Ralph Granger's Fortunes.

by William Perry Brown.

CHAPTER I.

Ending the Feud.

"Must I do it, grandpa?"

"Of course you must! I'm afraid you ain't a true Granger, Ralph, or you wouldn't ask no such question."

"But why should I do it, grandpa?"

"Listen at the boy."

The sharp-eyed, grizzled old man rose from his seat before the fire, and took down an ancient looking, muzzle loading rifle from over the cabin door.

"I'll tell you why."

He patted the gun, now lying across his knees.

"This here was your father's gun. He carried it for many years. I had it when the feud betwixt the Grangers and the Vaughns first began. He had it with him when he was shot down at the Laurel Branch by John Vaughn, just six years ago today."

"Today is my birthday," commented Ralph, a st.u.r.dy-limbed, ruddy-faced lad.

"And you are fifteen. Think of that; 'most a man. I said I'd wait till you was fifteen, and as it happens, his son's a goin' to mill today."

"What of that?"

"You just wait and you'll see. All you've got to do is to obey orders."

The old man got up, took down a leather shot pouch, and proceeded to load the rifle carefully. After which he slung the pouch and a powder horn round Ralph's neck, then went out and looked at the sun.

He returned, placed the rifle in the lad's hands, and bade him follow.

Taking their hats they went out of the house.

Steep mountain ridges cut off any extended view. An old field or two lay about them, partially in the narrow creek bottom and partially climbing the last rugged slopes.

There was a foot log across the little brawling brook, beyond which the public road wound deviously down the glen towards the far distant lowlands.

Ralph eyed the unusually stern expression of his grandfather's face dubiously as they trudged along the road.

Bras Granger was all of sixty-five years old, dried and toughened by toil, exposure, and vindictive broodings, until he resembled a cross-grained bit of time-hardened oak. His gait, though shambling, was rapid for one of his age.

"You said you'd tell me why," suggested Ralph, as they wound their way along the crooked road.

"Didn't I say that the son of the man as killed your father was comin'

by the Laurel Branch this mornin'? Haven't the Vaughns and the Grangers been at outs for more than twenty year? What more d'ye want?"

The boy frowned, but it was in perplexity rather than wrath.

They came at last to a wooded hollow, through which another creek ran, thickly shaded by thick overhanging shrubbery. The old man led the way to a half decayed log of immense size, that lay behind a thick fringe of bushes, at an angle just beyond where the road crossed the creek.

It was a deadly spot for an ambuscade.

"Lay down behind that log," said old Granger. "Now, can you draw a good bead on him when he comes in sight?"

Young Granger squinted along the rifle barrel, now resting across the log. Though apparently concealed himself, he had a fair view of the road for sixty yards in both directions. Where it entered the brook it was barely thirty feet away.

"Take him right forninst the left shoulder, 'bout the time his mule crosses the creek; then your poor father'll rest easy in his grave."

"Why ain't you killed him afore?" demanded Ralph.

"My hand hasn't been steady these nine year; not since them Vaughns burned our house down the night your grandmother died. It was cold and snowin', and bein' out in it was more'n she could stand."

"I remember," said the boy gloomily. "But that was a long time ago. I can't stay mad nine year."

"I'm madder now than I was then!" almost shouted the infuriated mountaineer. "After they got your pap, I 'lowed I'd wait 'twel you was fifteen. Then you'd be big enough to know how sweet revenge is. Heap sweeter than sugar, ain't it?"

"Hark?" interjected Ralph, without replying. "Some one is comin' up the road."

A trample of hoofs became audible, and presently a man mounted on a mule, with a sack of corn under him, was to be seen approaching the ambuscade.

Seated before him was a child of perhaps four or five, who laughed and prattled to the man's evident delight. Old Granger's eyes shown with a ferocious joy.

"That's him!" he exclaimed in tremulously eager tones. "He's got his brat along. I wish ye could get 'em both, then there'd be an end of the miserable brood for one while. Wait, boy--wait 'twel he gets to the creek afore ye shoot. Think of your poor pap, when ye draw bead."

But Ralph's face did not betoken any kindred enthusiasm. He was tired to death of hearing about the everlasting feud between the families.

If the Vaughns had fought the Grangers, it was equally certain that the Grangers had been no whit behind in sanguinary reprisals. He remembered seeing this same Jase Vaughn, now riding unsuspectingly toward the loaded rifle, at a corn shucking once. Ralph then thought him a very jolly, amusing fellow.

"Now lad--now lad!" whispered the old man. "Get down and take your sight. I've seen ye shoot the heads offn squirrels. Just imagine that feller's head is a squirrel's. As for the child----"

"Grandpa, I will not shoot. It would be murder. I'll meet him fair and square, though, and if he's sorry for what his father done, I'll let it pa.s.s. He couldn't help it anyhow, if he wanted to, I reckon."

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.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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 c.o.c.k, 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.