d the raised arm fell shattered and
useless.

"Quick, Ralph, pull me through by the arms."

Ralph Granger's Fortunes.

CHAPTER I.

Ending the Feud.

"Must I do it, grandpa?"

"Of course you must! I'm afraid you ain't a true Granger, Ralph, or
you wouldn't ask no such question."

"But why should I do it, grandpa?"

"Listen at the boy."

The sharp-eyed, grizzled old man rose from his seat before the fire,
and took down an ancient looking, muzzle loading rifle from over the
cabin door.

"I'll tell you why."

He patted the gun, now lying across his knees.

"This here was your father's gun. He carried it for many years. I had
it when the feud betwixt the Grangers and the Vaughns first began. He
had it with him when he was shot down at the Laurel Branch by John
Vaughn, just six years ago today."

"Today is my birthday," commented Ralph, a sturdy-limbed, ruddy-faced
lad.

"And you are fifteen. Think of that; 'most a man. I said I'd wait
till you was fifteen, and as it happens, his son's a goin' to mill
today."

"What of that?"

"You just wait and you'll see. All you've got to do is to obey orders."

The old man got up, took down a leather shot pouch, and proceeded to
load the rifle carefully. After which he slung the pouch and a powder
horn round Ralph's neck, then went out and looked at the sun.

He returned, placed the rifle in the lad's hands, and bade him follow.
Taking their hats they went out of the house.

Steep mountain ridges cut off any extended view. An old field or two
lay about them, partially in the narrow creek bottom and partially
climbing the last rugged slopes.

There was a foot log across the little brawling brook, beyond which the
public road wound deviously down the glen towards the far distant
lowlands.

Ralph eyed the unusually stern expression of his grandfather's face
dubiously as they trudged along the road.

Bras Granger was all of sixty-five years old, dried and toughened by
toil, exposure, and vindictive broodings, until he resembled a
cross-grained bit of time-hardened oak. His gait, though shambling,
was rapid for one of his age.

"You said you'd tell me why," suggested Ralph, as they wound their way
along the crooked road.

"Didn't I say that the son of the man as killed your father was comin'
by the Laurel Branch this mornin'? Haven't the Vaughns and the
Grangers been at outs for more than twenty year? What more d'ye want?"

The boy