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diff --git a/5129-h/5129-h.htm b/5129-h/5129-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..698da68 --- /dev/null +++ b/5129-h/5129-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17778 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Prodigal Judge, by Vaughan Kester + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Judge, by Vaughan Kester + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Prodigal Judge + +Author: Vaughan Kester + +Release Date: May 2, 2009 [EBook #5129] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL JUDGE *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE PRODIGAL JUDGE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Vaughan Kester + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE BOY AT THE + BARONY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> YANCY + TELLS A MORAL TALE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> TROUBLE + AT SCRATCH HILL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> LAW + AT BALAAM'S CROSS-ROADS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. + </a> THE ENCOUNTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> + CHAPTER VI. </a> BETTY SETS OUT FOR TENNESSEE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE FIGHT AT + SLOSSON'S TAVERN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> ON + THE RIVER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> JUDGE + SLOCUM PRICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> BOON + COMPANIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE + ORATOR OF THE DAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + FAMILY ON THE RAFT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> THE JUDGE BREAKS JAIL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER XIV. </a> BELLE PLAIN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE SHOOTING-MATCH AT + BOGGS' <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE + PORTAL OF HOPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> BOB + YANCY FINDS HIMSELF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. + </a> AN ORPHAN MAN OF TITLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> + CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE JUDGE SEES A GHOST <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> THE WARNING <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THICKET POINT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> AT THE + CHURCH DOOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE + JUDGE OFFERS A REWARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. + </a> THE CABIN ACROSS THE BAYOU <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THE JUDGE EXTENDS HIS + CREDIT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> BETTY + LEAVES BELLE PLAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. + </a> PRISONERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER + XXVIII. </a> THE JUDGE MEETS THE SITUATION <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> COLONEL FENTRESS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> THE + BUBBLE BURSTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> THE + KEEL BOAT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> THE + RAFT AGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> THE + JUDGE RECEIVES A LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER + XXXIV. </a> THE DUEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> + CHAPTER XXXV. </a> A CRISIS AT THE COURT-HOUSE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> THE END AND THE + BEGINNING <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE BOY AT THE BARONY + </h2> + <p> + The Quintards had not prospered on the barren lands of the pine woods + whither they had emigrated to escape the malaria of the low coast, but + this no longer mattered, for the last of his name and race, old General + Quintard, was dead in the great house his father had built almost a + century before and the thin acres of the Barony, where he had made his + last stand against age and poverty, were to claim him, now that he had + given up the struggle in their midst. The two or three old slaves about + the place, stricken with a sense of the futility of the fight their master + had made, mourned for him and for themselves, but of his own blood and + class none was present. + </p> + <p> + Shy dwellers from the pine woods, lanky jeans-clad men and sunbonneted + women, who were gathering for the burial of the famous man of their + neighborhood, grouped themselves about the lawn which had long since sunk + to the uses of a pasture lot. Singly or by twos and threes they stole up + the steps and across the wide porch to the open door. On the right of the + long hall another door stood open, and who wished could enter the + drawing-room, with its splendid green and gold paper, and the wonderful + fireplace with the Dutch tiles that graphically depicted the story of + Jonah and the whale. + </p> + <p> + Here the general lay in state. The slaves had dressed their old master in + the uniform he had worn as a colonel of the continental line, but the thin + shoulders of the wasted figure no longer filled the buff and blue coat. + The high-bred face, once proud and masterful no doubt, as became the face + of a Quintard, spoke of more than age and poverty—it was infinitely + sorrowful. Yet there was something harsh and unforgiving in the lines + death had fixed there, which might have been taken as the visible impress + of that mystery, the bitterness of which had misshaped the dead