silk hat, was passing on the opposite sidewalk. As

Garvey looked, Goree glanced at his face. If there be
such a thing as a yellow wolf, here was its counterpart.

Garvey snarled as his unhuman eyes followed the moving
figure, disclosing long, amber-coloured fangs.

"Is that him? Why, that's the man who sent me to
the penitentiary once!"

"He used to be district attorney," said Goree care-
lessly. "And, by the way, he's a first-class shot."

"I kin hit a squirrel's eye at a hundred yard," said
Garvey. "So that thar's Coltrane! I made a better

trade than I was thinkin'. I'll take keer ov this feud,
Mr. Goree, better'n you ever did!"

He moved toward the door, but lingered there, betray-
ing a slight perplexity.

"Anything else to-day?" inquired Goree with frothy
sarcasm. "Any family traditions, ancestral ghosts, or

skeletons in the closet? Prices as low as the lowest."
"Thar was another thing," replied the unmovedsquirrel

hunter, "that Missis Garvey was thinkin' of. 'Tain't
so much in my line as t'other, but she wanted partic'lar

that I should inquire, and ef you was willin', 'pay fur it,'
she says, 'fa'r and squar'.' Thar's a buryin' groun',

as you know, Mr. Goree, in the yard of yo' old place,
under the cedars. Them that lies thar is yo' folks what

was killed by the Coltranes. The monyments has the
names on 'em. Missis Garvev says a fam'ly buryin'

groun'- is a sho' sign of quality. She says ef we git the
feud thar's somethin' else ought to go with it. The

names on them moiivments is 'Goree,' but they can be
changed to ourn by -- "

"Go. Go!" screamed Goree, his face turning purple.
He stretched out both hands toward the mountaineer,

his fingers hooked and shaking. "Go, you ghoul! Even a
Ch-Chinaman protects the g-graves of his ancestors -- go!"

The squirrelhunter slouched out of the door to his
carryall. While he was climbing over the wheel Goree

was collecting, with feverish celerity, the money that had
fallen from his hand to the floor. As the vehicle slowly

turned about, the sheep, with a coat of newly grown
wool, was hurrying, in indecent haste, along the path to

the court-house.
At three o'clock in the morning they brought him back

to his office, shorn and unconscious. The sheriff, the
sportive deputy, the county clerk, and the gay attorney

carried him, the chalk-faced man "from the valley"
acting as escort.

"On the table," said one of them, and they deposited
him there among the litter of his unprofitable books and

papers.
"Yance thinks a lot of a pair of deuces when he's

liquored up," sighed the sheriff reflectively.
"Too much," said the gay attorney. "A man has no

business to play poker who drinks as much as he does. I
wonder how much he dropped to-night."

"Close to two hundred. What I wonder is whar he
got it. Yance ain't had a cent fur over a month, I

know."
"Struck a client, maybe. Well, let's get home before

daylight. He'll be all right when he wakes up, except
for a sort of beehive about the cranium."

The gang slipped away through the early morning
twilight. The next eye to gaze upon the miserable Goree

was the orb of day. He peered through the uncurtained
window, first deluging the sleeper in a flood of faint gold,

but soon pouring upon the mottled red of his flesh a
searching, white, summer heat. Goree stirred, half

unconsciously, among the table's d锟絙ris, and turned his
face from the window. His movement dislodged a heavy

law book, which crashed upon the floor. Opening his
eyes, he saw, bending over him, a man in a black frock

coat. Looking higher, he discovered a well-worn silk
hat, and beneath it the kindly, smooth face of Colonel

Abner Coltrane.
A little uncertain of the outcome, the colonel waited for

the other to make some sign of recognition. Not in
twenty years had male members of these two families

faced each other in peace. Goree's eyelids puckered as
he strained his blurred sight toward this visitor, and then

he smiled serenely.
"Have you brought Stella and Lucy over to play?"

he said calmly.
"Do you know me, Yancey?" asked Coltrane.

"Of course I do. You brought me a whip with a
whistle in the end."

So he had -- twenty-four years ago; when Yancey's
father was his best friend.

Goree's eyes wandered about the room. The colonel
understood. "Lie still, and I'll bring you some," said he.

There was a pump in the yard at the rear, and Goree
closed his eyes, listening with rapture to the click of its

handle, and the bubbling of the falling stream. Col-
trane brought a pitcher of the cool water, and held it for

him to drink. Presently Goree sat up -- a most forlorn
object, his summer suit of flax soiled and crumpled, his

discreditable head tousled and unsteady. He tried to
wave one of his hands toward the colonel.

"Ex-excuse-everything, will you?" he said. "I
must have drunk too much whiskey last night, and gone

to bed on the table." His brows knitted into a puzzled
frown.

"Out with the boys awhile?" asked Coltrane kindly.
"No, I went nowhere. I haven't had a dollar to spend

in the last two months. Struck the demijohn too often.
I reckon, as usual."

Colonel Coltrane touched him on the shoulder.
"A little while ago, Yancey," he began, "you asked

me if I had brought Stella and Lucy over to play. You
weren't quite awake then, and must have been dreaming

you were a boy again. You are awake now, and I want
you to listen to me. I have come from Stella and Lucy

to their old playmate, and to my old friend's son. They
know that I am going to bring you home with me, and you

will find them as ready with a welcome as they were in
the old days. I want you to come to my house and stay

until you are yourself aain, and as much longer as you
will. We heard of your being down in the world, and in

the midst of temptation, and we agreed that you should
come over and play at our house once more. Will you

come, my boy? Will you drop our old family trouble
and come with me?"

"Trouble!" said Goree, opening his eyes wide. "There
was never any trouble between us that I know of. I'm

sure we've always been the best friends. But, good Lord,
Colonel, how could I go to your home as I am -- a