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Caleb Wiley rose unsteadily to his feet, his shaggy beard trenation

"Hev ye done got too daood fer yore kin-folks, Samson South?" he

shrilly demanded "Hev ye done been follerin' atter this here puny

witch-doctor twell ye can't keep a civil tongue in yer head fer yore

elders? I'm in favor of runnin' this here furriner outen the country

with tar an' feathers on him Furthermore, I'm in favor of cleanin' out

the Hollmans I was jest a-sayin' ter Bill----"

"Never

redly to his cheekbones, but controlling his voice "Ye've done said

enough a'ready Ye're a right old ives

ye some license ter shoot off yore face, but ef any of them no-'count,

shif'less boys of yores wants ter back up what ye says, I'oin' ter answer no uiant, whose hair was no blacker than his expression, rose,

and a sereeted hiht ter take the studs this a-way, an'

ter refuse ter answer our questions, but we've got a right ter say who

kin stay in this hyar country Ef ye 'lows ter quit us, I reckon we kin