"Things hain't always as simple es they looks," he responded. "Matters air so shaped up, over thar in my neighbourhood, thet ef I had any fray with him, hit would bring on a feud war. I'm bounden in good conscience ter hold my hand, but I hain't got no sartainty he'll do ther like. Howsomever----" Bas rose and took up his hat, "I writ ter ye because I 'lowed a man ought ter aid ther law ef so be he could. Es fer my own perils, I hain't none terrified over 'em. I 'lowed I mout be able ter holp ye, thet's all." "I'm obleeged ter ye," said Turk again, "ye've already holped me in givin' us ther word of his wh'arabouts. I reckon I don't need ter tax ye no further. I don't believe he'll ever come back ter pester nobody in Kaintuck ergin." But both the Virginian and the Kentuckian had gathered more of meaning than had been put into words, and the impression was strong on Turk that the other wished to kill Parish in Virginia, if need be, because he dared not kill him in Kentucky. In that he had only an academic interest since he trusted his own agencies and plans, and some of them he had not divulged to Rowlett. As he rose to take leave of his new acquaintance he said abstractedly: "I'll keep ye posted erbout ther trial when co'te sots so thet afore hit eends up ye'll hev knowledge of what's happenin'--an' ef he _should_ chance ter come cla'r, ye'll know ahead of time when he's startin' back home. A man likes ter kinderly keep tabs on a feller he mistrusts." And that was all Bas needed to be told. One day during Rowlett's absence Parish met young Pete Doane tramping along the highway and drew him into conversation. "Pete," he suggested, "I reckon ye appreciates ther fact thet yore pappy's a mouty oncommon sort of man, don't ye?" The young mountaineer nodded his head, wondering a little at what the other was driving. "Folks leans on him an' trusts him," went on Thornton, reflectively. "Hit ought ter be a matter of pride with ye, Pete, ter kinderly foller in his footsteps." The son met the steady and searching gaze of his chance companion for only a moment before he shiftily looked away and, for no visible reason, flushed. "He's a mighty good man--albeit a hard one," he made answer, "but some folk 'lows he's old-fashioned in his notions." "Who 'lows thet, Pete--ther riders?" Young Doane started violently, then recovered himself and laughed away his confusion. "How'd I know what ther riders says?" he demanded. "We don't traffick with 'em none at our house." But Parish Thornton continued to bore with his questioning eyes into the other face until Pete fidgeted. He drew a pipe from one pocket and tobacco crumbs from another, but the silent and inquisitorial scrutiny disconcerted him and he could feel a hot and tell-tale flush spreading on his face and neck. Abruptly Parish Thornton admonished him in the quiet tone of decisiveness. "Quit hit, Pete! Leave them riders alone an' don't mix up with 'em no more."