“Son,” said Dan as Sudie disappeared, “do you ’low you can make the Coyle place ter-night?”
“I reckon so,” answered Billy, bravely trying to forget that it was long past his supper time. Mountain justice never waited on hunger.
“Clip up thar and back as soon as you kin, and tell Sam Coyle fer me, thet we shall expect ter see him at the Forks ter-morrow mornin’ by light, ter hunt varmints. They may hev left the kentry, but we’ll smoke ’em out if they’re ter be found. Kin you remember?”
“Yes, Pappy”
“Well, I’m goin’ ter the Twilligers. I kin git the boys ter push on to the Settlemint, and then the news’ll carry fast enough, I reckon,” and father and son parted.
At daybreak the Forks was the scene of an assembling of the clans. Old scores were forgotten. They were meeting in a common cause which had suddenly endeared itself to all. Not one of the older men but had children among Tally’s flock, and they had begun to realize what the school had meant to them.
Nearly all of the company were horseback, but every member carried a “shooting iron,” a fact which had its own significance.
“If we could hev took after thet varmint last night, I reckon we could hev treed him,” said Eli Twilliger. “But he’d be a plumb fool if he warn’t out of the kentry by this time. Hit’s a mighty good thing he hasn’t any kin in these parts.”
“Them long legs of his’n could take him cornsiderable fur, but he hasn’t any hoss critter ter save his strength. I reckon he ain’t out of reach yit. He never war no great hand ter exert hisself, Jake warn’t,” drawled the blacksmith.
“Well, he’s gittin’ further off while we’re argefyin’,” objected Dan Gooch testily. “I ’low hit’s time we war gittin’ down ter bizness. Some of you fellers take the trails ’tween you, and Sam and I’ll go ’long the creek. We’ll meet whar the old schoolhouse war, and if you’ve run down any game you kin bring hit along.”