DANIELS AND DONALD MEET
dropping her hand as if it were a coal of fire, and raising his gaunt form from the chair "Ye're a woman, an' somehow yer came at me jist right; but it's goin' ter take fightin', an' plenty of it, afore Jem Donald an' me settle our trouble. Thar's too many dead folks an' burned houses atween us fer any sich foolishness."
"I know there are," her voice and face exhibiting earnestness. "But, Daniels, this has not all been one-sided, this hundred years of feud over some silly quarrel. You have killed and burned, as well as those on our side. The one party has suffered almost equally with the other. And what has either gained?"
He stood looking at her, his deep-set eyes gloomy, defiant, stubborn. He could see and feel but one fact, and her appeal never really reached him.
"Maybe if all thet was true I might be soft 'nough ter be led by ye, Miss," he said, at last, gravely. "But yer've took a pore time fer ter plead peace with Bill Daniels. Maybe ef things was comin' my way I'd see it diff'rent, see it ther way you-uns do; but I ain't ther sort ter knuckle down 'cause I'm gittin' ther worst of it. Thet's whin I fight like hell."
"What is it you mean?"
"Oh, I reckon you-all know well enough. Ye've got us about wiped out; what was left afore ther war has been finished by these yere damn guerillas Jem Donald has turned loose in ther hills. I come back yere, an' everywhar I go it's a dead Daniels; an' yer ask me ter be peaceful!" He straightened up, his eyes hard. "I tell ye, I want my wife an' kids first. I ain't got
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