Summary

Jr. John Fox Christmas Eve on Lonesome and Other Stories

Flitter Bill heard the din as he stood by his barn door.
"They've gobbled the army," said Flitter Bill, and he, too, fled like a shadow down the valley.
Nature never explodes such wild and senseless energy as when she lets loose a mob in a panic. With the army, it was each man for himself and devil take the hindmost; and the flight of the army was like a flight from the very devil himself. Lieutenant Boggs, whose feet were the swiftest in the hills, outstripped his devoted band.
Source: Gutenberg

Jr. John Fox Christmas Eve on Lonesome and Other Stories

Flitter Bill must find a leader for them, and anywhere than in his own fat self, for a leader of men Bill was not born to be, nor could he see a leader among the men before him. And so, standing there one early morning in the spring of 1865, with uplifted gaze, it was no surprise to him—the coincidence, indeed, became at once one of the articles of perfect faith in his own star—that he should see afar off, a black slouch hat and a jogging gray horse rise above a little knoll that was in line with the mouth of the Gap.
Source: Gutenberg

Jr. John Fox Christmas Eve on Lonesome and Other Stories

In them were two men who had wounded each other only the day before, and who that day would lead the factions, if the old feud broke loose again. One house was close to the frothing hem of the flood—a log-hut with a shed of rough boards for a kitchen—the home of Becky Day.
The other was across the way and was framed and smartly painted. On the steps sat a woman with her head bare and her hands under her apron—widow of the Marcum whose death from a bullet one month before had broken the long truce of the feud.
Source: Gutenberg

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