man's + nature; but the resolute lips had closed for ever on their secret, and the + broken spirit had gone perhaps to learn how poor a thing its pride had + been. + </p> + <p> + Though he had lived continuously at the Barony for almost a quarter of a + century, there was none among his neighbors who could say he had looked on + that thin, aquiline face in all that time. Yet they had known much of him, + for the gossip of the slaves, who had been his only friends in those years + he had chosen to deny himself to other friends, had gone far and wide over + the county. + </p> + <p> + That notable man of business, Jonathan Crenshaw—and this superiority + was especially evident when the business chanced to be his own—was + closeted in the library with a stranger to whom rumor fixed the name of + Bladen, supposing him to be the legal representative of certain remote + connections of the old general's. + </p> + <p> + Crenshaw sat before the flat-topped mahogany desk in the center of the + room with several well-thumbed account-books open before him. Bladen, in + riding dress, stood by the window. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you will buy in the property when it comes up for sale?” the + latter was saying. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crenshaw had already made it plain that General Quintard's creditors + would have lean pickings at the Barony, intimating that he himself was the + chiefest of these and the one to suffer most grievously in pocket. Further + than this, Mr. Bladen saw that the old house was a ruin, scarcely + habitable, and that the thin acres, though they were many and a royal + grant, were of the slightest value. Crenshaw nodded his acquiescence to + the lawyer's conjecture touching the ultimate fate of the Barony. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon, sir, I'll want to protect myself, but if there are any of his + own kin who have a fancy to the place I'll put no obstacle in their way.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are the other creditors?” asked Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't none, sir; they just got tired waiting on him, and when they + began to sue and get judgment the old general would send me word to settle + with them, and their claims passed into my hands. I was in too deep to + draw out. But for the last ten years his dealings were all with me; I + furnished the supplies for the place here. It didn't amount to much, as + there was only him and the darkies, and the account ran on from year to + year.” + </p> + <p> + “He lived entirely alone, saw no one, I understand,” said Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “Alone with his two or three old slaves—yes, sir. He wouldn't even + see me; Joe, his old nigger, would fetch orders for this or that. Once or + twice I rode out to see him, but I wa'n't even allowed inside that door; + the message I got was that he couldn't be disturbed, and the last time I + come he sent me word that if I annoyed him again he would be forced to + terminate our business relations. That was pretty strong talk, wa'n't it, + when you consider that I could have sold the roof from over his head and + the land from under his feet? Oh, well, I just put it down to + childishness.” There was a brief pause, then Crenshaw spoke again. “I + reckon, sir, if you know anything about the old general's private affairs + you don't feel no call to speak on that point?” he observed, and with + evident regret. He had hoped that Bladen would clear up the mystery, for + certainly it must have been some sinister tragedy that had cost the + general his grip on life and for twenty years and more had made of him a + recluse, so that the faces of his friends had become as the faces of + strangers. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir, I know nothing of General Quintard's private, history. I am + even unacquainted with my clients, who are distant cousins, but his + nearest kin—they live in South Carolina. I was merely instructed to + represent them in the event of his death and to look after their + interests.” + </p> + <p> + “That's business,” said Crenshaw, nodding. + </p> + <p> + “All I know is this: General Quintard was a conspicuous man in these parts + fifty years ago; that was before my time, Mr. Crenshaw, and I take it, + too, it was before yours; he married a Beaufort.” + </p> + <p> + “So he did,” said Crenshaw, “and there was one child, a daughter; she + married a South Carolinian by the name of Turberville. I remember that, + fo' they were married under the gallery in the hall. Great folks, those + Turbervilles, rolling rich. My father was manager then fo' the general—that + was nearly forty years ago. There was life here then, sir; the place was + alive with niggers and the house full of guests from one month's end to + another.” He drummed on the desktop. “Who'd a thought it wa'n't to last + for ever!” + </p> + <p> + “And what became of the daughter who married Turberville?” + </p> + <p> + “Died years ago,” said Crenshaw. “She was here the last time about thirty + years back. It wa'n't so easy to get about in those days, no roads to + speak of and no stages, and besides, the old general wa'n't much here + nohow; her going away had sort of broken up his home, I reckon. Then the + place stood empty fo' a few years, most of the slaves were sold off, and + the fields began to grow up. No one rightly knew, but the general was + supposed to be traveling up yonder in the No'th, sir. As I say, things ran + along this way quite a while, and then one morning