Beaupoint found a little girl that had hurt herself, an' he picked her up in his arms an' was carryin' her home when one o' the Calvern boys shot him in his tracks. One o' the Beaupoint brothers was away at the time, but the others felt that the Calverns hadn't b'n playin' fair, an' they reckoned to lay them all out. They did, too, all but one, an', although they had a chance to nail him, they let him alone."

"Why was he let off?" queried Hamilton.

"I reckon it was because he had a young wife an' a little child," the old man answered. "Now Jim Beaupoint, the one that had been away, he come home after a while, an' hadn't happened to hear about the wipin' out o' the Calverns. On his way home, he had to pass the Calvern place, an' so he made a wide cast aroun' the hill to keep out o' sight, when suddenly, up a gully, he saw this Hez Calvern standin' there with his rifle on his arm, an', quick as he could move, Jim grabbed his gun an' fired. It was a long shot an' a sure one."

"Was it—" the boy began, but the old man waved the interruption aside and proceeded.

"Reloadin' his rifle, Jim Beaupoint rode slowly to whar Hez Calvern was lyin', when suddenly, from a clump o' bushes close by, there come a rifle shot, an' the rider got the bullet in his chest. Befo' fallin' from the saddle, however, the young fellow fired at the bushes from which smoke was driftin', an' a shrill scream told him that the sharpshooter was a woman."

"Some one who had been with Hez Calvern?" asked Hamilton.

"His wife. Well, although Jim was mortally hurt an' sufferin'—as the tracks showed afterwards—he tried to drag himself to the bushes in order to help the woman who had shot him an' who he had shot unknowin'; but he was too badly hurt, an' he died twenty yards from the place whar he fell."

"Was the woman dead, too?" asked Hamilton.

"No, but terrible badly hurt. What I was wantin' to tell yo', though, was the result of all this. Wa'al, the Beaupoints took the woman to their home an' nursed her night an' day for five long years. She was helpless, only for her tongue, an' she lashed an' abused them till the day she died, an' never once, in all those years, did any one o' the Beaupoints reproach her in return."

"And the youngster?"

"They took the boy, too, an' reared him the bes' they knew how, jes' the same as one o' their own. One o' the Beaupoint boys went an' lived on the Calvern place, an' worked it,—worked it fair an' squar', an' put aside every cent that come out o' the farm. For thirteen years the Beaupoints looked after the farm an' reared the boy. On the day he was fourteen year old, Jed Beaupoint—that was the father—called the lad, told him the whole story, give him a new rifle an' a powder horn, an' handed over the little bag o' coin that represented thirteen years o' work on the Calvern holdin'."

"There certainly couldn't be anything squarer than that!" exclaimed Hamilton. "And he gave the boy the farm, too?"

"Every inch of it. Jed Beaupoint was a squar' man, cl'ar through. An' he said to the boy—he tol' me the story himself—'Johnny Calvern, thar's yo' farm an' yo' rifle. Now, if yo're willin', I'll see that thar's no trouble until yo're twenty-one, an' then yo' c'n go huntin' revenge if yo've a mind to, or, if you're willin', we'll call the trouble off now, an' thar won't be any need o' rakin' it up again.'"

"He made it up on the spot, of course?" questioned Hamilton.

The Kentuckian shook his head.

"He did not," he replied. "The boy thought a minute or two an' then said he'd wait until he was grown up, an' let him know then."

"Although he had been brought up by the Beaupoints!" exclaimed the boy in surprise. "But surely it never came up again."

"Well, not exac'ly. When Johnny Calvern was about nineteen he got married, an' a few days befo' the time when he would be twenty-one, he rode up to the Beaupoint place, an' tol' the ol' man that he was willin' to let the feud rest another ten years, because of his wife an' little baby, but that he would be ready to resume shootin' at that time."

"But he had no real grudge against the Beaupoints had he, Uncle Eli? They had always been kind to him, you said."

"Not a bit o' grudge," the mountaineer answered, "they were good friends. An' I reckon it wasn't Johnny that wanted the trouble to begin again, but thar's always a lot o' hotheads pryin' into other folks' business. However, ol' Jed Beaupoint didn't mind; he agreed to another ten years' truce, an' all went on peacefully as befo'. Durin' those ten years, however, Johnny's wife died, an' he got married again, this time to the sister o' a wanderin' preacher, a girl who had once lived in cities, an' she soon showed him that the ol' feud business must be forgotten. But it is a mite unusual, even hyeh, to farm a man's land an' bring up his child fo' thirteen years, an' then give him everythin' yo' can with the privilege o' shootin' yo' at sight for all the favors done."

"It doesn't sound a bit like the usual feud story," said Hamilton, "one always thinks of those as being cold-blooded and cruel."

"Thar an't a mite o' intentional cruelty in them; it's jes' that life is held cheap. Most o' them begun over some small thing like an election."

"There were quite a number of them, Uncle Eli, weren't there?"

"One ran into the other so easily that one feud would often look like half a dozen, an' trouble would be goin' on in various places. But there were really seven of them, all big ones."

"What were they, Uncle Eli?"

"Wa'al, thar was the McCoy-Hatfield feud in Pike County, that started over the ownership o' two plain razorback hogs, but afterwards got very bitter, owin' to the friendship o' one o' the McCoy girls with the son o' Bad Anse Hatfield. Then thar was the Howard-Turner feud in Harlan County. An' then—"

"What started the Howard-Turner feud?" interrupted the boy.

"That was over a game o' cards. One o' the Howards had been winnin', an' Jim Turner, with a pistol, forced him to give back the money he had won. That affair raged a long time. The Logan-Tolliver feud in Rowan County was over an election fo' sheriff. The Logans elected their candidate, an' so the Tollivers killed one o' the Logans at the polls and wounded three others."

"That's expressing dissatisfaction with an election with some spirit," Hamilton remarked.

"Then thar was the French-Eversole feud in Perry County," continued the Kentuckian, reminiscently. "Ol' Joe Eversole was a merchant in a town called Hazard, an' he helped Fulton French to start a little store. In time French almos' drove Eversole out o' business. That was a strange fight, because neither French nor Eversole ever got into the shootin',—indeed they remained frien'ly even when their supporters were most bitter."

"Who carried on the feud, then?" asked Hamilton in surprise, "if the principals didn't?"

"Wa'al, I guess the worst was a minister, the Rev. Bill Gambrill. Ho ran the French side an' kep' the trouble stirred up all the time."

"I think I've heard of the Turner war, too," said the boy. "Was that the same as the Howard-Turner fighting?"

"All of them were mixed up in each other's feuds in that Turner family," the Kentuckian replied, "but the 'Turner War' or the 'Hell's Half-Acre' feud was in Bell County, an' it started over some question o' water rights in Yellow Creek. 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