"'"Down—down, every one of you! They're going to shoot again!"
"'Obeyin' that order was what saved my life. I throwed myself flat into the bushes, an' escaped unhurt; but both my sisters were shot dead, an' my father received another ball that brought him to the ground. My mother, instead of thinkin' of herself, kneeled beside him, an' supported his head in her arms. The next minute the outlaws entered the woods, an' one passed so close to me that I could have touched him.
"'"Wal, Bill Lawson," said a voice that I knowed belonged to Mountain Tom, "you see I'm here again. I s'pose you kind o' thought you had rubbed me out, didn't you?"
"'"Yes, I did," said father—an' his voice was so weak that I could hardly hear him.
"'"You won't have a chance to draw a bead on me again, I guess. We shoot consider'ble sharp—don't we?"
"'"I shan't live long," said father. "But, whatever you do to me, be merciful to my wife an'—"
"'The dull thud of the tomahawk cut short my father's dying prayer, an' his brains were spattered on the bush where I was concealed; an', a'most at the same moment, another of the band buried his knife in my mother's heart.'
"Old Bill could go no further. He buried his face in his hands an' cried like a child. At length, by a strong effort, he choked down his sobs, and went on.
"'I knew no more until I found myself lyin' in the cabin of an ole hunter, who lived about ten miles from where we used to live. He had been out huntin', an' had found me lyin' close beside my father an' mother. He thought I was dead, too, at first, but he found no wounds on me; so, arter buryin' all my relatives in one grave, he took me home with him. In three or four days I was able to get around again; an', beggin' a rifle an' some powder an' ball of the ole hunter, I started out. I went straight to the grave that contained all I loved on earth, an' there, kneelin' above their heads, I swore that my life should be devoted to but one object—vengeance on the villains who had robbed me of all my happiness. How well I have kept my oath the notches on my knife will show. Seven of them have fallen by my tomahawk; one only is left, an' that is Mountain Tom. For fifteen long years I have been on his trail; but the time will come when my vengeance will be complete.'
"An' the ole man rolled himself up in his blanket, an', turning his back to me, sobbed himself to sleep.