Tombstone epitaph., 1917-01-21
brother ~as moro soiemnly being nodded by the Havey chief.

was the nearest spot to the dwelling of Bad Anse Havey where grist' could be ground to meal. and sometimes when Jeb came over to the brick house he would volunteer to throw upon his shoulders the sack of corn and plod with it up across the ridges. He would sit there in the dusty old mill while the slow wheel groaned and creaked and the cumbersome millstones did their slow stint of work.
 So one day. toward the end of Au' gust, Juanita. who had climbed up the path to the poplar to look over her battlefield and renew her vows. saw Jeb sturdily plodding his way in long, resolute strides through the woods toward the mill, . heavy sack upon his shoulders and a rifle swinging at his side.
 | That day chance had 1t that no one else had come to mill and Bob Nc Greegor had persuaded the boy to drink from the "leetle blue kag" until his mind was ripe for mischief. While the mill slowly ground out his meal Jeb McNash sat on a pile of rubbish in the gloomy shack. nursing his knees in interlocked fingers. Old Bob drank and stormed and cursed the in. ertia of the present generation. The lads lean fingers tautened and gripped themselves more tensely and his eyes began to smolder and blaze with . wicked light as he listened.
 "Ye looks like a right stand-up sort of a boy. Jeb." growled the old fire. eater who had set more than Q few couples at each others throats. An l reckon hits all right. too. fer a fel. Ter ter bide his time. but hit pears ter me like ther men of these days don't do nothin' but bide thar time"
 T won't bide mine no longer than what l has ter" snapped the boy "Anse lows ter tell me when he finds out who hit war thet got my pap. Thet's all 1 needs ter know"
 Old Bob shook his head knowingly and laughed in his tangled beard. '1 reckon Anse Havey1l take his lei. sure. He's got other fish to fry. He's a-thinkin' bout bigger things than yore grievance. son"
 The boy rose, and his voice came very quietly and ominously from sud denly whitened lips. What does ye mean by thet, Uncle Bob?" "Mebby l don't mean nothin' much. Then ergin mebby 1 could give ye a pretty good idee who kilt yore pap. Mebby l could tell ye bout a feller- feller thet hain't fur removed from crost ther ridge ther same day yore pap died with a rife-gun 'crost his elbow and his pockets strutty with cartridges"
 Who war he?" came the tense de- mand with the sudden snap of rife fire. Who war thet feller?"
 Old Bob filled and lighted his pipe with fingers that had grown unsteady from the ministration of the Hectic blue kag." He laughed again in a | drunken fashion.
 "Ef Bad Anse Havey don't low ter tell ye, son." he artfully demurred. T reckon hit wouldn't hardly be becomin' i Ter me ttE Uduit HIS Ndms- i The boy picked up his battered hat. Give me my grist," he said shortly. He stood by. breathing heavily but silently while the sack was being tied. thea, putting 1t down by the door. he wheeled and faced the older man.
 Now ye're a-goin' ter tell me what needs ter know" he said quietly. "or I'm a-goin' ter kill ye whar ye stands" |" Uncle Bob laughed. He had meant all the while to impart that succulent bit of information. which was no infor- nation at all, but mischief-making sus- picion. He had held oil only to infu- riate and envenom the boy with the cumulative force Of climax.
 Hit warn't nobody but" After a pause he went on. but old Milt Me Briar's own son, Young Milt"
 "Thet's all." said Jeb soberly: I'm obleeged ter ye."
 He went out with the sack on his shoulders and the rife under his arm but when he had reached a place in the woods where blind trail struck back he deposited his sack carefully under a ledge of overhanging rock. for the clouds were mounting and banking now in a threat of rain and 1t was not his own meal, so he must be careful of its safety.
 Then he crossed the ridge until he came to a point where the thicket grew down close and tangled to the road. He had seen Young MiIt going west along that road this morning and by nightfall he would be riding back. The gods of chance were playing into his hands.
 So he lay down, closely hugging the earth, and cooked his rife. For hours he crouched there with unspeakable patience, while his muscles cramped and his feet and hands grew cold un- der the pelting of a rain which was strangely raw and chilling for the sea. son. The sun sank in an angry bank of thunder-heads and the west grew lurid. The drenching downpour blind. ed him and trickled down his spine un- der his clothes, but at last he saw the figure he awaited riding a horse he knew. It was the same roan mare that Bad Anse had restored to Milt Mo Briar
 When young Milt rode slowly by. fifty yards away, with his mount at q walk and his reins hanging. he was untroubled by any anxiety. because he