THERE was little peace for old Gabe that day at the mill. And when he went home at night he found cause for the thousand premonitions that had haunted him. The lad was gone.
A faint light in the east was heralding the moon when Isom reached Steve Marcum's gate. There were several horses hitched to the fence, several dim forms seated in the porch, and the lad halboed for Steve, whose shadow shot instantly from the door and came towards him.
Glad ter see ye, Isom," he called, jubilantly. I was jus' about to sen' fer ye. How'd ye happen to come up?"
Isom answered in a low voice with the news of Crump's "blind,"and Steve laughed and swore in the same breath.
"Come hyeh!" he said, leading the way back; and at the porch he had Isom tell the story again.
Whut d' I tell ye, boys? " he asked, triumphantly. "Don't believe ye more 'n half believed me."Three more horsemen rode up to the gate and came into the light.
Every man was armed, and at Isom's puzzled look, Steve caught the lad by the arm and led him around the chimney-corner. He was in high spirits.
"'Pears like ole times, Isom. I'm a-goin' fer thet cussed ole Steve Brayton this very night. He's behind Crump. I s'picioned it afore;now I know it for sartain. He's a-goin' to give Eli a mule 'n' a Winchester fer killin' me. We're goin' to s'prise him to-night. He won't be look-in' fer us-I've fixed that. I wus jus' about to sen' fer ye. I hain't fergot how ye kin handle a gun." Steve laughed significantly. " Ye're a good frien' o' mine, 'n' I'm goin' to show ye thet I'm a frien' o' yourn."Isom's paleness was unnoticed in the dark. The old throbbing began to beat again at his temple; the old haze started from his eyes.
"Hyeh's yer gun, Isom," he heard Steve saying next. The fire was blazing into his face. At the chimney-corner was the bent figure of old Daddy Marcum, and across his lap shone a Winchester. Steve was pointing at it, his grim face radiant; the old rnan's toothless mouth was grinning, and his sharp black eyes were snapping up at him.
"Hit's yourn, I tell ye," said Steve again. I aimed jes to lend it to ye, but ye've saved me frum gittin' killed, mebbe, 'n' hit's yourn now-yourn, boy, fer keeps."Steve was holding the gun out to him now. The smooth cold touch of the polished barrel thrilled him. It made everything for an instant clear again, and feeling weak, Isom sat down on the bed, gripping the treasure in both trembling hands. On one side of him some one was repeating Steve's plan of attack. Old Brayton's cabin was nearly opposite, but they would go up the river, cross above the mill, and ride back. The night was cloudy, but they would have the moonlight now and then for the climb up the mountain. They would creep close, and when the moon was hid they would run in and get old Brayton alive, if possible. Then-the rest was with Steve.
Across the room he could hear Steve telling the three new-comers, with an occasional curse, about Crump's blind, and how he knew that old Brayton was hiring Crump.
Old Steve's meaner 'n Eli," he said to himself, and a flame of the old hate surged up from the fire of temptation in his heart. Steve Marcum was his best friend; Steve had shielded him. The boy had promised to join him against old Brayton, and here was the Winchester, brand-new, to bind his word.
"Git ready, boys; git ready."
It was Steve's voice, and in Isom's ears the preacher's voice rang after it. Again that blinding mist before his eyes, and the boy brushed at it irritably. He could see the men buckling cartridge-belts, but he sat still. Two or three men were going out.
Daddy Marcum was leaning on a chair at the door, looking eagerly at each man as he passed.
Hain't ye goin', Isom?
Somebody was standing before him twirling a rifle on its butt, a boy near Isom's age. The whirling gun made him dizzy.
Stop it! " he cried, angrily. Old Daddy Marcum was answering the boy's question from the door.
