"I don't crave no more of 'em," he replied shortly. Once again his thoughts enveloped him in a silence which he finally broke with a vehement interrogation.
"Asa, did ye ever heer anybody norrate thet hit's cowardly ter shoot an enemy from ther bresh?"
Asa paused, his laden knife suspended midway twixt platter and mouth. For an instant his clear-chiseled features pictured only surprise for the unexpected question--then they hardened as Athenian faces hardened when Plato "corrupted the youth with the raising up of new gods."
"Who's been a'talkin' blamed nonsense ter ye, Boone?" he demanded in a terse manner tinctured with sharpness.
The boy felt his cheeks grow suddenly hot with a quandary of embarrassment. To McCalloway he stood pledged to keep inviolate the confidence of their conversations, and it was only after an awkward pause that he replied with a halting lameness:
"Hit hain't jist p'intedly what nobody's been a'tellin' me. I ... I seed in a book whar hit said somethin' ter thet amount." Suddenly with an inspirational light of augmented authority, he added, "The Circuit-rider hisself read outen ther Scriptures suthin' 'bout not doin' no murder."
Asa carried the knife up to his lips and emptied its blade. Having done so, he spoke with a deliberate and humourless sincerity.
"Murder's a right ugly word, Boone, an' one a feller ought ter be kinderly heedful erbout usin'. Barrin' ther Carrs an' Blairs an' sich-like, I don't know nobody mean enough ter foller murderin'. Sometimes a man's p'intedly fo'ced into a _killin'_, but thar's a heap of differ betwixt them two things."
The grave face of the boy was still clouded with his new-born misgivings, and reading that perplexity, his kinsman went on:
"Myself I've done been obleeged ter kill some sev'ral men. I plum deplores hit. I wouldn't hold no high notion of anybody thet tuck ther life of a feller-bein' without he _was_ plum obleeged ter do hit--ner of no man thet _didn't_ ef hit war his cl'ar duty. Hit's done been ther rise of fifty y'ars now since ther war first started up betwixt us an' ther Carrs. Hit warn't none of my doin', but ever since then--off an' on--my kinsfolk an' yourn hes done been shot down from ther la'rel--an' we've done hit back an' sought ter hold ther score even--or a leetle mite better. I've got my choice atween bein' run away from ther land whar I was born at or else"--he let his hand drop back with a simple gesture of rude eloquence until its fingers rested on the leaning rifle--"or else I hev need ter give my enemies ther only style of fightin' thet will avail. Seems like ter me hit'd be right cowardly ter run away."