As the speaking went forward, Red Newton cast his eyes about, and placed those of his kinsmen who were present. It had not been deemed advisable to have the clan largely represented, and it gave him pleasure to recognize that Falerins largely out-numbered Spooners. Later, when the question of self-defense and placing the responsibility arose, it would appear that the Falkins element had come en masse, and from this circumstance would arise a presumption of malice aforethought on their part. That would materially strengthen the Spooner defense. In dividing the mountain men into the two factions of Spooner and Falkins, Red followed the classification of the feud. The Falerins and Hulburts and their kindred were "Falkinses," though they bore other names, just as he himself, though a Newton, was nevertheless a Spooner. At the psychological moment, Red Newton stepped forward and violently dug his elbow into Jake Falerin's midriff. Falerin wheeled to see who was crowding him, and the eyes of the two mountaineers met in a glance which escaped the generality of upturned faces. So well did each understand what a quarrel between them must mean that Jake did not hedge an inch nor attempt to evade the issue. He planted his left fist on Red Newton's jaw, while he drew with his right. But Red Newton was the more prepared, though, as he reeled back under the blow, he would have fallen, had there been room to fall. As it was he leaned against the crowd, and fired from that position, just a fraction of a second before Falerin's weapon came free of the holster. It was only those directly at Red's back who saw the swift play, and to their eyes it bore the seeming of self-defense. In the same instant, the kinsman at Red Newton's shoulder fired on the attorney so suddenly that it looked as if he too were aiming at Falerin's head, instead of just to its side. Later in the afternoon, Black Pete, whose name had been mentioned to the commonwealth attorney by several of the Falerins, walked voluntarily into the office of that functionary. His demeanor was quiet and deeply grieved. Moreover, it was characterized by a show of frankness that was disarming. He said he would be glad to submit to a search--that he never went armed. He feared that in an indirect way, though entirely without his intent, he had been instrumental in bringing on the afternoon's deplorable tragedy. The commonwealth's attorney was astounded at this unsolicited statement, verging so closely on a confession, and felt impelled to warn the Deacon that he might yet find himself a defendant, and that whatever he said would be used against him. Had the Deacon been addicted to smiling he would have smiled then. As it was, he only nodded his head gravely, half sadly, as he stood there, his hands in his pockets, and his steady gray eyes unwaveringly holding those of his inquisitor.