'n' ef a feller was ever killed, it was kinder accidental, by a Barlow.
I reckon folks got use' to weepons 'n' killin' 'n' bushwhackin' in the
war. Looks like it's been gittin' wuss ever sence, 'n' now hit's dirk 'n'
Winchester, 'n' shootin' from the bushes all the time. Hit's wuss 'n
stealin' money to take a feller-creetur' s life that way!

The old miller's indignation sprang from memories of a better
youth. For the courtesies of the code went on to the Blue Grass,
and before the war the mountaineer fought with English fairness
and his fists. It was a disgrace to use a deadly weapon in those
days; it was a disgrace now not to use it.

Oh, I know all the excuses folks make," he went on: " hit's fa'r fer
one as 'tis fer t'other; y'u can't fight a man fa'r 'n' squar' who'll shoot
you in the back; a pore man can't fight money in the couhts; 'n' thar
hain't no witnesses in the lorrel but leaves; 'n' dead men don't hev
much to say. I know it all. Hit's cur'us, but it act'-ally looks like
lots o' decent young folks hev got usen to the idee-thar's so much
of it goin' on, 'n' thar's so much talk 'bout killin' 'n' layin' out in the
lorrel. Reckon folks 'll git to pesterm' women n' strangers bimeby,
'n' robbin' 'n' thievin'. Hit's bad enough thar's so leetle law thet
folks hev to take it in their own hands oncet in a while, but this
shootin' from the bresh-hit's p'int'ly a sin 'n' shame! Why," he
concluded, pointing his remonstrance as he always did, "I seed
your grandad and young Jas's fight up thar in Hazlan full two hours
'fore the war-fist and skull-'n' your grandad was whooped. They
got up and shuk hands. I don't see why folks can't fight that way
now. I wish Rufe 'n' old Jas 'n' you 'n' young Jas could have it out
fist and skull, 'n' stop this killin' o' people like hogs. Thar's nobody
left but you four. But thar's no chance o' that, I reckon."