To the old man's intense disgust, Ralph leaped lightly over the log and advanced into the road, rifle in hand. His grandfather followed him, raving in his futile rage.
"Hello!" exclaimed Jase Vaughn, thrusting his hand behind him quickly. "Here's old Granger and his son's kid. I wish you was at home, Clelly."
This last to his boy who, not at all alarmed, was smiling at Ralph in a very friendly manner.
When the lad saw Jase throw back his hand, he dropped his rifle into the hollow of his left arm and brought the trigger to a half cock, advancing at the same time squarely into the middle of the road.
"Grandpa tells me that you are the son of the man who shot my father, here, just six years ago," began the boy. "I knew it myself, but I didn't 'low you was to blame, 'less you uphilt him in it."
"Suppose I do; what then?" Jase eyed the two Grangers steadily, though not in anger as far as Ralph could see.
"Then we'll settle it right here," said the latter firmly. "I could have shot you from the bushes, as your father did mine, but I wouldn't."
"The more fool you!" hissed the vindictive old man. "I ought to have kept the gun myself."
"Suppose I don't uphold the deed?" added Vaughn, still totally undisturbed.
"Then you can go, for all of me. I'm sick of the feud."