"The low-down white hates us bekase we ain't mean an' ornery ez they air, an' hold ourselves above 'em.The big-bugs hates us bekase we won't knuckle down ter 'em, ez ther niggers an' the pore whites do.So hit's cat-an'-dog all the time.We don't belong ter the same parties, we don't jine the same churches, an' thar's more or less trouble a-gwine on batween us an' them continnerly.""Then when the war broke out you took different sides as usual?""Of course! of course! The big nigger-owners an' the ornery whites who air just ez much ther slaves ez ef they'd been bot an' paid fur with ther own money, became red-hot Secessioners, while our people stuck ter the Union.The very old Satan hisself seemed ter take possession ov 'em, and stir 'em up ter do all manner o' cruelty ter conquer us inter jinin' in with 'em.The Brills an' Fortners hed allers been leaders agin the other people,an' now the Rebels hissed their white slaves onter our men, ez one sets dogs onter steers in the corn.The chief man among 'em wuz Kunnel Bill Pennington."Harry looked up with a start.
"Yes, the same one who got his reward yesterd," she continued, interpreting the expression of his eyes."The Penningtons air the richest family this side o' Danville.They an' the Brills an'
Fortners hev allers been mortal enemies.Thar's bin blood shed in ev'ry gineration.Kunnel Bill's father limpt ter his grae on 'count of a bullet in his hip, which wuz lodged thar soon arter I'd flung on the floor a ten dollar gold piece he'd crowded inter my hand at a dance, where he'd come 'ithout ary invite.The bullet wuz from teh rifle ov a young man named David Brill, thet I married the next day, jest ez he wuz startin' fur Mexico.He volunteered a little airlier then he'd intended, fur his father's wheat wuz not nearly all harvested, but hit wuz thot best ter git himself out o' the way o' the Penningtons, who wuz a mouty revengeful family, an' besides they then hed the law on ther side.Ez soon ez he come back from teh war Ole Kunnel Bill, an' Young Kunnel Bill, an' all the rest o' the Pennington clan an' connection begun watchin' fur a chance ter git even with him.The Ole Kunnel used ter vow an'
swar thet he'd never leave the airth ontil Dave Brill wuz under the clods o' the valley.But he hed ter go last year, spite o'
hisself, an' leave David Brill 'live an' well an' becomin' more an'
more lookt up ter ev'ry day by the people, while the Penningtons war gittin' wuss and wuss hated.We hed a son, too, the very apple of our eyes, who wuz growin' up jest like his father---"The quaver of an ill-repressed sob blurred her tones.She closed her eyes firmly, as if to choke back the brimming tears, and then rising from her seat, busied herself brushing the coals and ashes back into the fire.
"Thet walnut pops so awfully," she said, "thet a body hez to sweep nearly ev'ry minnit ter keep the harth at all clean.""The death of his father made no change in the younger Col.
Pennington? He kept up the quarrel the same as ever, did he?"asked Harry, deeply interested in teh narrative.
"Wussen ever! Wussen ever! He got bitterer ev'ry day.He laid his defeat when he wuz runnin' fur the Legislatur at our door.He hired bullies ter git inter a quarrel with David, at public getherin's, an' kill him in sech a way ez ter have a plea o' self-defense ter cla'r themselves on, but David tuck too good keer o' hisself ter git ketched that a-way, an' he hurt one o' the bullies so bad thet he niver quite got over hit.He an' Kunnel Pennington leveled ther weepons on each other at a barbecue near London last Fall, but the bystanders interfered, an' prevented bloodshed fur a time.""When the war broke out, we never believed hit would reach us.Thar mout be trouble in Louisville and Cincinnati--some even thought hit likely that thar would be fouten' in Lexington--but way up in the mountings we'd be peaceable an' safe allers.Our young men formed theirselves inter a company o' Home Gyards, an' elected my husband their Capting.Kunnel Pennington gathered together 'bout a hundred o' the poorest, orneriest shakes on the headwaters, an'
tuck them off ter jine Sidney Johnson, an' drive the Yankees 'way from Louisville.Everybody said hit wuz the best riddance o' bad rubbish the country 'd ever knowed, and when they wuz gone our chances fur peace seemed better'n ever.
"All the flurry made by ther gwine 'way hed died down, an' ez we heered nothin' from 'em, or the war, people's minds got quiet ag'in, an' they sot 'bout hurryin' up their Spring work.
"One bright, sweet mornin' in May, I wuz at my work in the yard with Fortner--thet wuz my son's name--fixin' up the kittles ter dye some yarn fur a coat fur him.Husband 'd went ter the other side o' the hill, whar the new terbacker ground wuz, ter cut out some trees that shaded the plants.The skies wuz ez bright an' fa'r ez the good Lord ever made 'em.I could heah the ringin' o' David's ax, ez he chopped away, an'h hit seemed ter be sayin' ter me cheefully all the time: 'Heah I am--hard at work.' The smoke from some brush-piles that he'd sot afire riz up slowly an' gently, fur thar wuz no wind a-stirring.The birds sung gayly 'bout their work o' nest-buildin', an' I couldn't help singin' about mine.I left the kittles fur a minnit ter run down the gyardin walk, ter see how my bed o' pinks wuz comin' out, an' I sung ez I run.
"Jest then a passel o' men come stringin' up the road ter the bars.They looked like some o' them that Kunnel Pennington tuck 'way with him, but they rid better critters then any o' them ever hed, an' they were dressed in a sorter soljer-cloze, an' all o'
'em toted guns.
