to _that_ one.

An old crone who was accounted able to read fortunes and work charms
announced that Turner Stacy came into life on the wings of that storm,
and that the sun darkened its face because his birth savored of the
supernatural. This being so, she said, he was immune from any harm of
man's devising. Her absurd story was told and retold around many a
smoky cabin hearth, and there were those who accorded it an unconfessed
credence.

Later Black Tom was given a rifle and again stationed in ambush. Again
Lone Stacy, favored by chance, carried his baby son in his arms. Black
Tom, whose conscience had never before impeded his action, continued to
gaze over his gun-sights--without pressing the trigger.

Towers was furious, but Carmichael could only shake his head in a
frightened bewilderment, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Ther brat looked at me jest as I was about to fire," he protested.
"His eyes didn't look like a human bein's. He hain't no baby--he was
born a man--or somethin' more then a man."

As affairs developed, the truce was arranged soon afterward, and also
the marked man's death became unnecessary, because he was safe in
prison on a charge of moonshining.

Neither Lone Stacy nor his son had ever known of this occurrence, and
now the Stacys and the Towers met on the road and "made their manners"
without gun-play.

But to Kinnard Towers local happenings remained vital and, for all his
crudity, few things of topical interest occurred of which he was not
duly apprised.

Into his dwelling place came one day the Honorable Abraham Towers, his
nephew, who sat in the state Legislature at Frankfort. The two were
closeted together for an hour and as the nephew emerged, at the end of
the interview, Kinnard walked with him to the hitching-post where the
visitor's horse stood tethered.

"I'm obleeged ter ye, Abe," he said graciously. "When this man
Henderson gits hyar, I'll make hit a point ter hev casual speech with
him. I aims ter l'arn his business, an' ef what ye suspicions air true,
he'll have dealin's with me--or else he won't hardly succeed."

So it happened logically enough that on the evening of Jerry's arrival,
Kinnard Towers mounted and started out over the hill trails. He rode,
as he always did when he went far abroad, under armed escort since
tyrants are never secure. Four rifle-equipped vassals accompanied him;
two riding as advance guard and two protecting the rear.

Kinnard's destination was