"Who was it that fired, Uncle Eli!"
"The brother o' the young fellow he had shot befo'."
"Was he dead?" asked the boy.
"Wa'al," said the mountaineer, a little grimly, "I didn' go down to see an' wait aroun' 'till all his friends gathered. But I reckon he was dead when they found him later."
"And the brothers?"
"They never came into the story at all. I'm jes' mentionin' this to yo' to show yo' that thar's reason in my advisin' yo' to keep clar o' this district. If you're reckonin' on doin' census work, yo' go somewhar that you're not known to any one. Thar's trouble enough even for a stranger in the mount'ns, an' a stranger would find it easier than any one else."
"Why is that, Uncle Eli?" asked the boy.
"In the first place, yo' can't show discourtesy to a stranger, an' yo' know that if he doesn' do things jes' the way yo' like to have 'em done, it's because he doesn' know, an' so he's not to blame. I like your spirit about the census, Hamilton," the old mountaineer continued, "an' if yo' can give the gov'nment any service, I reckon yo'd better try, but leave the mount'n districts either to popular favorites or to a stranger."