“But you said he got there first!” said the boy.  “Did he shoot some one in your family?”

“Wa’al, yes, he did,” the mountaineer admitted “Yo’ never knew the one.  He was my brother-in-law,—­Ab’s younges’ sister’s first husband.  He had been married jes’ two months, an’ was only a hundred yards from this house when Isaac shot him.”

“How did you know for sure that it was Howkle who had done the shooting?” asked Hamilton.

“We didn’t know for sure, at first.  A week or two after, a boy from the Wilshes’ place come up with a message sayin’ that Isaac Howkle had tol’ him to say that he’d get the ol’ man nex’ time.”

“I shouldn’t have thought a boy would have had the nerve to bring such a message,” said Hamilton thoughtfully.  “Wouldn’t bringing word like that look like taking sides, and wouldn’t it bring his own family into the trouble!”

The old man shook his head in instant denial.

“Po’ white trash from the gullies,” he said, “no, they don’t count one way or the other.”

“What happened after you got that message?” asked the boy.

“Nothin’ much, for a while, though I was snoopin’ aroun’ the mount’ns consid’rable.  I met the brothers sev’ral times, an’ I know they could have had me.  But I had nothin’ against them, nor they me, an’ so it was jes’ left to Isaac an’ me.  Once I found him over near our pasture, but he saw me an’ got into cover.  At last I found him in the open near our house again, an’ in easy range.”

“Did you fire right away?” asked Hamilton excitedly.

“I didn’t shoot.  I got a lead on him, sure, but I jes’ couldn’t shoot without warnin’ him.  It seemed kind o’ mean to shoot him unawares, an’ as I didn’t want to take an unfair advantage, I shouted to him.  It was pretty far off to be heard, but I could see that he recognized me.  I was only waitin’ long enough to let him get his gun to his shoulder when some one fired jes’ behin’ me.  Howkle’s bullet went through my arm, but he dropped in his tracks.  He thought I had shot him but my gun was never fired off.”

“Who was it that fired, Uncle Eli!”

“The brother o’ the young fellow he had shot befo’.”

“Was he dead?” asked the boy.

“Wa’al,” said the mountaineer, a little grimly, “I didn’ go down to see an’ wait aroun’ ’till all his friends gathered.  But I reckon he was dead when they found him later.”

“And the brothers?”

“They never came into the story at all.  I’m jes’ mentionin’ this to yo’ to show yo’ that thar’s reason in my advisin’ yo’ to keep clar o’ this district.  If you’re reckonin’ on doin’ census work, yo’ go somewhar that you’re not known to any one.  Thar’s trouble enough even for a stranger in the mount’ns, an’ a stranger would find it easier than any one else.”

“Why is that, Uncle Eli?” asked the boy.

“In the first place, yo’ can’t show discourtesy to a stranger, an’ yo’ know that if he doesn’ do things jes’ the way yo’ like to have ’em done, it’s because he doesn’ know, an’ so he’s not to blame.  I like your spirit about the census, Hamilton,” the old mountaineer continued, “an’ if yo’ can give the gov’nment any service, I reckon yo’d better try, but leave the mount’n districts either to popular favorites or to a stranger.”