nds, and he went on at a gallop
to Rufe Stetson's store. His uncle was not in sight. Steve Marcum and
old Sam Day stood in the porch, and inside a woman was crying. Several
Stetsons were near, and all with grave faces gathered about him.

He knew what the matter was before Steve spoke. His uncle had been
driven from town. A last warning had come to him on the day before. The
hand of a friend was in the caution, and Rufe rode away at dusk. That
night his house was searched by men masked and armed. The Lewallens were
in town, and were ready to fight. The crisis had come.

IV

BACK at the mill old Gabe was troubled. Usually he sat in a
cane-bottomed chair near the hopper, whittling, while the lad tended the
mill, and took pay in an oaken toll-dish smooth with the use of half a
century. But the incident across the river that morning had made the old
man uneasy, and he moved restlessly from his chair to the door, and back
again, while the boy watched him, wondering what the matter was, but
asking no questions. At noon an old mountaineer rode by, and the miller
hailed him.

"Any news in town?" he asked.

"Hain't been to town. Reckon fightin' 's goin' on thar from whut I
heerd." The careless, high-pitched answer brought the boy with wide eyes
to the door.

"Whut d'ye hear?" asked Gabe. "Jes heerd fightin' 's goin' on!"

Then every man who came for his meal brought a wild rumor from town,
and the old miller moved his chair to the door, and sat there whittling
fast, and looking anxiously toward Hazlan. The boy was in a fever of
unrest, and old Gabe could hardly keep him in the mill. In the middle of
the afternoon the report of a rifle came down the river, breaking into
echoes against the cliffs below, and Isom ran out the door, and stood
listening for another, with an odd contradiction of fear and delight on
his eager face. In a few moments Rome Stetson galloped into sight, and,
with a shrill cry of relief, the boy ran down the road to meet him,
and ran back, holding by a stirrup. Young Stetson's face was black with
passion, and his eyes were heavy with drink. At the door of the mill
he swung from his horse, and for a moment was hardly able to speak from
rage. There had been no fight. The Stetsons were few and unprepared.
They had neither the guns nor, without Rufe, the means to open the war,
and they believed Rufe had gone for arms. So they had chafed in the
store all day, and all day Lewallens on horseback and