"Humph!" Old Buck Wolfe rose too. "Ef the' is sech a Bein' as you think the' is, Grandpap Singleton, the's a-goin' to be some o' the woolpullin'est times on the Day o' Jedgment ever you seed. I'd shore ruther take my chances as I'm a-takin' 'em; not as a damned coward, but as a onbeliever acause I hain't never had nothin' proved to me. Well, I've got a run o' yaller-cawn licker to take keer of, and I tharfore hain't got no more time to fool away wi' you. Tomorrow's a-goin' to be a busy day here in the basin, as shorely as you're knee-high to a tomtit. You better shell out fo' home, is my guess." "One more minute," begged Grandpap Singleton. "You shorely hain't a-goin' to give Little Buck any trouble in his lumber business, heh?" "He hain't got no lumber business," flatly. "I mean this here little railroad and the sawmill----" "Hain't I done said 'at they shain't come?" sourly. "You've knowed me long enough to know I keeps my word, hain't ye? And hain't I done told ye I've got a run o' licker to take keer of? You take my edvice, old man, and shell out fo' home." Grandpap Singleton realized that his mission had failed utterly. The disappointment was so great that it threw his feeble mind into one of its temporary breaks. He knelt and lifted his hands, with the Good Book clasped between them, and began to mutter unintelligibly. Old Buck Wolfe, in a sudden rage, struck down the palsied hands, and sent the Bible flying to the leaves; then he seemed sorry. He lifted old Singleton to his feet, and pointed toward the southern end of the basin. "Go on home," he said. The Prophet found his Bible and went off slowly, his shoulders drooping, his head bent low. The moonshiner turned to his mother, expecting another lashing from her sharp old tongue. "Begin!" he commanded. She said in tones so low that he barely heard, "My son, you'd ort to take off yore boots, acause you're a-standin' on ground that pore old man's knees made holy." Before he thought, Old Buck looked downward. He bent over, his eyes suddenly wide, his jaw hanging, and caught his breath quickly. Cut there in the tightly packed earth was the sign of the cross, about seven inches by five! "Who done that?" he roared, straightening like a jack-in-a-box. "What? Oh!" frightenedly. His mother, too, had seen the sign. "It's a warnin', Buck, honey--a warnin' to you!" [Illustration] She wrung her hands. Her son looked about him queerly. Cut in the bark of a nearby tree was the cross again, seven inches by five. And he remembered distinctly that Grandpap Singleton had placed one hand on that tree to steady himself as he went. "Who done that?" he roared again. "You, mother, you done it. Old Bill Singleton couldn't ha' done it without me a-seein' him. I'd ha' seed him, I tell ye!" "I didn't, Buck," came promptly. Granny Wolfe was quivering with a fear that was certainly genuine. "It's a warnin' to you--Buck, it's the crook o' His finger!"