he accolade. "Now let's see what manner of face
ye w'ars. I reckon we don't need ter go masked no longer, anyhow."

The mountaineer ripped off his hat and the black cloth which had
covered his face--and Turner Stacy stood looking into the eyes of Lone
Stacy, his father. For an instant he leaned forward incredulously, and
his voice was strangely unsteady.

"How did ye git hyar," he demanded.

"They kept puttin' off my trial--ontil I reckon they wearied of hit,"
was the grave response. "Day before yistiddy ther jedge dismissed my
case."

"But no man hain't nuver been with us afore without he was
oath-bound--how did ye contrive hit?"

The old man smiled. "Dog Tate 'lowed I could take ther oath an' all
ther rest of ther formalities in due time. He fixed me up an' brought
me along. This hyar war a matter thet I was right interested in."

"I 'lowed," Turner's voice fell to a more confidential note, "I 'lowed
ye mout be right wrathful at all I've been doin' since ye went away. Ye
used ter berate me fer not lovin' blockadin'."

There was a momentary silence. The bearded man, somewhat thinner and
more bent than when he had gone away to prison, and the son with a face
more matured by these weeks and months, stood gazing into each other's
eyes. To the reserve of each, outspoken sentiment came hard and even
now both felt an intangible barrier of diffidence.

Then Lone Stacy answered gruffly, but there was an unsteadiness of
feeling under his laconic reply.

"I've done showed ye how wrathful I air. I'm tolable old--but I reckon
I kin still l'arn."

* * * * *

Even when Kinnard Towers sat a prisoner in the courtroom which he had
dominated, and heard Sam Carlyle, seeking to save his own neck by
turning traitor, tell the lurid story of all his iniquities, an
unbending doggedness characterized his attitude. As his eyes dwelt on
the henchman who was swearing away his life, they burned so scornfully
that the witness twisted and fidgeted and glanced sidewise with hangdog
shame.

When the jury trooped in and stood lined solemnly before the bench, he
gazed out of the window where the hills were beginning to soften their
slaty monotone with a hint of tender green. He did not need to hear
them respond to the droning inquiries of the clerk, because he had read
the verdict in their faces long before.

But when they had, for greater security, removed him to the Louisville
jail and had put