The Panther rose with a quick, lithe motion, stretched out his hand to the head of a barrel near by, and the thread of light from the closed furnace door showed the glitter of steel. He came forward a few steps, walking with a certain sinewy grace and brandishing a heavy knife, his furious eyes gleaming with a strange green brilliance, all the more distinct in the half-darkened room. Then he paused, as with a new thought. “I won’t tech ye now,” he said, with a snarl, “but arter a while I’ll jes’ make ye ’low ez that thar church o’ yourn air safer with me in it nor it air with me out’n it. An’ then we’ll count it even.” He ceased speaking suddenly; cooler now, and with an expression of vexation upon his sharp features--perhaps he repented his hasty threat and his self-betrayal. After a moment he went on, but with less virulence of manner than before. “Ye kin take that thar empty jug o’ yourn an’ kerry it away empty. An’ ye kin take yer great hulking stack o’ bones along with it, an’ thank yer stars ez none of ’em air bruken. Ye air the fust man ever turned empty out’n this hyar still-house, an’ I pray God ez ye may be the las’, ’kase I don’t want no sech wuthless cattle a-hangin’ round hyar.” “I ain’t a-quarrelin’ with hevin’ ter go,” retorted Carter, with asperity. “I never sot much store by comin’ hyar nohow, ’ceptin’ Aaron an’ me, we war toler’ble frien’ly fur a good many year. This hyar still-house always reminded me sorter o’ hell, anyhow--whar the worm dieth not an’ the fire is not quenched.” With this Parthian dart he left the room, closing the door after him, and presently the dull thud of his horse’s hoofs was borne to the ears of the party within, again seated in a semicircle about the furnace. CHAPTER III After a few moments of vexed cogitation Aaron broke the silence, keeping, however, a politic curb on his speech. “’Pears ter me, John, ez how mebbe ’twould hev done better ef ye hedn’t said that thar ez ye spoke ’bout’n the church-house.” “Hold yer jaw!” returned the Panther, fiercely. “Who larned ye ter jedge o’ my words? An’ it don’t make no differ nohow. I done tole him nuthin’ ’bout’n the church-house ez the whole Ridge won’t say arterward, any way ez ye kin fix it.”