"I like 'oo!" he cried again.

"Well, I swow!" exclaimed Jase. "He's takin' a plum likin' to you.
But we must be gettin' on. If ever I can do anything for you, don't
'low my bein' a Vaughn keep you from lettin' me know."

Then Jase clucked to his mule and rode away, with little Clell craning
his neck to catch a last glimpse of Ralph, who, shouldering his rifle,
began to retrace his steps towards home.

As he proceeded his face grew grave. How would his incensed relative
receive him?

Since the grandmother's and his father's death Ralph and the old man
had lived principally by themselves. The boy's own mother had died
when he was a baby. Now and then some woman would be hired to do some
house-work, usually the wife or daughter of some tenant to whom Bras
Granger rented a portion of his land. But they seldom remained long,
and Ralph had, perforce, to take their place from time to time.

He grew as expert at cooking and other simple household duties as he
was at shooting, trapping, and similar mountain accomplishments. Thus
the two had lived on together, with little outside society, relying
mainly on themselves for diversion as well as support.

The maintenance of the feud was the old man's greatest wish. It was as
meat and drink to his soul.

When Ralph showed the indifference he often felt on that subject, his
grandfather always flew into a rage.