MET IT IN THE ROAD.
Long he sat there meditating over something precious as one does expecting trouble; and arising he walked rapidly to the gulch leading to his still house. But, reaching there, no moss-covered logs greeted his eye. There was a smoldering fire, with diminutive whirlpools of white ashes. He wiped his brow and upon a stone he sat down. The law had come with its torch, and for a long time his face was hard and grim. An hour must have passed, and then with an air of gentleness as one resigned to punishment, he went to a rock, the rock under which the spirit boy had dwelt, and reaching beneath it drew forth a Winchester rifle.
"I'll pump out these here brass temptations," he said, throwing out the cartridges and slowly, one by one, dropped them into the rivulet. Then, breaking the gun across the rock, he slowly started toward home.
Reaching the road, he stood looking up and down the rugged highway over which Old Jackson's carriage had bumped and rattled, over which long before the days of the railroad dry-goods and hardware had been transported from Philadelphia to Nashville. He did not stand there long alone. From the bushes came a loud command—"Throw up your hands"—and the government's guns were pointed at his breast. He obeyed and three men came forward to search him, and just then came the roar of Peters. "Why didn't you shoot the scoundrel!" Past the men he rushed with a knife, and Old Jasper, leaping in the air, struck him in the face with his iron fist and he lay senseless and bleeding on the ground.
One of the deputies threw up his gun to shoot, but the officer in command seized the weapon and wrested it from his hands.
"You wolf, would you shoot a brave old man? He respects the law more than you—and a hundred per cent. more than this villain. I wish he had broken his neck. Here, Nick," he added, speaking to his other attendant, "go up the hill to where Pagett has the wagon, bring it here and take this half-dead hulk to his home. Then drive over to Starbuck's, and I will be there with the prisoner. You go with me," he continued, speaking to the deputy whom he had disarmed. "Here, take your gun and remember that Uncle Sam isn't a murderer. Bring the hand-cuffs."
Old Starbuck's face broke into many a seam and then grew tight. "Mister," he pleaded, "as an old soldier let me beg of you not to put them criminal things on me. If you must, wait till we drive away from the house. My wife mustn't see them. Let me tell you suthin'. Down the hill yander under a tree there's a grave an' in it the most precious dust human flesh ever withered into. Drag me there an' I will put my hand on that grave an' sw'ar that I won't attempt to git away."
"Nick," said the commandant, "take the hand-cuffs along and throw them under the wagon seat. We won't need them."
"I thank you, sir," replied Jasper. "Now we will go to the house, an' what I say to that po' woman down there you must stand to. This way, please."
Margaret was hanging out clothes when into the yard the two officers came, Jasper walking between them. Upon the ground she dropped a sheet and came running toward them.