s atter them."
Over there the spirit of the feud was broken, and a good effect was
already perceptible around Hazlan. In past days every pair of lips was
sealed with fear, and the non-combatants left crops and homes, and moved
down the river, when trouble began. Now only the timid considered this
way of escape. Steve and old Jasper found a few men who refused to enter
the fight. Several, indeed, talked openly against the renewal of the
feud, and somebody, it was said, had dared to hint that he would send to
the Governor for aid if it should break out again. But these were rumors
touching few people.

For once again, as time and time again before, one bank of the
Cumberland was arrayed with mortal enmity against the other, and old
Gabe sat, with shaken faith, in the door of his mill. For years he had
worked and prayed for peace, and for a little while the Almighty seemed
lending aid. Now the friendly grasp was loosening, and yet the miller
did all he could. He begged Steve Marcum to urge Rufe to seek aid from
the law when the latter came back; and Steve laughed, and asked what
justice was possible for a Stetson, with a Lewallen for a judge and
Braytons for a jury. The miller pleaded with old Jasper, and old Jasper
pointed to the successes of his own life.

"I hev triumphed ag'in' my enemies time 'n' ag'in," he said. "The Lord
air on my side, 'n' I gits a better Christian ever' year." The old man
spoke with the sincerity of a barbarism that has survived the dark ages,
and, holding the same faith, the miller had no answer. It was old Gabe
indeed who had threatened to send to the Governor for soldiers, and this
he would have done, perhaps, had there not been one hope left, and only
one. A week had gone, and there was no word from Rufe Stetson. Up on
Thunderstruck Knob the old Stetson mother was growing pitiably eager and
restless. Every day she slipped like a ghost through the leafless woods
and in and out the cabin, kindling hatred. At every dawn or dusk she
was on her porch peering through the dim light for Rufe Stetson. Steve
Marcum was ill at ease. Rome Stetson alone seemed unconcerned, and his
name was on every gossiping tongue.

He took little interest and no hand in getting ready for the war. He
forbade the firing of a gun till Rufe came back, else Steve should fight
his fight alone. He grew sullen and morose. His old mother's look was a
thorn in his soul, and he stayed little at home. He hung about the mill,
and