by Carol Norton
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE FEUD.
"THAR ain't no call to keep watch at the loopholes," said their hostas the alarmed lads' glances kept wandering towards the dark openings."The dogs will tell we-alls if anyone tries to come near the cabin." Heleaned back in his chair in silence for a few minutes gazing into theheart of the fire whose flickering rays lit up his bronzed, thoughtful,kindly face.
"Hit all began years ago when I warn't but a little bit of a shaver,"he began, quietly. "Judson was a right-prosperous, happy, contented,little place, then. Thar was mighty nigh a hundred people living inthe town, an' in the woods nigh about hyar. Each family had hit's ownlittle cabin an' farm an' raised all hit's own living of meat, corn,taters, an' sugar cane, an' each family had hit's patch of cottonwith which they bought what things they needed that they didn't raisethemselves. We had a right tidy little schoolhouse. I went to hit twoterms when I was a little shaver," he said with evident pride, "an'I learned how to read an' write pretty well--the reading's been aheap of company to me during the years since then. Each family had aplenty to eat an' wear, an' thar warn't none that you could call realpoor people like I hearn tell you-alls have in the North. We used tohave dances and barbecues, an' picnics an' a right sociable time. Thetown was started by two families, the Turners an' the Wrights--I'ma Turner,--an' all the people about was kin to one or the otherfamily, which made everybody friendly and sociable with each other.Hit was jis' a little Eden on earth, this place, 'till the serpentcame twisting an' crawlin' in. The devil must have sho' had a hand inmaking some of the men folks believe that the Good Lord intended thehonest corn they raised for anything but food for man an' beast. Yes,I reckon, hit sho' must have been ole Satan that made a few of theTurners an' Wrights get together an' start a little whiskey still overthar in the woods yonder. The womin folks was again hit from the start,as, bless their hearts, they've always been again the cursed stuff. Hitwas Christmas week that the still was started goin', an' Christmas Evethe ones running hit gave a big barbecue at the still to celebrate it.Most everyone went, as they always did to doin's in the neighborhood.Even my daddy an' two brothers, Ben an' Abe, went to see the fun asthey called hit, but mammy she was a good, religious woman, she staidat home an' kept me with her. She would have liked to keep the otherboys with her too, but they had grown out of her control as boyssometimes do." His bronzed face grew sadly thoughtful, as he continued,"I recollect, I cried because I couldn't go too, but mother sang to mean' tole me stories--mother was a powerful hand at telling the kind ofstories boys like an' I soon quit cryin' an' went to sleep quiet an'happy with mother singing to me. Hit was the last time I ever heardmammy sing. I reckon hit was 'bout midnight when a noise woke me up.The door had been flung open--hit was never locked in them days--an'father an' Abe came rushin' in. Father's face was white as a sheetan' I'll never forget the look on mammy's face. Hit seemed as if sheknowed without a word from daddy what had happened. Thar was a curioustremble in her voice as she asked, 'Whar's Ben?' At the sound of hervoice father broke down an' sobbed like a child. 'He's dead,' he cried.'They've killed my boy Ben. Those Wrights have killed my boy Ben.'"
The man paused as the recollection of that terrible scene crowded hismind, while the two lads looked at each other with sympathetic horror.
"No one seemed to know just how the trouble started," went on theirhost, quietly. "All hands had taken a little too much liquor, there hadbeen a few hot words, a blow, an' Ben had keeled over with a knife inhis side. Then the fightin' started between the kin of both families,an' daddy an' Abe had run home to git their guns. Sore at heart asmammy was, she begged 'em not to shed no more blood but to leave itto the cotes, for mammy, as I have said, was a religious woman. Butboth Wrights and Turners came first from the mountains of Kentuckywhar man don't go to law again' man but settles his quarrels with hisrifle, An' so the blood-feud began. Thar was more than Ben killed thatnight,--Wrights as well as Turners. When all had sobered up from theliquor thar came a kind of lull or truce, but war always bruk out againwhen either families got to drinkin'. They got Abe the followin' year,but not 'fore he had shot a couple of Wrights. Hit was three yearsafore they got father. Mother, she pined away an' died soon after theygot him. I think she was kinder glad to go, such things are wearin' ona woman. An' so the killin's been goin' on ever since by spells whenthe liquor gets to flowin'. I am the only Turner alive, now, thoughthar's a few of my kin still scattered around hyar. I've been shot ata powerful lot of times, but, I reckon, I've been lucky. Then too,they ain't none of them hunted me so powerful hard, for I ain't tookno part in any of the killin's. I've shot a couple of times to scarethem away but not to kill. My own kin 'lows that I'm poor-spirited, butsomehow or other, I can't forget the look on mammy's face the nightBen was killed. I don't want to be the cause of puttin' no such lookon any woman's face. I've knowed all these years though that my timemust come sooner or later. I heard to-day that the Wrights have got ina lot of liquor from Tarpon Springs an' they are sayin' that the lastTurner has got to be wiped out of Judson. So, I got me in a store ofwater an' grub an' fixed to lay low for awhile. I may be able to holdout until their liquor is gone an' the danger is past, but I reckon hitdoan' make so powerful much of difference. They air plum' sho' to getme sooner or later. Wall, that's the story, young fellows, hit's beena right smart relief to have someone sympathetic to tell hit to. Don'tyou worry none though. As soon as comes mornin' I'll hist a flag oftruce an' arrange to have you fellows let out peaceful. You can takemy boat an' go after your captain an' that little nigger, but I sho'advise you not to stop hyar on youah way back. Keep right on to TarponSprings. Some of my kin folks kin bring the sloop back from thar."
"You are very good," Charley exclaimed. "But tell me why you have neverleft this awful place. There are hundreds of places where you couldhave made as good a living and been free from dread and worry."
"Mammy's grave is out thar among them pines," said the man, simply,"an' daddy's, an' Ben's, an' Abe's, then, atter all, this place ishome, no other place could be that."
"I see," said Charley, much abashed.
"I am proud to have met you, Mr. Turner," declared Walter, warmly. "Ithink you are a noble man."
"No? I sho' reckon you is mistaken," said the man in surprise. "Menoble? I reckon not. My own kin 'lows I'm mighty poor-spirited 'cause Iwon't take no hand in the killin'."
"I don't care a cent what your kin says," began Walter, hotly, but hewas interrupted by the crack of a rifle, the whistle of a bullet, andthe howl of a dog outside.
His host winced as if the bullet had struck his own body. "They'vekilled Bet," he cried. "Bet, what I raised from a little bit of puppy.They hadn't ought to go an' shoot a poor defenceless, dumb animal, hitain't right. My God, be they goin' to kill all my poor faithful dawgs,"he cried, as another shot rang out followed by another pitiless howl.
Rifle shot followed rifle shot while the man stood trembling with eyesflashing as he listened to the whining of the animals outside. At last,heedless of the bullets pattering against the logs, he flung the doorwide open and called to the hounds. They came crowding in, a whining,mangy, ill-looking pack, but disreputable as they were, they had beenthe man's only friends through his lonely years and the two ladsrespected him for his act.
As soon as he had bolted the door again, he rummaged in a corner andbrought out three rifles. He handed one to each of the boys. "I reckon,we'll have to watch at the loopholes now the dawgs air inside," he saidquietly. "You-alls can take the ones at the ends, I'll tend to thesides. Be right careful 'bout standin' in front of 'em, a bullet mightpass through. An' don't shoot to kill if you can help it."
"An' his kin people call that man poor-spirited," whispered Walter inwonder to his chum as they took up their positions.