Next day Jason carried over to Mavis and his mother the news of the
death of Colonel Pendleton, and while Mavis was shocked she asked no
question about Gray. The next day a letter arrived from Gray saying he
would not come back to the hills--and again Mavis was silent. A week
later Jason was made assistant superintendent in Gray's place by the
president of Morton Sanders' coal company, and this Jason knew was
Gray's doing. He had refused to accept the stock Gray had offered him,
and Gray was thus doing his best for him in another way. Moreover,
Jason was to be quartered in Gray's place at the superintendent's
little cottage, far up the ravine in which the boy had unearthed the
great seam of coal, a cottage that had been built under Gray's personal
supervision and with a free rein, for it must have a visitor's room for
any officer or stockholder who might come that way, a sitting-room with
a wood fireplace, and Colonel Pendleton had meant, moreover, that his
son should have all the comfort possible. Jason dropped on the little
veranda under a canopy of moon-flowers, exultant but quite overcome.
How glad and proud his mother would be--and Mavis. While he sat there
Arch Hawn rode by, his face lighted up with a humorous knowing smile.
"How about it?" he shouted.
"D'you have anything to do with this?"
"Oh, just a leetle."
"Well, you won't be sorry."
"Course not. What'd I tell ye, son? You go in now an' dig it out. And
say, Jason--" He pulled his horse in and spoke seriously: "Keep away
from town till little Aaron gets over his spree. You don't know it, but
that boy is a fine feller when he's sober. Don't you shoot first now.
So long."
The next day Jason ran upon Babe Honeycutt shambling up the creek. Babe
was fearless and cordial, and Jason had easily guessed why.
"Babe, my mammy told you something."
The giant hesitated, started to lie, but nodded assent.
"You haven't told anybody else?"
"Nary a livin' soul."
"Well, don't."
Babe shuffled on, stopped, called Jason, and came back close enough to
whisper:
"I had all I could do yestiddy to keep little Aaron from comin' up hyeh
to the mines to look for ye."
Then he shuffled away. Jason began to get angry now. He had no
intention of shooting first or shooting at all except to save his own
life, but he went straightway over the spur to get his pistol, Mavis
saw him buckling it on, he explained why, and the girl sadly nodded
assent.
Jason flung himself into his work now with prodigious energy. He never
went to the county-seat, was never seen on the river road on the
Honeycutt side of the ancient dead-line, and the tale-bearers on each
side proceeded to get busy again. The Hawns heard that Jason had fled
from little Aaron the morning Jason had gone back for his Commencement
in the Blue-grass. The Honeycutts heard that Aaron had been afraid to
meet Jason when he returned to the county-seat. Old Jason and old Aaron
were each cautioning his grandson to put an end to the folly, and each
was warning his business representative in town with commercial
annihilation if he should be discovered trying to bring on the feud
again. On the first county-court day Jason had to go to court, and the
meeting came. The town was full with members of both factions, armed
and ready for trouble. Jason had ridden ahead of his grandfather that
morning and little Aaron had ridden ahead of his. Jason reached town
first, and there was a stir in the Honeycutt hotel and store. Half an
hour later there was a stir among the Hawns, for little Aaron rode by.
A few minutes later Aaron came toward the Hawn store, in the middle of
the street, swaggering. Jason happened at that moment to be crossing
the same street, and a Hawn shouted warning.
Jason looked up and saw Aaron coming. He stopped, turned, and waited
until Aaron reached for his gun. Then his own flashed, and the two
reports sounded as one. One black lock was clipped from Jason's right
temple and a little patch flew from the left shoulder of Aaron's coat.
To Jason's surprise Aaron lowered his weapon and began working at it
savagely with both hands, and while Jason waited, Aaron looked up.
"Shoot ahead," he said sullenly; "it's a new gun and it won't work."
But no shot came and Aaron looked up again, mystified and glaring, but
Jason was smiling and walking toward him.
"Aaron, there are two or three trifling fellows on our side who hate
you and are afraid of you. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, the same thing is true about me of two or three men on your
side, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"They've been carrying tales from one side to the other. I've never
said anything against you."
Aaron, genuinely disbelieving, stared questioningly for a moment--and
believed.
"I've never said anything against you, either."
"I believe you. Well, do you see any reason why we should be shooting
each other down to oblige a few cowards?"
"No, by God, I don't."
"Well, I don't want to die and I don't believe you do. There are a lot
of things I want to do and a lot that you want to do. We want to help
our own people and our own mountains all we can, and the best thing we
can do for them and for ourselves is to stop this feud."
"It's the God's truth," said Aaron solemnly, but looking still a little
incredulous.
"You and I can do it."
"You bet we can!"
"Let's do it. Shake hands."
And thus, while the amazed factions looked on the two modern young
mountaineers, eye to eye and hand gripping hand, pledged death to the
long warfare between their clans and a deathless friendship between
themselves. And a little later a group of lounging Hawns and Honeycutts
in the porches of the two ancient hostile hotels saw the two riding out
of town side by side, unarmed, and on their way to bring old Aaron and
old Jason together and make peace between them.
