"'Pears like they stopped 'fore they'd gone fer, disputin' 'bouts somethin'. Ol' Miz Teasley say she heered ther voices high an' loud, an' then she heered a shot right quick, that-a-way, an' nothin' more; an' she sont ol' man Teasley an' the preachah out, an' the hull houseful follered, an' thar they found Ferd lyin' shot dade—an' Frale—he an' the horse war gone. Ferd, he still held his own gun in his hand tight, like he war goin' to shoot, with the triggah open an' his fingah on hit—but he nevah got the chance. Likely if he had, hit would have been him a-hidin' now, an' Frale dade. I reckon so."
Thryng listened in silence. It made him think of the old tales of the Scottish border. So, in plain words, the young man was a murderer. With deep pity he recalled the haunted look in Frale's eyes, and the sadness that trembled around Cassandra's lips as she said, "I reckon there is no trouble worse than ours." A thought struck him, and he asked:—
"Do you know what they quarrelled about?"
"He nevah let on what-all was the fuss. Likely he told Cass, but she is that still. Hit's right hard to raise a blood feud thar when we-uns an' the Teasleys alluz war friends. She took keer o' me when my chillen come, an' I took keer o' her with hern. Ferd'nan' too, he war like my own, fer I nursed him when she had the fever an' her milk lef' her. Cass war only three weeks old then, an' he war nigh on a