lifted the pistol and nipped a cake of dirt from the road between
Crump's feet. With another cry of fear, the spy began a vigorous
dance.

"Hol' on, Eli; I don't want ye to dance. Ye belong to the chu'ch
now, 'n' I wouldn't have ye go agin yer religion fer nothin'. Stan'
still! Another bullet and another cut between Crump's feet. "Pears
like ye don't think I kin shoot straight. Eli," he went on, reloading
the empty chambers, " some folks think I'm a idgit,
'n' I know 'em. Do you think I'm a idgit, Eli?"

Actin' mighty nateral now." Isom was raising the pistol again. "
Oh, Lawdy! Don't shoot, boy-don't shoot!

"Cit down on yer knees! Now I want ye to beg fer mercy thet ye
never showed-thet ye wouldn't 'a' showed Steve. . . Purty good,"
he said, encouragingly.

Mebbe ye kin pray a leetle, seem' ez ye air a chu'ch member. Pray
fer yer enemies, Eli; Uncl' Gabe says ye must love yer enemies. I
know how ye loves me, 'n' I want yer to pray fer me. The Lawd
mus' sot a powerful store by a good citizen like you. Ax him to
fergive me fer killin' ye."

"Have mercy, O Lawd," prayed Crump, to command-and the
prayer was subtle-" on the murderer of this Thy servant. A life fer a
life, Thou hev said, O Lawd. Fer killin' me he will foller me, 'n' ef
Ye hev not mussy he is boun' fer the lowes' pit o' hell, O Lawd

It was Isom's time to wince now, and Crum p's pious groan was cut