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"Now, by God, I got ye!" He shook a finger at Zed. "It don't make a damn bit o' diff'runce what Tug done, whether he went up to the mourners' bench or not, he was thinkin' right in his heart, an' he was right! He was right! That shows Peck Bradley shot Tug out o' wickedness and cussedness, exactly like he shot ol' man Shelton, an', by God, me an' you as citizens of Lane County ort not to let him fall into the protection an' encouragement of the law, which will turn him go a free man."

Such an amazing conclusion took Zed off his feet. "My Lord, man, me an' you—me an' you not let him—how the hell can me an' you do anything a-tall?"

"Take him out an' hang him!" cried Abner, "or he'p do it! This ain't a case fer the law; there's been a crime committed!"

"Gosh, but you're talkin' batty!"

"Don't the Bible say, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord?'"

"Shore."

"Don't the childern of God have to do ever' frazzlin' thing the Lord gits done down here? They build the churches, send off the missionaries, pay the preachers, hold the meetin's. God don't turn a finger for Hisse'f. Now, look here, if the Lord wants vengeance, who's goin' to haff to git it fer Him? Answer me that! Who's it up to?"

"Huh!" Zed fell into a surprised meditation. Presently he admitted. "I never had thought of that. . . ."

"An' Tug licked Peck once in a fair fight," clinched Abner.

"Le's walk down to the garage an' see what the rest of the boys think about it," proposed Zed.

At the garage Abner's bright flash of initiative was lost in a deluge of talk. All he succeeded in doing was to stir up one of those endless incoherent arguments, common to the hill folk, which rambled on and on to no purpose whatever. The question of redressing the wrongs of Tug Beavers was placed on the same impersonal plane as whether or not