Moses threw a meaning look toward Jimmy Claiborne. “We haven’t found out,” he said, with hot-headed emphasis, “but everybody has a suspicion. It was done by someone who had a grudge agin the ark and wanted to set it afire to spite Marion Royce. The ark’s built of such heavy timber that it wouldn’t burn easily, but if the shed burned the ark was bound to go with it. And it would have gone, too, if Jonas and Marion hadn’t saved it.”
“No one in the settlement would have taken such a revenge as that,” said Mrs. Royce.
“Just you wait and see,” said Mose. He was boiling with indignation. Not that he had anything against Jimmy Claiborne, himself. He was simply a born partisan. Whatever came up, he must take sides and, usually, come to blows to settle it. Until a blow had been struck, Mose seldom considered a matter disposed of. He bore upon his person the evidence that he lived up to his point of view. “I guess whoever did it will be found out pretty soon, and ’pears to me Fish Creek won’t be the place for him after that.”
The women who had joined in the growing disapproval of the Claibornes in regard to bringing a still into Fish Creek settlement found themselves embarrassed at having the prejudice taking such direct expression. They wished they had not all spoken so openly before those who were too young to reason or be discreet. It was Milly who saved the situation.
“I ought to go home,” she said. “Mother and the children are alone. Mose, are you coming?”
“I can’t,” said Mose. “I’ve got to help Marion. He wants me to be on hand. Mebby to-morrow he’ll want us to start up to Marietta to help cut the lumber, if the new hands don’t get there from Pittsburgh. The new brig’s keeping everyone busy over to Marietta.”
“Jimmy,” said Milly, “will you take me?”
Jimmy reached for a rifle that stood among several muskets in a rude rack near the fireplace. The Ayers’ clearing was one of the farthest away, and while the neighborhood had been safe from prowling Indians for over a year the men still went about armed at night. He looked carefully to the flint and priming, and taking it in his arm, waited for her while she said good night.
For awhile they trudged in silence. Mose’s ill-considered words were ringing in their ears. As they skirted the shipyard clearing they saw the men silhouetted against the burning heap of ruins. Jimmy gripped his rifle in a spasm of unreasoning hate. He wondered how little old Uncle Amasa could be among them; friendly, wise, harboring no resentment.
“Isn’t that Uncle Amasa, there by the maple tree?” asked Milly.