e older man said slowly with an even courtesy that
carried a note of aloofness, "I've neither the right nor the disposition
to question you on personal matters. I reserve the privilege of
discussing my own affairs only so far as I choose, and I recognize the
same right in others. My final opinions, however, are not formed on
hearsay."

The brown eyes softened again and the features relaxed. "I reckon,"
commented Asa with a touch of shame-faced apology in his tone, "thar
warn't no proper call fer me ter start in straightway talkin' erbout
myself nohow--but when a man's enemies air a'seekin' ter git him hung,
hit's liable ter make him touchy an' mincy-like. Hit don't take no hard
bite ter hurt a sore tooth, no-ways."

Victor McCalloway inclined his head. "I stopped here," he explained, "to
ask directions of this lad. These infernal roads confuse me."

"I reckon they do be sort o' mystifyin' ter a furriner," assented the
mountaineer, who stood charged with murder, then he added with grave
courtesy: "I'll go back ter ther fork of ther highroad with ye an' sot
ye on yore way ef so be hit would convenience ye any."

As mounted traveller and unmounted guide went on toward the rounded cone
of Cinder Knob it seemed to loom as far away as ever, masking behind its
timbered distances the unseen trickle of Hominy Mill Creek, where Cyrus
Spradling dwelt.

But to right and left, ever the same, yet ever changing; sombre in
shadowed gorge and bright of sunlit crest, lay the broken, forested
hills. Their horizons gathered in tangled depths of timber--shadowed
hiding places of chasms--silences and a brooding spirit of mystery.

At length a sudden elbow in the twisting way brought them face to face
with two rifle-bearing men. They were gaunt fellows, tall but slouching
and loose of joint. Their thin faces, too, were saturnine and ugly with
the cast of vindictiveness.

"Howdy, Asa," accosted one and, with a casual nod, the guide responded,
"Howdy, Jett," but in the brief silence that followed, broken by the
wheezy panting of the mule, McCalloway fancied he could discern an
undernote of tension.

"This here man," went on Asa Gregory, jerking his head backward, as if
in answer to an unuttered query, "gives ther name of McCalloway. I
hain't never seed him afore this day, but he's farin' over ter
Spradling's an' I proffered ter kinderly sot him on his way. I couldn't
skeercely do no less fer him."

The two nodded and when some furthe