stol and nipped a cake of dirt from the road between Crump's feet.
With another cry of fear, the spy began a vigorous dance.

"Hol' on, Eli; I don't want ye to dance. Ye belong to the chu'ch now,
'n' I wouldn't have ye go agin yer religion fer nothin'. Stan' still!"
Another bullet and another cut between Crump's feet. "'Pears like ye
don't think I kin shoot straight. Eli," he went on, reloading the empty
chambers, "some folks think I'm a idgit, 'n' I know 'em. Do you think
I'm a idgit, Eli?"

"Actin' mighty nateral now." Isom was raising the pistol again. "Oh,
Lawdy! Don't shoot, boy--don't shoot!

"Git down on yer knees! Now I want ye to beg fer mercy thet ye never
showed--thet ye wouldn't 'a' showed Steve... Purty good," he said,
encouragingly.

"Mebbe ye kin pray a leetle, seem' ez ye air a chu'ch member. Pray fer
yer enemies, Eli; Uncl' Gabe says ye must love yer enemies. I know how
ye loves me, 'n' I want yer to pray fer me. The Lawd mus' sot a powerful
store by a good citizen like you. Ax him to fergive me fer killin' ye."

"Have mercy, O Lawd," prayed Crump, to command--and the prayer was
subtle--"on the murderer of this Thy servant. A life fer a life, Thou
hev said, O Lawd. Fer killin' me he will foller me, 'n' ef Ye hev not
mussy he is boun' fer the lowes' pit o' hell, O Lawd--"

It was Isom's time to wince now, and Crump's pious groan was cut short.

"Shet up!" cried the boy, sharply, and he sat a moment silent. "You've
been a-spyin' on us sence I was borned, Eli," he said, reflectively.

"I believe ye lay-wayed dad. Y'u spied on Rome. Y'u told the soldiers
whar he was a-hidin' Y'u tried to shoot him from the bresh. Y'u found
out Steve was goin' to Breathitt on Sunday, 'n' you've jes made a blind
to shoot him in the back. I reckon thar's no meanness ye hain't done.
Dad's al'ays said ye sot a snare fer a woman once--a woman! Y'u loaded a
musket with slugs, 'n' tied a string to the trigger, 'n' stretched hit
'cross the path, 'n' y'u got up on a cliff 'n' whistled to make her slow
up jes when she struck the string. I reckon thet's yer wust--but I don't
know."

Several times Crump raised his hands in protest while his arraignment
was going on; several times he tried to speak, but his lips refused
utterance. The boy's voice was getting thicker and thicker, and he was
nervously working the cock of the big pistol up and down.

"Git up," he said; and Crump rose with a spring. The lad's tone meant
release.