The voice did not come from within the cabin, but from behind it, where, as Bruce recollected, there was a bench under a shade tree.
Bruce put a hand against the cabin wall as a stay, for he found himself unexpectedly weak and violently trembling, and listened for the reply. It came at once in angry, grating tones:
“Then he’s one o’ them thar cussed revnoo fellers! Dad-burn my hide, ef he don’t wisht he’d never set hoof in these hyar mountings, ’fore he’s a week older! Ef he comes nosin’ ’round hyar, I won’t hev no more mercy on him’n I would a she-wolf!”
“Ef you recommember, Bob, thar war one hyar ’bout this time las’ year, too!” another and younger voice put in. “I reckon it air about time ter do a leetle shootin’!”
“That first one must be Nell’s father, for she said his name was Bob,” Browning reflected, straining his ears to catch every word. “I wonder if she is in the house and hears that?”
“It’s for you to say what you’ll do,” Ward Hammond purred. “I thought it my duty to tell you what I had discovered, for I can’t forget that you’re related to me, even though we live so differently. I could not bear the thought of seeing you dragged to jail, without so much as lifting a finger to prevent it.”
“We’re ’bleeged to you, Ward,” Bob Thornton confessed. “You never did seem like t’other big-bugs up ter ther village, an’ ’tain’t the fust time ye’ve put yerself out ter gimme a p’inter.”
“Blood is thicker than water, you know!” avowed Ward, “I always stand by those who are related to me. If you go gunning for that fellow, I want to warn you to keep your eyes open. He’s smart, and if you give him half a chance, he’ll strike you before you can strike him.”
“I don’t doubt he is ez sharp ez a steel trap,” Thornton admitted. “The guv’ment don’t send no other kind out ter hunt moonshiners, knowin’ ez how it wouldn’t be no sort o’ use.”
Bob Thornton got on his feet, and Ward Hammond closed the knife with which he had been whittling.