when I went to my store + my clerk says, 'There's an old white-headed nigger been waiting round here + fo' a word with you, Mr. Crenshaw.' It was Joe, the general's body + servant, and when I'd shook hands with him I said, 'When's the master + expected back?' You see, I thought Joe had been sent on ahead to open the + house, but he says, 'General Quintard's at the Barony now,' and then he + says, 'The general's compliments, sir, and will you see that this order is + filled?' Well, Mr. Bladen, I and my father had factored the Barony fo' + fifteen years and upward, but that was the first time the supplies fo' the + general's table had ever been toted here in a meal sack! + </p> + <p> + “I rode out that very afternoon, but Joe, who was one of your mannerly + niggers, met me at the door and says, 'Mr. Crenshaw, the general + appreciates this courtesy, but regrets that he is unable to see you, sir.' + After that it wa'n't long in getting about that the general was a changed + man. Other folks came here to welcome him back and he refused to see them, + but the reason of it we never learned. Joe, who probably knew, was one of + your close niggers; there was, no getting anything out of him; you could + talk with that darky by the hour, sir, and he left you feeling emptier + than if he'd kept his mouth shut.” + </p> + <p> + They were interrupted by a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Crenshaw, a trifle impatiently, and in response to his + bidding the door opened and a small boy entered the room dragging after + him a long rifle. Suddenly overcome by a speechless shyness, he paused on + the threshold to stare with round, wondering eyes at the two men. “Well, + sonny, what do you want?” asked Mr. Crenshaw indulgently. + </p> + <p> + The boy opened his mouth, but his courage failed him, and with his courage + went the words he would have spoken. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” asked Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell, you presently,” said Crenshaw. “Come, speak up, sonny, what do + you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, I want this here old spo'tin' rifle,” said: the child. + “Please, sir, I want to keep it,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you run along on out of here with your old spo'tin' rifle!” said + Crenshaw good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, am I to keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I reckon you may keep it—least I've no objection.” Crenshaw + glanced at Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by all means,” said the latter. Spasms of delight shook the small + figure, and with a murmur that was meant for thanks he backed from the + room, closing the door. Bladen glanced inquiringly at Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “You want to know about him, sir? Well, that's Hannibal Wayne Hazard.” + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal Wayne Hazard?” repeated Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; the general was the authority on that point, but who Hannibal + Wayne Hazard is and how he happens to be at the Barony is another mystery—just + wait a minute, sir—” and quitting his chair Mr. Crenshaw hurried + from the room to return almost immediately with a tall countryman. “Mr. + Bladen, this is Bob Yancy. Bob, the gentleman, wants to hear about the + woman and the child; that's your story.” + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, sir,” said Mr. Yancy. He appeared to meditate on the mental effort + that was required of him, then he took a long breath. “It was this a-ways—” + he began with a soft drawl, and then paused. “You give me the dates, Mr. + John, fo' I disremember.” + </p> + <p> + “It was four year ago come next Christmas,” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “Old Christmas,” corrected Mr. Yancy. “Our folks always kept the old + Christmas like it was befo' they done mussed up the calendar. I'm agin all + changes,” added Mr. Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “He means the fo'teenth of December,” explained Mr. Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “Not wishin' to dispute your word, Mr. John, I mean Christmas,” objected + Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, he means Christmas then!” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “The evening befo', it was, and I'd gone to Fayetteville to get my + Christmas fixin's; there was right much rain and some snow falling.” Mr. + Yancy's guiding light was clearly accuracy. “Just at sundown I hooked up + that blind mule of mine to the cart and started fo' home. As I got shut of + the town the stage come in and I seen one passenger, a woman. Now that + mule is slow, Mr. John; I'm free to say there are faster mules, but a set + of harness never went acrost the back of a slower critter than that one of + mine.” Yancy, who thus far had addressed himself to Mr. Crenshaw, now + turned to Bladen. “That mule, sir, sees good with his right eye, but it's + got a gait like it was looking fo' the left-hand side of the road and + wondering what in thunderation had got into it that it was acrost the way; + mules are gifted with some sense, but mighty little judgment.