"No," returned old Jephthah doggedly. "I won't make nor meddle. I've give you my best advice; I sont for Hawk an' Chantry, here, an' for Turn Broyles, to do the same. We've talked it over fa'r an' squar', aimin' to have ye do this thing right--" He broke off, and then amended sombrely, "--As near right as sech a thing can be did. But you-all boys run into this here agin' my ruthers, an' you'll jest have to git out yo'selves. All I say is, no killin', and no raidin' of folks' homes." "No _mo'_ killin', ye mean,--don't ye?" asked Jim Cal. The fat man, goaded beyond reason, was ready to turn and fight at last. "No, I don't," answered his father. "When I mean a thing I can find the words to say it without any advice. As for Blatch bein' killed--you boys think yo' mighty smart, but you'd show yo' sense to tote fair with me and tell me all that's goin' on. I wasn't born yesterday. I've seen interruptions and killin's befo' I seen any of you. An' I'll say right here in front o' yo' kinfolks that's come to he'p you out with their counsels--an' could do a sight better ef you'd tell 'em the truth--that I never did think it was likely that Creed Bonbright made away with a body inside of fifteen minutes. That tale's too big for me--but I'm askin' no questions. Settle it your own way--but for God's sake settle it. Him knowin' what he does an' havin' been did the way you boys have done him, he's got to go. Run him out--an' run him out quick. Don't you dare tell me how, nor when, nor what!" Judith started back as the sounds within told her that the men were groping their way to the door. As she stood concealed by darkness, they issued, made their quiet adieux, and went over to the fence where she could hear the stamping of the tethered animals. Cut off from the house, she retreated swiftly down the path toward the stable and would have entered, but some instinct warned her back. As she paused uncertain, hearing footsteps approaching from behind, indefinably sure that there was danger in front, there sounded a cautious low whistle. Those who came from the cabin answered it. She drew back beneath one of the peach-trees by the milking-pen--the very one from which Creed had broken the blossoming switch, with which she reproached him. Flat against its trunk she crouched, as six men went past her in the gloom. "Who's here?" demanded a voice like Blatch Turrentine's, and at the sound she began suddenly to shudder from head to foot. Then she pulled herself together. This was no ghost talking. It was the man himself. "Me," answered Jim Cal's unmistakable tones, "an' Wade, an' Jeff, an' Andy. Buck and Taylor's both with us--and that's all." The man within opened the grain-room door, and the six newcomers entered. "Whar's old man Broyles, an' Hawk an' Chantry?" questioned Blatch. "They rid off home," said Shalliday. "Well, what does Unc' Jep say?" demanded Blatch, plainly not without some anxiety. Before anyone could answer,