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 I
toted 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.