him a very jolly, amusing fellow.

"Now lad--now lad!" whispered the old man. "Get down and take your
sight. I've seen ye shoot the heads offn squirrels. Just imagine that
feller's head is a squirrel's. As for the child----"

"Grandpa, I will not shoot. It would be murder. I'll meet him fair
and square, though, and if he's sorry for what his father done, I'll
let it pass. He couldn't help it anyhow, if he wanted to, I reckon."

To the old man's intense disgust, Ralph leaped lightly over the log and
advanced into the road, rifle in hand. His grandfather followed him,
raving in his futile rage.

"Hello!" exclaimed Jase Vaughn, thrusting his hand behind him quickly.
"Here's old Granger and his son's kid. I wish you was at home, Clelly."

This last to his boy who, not at all alarmed, was smiling at Ralph in a
very friendly manner.

When the lad saw Jase throw back his hand, he dropped his rifle into
the hollow of his left arm and brought the trigger to a half cock,
advancing at the same time squarely into the middle of the road.

"Grandpa tells me that you are the son of the man who shot my father,
here, just six years ago," began the boy. "I knew it myself, but I
didn't 'low you was to blame, 'less you uphilt him in it."

"Suppose I do; what then?" Jase eyed the two Grangers steadily, though
not in anger as far as Ralph could see.