t already answerable to the law
for some worse crime than illicit distilling. His murder would be the
extreme of brutal craft, so devised as to seem an accident, against the
possibility of future investigation.

The reflection turned Wyatt deathly cold, he who could not bear unmoved
the plea of a wild thing's eye. He sturdily sought to pull himself
together. It was none of his decree; it was none of his deed, he
argued. The older moonshiners, who managed all the details of the
enterprise, would direct the event with absolute authority and the
immutability of fate. But whatever should be done, he revolted from any
knowledge of it, as from any share in the act. He had risen to leave the
place, all strange of aspect now, metamorphosed,--various disorderly
details of the prohibited industry ever and anon surging up from the
still-room below,--when a hoarse voice took cognizance of his intention
with a remonstrance.

"Why, Watt Wyatt, _ye_ can't go out in the cove. Ye air dead! Ye will
let that t'other revenue-raider ye seen into the secret o' the bresh
whisky in our wagon ef ye air viewed about whenst 'Gene hev spread the
report that ye air dead. Wait till them raiders hev cleared out of the
kentry."

The effort at detention, to interfere with his liberty, added redoubled
impetus to Wyatt's desire to be gone. He suddenly devised a cogent
necessity. "I be feared my dad mought hear that fool tale. I ain't much
loss, but dad would feel it."

"Oh, I sent Jack thar ter tell him better whenst he drove ter mill
ter-day ter git the meal fer the mash. Jack made yer dad onderstand
'bout yer sudden demise."

"Oh, yeh," interposed the glib Jack; "an' he said ez _he_ couldn't abide
sech jokes."

"Shucks!" cried the filial Wyatt. "Dad war full fresky himself in his
young days; I hev hearn his old frien's say so."

"I tried ter slick things over," said the diplomatic Jack. "I 'lowed
young folks war giddy by nature. I 'lowed 't war jes a flash o' fun. An'
he say: 'Flash o' fun be consarned! My son is more like a flash o'
lightning; ez suddint an' mischeevious an' totally ondesirable.'"

The reproach obviously struck home, for Wyatt maintained a disconsolate
silence for a time. At length, apparently goaded by his thoughts to
attempt a defense, he remonstrated:

"Nobody ever war dead less of his own free will. I never elected ter be
a harnt. 'Gene Barker hed no right ter nominate _me_ fer the dear
departed, nohow."

One of the