All went well until late in the afternoon when the framework of the barn had been put in place. The settlers had drunk unusual quantities of their favorite beverage, and were ready for frolic or fight. Just then Alan Barker, a scion of the noted family, belonging to that branch living in Pigeon Creek, began expatiating on the charms, graces and virtues of a fair lassie bearing the euphonious and patriotic name of America Virginia Stubbins, and closed his eulogy by saying she was "de sweetest, prettiest, best and likeliest gal in all Kentuck," and he could "whip any man in de crowd who dared to deny it." Young "Buck" Wiles took up the dare, partly because he despised the whole Barker crew, partly because he had a tender feeling toward the same lass, and was therefore jealous of Alan Barker, but mostly because whisky had fired his brain. So he discounted Alan Barker's fervid descriptions, and averred that the same America Virginia Stubbins possessed a homely face and little sense.
This was the spark which exploded the magazine. Alan Barker, stung to anger and madness, sprang upon "Buck" Wiles, and the two men clenched in a desperate struggle. However, it was not the way of the times to confine the settling of disputes to the "manly art" of bare fists. There was a quicker method, and sooner than we can write it the men having become separated in their wrestling, Alan Barker whipped out a pistol and shot Wiles down. Then ensued an encounter horrible to relate. The members of each family entered at once into the fight. Many shots were exchanged; and after a few minutes, when the fighting was over, either from lack of ammunition, or because, Indian fashion, those who were not wounded had hidden behind the great trees to fight from under cover, the sad results were apparent. Three of the Barker tribe and two of the Wiles lay dead upon the ground, while five of the latter and four of the former were lying in different positions, some slightly, others desperately, wounded.
Thus the old feud was renewed, the old score opened, and the waters of malice, revenge and hate which had been accumulating for months broke forth afresh with devastating effect. Soon the news was heard in all the surrounding hills and valleys. It stirred the dull and untrained minds in many a mountain cabin; it was discussed between drinks in rough taverns. Somehow the story sounded through the green Kentucky woods until its echoes appeared in the daily papers of Cincinnati, Philadelphia and New York.
Jasper Very declared he would make this battle between families the subject of his sermon on Sunday evening, and it was this announcement which threw the neighborhood into such a high state of excitement and caused a crowd to attend the meeting which packed the small meeting-house to suffocation and, despite the cold weather, caused it to overflow into the surrounding yard.
Sam Wiles was there, and his impish shadow, Zibe Turner, and Long Tom, and the rest of his cronies. Sam Wiles' family was a part of that large Wiles faction which warred with the Barkers, but Sam was not present at the barn-raising. He was only fourth cousin to the Wiles men who were killed, but felt himself bound with the rest of his kin to avenge their death. Hence he was intensely interested to know how the preacher would treat his subject. On account of the crowd he sat a little within the doorway, while the monster dwarf contented himself with a position just outside, where his ghoulish and malignant face was lighted up by candle rays and moonbeams combined.
Jasper Very took for his text, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Thus he began: "Hearers and friends, it is a sad fact that the first man born into the world, Cain, was a murderer, and the second man born of woman was murdered. Cain killed his brother Abel. Ever since that day this earth has been reddened with human blood. It has defiled every mountain and stained every plain, it has polluted the waters of every lake and river, and has reddened the very ocean. Murder's bloody hand, nerved by all the worst passions of man, has struck down, not only the guilty, but also the innocent, the weak and helpless. It is a perversion of the Creator's intention regarding mankind. He made men to dwell in peace and happiness. He put the solitary in families that each member might contribute to the well-being of the whole. Every man is his brother's keeper. He is expected to do him good and not harm. If my brother is weak, I must try to be his strength. If he is in sorrow, I must comfort him; if needy, help him with my substance; if sick, I must minister unto him. By so doing I shall receive both the approval of my conscience, and the Master's reward: 'Well done, good and faithful servant.'
"Back of the act of murder is its motive. It is formed in the mind before it is committed by the hand. It invariably springs from the baser passions of man—hate, malice, jealousy, revenge. Our Bible traces it to its seat. It declares: 'Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him.' It was this bad feeling of hate which made Cain kill his brother Abel."
The preacher then passed on to say: "You all know that different parts of our beautiful State of Kentucky have been disgraced by family feuds which have resulted in many crimes against God and man, including murder. In our own neighborhood at this time of the year when we should be making fresh resolutions of love to God and our fellows, young men have shot one another down in a useless quarrel, a number of families are mourning the loss of sons and brothers, and other men are made cripples for life by ugly wounds."
Then, raising his voice until it could be heard by the remotest lounger at the horserails he thundered: "What was the cause of this recent killing, and of the broils, fights, and contentions in our midst? Whisky. This is the curse of Kentucky. It is the demon which fires the blood and pulls the trigger. In days when the red men roamed these forests and hunted abundant game so many battles were fought among themselves that this fair land received that dreadful name, 'The Dark and Bloody Ground,' and now you are doing all in your power to perpetuate this name. You in this audience who make or sell liquor, either legally or illegally, 'have made a covenant with death, and with hell are at agreement.' How can you escape the wrath of God? The voice of these slain men's blood cries unto heaven from the ground. The gray hairs of their parents will go down in sorrow to the grave for them."
His mood and voice then changed, and in softer tones he pleaded with them to turn from the evil of their ways and live. He assured them that no drunkard nor drunkard-maker could inherit the kingdom of God, that a sure woe would rest upon him who putteth the bottle to his neighbor's lips, and that no good could finally come out of this bad business. He told them that they could not turn from their evil ways in their own strength; but God had laid strength upon One who was mighty to save and strong to deliver from every weakness and temptation, even his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ.