“Here I am, you ole idgit!”

“Stop!” shouted old Aaron, “I’ve lost my specs.”

“Whar?”

“I don’t know,” and as he dropped to his knees old Jason bent too to help him find his missing eyes.  Then they went at it again—­and the same cry came presently from old Jason.

“Stop, I’ve lost mine!”

And both being out of breath sat heavily down in the sand, old Jason feeling blindly with his hands and old Aaron peering about him as far as he could see.  And thus young Jason and young Aaron found them, and were utterly mystified until the old men rose creakily and got ready for battle again—­when both spurred forward with a shout of joy, and threw themselves from their horses.

“Go for him, grandpap!” shouted each, and the two old men turned.

“Uncle Aaron,” shouted Jason, “I bet you can lick him!”

“He can’t do it, Uncle Jason!” shouted Aaron.

Each old man peered at his own grandson, dumbfounded.  Neither was armed, both were helpless with laughter, and each was urging on the oldest enemy of his clan against his own grandfather.  The face of each old man angered, and then both began to grin sheepishly; for both were too keen-witted not to know immediately that what both really wished for had come to pass.

“Aaron,” said old Jason, “the boys have ketched us.  I reckon we better call this thing a draw.”

“All right,” piped old Aaron, “we’re a couple o’ ole fools anyhow.”

So they shook hands.  Each grandson helped the other’s grandfather laughingly on his horse. and the four rode back toward town.  And thus old Jason and old Aaron, side by side in front, and young Jason and young Aaron, side by side behind, appeared to the astonished eyes of Hawns and Honeycutts on the main street of the county-seat.  Before the Honeycutt store they stopped, and old Aaron called his henchman into the middle of the street and spoke vigorous words that all the Honeycutts could hear.  Then they rode to the Hawn store, and old Jason called his henchman out and spoke like words that all the Hawns could hear.  And each old man ended his discourse with a profane dictum that sounded like the vicious snap of a black-snake whip.

“By God, hit’s got to stop."’

Then turned the four again and rode homeward, and for the first time in their lives old Aaron and young Aaron darkened the door of old Jason’s house, and in there the jug went round the four of them, and between the best of the old order and the best of the new, final peace was cemented at last.

Jason reached the mines a little before dusk, and the old circuit rider lifted his eyes heavenward that his long prayer had been answered at last and the old woman rocked silently back and forth--her old eyes dimmed with tears.