gabe's life,. and had shot Steve Marcum almost to
death! The lad drew breath quickly, and standing in his stirrups,
stretched out his fist, and let it drop, slowly.
II
OLD Gabe was just starting out when Isom' reached the cabin, and the
old man thought the boy had been at the mill all night. Isom slept
through the day, and spoke hardly a word when the miller came home,
though the latter had much to say of Raines, the two Steves, and of the
trouble possible. He gave some excuse for not going with old Gabe the
next day, and instead went into the woods alone.
Late in the middle of the afternoon he reached the mill. Old Gabe sat
smoking outside the door, and Isom stretched himself out on the
platform close to the water, shading his eyes from the rich sunlight with
one ragged sleeve.
"Uncl' Gabe," he said, suddenly, " s'posin' Steve Brayton was to step
out'n the bushes thar some mawnin' 'n' pull down his Winchester on ye,
would ye say, ' Lawd, fergive him, fer he don't know whut he do'?"
Old Gabe had told him once about a Stetson and a Lewallen who were
heard half a mile away praying while they fought each other to death
with Winchesters. There was no use prayin' an' shootin'," the miller
declared. There was but one way for them to escape damnation; that
was to throw down their guns and make friends. But the miller had
forgotten, and his mood that morning was whimsical.

Well, I mought, Isom," he said, " ef I didn't happen to have a gun
handy."
The humor was lost on Isom. His chin was moving up and down, and
his face was serious. That was just it. He could forgive Jass-Jass was
dead; he could forgive Crump, if he caught him in no devilment; old
Brayton even-after Steve's revenge was done. But now- The boy rose,
shaking his head.
Uncl' Gabe," he said with sudden passion, "whut ye reckon Rome's
a-doin'?"
The miller looked a little petulant. " Don't ye git tired axin' me thet
question, Isom? Rome's a-scratchin' right peert fer a livin', I reckon, fer
hisself 'n' Marthy. Yes, 'n' mebbe fer a young 'un too by this time. Ef ye
air honin' fer Rome, why don't ye rack out 'n' go to him? Lawd knows
I'd hate ter see ye go, but I tol' Rome I'd let ye whenever ye got ready,
'n' so I will."
Isom had no answer, and old Gabe was puzzled. It was always this way.
The boy longed for Rome, the miller could see. He spoke of him
sometimes with tears, and sometimes he seemed to be on the point of
going to him, but he shrank inexplicably when the time for leaving
came.
Isom started into the mill now without a word, as usual. Old Gabe
noticed that his feet were unsteady, and with quick remorse began to
question him.
" Kinder puny, hain't ye, Isom?
" Well, I hain't feelin' much peert."
" Hit was mighty keerless," old Gabe said, with kindly reproach, "
swimmin' the crick atter a fresh."
Hit wasn't the swimmin'," he protested, dropping weakly at the
threshold. "Hit was settin' out n the woods. I was in Hazlan t'other night,

Und' Gabe, to hear the new rider."
The miller looked around with quick interest. "I've been skeered afore
by riders a-tellin' 'bout the torments o' hell, but I never heerd nothin'
like his tellin' 'bout the Lord. He said the Lord was jes as pore as
anybody thar, and lived jes as rough; thet He made fences and barns n'
ox-yokes 'n' sech like, an' He couldn't write His own name when He
started out to save the worl'; an' when he come to the p'int whar His
enemies tuk hol' of Him, the rider jes crossed his fingers up over his
head 'n' axed us if we didn't know how it hurt to run a splinter into a
feller's hand when he's loggin' or a thorn into yer foot when ye're goin'
barefooted.
Hit jes made me sick, Uncl' Gabe, hearin' him tell how they stretched
Him out on a cross o' wood, when He'd come down fer nothin' but to
save 'em, 'n' stuck a spear big as a co'n-knife into His side, 'n' give Him
vinegar, 'n' let Him hang thar 'n' die, with His own mammy a-stand-in'
down on the groun' a-cryin' 'n' watchin' Him. Some folks thar never
heerd sech afore. The women was a-rockin', 'n' ole Granny Day axed
right out ef thet tuk place a long time ago; 'n' the rider said, 'Yes, a long
time ago,