ed that this kinsman
was operating such a plant. The elder Turner Stacy was a fierce and
close-mouthed fellow whose affairs were confided to no one.

Bracing himself for an ordeal, Bear Cat emerged from his concealment
and walked forward.

At sight of an unannounced visitor the old man's hand went quickly out
toward the rifle lying at his side, but as he recognized the face, he
rose without it and stood silently glowering.

"Uncle Turner," began the nephew seriously, "I hain't hardly willin'
ter use fo'ce erginst ye--but ye knows what hit would sound like fer
folks ter fling hit up erginst me thet I'm favorin' my own blood. I
wants thet ye give me yore hand ter quit."

For a moment the aged face worked with passion, its white beard
bristling and its eyes flaming.

"Who do ye think ye air--God Almighty?" came the angry question. "Who
give ye license ter come brow-beatin' yore elders? Yore own paw's in
jail now because somebody betrayed him.... I wonder war hit _you_!"

The young man recoiled as though an unexpected blow in the face had
stunned him.

"My God," he exclaimed in a low voice, "I didn't never expect ter hear
a kinsman charge me with sich infamy. I reckon I've got ter look over
hit though. Ye're my father's brother an' ye're right aged." He paused
and then his voice changed to one crisp and peremptory.

"I reckon ye knows I've got ther power ter compel ye as I've compelled
others. Does ye aim ter destroy thet thing yoreself,--now,--or does ye
want thet I brings fo'ce?"

There ensued a half hour of storm, but at its end the older Stacy bowed
to necessity. He, too, knew of the black army, and though he swore like
a baffled pirate into his beard he capitulated. Bear Cat left a
demolished place, carrying with him a fresh trophy, but he went with a
heavy heart.

It would have surprised him had he known that, left alone, his uncle's
wrath had turned suddenly to amusement for some private joke of his
own.

As the old man watched the retreating figure he chuckled and mumbled to
himself.

"Hit's right good fortune thet he came this week 'stid of next," he
soliloquized as he refilled his pipe's bowl, still smiling. "I'm glad
he didn't know I'd done ordered me a brand-new worm--an' thet hit's due
ter get hyar right soon."

As he puffed at the home grown tobacco, the elder Turner Stacy added:
"I reckon, though, I'd better pick out a fresh spot afore I sets ther
new one up."

* *