boy's sleeve. His horse was stamping uneasily, and the lad rose
stiffly, his face gray but calm, and started home. At old Gabe's
gate he turned in his saddle to look where, under the last sinking
star, was once the home of his old enemies. Farther down, under
the crest, was old Steve Brayton, alive, and at that moment perhaps
asleep.

"Forgive your enemies;" that was the rider's plea. Forgive old
Steve, who had mocked him, and had driven Rome from the
mountains; who had threatened old Gabe's life,. and had shot Steve
Marcum almost to death! The lad drew breath quickly, and
standing in his stirrups, stretched out his fist, and let it drop,
slowly.

II

OLD Gabe was just starting out when Isom' reached the cabin, and
the old man thought the boy had been at the mill all night. Isom
slept through the day, and spoke hardly a word when the miller
came home, though the latter had much to say of Raines, the two
Steves, and of the trouble possible. He gave some excuse for not
going with old Gabe the next day, and instead went into the woods
alone.

Late in the middle of the afternoon he reached the mill. Old Gabe
sat smoking outside the door, and Isom stretched himself out on
the platform close to the water, shading his eyes from the rich
sunlight with one ragged sleeve.

"Uncl' Gabe," he said, suddenly, " s'posin' Steve Brayton was to