for blood-life fer a life! Your grandad shot ole Tom Lewallen in
Hazlan. Ole Jack Lewallen shot him from the bresh. Tom Stetson
killed ole Jack; ole Jass killed Tom, 'n' so hit comes down, fer back
as I can ricollect. I hev nuver knowed hit to fail." The lad had
risen on one elbow. His face was pale and uneasy, and he averted
it when the miller turned in the door.

"You'd better stay hyeh, son, 'n' finish up the grist. Hit won't take
long. Hev ye got victuals fer yer supper?

Isom nodded, without looking around, and when old Gabe was
gone he rose nervously and dropped helplessly back to the floor.

"'Pears like old Gabe knows I killed Jass," he breathed, sullenly.
'Pears like all of 'em knows hit, 'n' air jus' a-tormentin' me."

Nobody dreamed that the boy and his old gun had ended that fight
on the cliff; and without knowing it, old Gabe kept the lad in
constant torture with his talk of the blood-penalty. But Isom got
used to it in time, for he had shot to save his brother's life. Steve
Marcum treated him thereafter as an equal. Steve's friends, too,
changed in manner towards him because Steve had. And now, just
when he had reached the point of wondering whether, after all,
there might not be one thing that old Gabe did not know, Crump
had come along with the miller's story, which he had got from still
another, a circuit-rider, who must know the truth. The fact gave
him trouble.

"Mebbe hit's goin' to happen when I goes with Steve atter ole
Brayton," he mumbled, and he sat thinking the matter over, until a