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Bud Vickers was carrying a piece of news down to Hazlan, and he pulled up his horse to deliver it. Aunt Sally Day's dog had been seen playing in the Breathitt road with the frame of a human foot. Some boys had found not far away, behind a withered "blind," a heap of rags and bones. Eli Crump had not been seen in Hazlan since the night of the Marcum raid.
He kin jus' draw the heart out'n a holler log! He 'convicted' me fust night, over thar in Breathitt. He come up thar, ye know, to stop the feud, he said; 'n' thar was laughin' from one eendo' Breathitt to t'other; but thar was the whoppinest crowd thar I ever see when he did come. The meetin'-house wasn't big enough to hold 'em, so he goes out on the aidge o' town, n' climbs on to a stump.
Meeting Isom's angry glance, he shifted his own uneasily. "Seed the new preacher comm' 'long today?" he asked. Drawing one dirty finger across his forehead, "Got a long scar 'cross hyeh." The miller shook his head. "Well, he's a-comm'. I've been waitin' fer him up the road, but I reckon I got to git 'cross the river purty soon now." Crump had been living over in Breathitt since the old feud.
News in order to reach him must be of such widespread interest as fairly to fall from heaven; correspondingly, scarce any incidents of mountain life will leak out unless they be of sensational nature, such as the shooting of a revenue officer in Carolina, the massacre of a Virginia court, or the outbreak of another feud in "bloody Breathitt."
"Jackson; 'way up in Breathitt, at the eend of the new road." "No wonder y'u've been gone so long." "I had to wait thar fer the guns, 'n' I had to travel atter dark comm' back, 'n' lay out'n the bresh by day. Hit's full eighty mile up thar." "Air ye shore nobody seed ye?" The question was from a Marcum, who had come in late, and several laughed.
It was a sayin' down in Bell County that it couldn't rain often enough to keep Hell's Half-Acre free from stains o' blood." "It is a fearful record, Uncle Eli, when you put them together that way," the boy said. "An' I haven't even mentioned the worst o' them, the Hargis-Cockrill feud in Breathitt County. That lasted for generations, an' started over some election for a county judge.
"Then she will probably kill Paolo," said the Countess Margherita, calmly. Blake exclaimed wonderingly: "I say this is worse than Breathitt County, Kentucky. You talk of murders and outlaws as we discuss the cotton crop or the boll-weevil. This is the most fatal country I ever saw." "It is a great pity that such things exist," the Donna Teresa agreed, "but one grows accustomed to them in time.
Thar air no sech hoss, I tell ye, this side o' the settlements." The boy started away, and the old man followed, and halted him out of the girl's hearing. "Tell Eli Crump 'n' Jim Stover to watch the Breathitt road close now," he said, in a low voice. "See all them citizens I tol' ye, 'n' tell 'em to be ready when I says the word. Thar's no tellin' whut's goin' to happen."
I don' know that any one rightly remembers the time when Breathitt County wasn't the scene of some such goin's on." "But they are all over now, aren't they?" "I was jes' goin' to tell yo'. They're all over but one, an' that one is sometimes called the Baker-Howard or the Garrard-White feud, for all four families were mixed up in it.
His flight had made many uneasy, but his return, for that reason, brought a stancher fealty from these; and this was evident now. All eyes were upon him, and all tongues, even old Sam's, waited now for his to speak. "Whut we've got to do, we've got to do mighty quick," he began, at last. "Things air changin'. I seed it over thar in Breathitt.
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