"I'll tell ye, Jasie," she said.




V

Down the river road loped Arch Hawn the next morning, his square
chin low with thought, his shrewd eyes almost closed, and his
straight lips closed hard on the cane stem of an unlighted pipe.
Of all the Hawns he had been born the poorest in goods and
chattels and the richest in shrewd resource, restless energy, and
keen foresight. He had gone to the settlements when he was a lad,
he had always been coming and going ever since, and the word was
that he had been to far-away cities in the outer world that were
as unfamiliar to his fellows and kindred as the Holy Land. He had
worked as teamster and had bought and sold anything to anybody
right and left. Resolutely he had kept himself from all part in
the feud--his kinship with the Hawns protecting him on one side
and the many trades with old Aaron Honeycutt in cattle and lands
saving him from trouble on the other. He carried no tales from one
faction to the other, condemned neither one nor the other, and
made the same comment to both--that it was foolish to fight when
there was so much else so much more profitable to do. Once an
armed band of mounted Honeycutts had met him in the road and
demanded news of a similar band of Hawns up a creek. "Did you ever
hear o' my tellin' the Hawns anything about you Honeycutts?" he
asked quietly, and old Aaron had to shake his head.