The coincidence was curious, but old Aaron, who had started for town,
met old Jason coming out of a ravine only a mile from town, for old
Jason, with a sudden twitch of memory, had turned to go up a hollow
where lived a Hawn he wanted to see and was coming back to the main
road again. Both were dim-sighted, both wore spectacles, both of their
old nags were going at a walk, making no noise in the deep sand, and
only when both horses stopped did either ancient peer forward and see
the other.
"Well, by God," quavered both in the same voice. And each then forgot
his mission of peace, and began to climb, grunting, from his horse,
each hitching it to the fence.
"This is the fust time in five year, Jason Hawn, you an' me come
together, an' you know whut I swore I'd do," cackled old Aaron.
Old Jason's voice was still deep.
"Well, you've got yo' chance now, you old bag o' bones! Them two boys
o' ours air all right but thar hain't no manhood left in this hyeh war
o' ours. Hit's just a question of which hired feller gits the man who
hired the other feller. We'll fight the ole way. You hain't got a
knife--now?"
"Damn yo' hide!" cried old Aaron. "Do you reckon I need hit agin you?"
He reached in his pocket and tossed a curved-bladed weapon into the
bushes.
"Well," mumbled old Jason, "I can whoop you, fist an' skull, right now,
just as I allers have done."
Both were stumbling back into the road now.
"You air just as big a liar as ever, Jase, an' I'm goin' to prove it."
And then the two tottering old giants squared off, their big, knotted,
heavily veined fists revolving around each other in the old-fashioned
country way. Old Jason first struck the air, was wheeled around by the
force of his own blow, and got old Aaron's fist in the middle of the
back. Again the Hawn struck blindly as he turned, and from old Aaron's
grunt he knew he had got him in the stomach. Then he felt a fist in his
own stomach, and old Aaron cackled triumphantly when he heard the same
tell-tale grunt.
"Oh, yes, dad--blast ye! Come on agin, son."
They clinched, and as they broke away a blind sweep from old Jason
knocked Aaron's brassrimmed spectacles from his nose.
They fell far apart, and when old Jason advanced again, peering
forward, he saw his enemy silently pawing the air with his back toward
him, and he kicked him.
"Here I am, you ole idgit!"
"Stop!" shouted old Aaron, "I've lost my specs."
"Whar?"
"I don't know," and as he dropped to his knees old Jason bent too to
help him find his missing eyes. Then they went at it again--and the
same cry came presently from old Jason.
"Stop, I've lost mine!"
And both being out of breath sat heavily down in the sand, old Jason
feeling blindly with his hands and old Aaron peering about him as far
as he could see. And thus young Jason and young Aaron found them, and
were utterly mystified until the old men rose creakily and got ready
for battle again--when both spurred forward with a shout of joy, and
threw themselves from their horses.
"Go for him, grandpap!" shouted each, and the two old men turned.
"Uncle Aaron," shouted Jason, "I bet you can lick him!"
"He can't do it, Uncle Jason!" shouted Aaron.
Each old man peered at his own grandson, dumbfounded. Neither was
armed, both were helpless with laughter, and each was urging on the
oldest enemy of his clan against his own grandfather. The face of each
old man angered, and then both began to grin sheepishly; for both were
too keen-witted not to know immediately that what both really wished
for had come to pass.
"Aaron," said old Jason, "the boys have ketched us. I reckon we better
call this thing a draw."
"All right," piped old Aaron, "we're a couple o' ole fools anyhow."
So they shook hands. Each grandson helped the other's grandfather
laughingly on his horse, and the four rode back toward town. And thus
old Jason and old Aaron, side by side in front, and young Jason and
young Aaron, side by side behind, appeared to the astonished eyes of
Hawns and Honeycutts on the main street of the county-seat. Before the
Honeycutt store they stopped, and old Aaron called his henchman into
the middle of the street and spoke vigorous words that all the
Honeycutts could hear. Then they rode to the Hawn store, and old Jason
called his henchman out and spoke like words that all the Hawns could
hear. And each old man ended his discourse with a profane dictum that
sounded like the vicious snap of a black-snake whip.
"By God, hit's GOT to stop."'
Then turned the four again and rode homeward, and for the first time in
their lives old Aaron and young Aaron darkened the door of old Jason's
house, and in there the jug went round the four of them, and between
the best of the old order and the best of the new, final peace was
cemented at last.
Jason reached the mines a little before dusk, and the old circuit rider
lifted his eyes heavenward that his long prayer had been answered at
last and the old woman rocked silently back and forth--her old eyes
dimmed with tears.
Then Jason hurried over the hill and took to his mother a peace she had
not known even in her childhood, and a joy that she never dreamed would
be hers while she lived--that her boy was safe from blood-oaths, a life
of watchful terror, and constant fear of violent death. In Mavis's eyes
was deep content when the moon rose on the three that night. Jason
stayed a while after his mother was gone within, and, as they sat
silently together, he suddenly took one of her hands in both his own
and kissed it, and then he was gone. She watched him, and when his form
was lost in the shadows of the trees she lifted that hand to her own
lips.