“He did?  Then Farley was one of the three men who saw us up yonder at the barrel-spring?”

“Yes; and I was another one of ’em.  I was right hot at you that mornin’; I shore was.”

“Well, who else knows about it?”

“Brother Bill Layne, and Aunt M’randy, and Japhe Pettigrass.  They-all went in town to stan’ up with me and Nan.”

Then Tom remembered the figure coming swiftly across the lawns and the call of the voice he loved.  Had Japheth told her, and was she hastening to make such reparation as she could?  No matter, it was too late now.  The fierce hatred of the wounded savage was astir in his heart and it would not be denied or silenced.

“Give me that gun, and you shall have your first chance,” he conceded.  “I make but one condition:  if you kill him, I’ll kill you.”

Kincaid laughed and gave up his weapon.

“I was only allowin’ to sp’ile his face some, and a rock’ll do for that.  You can have what’s left o’ him atter I get thoo—­and it’ll be enough to kill, I reckon.”

At the moment of weapon-passing there came sounds audible above the sob and sigh of the blowing-engines—­a clatter of horses’ hoofs and the grinding of carriage wheels on the pike.  Gordon signed quickly to Kincaid and drew back carefully behind the bole of the opposite poplar.

It was the Warwick Lodge surrey, and it stopped at the gate.  Two men got out and went up the path, and an instant later, Kincaid followed stealthily.

Gordon waited for the next gas-flare, and by the light of it he threw the breech-block of the repeating rifle to make sure the cartridge was in place.  Then he, too, passed through the wicket and went to stand in the shadow of the slab-floored porch, redolent of memories.  He had forgotten the lesser vengeance in the thirst for the greater,—­that he had come to fling their misfortunes into the faces of the father and the son, and to tell them that the work was his.  He heard only the voice of the savage in his heart, and that was whispering “Kill! kill!”

* * * * *

It was close on midnight when the door giving on the porch opened and two men stood on the threshold.  The younger of the two was speaking.

“It’s quieter than usual to-night.  That was a good move—­getting Ludlow and the two Helgersons jailed.  I was in hopes we could snaffle old Caleb with the others.  He pretends to be peacemaking, but as long as he is loose, these fools will hang to the idea that they’re fighting his battle against us.”

“It is already fought,” said the older man dejectedly.  “My luck has gone.  When Henniker puts us to the wall, we shall be beggars.”

The young man’s rejoinder was an exclamation of contempt.

“You’ve lost your nerve.  What you need most is to go to bed and sleep.  Wait for me till I’ve made a round of the guards, and we’ll go home.  Better ring up the surrey right now.”