THE star and the crescent were swinging above Wolf's Head,and in the dark hour that breaks into dawn a cavalcade of Lewallens forded the Cumberland,and galloped along the Stetson shore.At the head rode young Jasper,and Crump the spy.
Swift changes had followed the court-house fight.In spite of the death of Rufe Stetson from his wound,and several other Stetsons from ambush,the Lewallens had lost ground.Old Jasper's store had fallen into the hands of creditors -"furriners "-for debts,and it was said his homestead must follow.In a private war a leader must be more than leader.He must feed and often clothe his followers,and young Jasper had not the means to carry on the feud.The famine had made corn dear.He could feed neither man nor horse,and the hired feudsmen fell away,leaving the Lewallens and the Braytons and their close kin to battle alone.So Jasper avoided open combat and resorted to ambush and surprise;and,knowing in some way every move made by the Stetsons,with great daring and success.It was whispered,too,that he no longer cared who owned what he might want for himself.Several dark deeds were traced to him.In a little while he was a terror to good citizens,and finally old Gabe asked aid of the Governor.Soldiers from the settlements were looked for any day,and both factions knew it.At the least this would delay the war,and young Jasper had got ready for a last fight,which was close at hand.
Half a mile on the riders swerved into a wooded slope.There they hid their horses in the brush,and climbed the spur stealthily.The naked woods showed the cup-like shape of the mountains there-a basin from which radiated upward wooded ravines,edged with ribs of rock.In this basin the Stetsons were encamped.The smoke of a fire was visible in the dim morning light,and the Lewallens scattered to surround the camp,but the effort was vain.A picket saw the creeping figures;his gun echoed a warning from rock to rock,and with yells the Lewallens ran forward.Rome sprang from his sleep near the fire,bareheaded,rifle in hand,his body plain against a huge rock,and the bullets hissed and spat about him as he leaped this way and that,firing as he sprang,and shouting for his men.Steve Marcum alone answered.Some,startled from sleep,had fled in a panic;some had run deeper into the woods for shelter.And bidding Steve save himself,Rome turned up the mountain,running from tree to tree,and dropped unhurt behind a fallen chestnut.Other Stetsons,too,had turned,and answering bullets began to whistle to the enemy,but they were widely separated and ignorant of one another's position,and the Lewallens drove them one by one to new hiding-places,scattering them more.
To his right Rome saw Steve Marcum speed like a shadow up through a little open space,but he feared to move,for several Lewallens had recognized him,and were watching him alone.He could not even fire;at the least exposure there was a chorus of bullets about his ears.In a moment they began to come obliquely from each side-the Lewallens were getting around him.In a moment more death was sure there,and once again he darted up the mountain.The bullets sang after him like maddened bees.He felt one cut his hat and another sting his left arm,but he raced up,up,till the firing grew fainter as he climbed,and ceased an instant altogether.Then,still farther below,came a sudden crash of reports.Stetsons were pursuing the men who were after him,but he could not join them.The Lewallens were scattered everywhere between him and his own man,and a desccnt might lead him to the muzzle of an enemy's Winchester.So he climbed over a ledge of rock and lay there,peeping through a crevice between two bowlders,gaining his breath.The firing was far below him now,and was sharp.Evidently his pursuers were too busy defending themselves to think further of him,and he began to plan how he should get back to his friends.But he kept hidden,and,searching the cliffs below him for a sheltered descent,he saw something like a slouched hat just over a log,scarcely fifty feet below him.
Presently the hat was lifted a few inches;a figure rose cautiously and climbed toward the ledge,shielding itself behind rock and tree.Very quietly Rome crawled back to the face of the cliff behind him,and crouched behind a rock with his cocked rifle across his knees.The man must climb over the ledge;there would be a bare,level floor of rock between them-the Lewallen would be at his mercy-and Rome,with straining eyes,waited.There was a footfall on the other side of the ledge;a soft clink of metal against stone.The Lewallen was climbing slowly-slowly.Rome could hear his heavy breathing.A grimy hand slipped over the sharp comb of the ledge;another appeared,clinched about a Winchester-then the slouched hat,and under it the dark,crafty face of young Jasper.
Rome sat like the stone before him,with a half-smile on his lips.
Jasper peered about with the sly caution of a fox,and his face grew puzzled and chagrined as he looked at the cliffs above him.
"Stop thar!"
He was drawing himself over the ledge,and the low,stern voice startled him,as a knife might have done,thrust suddenly from the empty air at his breast.Rome rose upright against the cliff,with his resolute face against the stock of a Winchester.
"Drap that gun!"
The order was given along Stetson's barrel,and the weapon was dropped,the steel ringing on the stone floor.Rome lowered his gun to the hollow of his arm,and the two young leaders faced each other for the first time in the life of either.
Seem kinder s'prised to see me,"said the Stetson,grimly."Hev ye got a pistol?
Young Jasper glared at him in helpless ferocity.
"Naw!"
"Knife?"
He drew a long-bladed penknife from his pocket,and tossed it at Rome's feet.
"Jes'move over thar,will ye?"
The Lewallen took his stand against the cliff.Rome picked up the fallen rifle and leaned it against the ledge.
