MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
I've fought 'em fair; that is, fair accordin' ter ther way we fight sich things out in ther mountings. I ain't no murderer, an' I don't come creepin' long in ther dark ter knife anybody. I went fer yer, but yer hed me trapped yere in this hole, an' I s'posed yer was one o' thet outfit, an' thar wasn't nothin' fer me to do but make a fight fer it. But I swear, sir, I never come in yere lookin' fer trouble."
The evident earnestness of the man brought me a certain measure of faith. Yet I could not entirely free him from suspicion.
"Where were you yesterday and last night?"
"Scoutin' Lost Crick," he answered promptly enough. "Las' night I took a notion to look up my own people."
I said nothing, and he went on.
"They're purty well cleaned out, Leftenant—killed an' skipped. Some of 'em are hidin' out in ther mountings an' some hev gone inter ther army. Dern if I ain't 'bout all thet's left fit ter keep matters bilin'. 'Twixt ther war an' hard luck, thet Donald crowd has just 'bout cleaned us up. Burnt my cabin, too." He got up upon his feet, his gray eyes burning like two coals of fire. "But, by God, sir, I'm yere ter be reckon'd with yit, an' ol' Bill Daniels has got a mighty big score ter wipe out. Maybe I never kin do it, but I'll git Jem Donald if I hev ter ketch him in hell."
The utterly unrestrained savagery of the man fascinated me. The feud spirit clutched him, and, as he dwelt on the wrongs done, he had no thought, no concep-
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