Some years since the old man had retired from the leadership,
because he was tired of fighting or because he had quarrelled with
his brother Dave and his foster-brother, Bad Rufe--known as the
terror of the Tollivers--or from some unknown reason, and in
consequence there had been peace for a long time--the Falins
fearing that Devil Judd would be led into the feud again, the
Tollivers wary of starting hostilities without his aid. After the
last trouble, Bad Rufe Tolliver had gone West and old Judd had
moved his family as far away as possible. Hale looked around him:
this, then, was the home of Devil Judd Tolliver; the little
creature inside was his daughter and her name was June. All around
the cabin the wooded mountains towered except where, straight
before his eyes, Lonesome Creek slipped through them to the river,
and the old man had certainly picked out the very heart of silence
for his home. There was no neighbour within two leagues, Judd
said, except old Squire Billy Beams, who ran a mill a mile down
the river. No wonder the spot was called Lonesome Cove.
"You must ha' seed Uncle Billy and ole Hon passin'," he said.
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