"Y'u puts hell into me,Marthy Lewallen;y'u puts downright hell into me."The words came between gritted teeth."I want to take ye up 'n'throw ye off this cliff clean into the river,'n'I reckon the next minute I'd jump off atter ye.Y'u've 'witched me,gal!I forgits who ye air 'n'who I be,'n'sometimes I want to come over hyeh 'n'kerry ye out'n these mount ins,n'nuver come back.You know whut I've been watchin'the river fer sence the fust time I seed ye.
You know whut I've been a-stayin'at the mill fer,'n'Steve mad 'n'mam a-jowerin'-'n'a-lookin'over hyeh fer ye night 'n'day!Y'u know whut I've jes swum over hyeh fer!Whut's the matter with ye?"Martha was not looking for a confession like this.It took away her shame at once,and the passion of it thrilled her,and left her trembling.While he spoke her lashes drooped quickly,her face softened,and the color came back to it.She began intertwining her fingers,and would not look up at him.
Ef y'u hates me like the rest uv ye,why don't ye say it right out?
'N'ef ye do hate me,whut hev you been lookin''cross the river fer,'n'a-shakin'yer bonnet at me,'n'paddlin'to Gabe's fer yer grist,when the mill on Dead Crick's been a-runnin','n'I know it?You've been banterin'me,hev ye?"-the blood rose to his eyes again."Ye mustn't fool with me,gal,by ,ye mustn't.Whut hev you been goin'over thar fer?"He even took a threatening step toward her,and,with a helpless gesture,stopped.The girl was a little frightened.Indeed,she smiled,seeing her power over him;she seemed even about to laugh outright;but the smile turned to a quick look of alarm,and she bent her head suddenly to listen to something below.At last she did speak."Somebody's comm'!"she said."You'd better git out O'the way,"she went on,hurriedly."Somebody's comm',I tell ye!Don't ye hear?
It was no ruse to get rid of him.The girl's eyes were dilating.
Something was coming far below.Rome could catch the faint beats of a horse's hoofs.He was unarmed,and he knew it was death for him to be seen on that forbidden mountain;but he was beyond caution,and ready to welcome any vent to his passion,and he merely shook his head.
Ef it's Satan hisself,I hain't goin'to run."The hoof-beats came nearer.The rider must soon see them from the coil below.
Rome,hit's Jas!He's got his rifle,and he'll kill ye,'n'me too!"The girl was white with distress.She had called him by his name,and the tone was of appeal,not anger.The black look passed from his face,and he caught her by the shoulders with rough tenderness;but she pushed him away,and without a word he sprang from the road and let himself noiselessly down the cliff.The hoof-beats thundered above his head,and Young Jasper's voice hailed Martha.
This hyeh's the bigges'meal I ever straddled.Why d'n't ye git the grist ground?"For a moment the girl did not answer,and Rome waited,breathless."Wasn't the mill runnin'?Whyn't ye go on 'cross the river?
That's whut I did,"said the girl,quietly.Uncle Gabe wasn't thar,'n'Rome Stetson was.I wouldn't 'low him to grin'the co 'n,'n'so Itoted hit back."Rome Stetson!"The voice was lost in a volley of oaths.
The two passed out of hearing,and Rome went plunging down the mountain,swinging recklessly from one little tree to another,and wrenching limbs from their sockets out of pure physical ecstasy.
When he reached his horse he sat down,breathing heavily,on a bed of moss,with a strange new yearning in his heart.If peace should come!Why not peace,if Rufe should not come back?He would be the leader then,and without him there could be no war.
Old Jasper had killed his father.He was too young at the time to feel poignant sorrow now,and somehow he could look even at that death in a fairer way.His father had killed old Jasper's brother.
So it went back:a Lewallen killed a Stetson;that Stetson had killed a Lewallen,until one end of the chain of deaths was lost,and the first fault could not be placed,though each clan put it on the other.In every generation there had been compromises-periods of peace;why not now?Old Gabe would gladly help him.
He might make friends with young Jasper;he might even end the feud.And then-he and Martha-why not?He closed his eyes,and for one radiant moment t all seemed possible.And then a gaunt image rose in the dream,and only the image was left.It was the figure of his mother,stern and silent through the years,opening her grim lips rarely without some curse against the Lewallen race.
He remembered she had smiled for the first time when she heard of the new trouble-the flight of his uncle and the hope of conflict.
She had turned to him with her eyes on fire and her old hands clinched.She had said nothing,but he understood her look.And now-Good God!what would she think and say if she could know what he had done?His whole frame twitched at the thought,and,with a nervous spring to escape it,he was on his feet,and starting down the mountain.
Close to the river he heard voices below him,and he turned his horse quickly aside into the bushes.Two women who had been washing clothes passed,carrying white bundles home.They were talking of the coming feud.
"That ar young Stetson ain't much like his dad,"said one."Young Jas has been a-darin''n'a-banterin'him,'n'he won't take it up.They say he air turnin'out a plumb coward."When he reached the Stetson cabin three horses with drooping heads were hitched to the fence.All had travelled a long way.
One wore a man's saddle;on the others were thick blankets tied together with leathern thongs.
In the dark porch sat several men.Through the kitchen door he could see his mother getting supper.Inside a dozen rifles leaned against the wall in the firelight,and about their butts was a pile of ammunition.In the doorway stood Rufe Stetson.