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the mule, Bob,” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “If I can't make the gentleman believe in the everlasting slowness of that + mule of mine, my story ain't worth a hill of beans,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “The extraordinary slowness of the mule is accepted without question, Mr. + Yancy,” said Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “I'm obliged to you,” rejoined Yancy, and for a brief moment he appeared + to commune with himself, then he continued. “A mile out of town I heard + some one sloshing through the rain after me; it was dark by that time and + I couldn't see who it was, so I pulled up and waited, and then I made out + it was a woman. She spoke when she was alongside the cart and says, 'Can + you drive me on to the Barony?' and it came to me it was the same woman + I'd seen leave the stage. When I got down to help her into the cart I saw + she was toting a child in her arms.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the woman look like, Bob?” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “She wa'n't exactly old and she wa'n't young by no manner of means; I + remember saying to myself, that child ain't yo's, whose ever it is. Well, + sir, I was willing enough to talk, but she wa'n't, she hardly spoke until + we came to the red gate, when she says, 'Stop, if you please, I'll walk + the rest of the way.' Mind you, she'd known without a word from me we were + at the Barony. She give me a dollar, and the last I seen of her she was + hurrying through the rain toting the child in her arms.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crenshaw took up the narrative. + </p> + <p> + “The niggers say the old general almost had a fit when he saw her. Aunt + Alsidia let her into the house; I reckon if Joe had been alive she + wouldn't have got inside that door, spite of the night!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “When morning come she was gone, but the child done stayed behind; we + always reckoned the lady walked back to Fayetteville sometime befo' day + and took the stage. I've heard Aunt Alsidia tell as how the old general + said that morning, pale and shaking like, 'You'll find a boy asleep in the + red room; he's to be fed and cared fo', but keep him out of my sight. His + name is Hannibal Wayne Hazard.' That is all the general ever said on the + matter. He never would see the boy, never asked after him even, and the + boy lived in the back of the house, with the niggers to look after him. + Now, sir, you know as much as we know, which is just next door to + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The old general was borne across what had once been the west lawn to his + resting-place in the neglected acre where the dead and gone of his race + lay, and the record of the family was complete, as far as any man knew. + Crenshaw watched the grave take shape with a melancholy for which he found + no words, yet if words could have come from the mist of ideas in which his + mind groped vaguely he would have said that for themselves the deeds of + the Quintards had been given the touch of finality, and that whether for + good or for evil, the consequences, like the ripple which rises from the + surface of placid waters when a stone is dropped, still survived somewhere + in the world. + </p> + <p> + The curious and the idle drifted back to the great house; then the memory + of their own affairs, not urgent, generally speaking, but still of some + casual interest, took them down the disused carriage-way to the red gate + and so off into the heat of the summer day. Crenshaw's wagon, driven by + Crenshaw's man, vanished in a cloud of gray dust with the two old slaves, + Aunt Alsidia and Uncle Ben, who were being taken to the Crenshaw place to + be cared for pending the settlement of the Quintard estate. Bladen parted + from Crenshaw with expressions of pleasure at having had the opportunity + of making his acquaintance, and further delivered himself of the civil + wish that they might soon meet again. Then Crenshaw, assisted by Bob + Yancy, proceeded to secure the great house against intrusion. + </p> + <p> + “I make it a p'int to always stay and see the plumb finish of a thing,” + explained Yancy. “Otherwise you're frequently put out by hearing of what + happened after you left; I can stand anything but disapp'intment of that + kind.” + </p> + <p> + They passed from room to room securing doors and windows, and at last + stepped out upon the back porch. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” said Yancy, pointing. + </p> + <p> + There on a bench by the kitchen door was a small figure. It was Hannibal + Wayne Hazard asleep, with his old spo'tin' rifle across his knees. His + very existence had been forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare to goodness!” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with him, Mr. John?” + </p> + <p> + This question nettled Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as that is any particular affair of mine,” he said. Now, Mr. + Crenshaw, though an excellent man of business, with an unblinking eye on + number one, was kindly, on the whole, but there was a Mrs. Crenshaw, to + whom he rendered a strict account of all his deeds, and that sacred + institution, the home, was only a tolerable haven when these deeds were + nicely calculated to fit with the lady's exactions. Especially was he + aware that Mrs. Crenshaw was averse to children as being inimical to + cleanliness and order, oppressive virtues that drove Crenshaw himself in + his hours of leisure to the woodshed, where he might spit freely. