He seized up an axe which had been lying at his feet and swung it above his head. Poised in that posture of arrested action, his final words were defiantly thundered out. "I've done took my oath ter hang these things like dead snakes along ther highway fer all men ter see. They stands accountable fer poverty an' squalor an' bloodshed. Because of ther pestilence they've brought an' ther prosperity they've turned away--they've got ter go." The ax crashed down in stroke after stroke upon the coiled thing at his feet, gashing it into destruction as the crowd broke into a restive shuffling of feet and looked on in dismay--as yet too dumfounded for open protest. "My God, Bear Cat's done gone crazed," whispered a man on the outskirts of the crowd. "He's plumb fittified." Slowly the spell of astonishment began to give way to a fuller realization of the heresy that had been preached and which had appalled them by its audacity. Comparatively few of them were actual moonshiners but at other times many of them had been--and their spirit was defense of their institutions. Yet the face of this young man, bred to their own traditions, was fired with an ardor amazingly convincing and dauntless. In many of the elder heads had glimmered a germ of the same thought that Bear Cat had put into hot words; glimmered in transient consideration, to be thrust back because the daring needed for its expression was lacking. Here was Bear Cat Stacy boldly proclaiming his revolutionary purpose in advance because he wished to be fair; announcing that if need arose he would wage war on his enemies and his friends alike in its fulfilment. It would take a bold spirit to volunteer aid--and yet there were those whose only objection to the crusade was its mad impracticability. There were others, too, who, as Bear Cat had prophesied, would fight such vandal menace to the death. So, after the first spell-bound pause, a threatening growl ran through the crowd and then like a magpie chorus broke and swelled the babel of discussion. Out of it came a dominating note of disappointment--almost disgust--for the leader to whom they had loyally rallied. Kinnard Towers stood for a while appraising their temper, then his lips parted in a smile that savored of satisfaction. "So Bear Cat Stacy goes dry!" he exclaimed with a contemptuous tone intended to be generally overheard. Then in a lower voice he added for Turner's ear alone: "Son, ye've done made a damn' fool of yoreself, but hit hain't hardly fer me ter censure ye. Hit suits me right well. Afore this day I feared ye mout be troublesome ter me, but ye've done broke yore own wings. From this time forward ye hain't nothin' but an eaglet thet kain't rise offen ther ground. I was sensibly indignant whilst ye blackguarded me a while ago--but now I kin look over hit. I reckon yore own people will handle ye all right, without any interference from me."