Lescott stayed on a week after that simply in deference to Samson's

insistence. To leave at once might savor of flight under fire, but when

the week was out the painter turned his horse's head toward town, and

his train swept him back to the Bluegrass and the East. As he gazed out

of his car windows at great shoulders of rock and giant trees, things

he was leaving behind, he felt a sudden twinge of something akin to

homesickness. He knew that he should miss these great humps of

mountains and the ragged grandeur of the scenery. With the rich

smoothness of the Bluegrass, a sense of flatness and heaviness came to

his lungs. Level metal roads and loamy fields invited his eye. The

tobacco stalks rose in profuse heaviness of sticky green; the hemp

waved its feathery tops; and woodlands were clear of underbrush--the

pauper counties were behind him.

A quiet of unbroken and deadly routine settled down on Misery. The

conduct of the Souths in keeping hands off, and acknowledging the

justice of Tamarack Spicer's jail sentence, had been their answer to

the declaration of the Hollmans in letting Samson ride into and out of

Hixon. The truce was established. When, a short time later, Tamarack

left the country to become a railroad brakeman, Jesse Purvy passed the

word that his men must, until further orders, desist from violence. The

word had crept about that Samson, too, was going away, and, if this

were true, Jesse felt that his future would be more secure than his

past. Purvy believed Samson guilty, despite the exoneration of the

hounds. Their use had been the idea of over-fervent relatives. He

himself scoffed at their reliability.

"I wouldn't believe no dog on oath," he declared. Besides, he

preferred to blame Samson, since he was the head of the tribe and

because he himself knew what cause Samson had to hate him. Perhaps,

even now, Samson meant to have vengeance before leaving. Possibly,

even, this ostentatious care to regard the truce was simply a shrewdly

planned sham meant to disarm his suspicion.

Until Samson went, if he did go, Jesse Purvy would redouble his

caution. It would be a simple matter to have the boy shot to death, and

end all question. Samson took no precautions to safeguard his life, but

he had a safeguard none the less. Purvy felt sure that within a week

after Samson fell, despite every care he might take, he, too, would

fall. He was tired of being shot down. Purvy was growing old, and the

fires of war were burning to embers in his veins. He was becoming more

and more interested in other things.




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