"No," said the old miller, answering both questions; "I don't. I
believe whut ye tol' me. Though, even ef ye had 'a' done it, I don't
know as I'd blame ye, seem' that it was a fa'r fight. I don't doubt he
was doin' his best to kill you."

Rome turned quickly, his face puzzled and darkening.

Uncle Gabe, whut air you drivin' at? " The old man spat into the
fire, and shifted his position uneasily, as Rome's hand caught his
knee.

Well, ef I have to tell ye, I s'pose I must. Thar's been nothin'
pertickler ag'in ye so fer, 'cept fer breakin' that confederatin' statute
'bout bandin' fightin' men together; 'n' nobody was very anxious to
git hol' o' ye jes fer that, but now "-the old man stopped a moment,
for Rome's eyes were kindling-" they say that ye killed Jas Lew
allen, 'n' that ye air a murderer; 'n' hit air powerful strange how all
of a suddint folks seem to be gittin' down on a man as kills his
fellow-creetur; 'n' now they means to hunt ye til they ketch ye."

It was all out now, and the old man was relieved. Rome rose to his
feet, and in sheer agony of spirit paced the floor.

"I tol' ye, Uncle Gabe, that I didn't kill him."

So ye did, 'n' I believe ye. But a feller seed you 'n' Steve comm'
from the place whar Jas was found dead, 'n' whar the dirt 'n' rock
was throwed about as by two bucks in spring-time. Steve says he
didn't do it, 'n' he wouldn't say you didn't. Looks to me like Steve
did the kuhn', 'n' was lyin' a leetle. He hain't goin' to confess hit to