"Yes, siree. I left putty quick after a while. You see, I hain't told you all of it yet. Them durn fellers come back one night, but I gits wind of it somehow, an' sends ther family away an' takes everything out an' puts ther stock in ther pasture,--nuthin's never hid from Peter Judson,--an' I lays out in ther bushes in a dark spot an' waits patiently. Long 'bout a little after midnight here they comes, 'bout a half-dozen strong, an' shot fire into my house an' barns so fast that afore I know'd what'd happened ther whole business was a flame o' fire. Seein' as how I couldn't do nuthin' ter save ther things, I jest waited till they gits through with their cussedness, an' then--what'd ye think? Afore they know'd what'd struck 'em I sent ther bullets from my Winchester a-flyin' after them like hot cakes, an' four o' them fell in their tracks, while ther two got away, an' all their hosses lit out down ther road, without riders, like lead shot out o' a cannon on ther field o' war." The old man spat out another wad of tobacco and put a fresh plug in his mouth. There was some hesitation before he spoke again. "You take it rather cool," said Wade, after a short silence. "Gotter, my boy. Them was terrible times 'round hyar, but ef I calkerlate right, we air in ther midst o' jest sich another time, right now." Old Peter Judson looked squarely into Wade's eyes, forcing the latter to turn his gaze. "Ye air a young man, Wade," said Judson, "an' I want ter give ye some advice, fust class advice, an' yer better take it, too. When ye dig a hole fer some other feller, be shore ye dig it so deep he cain't get out'n hit, an' then"--Peter was emphatic--"be shore ye don't git into that hole yerself. Hit's a durn sight easier, Wade, ter start somethin' than hit is ter stop it after ye onct git it started. D'ye mind that now?" "I believe I understand," said Wade, with a far-away look on his countenance. "I'll tell ye agin, young man, that yer Uncle Peter Judson's been through ther fires o' hell 'round this hyar mountain, an' he knows what he's talkin' 'bout. Afore mornin' ye'll see that cabin down yonder all aflames, lickin' ther very sky in an effort ter eat up ther stars." "What, mine, do you mean?" "Ther same, boy. Why, what makes yer look so durn funny? Hit's ther solid truth, God knows, Jack Wade, yer own cabin'll be ashes afore another sun rises over ther mountain. Ye have made a enemy out'n Al Thompson, an' nuthin' this side o' hell could stop him from a-killin' ye, ef ye don't git him fust. Ye needn't git upon yer high spirits an' think yer kin stop it, fer ye cain't. A fawty-hoss power gatlin'-gun woudn't stop them savages to-night, so jest be easy an' take it natural like, an' ye won't feel so bad when hit's all over. Me an' Tom'll go down with ye after awhile an' help ye put everything out in ther field, an' move ther stock ter a place o' safety, so's ter fool them fiends that much--"