While Lem ate his breakfast, he told his own sad story and, in turn, Bud and the negro poured into his ears the happenings of the past months. Nor did Buddy omit a single detail of these events. He began with the trapping of a brown bear, and ended with the rehearsal of that terrible fight at Junction City, as he exhibited the scars of that sanguine combat. "I air ole Cap Lutts' boy--hain't I, Lem?" he ended pridefully, probing for his brother's commendation. "Yo' sho' air, Buddy--an' I air powerful happy t' own yo' fo' my brother--yo' kin show pap's blood in yore veins any day--I 'low yo' kin hold th' mounting some day," lauded Lem, with an affectionate slap, "an' yore brother Lem'll git thet onery low-down Sap McGill fo' shootin' a boy--fo' shootin' my brother. He'll answer--same's th' revenuer. I was thinkin' o' leavin' fo' a spell, Buddy, but I'll not leave heah, as long as God Almoughty holds th' clouds over these hills, an' my heart beats--I'll not leave til' I kill 'em both--I won't--I won't leave." Worn and weary as he was, Lem did not wait to rest. He bathed his aching, swollen feet, and slipping on a pair of cow-hide moccasins, he hastened away with Buddy, to surprise Johnse Hatfield, and the faithful men at the still. And as he passed Eagle Crown, his eyes sought its lofty apex and his heart throbbed with a deep yearning. The vision of the absent girl who had gone out of his life and carried with her every fibre of joy that had hitherto woofed his existence--now stood before him with a vividness and insistency that eclipsed all previous visitations. In a measure, the surprise was turned upon himself, for they heard a shot and came suddenly upon Johnse Hatfield on the trail, crouching behind a boulder, his rifle still smoking, and peering keenly over into the laurel thicket below. When he looked up and beheld Lem, back again alive and well, he almost collapsed. Then the wild joy of Johnse's greeting merged swiftly into a grimmer enthusiasm as he said: "I plugged em at last, Lem." "Who?" "Th' revenuer--I jest plugged em," enlightened Johnse. "Burton?" cried Lem, unwilling to believe the news. "Shore," returned Johnse, "I stopped 'em thes time--I did." "Air yo' sho' he's kilt?" eagerly, as the three crouched behind the boulder. "He air," assured Johnse emphatically. "I kin tell the way a feller flops his wings when he air kilt an' when he air jest hurted--he war a snakin' round--an' I 'low he war a spyin' on yore house--he looked up an' seen me a watchin'--then he pulled on me--but I fired quicker'n him--I got em shore thes time, Lem." "Gawd'll Moughty!" muttered Lem, under his breath, "air thet cuss back thes quick--a houndin' me agin, thes soon?--but he tol' me he'd do hit--he said he wouldn't parley any----" "Who tol' yo?" "Burton." "When--yo' hain't meanin' thet yo' talked to that devil?" "I been in his jail all thes time."