ldn't be
feasible nohow onlessen yore heart war in hit, Dorothy, an' I sees es
plain as day whar yore heart's at. So I reckon I kin give ye my blessin'
ef ye're plum shore ye hain't makin' no error."

CHAPTER XII

The old man struck a match and held it to his pipe and then as he turned
to leave the room Maggard halted him.

"I kain't suffer ye ter go away without I tells ye suthin'," he said,
"an' I fears me sorely when ye hears hit ye're right like ter withhold
yore blessin' atter all."

The patriarch wheeled and stood listening, and Dorothy, too, caught her
breath anxiously as the young man confessed.

For a time old Caleb stood stonily immovable while the story, which the
girl had already heard, had its second telling. But as the narration
progressed the gray-haired mountaineer bent interestedly forward, and by
the time it had drawn to its close his eyes were no longer wrathful but
soberly and judicially thoughtful.

He ran his fingers through his gray hair, and incredulously demanded,
"Who did ye say yore grandsire was?"

"His name was Caleb Thornton--he went ter Virginny sixty ya'rs back."

"Caleb Thornton!" Through the mists of many years the old man was
tracking back along barefoot trails of boyhood.

"Caleb Thornton! Him an' me hunted an' fished tergither and worked
tergither when we wasn't nothin' but small shavers. We was like twin
brethren an' folks called us Good Caleb an' Bad Caleb. I was ther bad
one!" The old lips parted in a smile that was tenderly reminiscent.

"Why boy, thet makes ye blood-kin of mine ... hit makes yore business
my business ... an' yore trouble my trouble. I'm ther head of ther house
now--an' ye're related ter me."

"I hain't clost kin," objected Cal, quickly. "Not too clost ter wed with
Dorothy."

"Ey God, no, boy, ye hain't but only a distant cousin--but a hundred an'
fifty y'ars back our foreparent war ther same man. An' ef ye've got ther
same heart an' the same blood in ye thet them old-timers hed, mebby ye
kin carry on my work better than any Rowlett--an' stand fer peace and
law!" Here spoke the might of family pride and mountain loyalty to
blood.

"Then ye kin give us yore blessin' atter all--despite ther charge thet
hangs over me?"

"My blessin'? Why, boy, hit's like a dead son hed done come back ter
life--an' false charges don't damn no man!"

The aged face had again become suffused with such a glow as might have
mantled the brow of a prophet who had