"Stop!"
The figure crouched more, and turned a terror-stricken face—Daws Dillon's.
"Oh, it's you, is it—Well, drop that gun and come down here."
The Dillon boy rose, leaving his gun on the ground, and came down, trembling.
"What're you doin' sneaking around in the brush?"
"Nothin'!" The Dillon had to make two efforts before he could speak at all. "Nothin', jes' a-huntin'!"
"Huntin'!" repeated Chad. He lowered his pistol and looked at the sorry figure silently.
"I know what you were huntin', you rattlesnake! I understand you are captain of the Home Guard. I reckon you don't know that nobody has to go into this war. That a man has the right to stay peaceably at home, and nobody has the right to bother him. If you don't know it, I tell you now. I believe you had something to do with shooting Uncle Joel."
The Dillon shook his head, and fumbled with his hands.
"If I knew it, I'd kill you where you stand, now. But I've got one word to say to you, you hell-pup. I hate to think it, but you and I are on the same side—that is, if you have any side. But in spite of that, if I hear of any harm happening to Aunt Betsey, or Melissa, or Uncle Joel, or Rube, while they are all peaceably at home, I'm goin' to hold you and Tad responsible, whether you are or not, and I'll kill you"—he raised one hand to make the Almighty a witness to his oath—"I'll kill you, if I have to follow you both to hell for doin' it. Now, you take keer of 'em! Turn 'round!"