A FORTNIGHT later,court came.Rome was going to Hazlan,and the feeble old Stetson mother limped across the porch from the kitchen,trailing a Winchester behind her.Usually he went unarmed,but he took the gun now,as she gave it,in silence.
The boy Isom was not well,and Rome had told him to ride the horse.But the lad had gone on afoot to his duties at old Gabe Bunch's mill,and Rome himself rode down Thunderstruck Knob through the mist and dew of the early morning.The sun was coming up over Virginia,and through a dip in Black Mountain the foot-hills beyond washed in blue waves against its white disk.Alittle way down the mountain,the rays shot through the gap upon him,and,lancing the mist into tatters,and lighting the dew-drops,set the birds singing.Rome rode,heedless of it all,under primeval oak and poplar,and along rain-clear brooks and happy waterfalls,shut in by laurel and rhododendron,and singing past mossy stones and lacelike ferns that brushed his stirrup.On the brow of every cliff he would stop to look over the trees and the river to the other shore,where the gray line of a path ran aslant Wolf's Head,and was lost in woods above and below.
At the river he rode up-stream,looking still across it.Old Gabe Bunch halloed to him from the doorway of the mill,as he splashed through the creek,and Isom's thin face peered through a breach in the logs.At the ford beyond,he checked his horse with a short oath of pleased surprise.Across the water,a scarlet dress was moving slowly past a brown field of corn.The figure was bonneted,but he knew the girl's walk and the poise of her head that far away.Just who she was,however,he did not know,and he sat irresolute.He had seen her first a month since,paddling along the other shore,erect,and with bonnet off and hair down;she had taken the Lewallen path up the mountain.Afterward,he saw her going at a gallop on young Jasper's gray horse,bareheaded again,and with her hair loose to the wind,and he knew she was one of his enemies.He thought her the girl people said young Jasper was going to marry,and he had watched her the more closely.From the canoe she seemed never to notice him;but he guessed,from the quickened sweep of her paddle,that she knew he was looking at her,and once,when he halted on his way home up the mountain,she half turned in her saddle and looked across at him.
This happened again,and then she waved her bonnet at him.It was bad enough,any Stetson seeking any Lewallen for a wife,and for him to court young Jasper's sweetheart-it was a thought to laugh at.
But the mischief was done.The gesture thrilled him,whether it meant defiance or good-will,and the mere deviltry of such a courtship made him long for it at every sight of her with the river between them.At once he began to plan how he should get near her,but,through some freak,she had paid no further heed to him.
He saw her less often-for a week,in-deed,he had not seen her at all till this day-and the forces that hindrance generates in an imperious nature had been at work within him.The chance now was one of gold,and with his life in his hand he turned into the stream.Across,he could see something white on her shoulder-an empty bag.It was grinding~day,and she was going to the mill-the Lewallen mill.She stopped as he galloped up,and turned,pushing back her bonnet with one hand;and he drew rein.But the friendly,expectant light in her face kindled to such a blaze of anger in her eyes that he struck his horse violently,as though the beast had stopped of its own accord,and,cursing himself,kept on.A little farther,he halted again.Three horsemen,armed with Winchesters,were jogging along toward town ahead of him,and he wheeled about sharply.The girl,climbing rapidly toward Steve Bray-ton's cabin,was out of the way,but he was too late to reach the ford again.Down the road two more Lewallens with guns were in sight,and he lashed his horse into the stream where the water was deep.Old Gabe,looking from the door of his mill,quit laughing to himself;and under cover of the woods,the girl watched man and horse fighting the tide.Twice young Stetson turned his head.But his enemies apparently had not seen him,and horse and rider scrambled up the steep bank and under shelter of the trees.The girl had evidently learned who he was.Her sudden anger was significant,as was the sight of the Lewallens going armed to court,and Rome rode on,uneasy.
When he reached Troubled Fork,in sight of Hazlan,he threw a cartridge into place and shifted the slide to see that it was ready for use.Passing old Jasper's store on the edge of the town,he saw the old man's bushy head through the open door,and Lewallens and Braytons crowded out on the steps and looked after him.All were armed.Twenty paces farther he met young Jasper on his gray,and the look on his enemy's face made him grip his rifle.With a flashing cross-fire from eye to eye,the two passed,each with his thumb on the hammer of his Winchester.The groups on the court-house steps stopped talking as he rode by,and turned to look at him.He saw none of his own friends,and he went on at a gallop to Rufe Stetson's store.His uncle was not in sight.Steve Marcum and old Sam Day stood in the porch,and inside a woman was crying.Several Stetsons were near,and all with grave faces gathered about him.
He knew what the matter was before Steve spoke.His uncle had been driven from town.A last warning had come to him on the day before.The hand of a friend was in the caution,and Rufe rode away at dusk.That night his house was searched by men masked and armed.The Lewallens were in town,and were ready to fight.
The crisis had come.
