e Court day, Devil Judd whipped three
Falins with his bare fists. In the early spring a Tolliver was shot
from ambush and old Judd was so furious at the outrage that he openly
announced that he would stay at home until he had settled the old scores
for good. So that, as the summer came on, matters between the Falins and
the Tollivers were worse than they had been for years and everybody knew
that, with old Judd at the head of his clan again, the fight would be
fought to the finish. At the Gap, one institution only had suffered in
spirit not at all and that was the Volunteer Police Guard. Indeed, as
the excitement of the boom had died down, the members of that force,
as a vent for their energies, went with more enthusiasm than ever into
their work. Local lawlessness had been subdued by this time, the Guard
had been extending its work into the hills, and it was only a question
of time until it must take a part in the Falin-Tolliver troubles.
Indeed, that time, Hale believed, was not far away, for Election Day was
at hand, and always on that day the feudists came to the Gap in a search
for trouble. Meanwhile, not long afterward, there was a pitched battle
between the factions at the county seat, and several of each would fight
no more. Next day a Falin whistled a bullet through Devil Judd's beard
from ambush, and it was at such a crisis of all the warring elements in
her mountain life that June's school-days were coming to a close. Hale
had had a frank talk with old Judd and the old man agreed that the
two had best be married at once and live at the Gap until things
were quieter in the mountains, though the old man still clung to his
resolution to go West for good when he was done with the Falins. At such
a time, then, June was coming home.

XXI

Hale was beyond Black Mountain when her letter reached him. His work
over there had to be finished and so he kept in his saddle the greater
part of two days and nights and on the third day rode his big black
horse forty miles in little more than half a day that he might meet
her at the train. The last two years had wrought their change in him.
Deterioration is easy in the hills--superficial deterioration in
habits, manners, personal appearance and the practices of all the little
niceties of life. The morning bath is impossible because of the crowded
domestic conditions of a mountain cabin and, if possible, might if
practised, excite wonder and comment, if not vague suspic