“Riggs wanted him to tie up the pig,” he would explain. “You know Evered does not do that. He says they will not bleed properly, tied. He did not argue with the man, but Riggs persisted in his drunken way, and cursed Evered to his face, till I could see the blood mounting in the butcher’s cheeks. He is a bad-tempered man, always was.
“He turned on Riggs and told the man to hush; and Riggs damned him. Evered knocked him flat with a single fist stroke; and while Riggs was still on the ground Evered turned and got the pig by the ears and slipped the knife into its throat, in that smooth way he has. When he drew it out the blood came after; and Evered turned to Riggs, just getting on his feet.
“‘There’s your pig,’ said Evered. ‘Butchered right. Now, man, be still.’
“Well, Riggs took a look at the pig and another at Evered. He was standing by the chopping block, and his hand fell on the ax stuck there. Before I could stir he had lifted it, whirling it, and was sweeping down on Evered.
“It was all over quick, you’ll mind. Riggs rushing, with the ax whistling in the air. Then Evered stepped inside its swing, and drove at Riggs’ head. I think he forgot he had the knife in his hand. But it was there; his hand drove it with the cunning that it knew—at the forehead of the other man.
“I mind how Riggs looked, after he had dropped. On his back he was, the knife sticking straight up from his head. And it still smeared with the pig’s blood, dripping down on the dead man’s face. Oh, aye, he was dead. Dead as the pig, when it quit its walking round in a little, and laid down, and stopped its squeal.”
Someone asked him once, when he had told the tale: “Where was Riggs’ wife? Married, wa’n’t he?”
“In the house,” said Motley. “The boy was there, though. He’d come to see the pig stuck, and when he saw the blood come out of its throat he yelled and run. So he didn’t have to see the rest—the knife in his father’s head.”
There had been no prosecution of Evered for that ancient tragedy. Motley’s story was clear enough; it had been self-defense at the worst, and half accident besides. Riggs’ wife went away and took her son, and Fraternity knew them no more.
They conned over this ancient tale of Evered in Will’s store that night; and some blamed him, and some found him not to blame. And when they were done with that story they told others; how when he was called to butcher sheep he had a trick of breaking their necks across his knee with a twist and a jerk of his hands. There was no doubt of the man’s strength nor of his temper.