“Old chap.”
“Closer!”
York bent his head toward the slowly fading face.
“Do ye mind that morning?”
“Yes.”
A gleam of fun slid into the corner of Scott's blue eye, as he whispered,—
“Old man, thar WAS too much saleratus in that bread.”
It is said that these were his last words. For when the sun, which had so often gone down upon the idle wrath of these foolish men, looked again upon them reunited, it saw the hand of Scott fall cold and irresponsive from the yearning clasp of his former partner, and it knew that the feud of Sandy Bar was at an end.