THE FEUD.
"THAR ain't no call to keep watch at the loopholes," said their host
as the alarmed lads' glances kept wandering towards the dark openings.
"The dogs will tell we-alls if anyone tries to come near the cabin." He
leaned back in his chair in silence for a few minutes gazing into the
heart 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 in
the town, an' in the woods nigh about hyar. Each family had hit's own
little 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 cotton
with which they bought what things they needed that they didn't raise
themselves. We had a right tidy little schoolhouse. I went to hit two
terms 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 a
heap of company to me during the years since then. Each family had a
plenty to eat an' wear, an' thar warn't none that you could call real
poor people like I hearn tell you-alls have in the North. We used to
have dances and barbecues, an' picnics an' a right sociable time. The
town was started by two families, the Turners an' the Wrights--I'm
a Turner,--an' all the people about was kin to one or the other
family, which made everybody friendly and sociable with each other.
Hit was jis' a little Eden on earth, this place, 'till the serpent
came twisting an' crawlin' in. The devil must have sho' had a hand in
making some of the men folks believe that the Good Lord intended the
honest 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 the
Turners an' Wrights get together an' start a little whiskey still over
thar 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. Hit
was Christmas week that the still was started goin', an' Christmas Eve
the 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 as
they called hit, but mammy she was a good, religious woman, she staid
at home an' kept me with her. She would have liked to keep the other
boys with her too, but they had grown out of her control as boys
sometimes do." His bronzed face grew sadly thoughtful, as he continued,
"I recollect, I cried because I couldn't go too, but mother sang to me
an' tole me stories--mother was a powerful hand at telling the kind of
stories 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 heard
mammy 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 sheet
an' I'll never forget the look on mammy's face. Hit seemed as if she
knowed without a word from daddy what had happened. Thar was a curious
tremble in her voice as she asked, 'Whar's Ben?' At the sound of her
voice 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 his
mind, while the two lads looked at each other with sympathetic horror.
"No one seemed to know just how the trouble started," went on their
host, quietly. "All hands had taken a little too much liquor, there had
been a few hot words, a blow, an' Ben had keeled over with a knife in
his 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 as
mammy was, she begged 'em not to shed no more blood but to leave it
to the cotes, for mammy, as I have said, was a religious woman. But
both Wrights and Turners came first from the mountains of Kentucky
whar man don't go to law again' man but settles his quarrels with his
rifle, An' so the blood-feud began. Thar was more than Ben killed that
night,--Wrights as well as Turners. When all had sobered up from the
liquor thar came a kind of lull or truce, but war always bruk out again
when either families got to drinkin'. They got Abe the followin' year,
but not 'fore he had shot a couple of Wrights. Hit was three years
afore they got father. Mother, she pined away an' died soon after they
got him. I think she was kinder glad to go, such things are wearin' on
a woman. An' so the killin's been goin' on ever since by spells when
the liquor gets to flowin'. I am the only Turner alive, now, though
thar's a few of my kin still scattered around hyar. I've been shot at
a 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 took
no part in any of the killin's. I've shot a couple of times to scare
them away but not to kill. My own kin 'lows that I'm poor-spirited, but
somehow or other, I can't forget the look on mammy's face the night
Ben was killed. I don't want to be the cause of puttin' no such look
on any woman's face. I've knowed all these years though that my time
must come sooner or later. I heard to-day that the Wrights have got in
a lot of liquor from Tarpon Springs an' they are sayin' that the last
Turner has got to be wiped out of Judson. So, I got me in a store of
water an' grub an' fixed to lay low for awhile. I may be able to hold
out until their liquor is gone an' the danger is past, but I reckon hit
doan' make so powerful much of difference. They air plum' sho' to get
me sooner or later. Wall, that's the story, young fellows, hit's been
a right smart relief to have someone sympathetic to tell hit to. Don't
you worry none though. As soon as comes mornin' I'll hist a flag of
truce an' arrange to have you fellows let out peaceful. You can take
my 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 Tarpon
Springs. Some of my kin folks kin bring the sloop back from thar."
"You are very good," Charley exclaimed. "But tell me why you have never
left this awful place. There are hundreds of places where you could
have 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 is
home, no other place could be that."
"I see," said Charley, much abashed.
"I am proud to have met you, Mr. Turner," declared Walter, warmly. "I
think you are a noble man."
"No? I sho' reckon you is mistaken," said the man in surprise. "Me
noble? I reckon not. My own kin 'lows I'm mighty poor-spirited 'cause I
won't take no hand in the killin'."
"I don't care a cent what your kin says," began Walter, hotly, but he
was interrupted by the crack of a rifle, the whistle of a bullet, and
the howl of a dog outside.
His host winced as if the bullet had struck his own body. "They've
killed 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, hit
ain'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 eyes
flashing as he listened to the whining of the animals outside. At last,
heedless of the bullets pattering against the logs, he flung the door
wide open and called to the hounds. They came crowding in, a whining,
mangy, ill-looking pack, but disreputable as they were, they had been
the man's only friends through his lonely years and the two lads
respected him for his act.
As soon as he had bolted the door again, he rummaged in a corner and
brought 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 said
quietly. "You-alls can take the ones at the ends, I'll tend to the
sides. Be right careful 'bout standin' in front of 'em, a bullet might
pass through. An' don't shoot to kill if you can help it."
"An' his kin people call that man poor-spirited," whispered Walter in
wonder to his chum as they took up their positions.