n spat out another wad of tobacco and put a fresh plug in his
mouth. There was some hesitation before he spoke again.

"You take it rather cool," said Wade, after a short silence.

"Gotter, my boy. Them was terrible times 'round hyar, but ef I
calkerlate right, we air in ther midst o' jest sich another time, right
now."

Old Peter Judson looked squarely into Wade's eyes, forcing the latter to
turn his gaze.

"Ye air a young man, Wade," said Judson, "an' I want ter give ye some
advice, fust class advice, an' yer better take it, too. When ye dig a
hole fer some other feller, be shore ye dig it so deep he cain't get
out'n hit, an' then"--Peter was emphatic--"be shore ye don't git into
that hole yerself. Hit's a durn sight easier, Wade, ter start somethin'
than hit is ter stop it after ye onct git it started. D'ye mind that
now?"

"I believe I understand," said Wade, with a far-away look on his
countenance.

"I'll tell ye agin, young man, that yer Uncle Peter Judson's been
through ther fires o' hell 'round this hyar mountain, an' he knows what
he's talkin' 'bout. Afore mornin' ye'll see that cabin down yonder all
aflames, lickin' ther very sky in an effort ter eat up ther stars."

"What, mine, do you mean?"

"Ther same, boy. Why, what makes yer look so durn funny? Hit's ther
solid truth, God knows, Jack Wade, yer own cabin'll be ashes afore
another sun rises over ther mountain. Ye have made a enemy out'n Al
Thompson, an' nuthin' this side o' hell could stop him from a-killin'
ye, ef ye don't git him fust. Ye needn't git upon yer high spirits an'
think yer kin stop it, fer ye cain't. A fawty-hoss power gatlin'-gun
woudn't stop them savages to-night, so jest be easy an' take it natural
like, an' ye won't feel so bad when hit's all over. Me an' Tom'll go
down with ye after awhile an' help ye put everything out in ther field,
an' move ther stock ter a place o' safety, so's ter fool them fiends
that much--"

"I won't submit to it," interrupted Wade angrily. "I'll kill the man who
tries to burn my property."

"That's what ye kin do, Wade, but ye must wait till some other time. I'd
ruther take that rifle thar an' blow yer brains out'n yer head whar ye
stand than ter let ye go down thar an' git killed without any show
'tall. Don't up an' git mad now. Ye'll see that old Peter Judson knows
what he's talkin' 'bout. I've been in this kintry too long fer to not
know. Ye've made a enemy out o' Al Thompson, an' he's a chip of