that hung
unconscious with hours of chilling and cramp had every appearance of
lifelessness. A bitter anger broke out in Kinnard's face and for a time
none of them spoke. Then from the chief's lips escaped an oath so
fierce and profane that his men paused in their attempt at
resuscitating the corpse-like figure, and following his eyes they saw
the fresh insult which he had just discovered--a still-worm demolished
and hanging high.

"Hell's clinkers!" stormed the leader. "What manner of deviltry air
this?"

Restored, an hour later, by hot coffee and whiskey, Black Tom told his
story, colorfully embellished with profane metaphor, and a squad went
riding "hell-fer-leather" to the still of "Little" Jake Kinnard.

When the sun was fully revealed they were back again, with another man,
feeble and half-frozen of body, but molten-hot of spirit to vouchsafe
indignant evidence.

The cup of Towers' fury was brimming over, but before its first
bitterness had been quaffed yet other heralds of tribulation arrived to
pour in fresh wormwood. "Thar's still-house quiles hangin' all up an'
down ther high-road," they lamented.

Kinnard looked at his henchman out of eyes somberly furious and his
florid face turned a choleric purple.

"Thar hain't but one way ter treat sech a damn' pest es thet," he said
slowly with the implacable manner of one passing final sentence. "He's
got ter be kilt--an' kilt quick." But a sudden reflection obtruded
itself, snarling the simple edict with complication. "Hold on!" he
added with a less assured finality. "Hev any stills been tampered with
among his own folks--or air hit jest over hyar?"

"We hain't heered much from ther yon side yit," admitted the
news-bearers. "Thar's one thet Dog Tate used ter run, though, thet's
hangin' high as Haaman. Dog's a kinsman of his'n but he dwells nigh ter
hyar."

"Hev some fellers ride over thar an' talk with him," commanded Towers
with prompt efficiency. "Ef I war sure they wouldn't all stand behind
him, I'd take a crowd of men over thar an' hang him in front of his own
house. Yestiddy they didn't seem ter hev much use fer him."

Of one thing, however, he failed to take adequate cognizance. That
turning away of the clan, yesterday, in cool or angry repudiation had
been less unanimous than it seemed. There were elders among them who
had for years deplored the locked-in life of their kind and to whom
this boy's effrontery secretly appealed. None of their own heri