grind corn fer
blockaders?" he demanded, and the reply was prompt:

"I don't grind hit only fer a few men thet I'm beholden to." Pausing a
moment, he became more specific. "Yore paw stood over my body onct when
I'd done been shot outen my saddle, an' fought off numerous enemies
single-handed, thereby savin' me from death in ther creekbed. I
couldn't hardly deny him ther use of my mill even ef his corn _hes_ got
sprouts in ther grain two inches long, now, could I?"

The boy looked abstractedly away, then suddenly blurted out: "I
disgusts blockadin', too, Bud, but pap 'lows hit's ther only way ter
mek a livin' hyarabouts."

"Lots of folks argues hit out in like fashion, but I don't hold with
'em." The speaker rapped the boards with his long staff and spoke with
conviction. "What these mountings needs air a mite of l'arnin' an' a
leetle common sense an' a heap of good roads. Ef prosperity ever comes
ter these hills, sonny, hit'll come along a highway--an' so long as
stills don't thrive none along highways, hit looks mightily like a
sorry chance." After a thoughtful pause he added, "Hit won't never
change, so long es hits only furriners thet aims ter alter hit.
Revenuers kain't do nothin'. Damn thar skunk hides anyhow! They're our
mortal enemies." The old man drew himself up as if he were seeing a
vision and his eyes held an almost fanatical gleam. "But mark down my
words! Some day thar'll rise up a mountain man--a man thet hain't never
met up with fear an thet's as steadfast as ther hills he sprung from.
_Thet_ man will change hit all, like ther sun changes fog. I wisht I
mout live ter see thet day."

"Hit'll tek a powerful towerin' man ter bring sich things ter pass,"
mused the listener and the oracle declared vehemently:

"Hit teks a powerful towerin' man ter lead any fight ter victory,
whether hit's a-guidin' ther Children of Israel outen thar bondage or
our benighted children outen thars."

Suddenly the miller laid a trembling hand on the boy's arm and demanded
in a hushed voice: "Why shouldn't hit be you, Bear Cat? Folks says ye
bears a charmed life, thet thar hain't enough lead in ther mountings
ter kill ye. I heered Kinnard Towers say with my own ears, thet hit war
a God's blessin' ther feud ended afore ye got yore growth--an' Kinnard
don't fear many. When a man thet's hardly nothin' but a saplin' of a
boy bears a repute like thet--hit must denote thet thar's power in him
beyond ther common!"

The boy stood