Every bitter, biting word flung from his grandfather’s lips cut Dannie to the heart. It was almost as though his own father was being insulted and assailed. It drew from him denial and protest as strong almost as the old man’s denunciation. “You don’t know ’im!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t see ’im! He’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t do a mean thing to save ’is life! Why, Gran’pap, he’s the one who was big hearted enough to run around your graveyard.” “Sure! sure! I forgot that. You’re right, Dannie. He’s a gentleman.” With the remembrance of that gracious act the old man’s anger suddenly cooled. In the momentary silence that followed, Gabriel found another opportunity to take up the broken thread of his disclosure. “Yes,” he went on, as unconcernedly as though the subject had proved to be the most commonplace in the world to both his listeners, “as ol’ Isra’l Pidgin use to say, ‘Possession is ten p’ints o’ the law when it’s a railroad that’s got it.’ An’ them D. V. & E. fellers ain’t a-goin’ to let t’other company git the start of ’em on ary one o’ them ten p’ints.” “What do you mean by that, Gabriel? Speak!” The old man was getting excited again. “W’y, David Brown says ’at they’re a-comin’ on next Monday mornin’ to begin buildin’ their railroad. To-day’s Saturday. David says that’s straight. He says the fust thing they’re a-goin’ to do is to cut a grade through the graveyard, an’ make sure o’ that ’fore you back out, or ’fore you law ’em out. David says ’at it’ll go about three foot deep through the knoll in the middle, an’ make a bank about three foot high to’rd the wall on the east. David says ’at fifty feet wide’ll take in the monument an’ half a dozen more graves an’ gravestones, an’ likely they’ll rip ’em all out o’ the way ’fore they’ve ben to work there two hours.” Gabriel had saved his heavy gun till the last, and now that he had fired it successfully, he leaned forward in his chair, placed his chin in his hands, and gazed into the wasting fire with a calmness born of joyful expectancy. But there was no response to his statement. Dannie was gazing in silent and dreadful apprehension at his grandfather, yet the anticipated outburst of passion from the old man’s lips did not come. Instead, he walked slowly out into the kitchen, and reaching up to the west wall above the mantel, he took down from its hooks the old but trustworthy double-barrelled shot-gun that had served him for thirty years and more, and examined lock, trigger, breech, and muzzle as carefully as though he were about to defend his own life. CHAPTER VI When Abner Pickett took down his gun from its hooks that Saturday night, and examined it, he had already determined what he should do if any attempt were made to grade the bed for a railroad through his graveyard; and his determination was in no way changed as he thought over the situation in his calmer moments on Sunday.