“Shet up,” said Arch Hawn sharply, and the boy wheeled on him.

“Yes, an’ you air a-helpin’ the furriners to rob yo’ own kin; you air a-doin’ hit yo’self.”

“Jason!”

The old man spoke sternly and the boy stopped, flushed and angry, and a moment later slipped from the room.

“Well!” said the colonel, and he laughed good-humoredly to relieve the strain that his host might feel on his account; but he was amazed just the same—­the bud of a socialist blooming in those wilds!  Arch Hawn’s shrewd face looked a little concerned, for he saw that the old man’s rebuke had been for the discourtesy to strangers, and from the sudden frown that ridged the old man’s brow, that the boy’s words had gone deep enough to stir distrust, and this was a poor start in the fulfilment of the purpose he had in view.  He would have liked to give the boy a cuff on the ear.  As for Mavis, she was almost frightened by the outburst of her playmate, and Marjorie was horrified by his profanity; but the dawning of something in Gray’s brain worried him, and presently he, too, rose and went to the back porch.  The rain had stopped, the wet earth was fragrant with freshened odors, wood-thrushes were singing, and the upper air was drenched with liquid gold that was darkening fast.  The boy Jason was seated on the yard fence with his chin in his hands, his back to the house, and his face toward home.  He heard the stranger’s step, turned his head, and mistaking a puzzled sympathy for a challenge, dropped to the ground and came toward him, gathering fury as he came.  Like lightning the Blue-grass lad’s face changed, whitening a little as he sprang forward to meet him, but Jason, motioning with his thumb, swerved behind the chimney, where the stranger swiftly threw off his coat, the mountain boy spat on his hands, and like two diminutive demons they went at each other fiercely and silently.  A few minutes later the two little girls rounding the chimney corner saw them—­Gray on top and Jason writhing and biting under him like a tortured snake.  A moment more Mavis’s strong little hand had the stranger boy by his thick hair and Mavis, feeling her own arm clutched by the stranger-girl, let go and turned on her like a fury.  There was a piercing scream from Marjorie, hurried footsteps answered on the porch, and old Jason and the colonel looked with bewildered eyes on the little Blue-grass girl amazed, indignant, white with horror; Mavis shrinking away from her as though she were the one who had been threatened with a blow; the stranger lad with a bitten thumb clinched in the hollow of one hand, his face already reddening with contrition and shame; and savage little Jason biting a bloody lip and with the lust of battle still shaking him from head to foot.

“Jason,” said the old man sternly, “whut’s the matter out hyeh?”

Marjorie pointed one finger at Mavis, started to speak, and stopped.  Jason’s eyes fell.

“Nothin’,” he said sullenly, and Colonel Pendleton looked to his son with astonished inquiry, and the lad’s fine face turned bewildered and foolish.