"I hope he kills them all!" she railed from the doorway. "Yes, and leaves them lay for the hogs!" She dodged into the house to renew her loud scolding and Hall settled down to wait. From the loop-hole in her kitchen Allifair could look out and see him, dimly outlined beneath the branches of the tree; but she could not come out until the battle was ended and Miz Zoolah had retired to her rest. From the bunk-house beyond and around the lighted kitchen, the watchdogs still bayed at the east; but no messenger came to bring news of the fighting and Mrs. Scarborough lingered on and on. At last the shooting stopped and the hounds challenged a galloping rider, who stayed to eat and then spurred away; and as midnight approached the house quieted down and a form came silently up the path. It was Allifair, her few clothes tied up in a bundle, turning nervously to look back at the house; and as Hall rose to meet her she ran to his arms and burst into long-repressed tears. "Oh, that woman!" she sobbed, "if she wasn't my own aunt----" And then she fell to weeping. "But anyway," she went on, "Bill and Winchester got away, and two or three men got shot. They're looking for them everywhere, and I suppose the trails will be watched--do you think we can get past their guards?" "We can try," answered Hall, "that is, if you wish. But perhaps it would be better if I came back for you later, when the excitement has kind of died down. You could hardly stand the journey now; this day has been too much." "Yes, it has," she acknowledged, sinking down on the ground and pillowing her head against his breast, "and yet--we are always putting it off. Back home we could have married, but you had to build our cabin first; and now--well, where could we go?" "I don't know," answered Hall, "because I'm a stranger in this country--I only know one trail out. And that trail will be guarded; so perhaps, after all----" "But you'll come back soon, won't you?" she murmured wearily. "I'm afraid I can't go now. The strain was too much for me, when I thought you were dead--something seemed to snap in my brain. But now listen, dear, please don't join in this fighting. Will you always remember me first? And think of our kinsfolk back there in Kentucky--and of all our happiness, too. Think how happy we could be if we were married at last and back in our own mountains again; and the Randolphs and McIvors, after all these years----" She stopped and sat bolt upright, a nervous tremor running through her, for Mrs. Scarborough had risen up before them. She held a pistol in one hand and behind her followed a dog which bristled at McIvor and growled.