"Wh--where shall I go?" asked Ralph, still dazed over this astounding
outcome of the Vaughn incident.

"Mebbe you'd better go over to Jase Vaughn's," sneered old Granger.
"His father killed yourn, but you don't care for such a little thing as
that."

"Grandpa," cried Ralph, stung to indignation at last, "it is cruel of
you to treat me so, simply because I wouldn't commit murder.
Yes--murder. I say it would have been murder! I'm no coward; and it
is cowardly to shoot down a man and him not knowing."

"You reprobate!" gasped the obdurate old mountaineer. "I've a notion
to thrash you--right here."

He again shook his cane and glared his hatred of Ralph's conduct. But
the boy only said:

"I'd rather you beat me than do what I always would be miserable over.
Let's drop it, grandpa."

He passed into the cabin and observed a small pile of clothing on the
floor.

"There's your duds, boy," said Bras Granger grimly. "Pick 'em up and
pull your freight outn here."

Ralph surveyed the old man curiously; but as he noted the latter's
stern, unyielding aspect he said no more until he had rolled up a clean
shirt and a pair of socks. A tear or two fell as he tied the bundle in