frowned, but it was in perplexity rather than wrath.

They came at last to a wooded hollow, through which another creek ran,
thickly shaded by thick overhanging shrubbery. The old man led the way
to a half decayed log of immense size, that lay behind a thick fringe
of bushes, at an angle just beyond where the road crossed the creek.

It was a deadly spot for an ambuscade.

"Lay down behind that log," said old Granger. "Now, can you draw a
good bead on him when he comes in sight?"

Young Granger squinted along the rifle barrel, now resting across the
log. Though apparently concealed himself, he had a fair view of the
road for sixty yards in both directions. Where it entered the brook it
was barely thirty feet away.

"Take him right forninst the left shoulder, 'bout the time his mule
crosses the creek; then your poor father'll rest easy in his grave."

"Why ain't you killed him afore?" demanded Ralph.

"My hand hasn't been steady these nine year; not since them Vaughns
burned our house down the night your grandmother died. It was cold and
snowin', and bein' out in it was more'n she could stand."

"I remember," said the boy gloomily. "But that was a long time ago. I
can't stay mad nine year."

"I'm madder now than I was then!" almost shouted the infuriated
mountaineer. "After they got your pap, I 'lowed I'd wait 'twel you was
fifteen. Then you'd be big enough to know how sweet revenge is. Heap
sweeter than sugar, ain't it?"

"Hark?" interjected Ralph, without replying. "Some one is comin' up
the road."

A trample of hoofs became audible, and presently a man mounted on a
mule, with a sack of corn under him, was to be seen approaching the
ambuscade.

Seated before him was a child of perhaps four or five, who laughed and
prattled to the man's evident delight. Old Granger's eyes shown with a
ferocious joy.

"That's him!" he exclaimed in tremulously eager tones. "He's got his
brat along. I wish ye could get 'em both, then there'd be an end of
the miserable brood for one while. Wait, boy--wait 'twel he gets to
the creek afore ye shoot. Think of your poor pap, when ye draw bead."

But Ralph's face did not betoken any kindred enthusiasm. He was tired
to death of hearing about the everlasting feud between the families.

If the Vaughns had fought the Grangers, it was equally certain that the
Grangers had been no whit behind in sanguinary reprisals. He
remembered seeing this same Jase Vaughn, now