It was Dave Tolliver on horseback,
and Dave's right hand had kept hold of his bridle-reins.
"Hold on!" he said, lifting the other with a wide gesture of
peace. "I want to talk with you a bit." Still Hale watched him
closely as he swung from his horse.
"Come in--won't you?" The mountaineer hitched his horse and
slouched within the gate.
"Have a seat." Dave dropped to the steps.
"I'll set here," he said, and there was an embarrassed silence for
a while between the two. Hale studied young Dave's face from
narrowed eyes. He knew all the threats the Tolliver had made
against him, the bitter enmity that he felt, and that it would
last until one or the other was dead. This was a queer move. The
mountaineer took off his slouched hat and ran one hand through his
thick black hair.
"I reckon you've heard as how all our folks air sellin' out over
the mountains."
"No," said Hale quickly.
"Well, they air, an' all of 'em are going West--Uncle Judd,
Loretty and June, and all our kinfolks. You didn't know that?"
"No," repeated Hale.
"Well, they hain't closed all the trades yit," he said, "an' they
mought not go mebbe afore spring.
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