this, if it's in a hunderd years, I'll come back and kill you.' For a
while he kept still again, and then he went in the house and got the
money, and wrote a letter to his old man, and I promised to give it to
him--but I tore it up."

"What did the letter say?"

"It just said somethin' to the effect that he was willin' to do what he
done if his old man would give over breakin' the law and go to livin'
upright like he always done, and that he hoped maybe God seen a
difference in stealin' on account of the reasons folks had for doin'
it--but if God didn't make no difference, why, he'd rather bear it than
have it fall on his old man."

"And then?"

"I took the money and come away. And he run away. And that's all."

The town hall was very still. The stillness of it seemed to pierce and
hurt.... Then it was broken by a cry, a hoarse cry, wrenched from the
soul of a man. "My boy!... My boy!..." Old Elder Newton was on his
feet, tottering toward his son, and before his son he sank upon his
knees and buried his hard, weathered old face upon Mavin's knees.

Justice of the Peace Bender cleared his throat.

"This here," he said, "looks to me to be suthin' the folks of this town,
the friends and neighbors of this here father and son, ought to settle,
instid of the law. Maybe it hain't legal, but I dunno who's to
interfere.... Folks, what ought to be done to this here boy that done a