"is he daid?"
"Come on!" said Steve, roughly. "They'll be up hyeh atter us in a
minute. Leave Jas's gun thar, 'n' send that boy back home."
That day the troops came--young Blue Grass Kentuckians. That night,
within the circle of their camp-fires, a last defiance was cast in the
teeth of law and order. Flames rose within the old court-house, and
before midnight the moonlight fell on four black walls. That night, too,
the news of young Jasper's fate was carried to the death-bed of Rome's
mother, and before day the old woman passed in peace. That day Stetsons
and Lewallens disbanded. The Lewallens had no leader; the Stetsons,
no enemies to fight. Some hid, some left the mountains, some gave
themselves up for trial. Upon Rome Stetson the burden fell. Against him
the law was set. A price was put on his head, his house was burned--a
last act of Lewallen hate--and Rome was homeless, the last of his race,
and an outlaw.
XIII
WITH the start of a few hours and the sympathy of his people one
mountaineer can defy the army of the United States; and the mountaineers
usually laugh when they hear troops are coming. For the time they stop
fighting and hide in the woods; and when the soldiers are gone, they
come out again, and begin anew their little pleasantries. But the
soldiers can protect the judge on his bench and the county-seat in time
of court, and for these purposes they serve well.
The search for Rome Stetson, then, was useless. His friends would aid
him; his enemies feared to betray him. So the soldiers marched away one
morning, and took their prisoners for safe-keeping in the Blue Grass,
until court should open at Hazlan.
Meantime, spring came and deepened the mountain spring. The berries of
the wintergreen grew scarce, and Rome Stetson, "hiding out," as the
phrase is, had to seek them on the northern face of the mountains. The
moss on the naked winter trees brightened in color, and along the river,
where willows drooped, ran faint lines of green. The trailing arbutus
gave out delicate pink blossoms, and the south wind blew apart the
petals of the anemone. Soon violets unfolded above the dead leaves;
azaleas swung their yellow trumpets through the undergrowth; over-head,
the dogwood tossed its snow-flakes in gusts through the green and gold
of new leaves and sunlight; and higher still waved the poplar blooms,
with honey ready on every crimson heart for the bees. Down in the valley
Rome Stetson could see ab
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