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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"


"All right, I will, thank you." At once she ran to the kitchen and
the old man rose and pulled a bottle of white liquid from under
the quilts.
"I reckon I can trust ye," he said. The liquor burned Hale like
fire, and the old man, with a laugh at the face the stranger made,
tossed off a tumblerful.
"Gracious!" said Hale, "can you do that often?"
"Afore breakfast, dinner and supper," said the old man--"but I
don't." Hale felt a plucking at his sleeve. It was the boy with
the dagger at his elbow.
"Less see you laugh that-a-way agin," said Bub with such deadly
seriousness that Hale unconsciously broke into the same peal.
"Now," said Bub, unwinking, "I ain't afeard o' you no more."


V

Awaiting dinner, the mountaineer and the "furriner" sat on the
porch while Bub carved away at another pine dagger on the stoop.
As Hale passed out the door, a querulous voice said "Howdye" from
the bed in the corner and he knew it was the step-mother from whom
the little girl expected some nether-world punishment for an
offence of which he was ignorant. He had heard of the feud that
had been going on between the red Falins and the black Tollivers
for a quarter of a century, and this was Devil Judd, who had
earned his nickname when he was the leader of his clan by his
terrible strength, his marksmanship, his cunning and his courage.


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