Some day, of course, she must tell him exactly how responsible she had been for his failure, but just now she could not. He was wretched because he had not succeeded in repeating the infamy and the crime which had at first wrecked his life. By every theory of morals and every form of right-thinking he was beyond the pale of sympathy--and yet--Minerva Rawlins had in her veins enough of vendetta blood to understand that his suffering was genuine and that from his one view-point he had defaulted a debt of honor. It was a thing of her doing, a thing which, if need be, she would do again; but that did not prevent her seeing in the thin, haggard-faced boy, who watched the embers die to ashes, a creature for whom she could feel sorrow--even sympathy. Perhaps it was a sympathy too wide in its scope; but, if so, it was a criticism for which Christ, Lord of broad sympathies, might, possibly, have felt a leniency. * * * * * In the months that followed, Henry Falkins organized and drilled into some semblance of military form a company of militiamen. His men were enlisted from Falkins and Falerin territory, and, though he invited the Spooners to join them, the distance made it impracticable. Henry believed that by military training these people might be weaned from lawless intolerance to a rudimentary acceptance of discipline. One day, Newt Spooner, having ridden over to Jackson, saw these raw amateurs going through their manual of arms, and he stood at the side and sneered contemptuously as he watched. But the Deacon, who watched, too, did not sneer. With a constant diplomacy Black Pete had rehabilitated his reputation, and, if any of the Falkins clan still disbelieved in his sincerity, he was lonely in his scepticism. Men on both sides ceased to speak of the "truce," and called it by the more permanent name of "peace." But, reflected the far-sighted Deacon, there might come an outbreak some day, and then it would be no advantage to the Spooners to have a hundred Falkinses take to the brush with the high-power military rifles. It would be just as well, if this militia idea were a good one, to carry it further. The county should have not one company--but two. Over in the section where the Spooners held dominance, the second should be mustered. So, in the course of time, the Spooner platoons were duly organized and taken into the state guard. The Deacon himself consented only to become a sergeant. Yet, from the inception, it was the sergeant, rather than the captain or lieutenant, who dictated every matter of importance. The feeling between the erstwhile enemies had become outwardly so cordial that a challenge was given and accepted for a competitive drill, and Newt, who had at first scoffed and then yielded to the lure of the military, marched with his comrades the little matter of twenty miles to Jackson, bearing a Springfield rifle and wearing a state uniform.