, across wooden pegs set in the
wall, rested a long, old-fashioned rifle, with a powderhorn slung on one
end.

"This here's the gun Cap'n Enoch Marrs fit the British with," said
Nucky, with bursting pride; "it's mine now,--paw give it to me on
account of my name."

Half an hour later, the hero, Blant, came in from "saving" fodder. I
gazed at him with all my might. He is a tall young man, with Nucky's
fine gray eyes and dark hair, an open face and a resolute jaw. After
greeting me in the gentlest of voices, he picked up the babe, who,
clinging to him with cries and coos of joy, buried her little face in
his bosom. He then went on with her across the passage and into the
other large room, whither Nucky followed him, and the two began
preparations for supper. Several times I saw Blant pass the open door,
always with the babe on his left arm, and once with a bowl of cornmeal,
once a stack of roasting-ears, once a skillet of meat, in the other. As
I looked, I said to myself over and over, "Is it possible this is a
slayer of men, an eluder and defier of the law?"

[Illustration: "As I looked, I said to myself over and over, 'Is it
possible this is the slayer of men, an eluder and defier of the law?'"]

It also occurred to me for the first time that I was adding to his
already heavy burdens; and I reproached myself for coming; but there was
no help for it now.

Supper at last being ready, Mr. Marrs, leaning feebly on his crutch,
conducted me into "t'other house," the children took their stands and we
our seats about the table, and Blant, still with the babe on his arm,
did the honors, pouring the coffee, and then impartially sharing with
the babe the beans, fat meat, roasting-ears and sweet-potatoes on his
plate. While of course the house in many ways shows the absence of
woman's care, Blant's filling of his mother's place is indeed
remarkable.

Later, my offer of help in the dish-washing being kindly but firmly
refused, I returned to the first room with Mr. Marrs and the children,
and we sat and talked. Of course I made no reference to the family
"war," but I did inquire as much as possible in regard to ancient family
history, and was shown the old Bible, the records of which go back to
Captain Enoch Marrs, the first settler here. Mr. Marrs, however, told me
that there are traditions that before the Marrses came to America, they
were brave and gentle folk for five hundred years in Old England, and
poured out their blo