more feud.  But it's kind of slow, and takes a long time.” “Has this one been going on long, Buck?” “Well, I should _reckon_!  It started thirty year ago, or som'ers along there.  There was trouble 'bout something, and then a lawsuit to settle it; and the suit went agin one of the men, and so he up and shot the man that won the suit--which he would naturally do, of course.  Anybody would.” “What was the trouble about, Buck?--land?” “I reckon maybe--I don't know.” “Well, who done the shooting?  Was it a Grangerford or a Shepherdson?” “Laws, how do I know?  It was so long ago.” “Don't anybody know?” “Oh, yes, pa knows, I reckon, and some of the other old people; but they don't know now what the row was about in the first place.” “Has there been many killed, Buck?” “Yes; right smart chance of funerals.  But they don't always kill.  Pa's got a few buckshot in him; but he don't mind it 'cuz he don't weigh much, anyway.  Bob's been carved up some with a bowie, and Tom's been hurt once or twice.” “Has anybody been killed this year, Buck?” “Yes; we got one and they got one. 'Bout three months ago my cousin Bud, fourteen year old, was riding through the woods on t'other side of the river, and didn't have no weapon with him, which was blame' foolishness, and in a lonesome place he hears a horse a-coming behind him, and sees old Baldy Shepherdson a-linkin' after him with his gun in his hand and his white hair a-flying in the wind; and 'stead of jumping off and taking to the brush, Bud 'lowed he could out-run him; so they had it, nip and tuck, for five mile or more, the old man a-gaining all the time; so at last Bud seen it warn't any use, so he stopped and faced around so as to have the bullet holes in front, you know, and the old man he rode up and shot him down.  But he didn't git much chance to enjoy his luck, for inside of a week our folks laid _him_ out.” “I reckon that old man was a coward, Buck.” “I reckon he _warn't_ a coward.  Not by a blame' sight.  T