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'd rather drop a word with yo' missus before you toted him + home?” suggested Yancy, who knew something of the nature of his friend's + domestic thraldom. + </p> + <p> + “A woman ought to be boss in her own house,” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “Feelin' the truth of that, I've never married, Mr. John; I do as I please + and don't have to listen to a passel of opinion. But I was going to say, + what's to hinder me from toting that boy to my home? There are no calico + petticoats hanging up in my closets.” + </p> + <p> + “And no closets to hang 'em in, I'll be bound!” rejoined Crenshaw. “But if + you'll take the boy, Bob, you shan't lose by it.” + </p> + <p> + Yancy rested a big knotted hand on the boy's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Come, wake up, sonny! Yo' Uncle Bob is ready fo' to strike out home,” he + said. The child roused with a start and stared into the strange bearded + face that was bent toward him. “It's yo' Uncle Bob,” continued Yancy in a + wheedling tone. “Are you the little nevvy what will help him to hook up + that old blind mule of hisn? Here, give us the spo'tin' rifle to tote!” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, where is Aunt Alsidia?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + Yancy balanced the rifle on his great palm and his eyes assumed a + speculative cast. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what's to hinder us from loading this old gun, and firing this + old gun, and hearing this old gun go-bang! Eh?” + </p> + <p> + The child's blue eyes grew wide. + </p> + <p> + “Like the guns off in the woods?” he asked, in a breathless whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Like the guns a body hears off in the woods, only louder—heaps + louder,” said Yancy. “You fetch out his plunder, Mr. John,” he added in a + lower tone. + </p> + <p> + “Do it now, please,” the child cried, slipping off the bench. + </p> + <p> + “I was expectin' fo' to hear you name me Uncle Bob, sonny; my little + nevvies get almost anything they want out of me when they call me + that-a-ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Uncle Bob, make it go bang!” + </p> + <p> + “You come along, then,” and Mr. Yancy moved off in the direction of his + mule, the child following. “Powder's what we want fo' to make this old + spo'tin' rifle talk up, and I reckon we'll find some in a horn flask in + the bottom of my cart.” His expectations in this particular were realized, + and he loaded the rifle with a small blank charge. “Now,” he said, shaking + the powder into the pan by a succession of smart taps on the breech, + “sometimes these old pieces go off and sometimes they don't; it depends on + the flint, but you stand back of your Uncle Bob, sonny, and keep yo' + fingers out of yo' ears, and when you say—bang!—off she goes.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of delightful expectancy, and then— + </p> + <p> + “Bang!” cried the child, and on the instant the rifle cracked. “Do it + again! Please, Uncle Bob!” he cried, wild with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Now if you was to help yo' Uncle Bob hook up that old mule of hisn and + ride home with him, fo' he's going pretty shortly, you and Uncle Bob could + do right much shootin' with this old rifle.” Mr. Crenshaw had appeared + with a bundle, which he tossed into the cart. Yancy turned to him. “If you + meet any inquiring friends, Mr. John, I reckon you may say that my nevvy's + gone fo' to pay me a visit. Most of his time will be agreeably spent + shootin' with this rifle at a mark, and me holdin' him so he won't get + kicked clean off his feet.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter beguiling speech flowed steadily from Mr. Yancy's bearded lips, + in the midst of which relations were established between the mule and + cart, and the boy quitted the Barony for a new world. + </p> + <p> + “Do you reckon if Uncle Bob was to let you, you could drive, sonny?” + </p> + <p> + “Can she gallop?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yancy gave him a hurt glance. + </p> + <p> + “She's too much of a lady to do that,” he said. “No, I 'low this ain't 'so + fast as running or walking, but it's a heap quicker than standing + stock-still.” The afternoon sun waned as they went deeper and deeper into + the pine woods, but at last they came to their journey's end, a widely + scattered settlement on a hill above a branch. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Mr. Yancy, “are Scratch Hill, sonny. Why Scratch Hill? Some + say it's the fleas; others agin hold it's the eternal bother of making a + living here, but whether fleas or living you scratch fo' both.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. YANCY TELLS A MORAL TALE + </h2> + <p> + In the deep peace that rested like a benediction on the pine-clad slopes + of Scratch Hill the boy Hannibal followed at Yancy's heels as that + gentleman pursued the not arduous rounds of temperate industry which made + up his daily life, for if Yancy were not completely idle he was + responsible for a counterfeit presentment of idleness having most of the + merits of the real article. He toiled casually in a small cornfield and a + yet smaller truck patch, but his work always began late, when it began at + all, and he was easily dissuaded from continuing it; indeed, his attitude + toward it seemed to challenge interference. + </p> + <p> + In the winter, when the weather conditions were perfectly adjusted to meet + certain occult exactions he had come to require, Yancy could be induced to + go into the woods and there labor with his ax. But as he pointed out to + Hannibal, a poor man's capital was his health, and he being a poor man it + behooved