"Goin' to stop all o' yer lyin', air ye," Isom went on, in the same
tone, and Crump twitched as though struck suddenly from behind, "an'
stealin' 'n' lay-wayin'?"
"Look a-hyeh, boy--" he began, roughly, and mumbling a threat, started
on.
"Uh, Eli!" Even then the easy voice fooled him again, and he turned.
Isom had a big revolver on a line with his breast. "Drap yer gun!" he
said, tremulously.
Crump tried to laugh, but his guilty face turned gray. "Take keer, boy,"
he gasped; "yer gun's cocked. Take keer, I tell ye!"
"Drap it, damn ye!" Isom called in sudden fury, "'n' git clean away from
it!" Crump backed, and Isom came forward and stood with one foot on the
fallen Winchester.
"I seed ye, Eli. Been makin' a blind fer Steve, hev ye? Goin' to shoot
him in the back, too, air ye? You're ketched at last, Eli. You've done
a heap o' devilment. You're gittin' wuss all the time. You oughter be
dead, 'n' now--"
Crump found voice in a cry of terror and a whine for mercy. The boy
looked at him, unable to speak his contempt.
"Git down thar!" he said, finally; and Crump, knowing what was wanted,
stretched himself in the road. Isom sat down on a stone, the big pistol
across one knee.
"Roll over!" Crump rolled at full length.
"Git up!" Isom laughed wickedly. "Ye don't look purty, Eli." He lifted
the pistol and nipped a cake of dirt from the road between Crump's feet.
With another cry of fear, the spy began a vigorous dance.
"Hol' on, Eli; I don't want ye to dance. Ye belong to the chu'ch now,
'n' I wouldn't have ye go agin yer religion fer nothin'. Stan' still!"
Another bullet and another cut between Crump's feet. "'Pears like ye
don't think I kin shoot straight. Eli," he went on, reloading the empty
chambers, "some folks think I'm a idgit, 'n' I know 'em. Do you think
I'm a idgit, Eli?"
"Actin' mighty nateral now." Isom was raising the pistol again. "Oh,
Lawdy! Don't shoot, boy--don't shoot!
"Git down on yer knees! Now I want ye to beg fer mercy thet ye never
showed--thet ye wouldn't 'a' showed Steve... Purty good," he said,
encouragingly.
"Mebbe ye kin pray a leetle, seem' ez ye air a chu'ch member. Pray fer
yer enemies, Eli; Uncl' Gabe says ye must love yer enemies. I know how
ye loves me, 'n' I want yer to pray fer me. The Lawd mus' sot a powerful
store by a good citizen like you. Ax him to fergive me fer killin' ye."
"Have mercy, O Lawd," prayed Crump, to command--and the prayer was
subtle--"on the murderer of this Thy servant. A life fer a life, Thou
hev said, O Lawd. Fer killin' me he will foller me, 'n' ef Ye hev not
mussy he is boun' fer the lowes' pit o' hell, O Lawd--"
It was Isom's time to wince now, and Crump's pious groan was cut short.
"Shet up!" cried the boy, sharply, and he sat a moment silent. "You've
been a-spyin' on us sence I was borned, Eli," he said, reflectively.
"I believe ye lay-wayed dad. Y'u spied on Rome. Y'u told the soldiers
whar he was a-hidin' Y'u tried to shoot him from the bresh. Y'u found
out Steve was goin' to Breathitt on Sunday, 'n' you've jes made a blind
to shoot him in the back. I reckon thar's no meanness ye hain't done.
Dad's al'ays said ye sot a snare fer a woman once--a woman! Y'u loaded a
musket with slugs, 'n' tied a string to the trigger, 'n' stretched hit
'cross the path, 'n' y'u got up on a cliff 'n' whistled to make her slow
up jes when she struck the string. I reckon thet's yer wust--but I don't
know."
Several times Crump raised his hands in protest while his arraignment
was going on; several times he tried to speak, but his lips refused
utterance. The boy's voice was getting thicker and thicker, and he was
nervously working the cock of the big pistol up and down.
"Git up," he said; and Crump rose with a spring. The lad's tone meant
release.
"You hain't wuth the risk. I hain't goin' ter kill ye. I jus' wanted
ter banter ye 'n' make ye beg. You're a good beggar, Eli, 'n' a powerful
prayer. You'll be a shinin' light in the chu'ch, ef ye gits a chance ter
shine long. Fer lemme tell ye, nobody ever ketched ye afore. But you're
ketched now, an' I'm goin' to tell Steve. He'll be a-watchin' fer ye,
'n' so 'll I. I tell ye in time, ef ye ever come over hyeh agin as long
as you live, you'll never git back alive. Turn roun'! Hev ye got any
balls?" he asked, feeling in Crump's pockets for cartridges. "No;
well"--he picked up the Winchester and pumped the magazine empty--"I'll
keep these," he said, handing Crump the empty rifle. "Now git away--an'
git away quick!"
Crump's slouching footsteps went out of hearing, and Isom sat where he
was. His elbows dropped to his knees. His face dropped slowly into his
hands, and the nettles of remorse began to sting. He took the back of
one tremulous hand presently to wipe the perspiration from his forehead,
and he found it burning. A sharp pain shot through his eyes. He knew
what that meant, and feeling dizzy, he rose and started a little blindly
towards home.
Old Gabe was waiting for him. He did not answer the old man's querulous
inquiry, but stumbled towards a bed. An hour later, when the miller was
rubbing his forehead, he opened his eyes, shut them, and began to talk.
"I reckon I hain't much better 'n Eli, Und' Gabe," he said, plaintively.
"I've been abusin' him down thar in the woods. I come might' nigh
killin' him onct." The old man stroked on, scarcely heeding the boy's
words, so much nonsense would he talk when ill.
"I've been lyin' to ye, Uncl' Gabe, 'n' a-deceivin' of ye right along.
Steve's a-goin' atter ole Brayton--I'm goin' too--Steve didn't kill
Jass--hit wusn't Steve--hit wusn't Rome--hit was--" The last word stopped
behind his shaking lips; he rose suddenly in bed, looked wildly into the
miller's startled face, and dropping with a sob to the bed, went sobbing
to sleep.
Old Gabe went back to his pipe, and while he smoked, his figure shrank
slowly in his chair. He went to bed finally, but sleep would not come,
and he rose again and built up the fire and sat by it, waiting for day.
His own doctrine, sternly taught for many a year, had come home to him;
and the miller's face when he opened his door was gray as the breaking
light.