him to have a jealous care of himself. He made use of the dull + days of mingled mist and drizzle for hunting, work being clearly out of + the question; one could get about over the brown floor of the forest in + silence then, and there was no sun to glint the brass mountings of his + rifle. The fine days he professed to regard with keen suspicion as weather + breeders, when it was imprudent to go far from home, especially in the + direction of the Crenshaw timber lands, which for years had been the scene + of all his gainful industry, and where he seemed to think nature ready to + assume her most sinister aspect. Again in the early spring, when the young + oak leaves were the size of squirrel's ears and the whippoorwills began + calling as the long shadows struck through the pine woods, the needs of + his corn ground battled with his desire to fish. In all such crises of the + soul Mr. Yancy was fairly vanquished before the struggle began; but to the + boy his activities were perfectly ordered to yield the largest return in + contentment. + </p> + <p> + The Barony had been offered for sale and bought in by Crenshaw for eleven + thousand dollars, this being the amount of his claim. Some six months + later he sold the plantation for fifteen thousand dollars to Nathaniel + Ferris, of Currituck County. + </p> + <p> + “There's money in the old place, Bob, at that figure,” Crenshaw told + Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “There are so,” agreed Yancy, who was thinking Crenshaw had lost no time + in getting it out. + </p> + <p> + They were seated on the counter in Crenshaw's store at Balaam's Cross + Roads, where the heavy odor of black molasses battled with the sprightly + smell of salt fish. The merchant held the Scratch Hiller in no small + esteem. Their intimacy was of long standing, for the Yancys going down and + the Crenshaws coming up had for a brief space flourished on the same + social level. Mr. Crenshaw's rise in life, however, had been + uninterrupted, while Mr. Yancy, wrapped in a philosophic calm and deeply + averse to industry, had permitted the momentum imparted by a remote + ancestor to carry him where it would, which was steadily away from that + tempered prosperity his family had once boasted as members of the + land-owning and slaveholding class. + </p> + <p> + “I mean there's money in the place fo' Ferris,” Crenshaw explained. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon yo're right, Mr. John; the old general used to spend a heap on + the Barony and we all know he never got a cent back, so I reckon the + money's there yet. + </p> + <p> + “Bladen's got an answer from them South Carolina Quintards, and they don't + know nothing about the boy,” said Crenshaw, changing the subject. “So you + can rest easy, Bob; they ain't going to want him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, that surely is a passel of comfort to me. I find I got all the + instincts of a father without having had none of the instincts of a + husband.” + </p> + <p> + A richer, deeper realization of his joy came to Yancy when he had turned + his back on Balaam's Cross Roads and set out for home through the fragrant + silence of the pine woods. His probable part in the young life chance had + placed in his keeping was a glorious thing to the man. He had not cared to + speculate on the future; he had believed that friends or kindred must + sooner or later claim Hannibal, but now he felt wonderfully secure in + Crenshaw's opinion that this was not to be. + </p> + <p> + Just beyond the Barony, which was midway between Balaam's and the Hill, + down the long stretch of sandy road he saw two mounted figures, then as + they drew nearer he caught the flutter of skirts and recognized one of the + horsewomen. It was Mrs. Ferris, wife of the Barony's new owner. She reined + in her horse abreast of his cart. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you Mr. Yancy?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, that's me—Bob Yancy.” He regarded her with large gray + eyes that were frankly approving in their expression, for she was more + than commonly agreeable to look upon. + </p> + <p> + “I am Mrs. Ferris, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “The same here,” murmured Yancy with winning civility. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ferris' companion leaned forward, her face averted, and stroked her + horse's neck with gloved hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is my friend, Miss Betty Malroy.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to know you, ma'am,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + Miss Malroy faced him, smiling. She, too, was very good to look upon, + indeed she was quite radiant with youth and beauty. + </p> + <p> + “We are just returning from Scratch Hill—I think that is what you + call it?” said Mrs. Ferris. + </p> + <p> + “So we do,” agreed Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “And the dear little boy we met is your nephew, is he not, Mr. Yancy?” It + was Betty Malroy who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “In a manner he is and in a manner he ain't,” explained Yancy, somewhat + enigmatically. + </p> + <p> + “There are quite a number of children at Scratch Hill?” suggested Mrs. + Ferris. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, so there are; a body would naturally notice that.” + </p> + <p> + “And no school—not a church even!” continued Mrs. Ferris in a + grieved tone. + </p> + <p> + “Never has been,” rejoined Yancy cheerfully. He seemed to champion the + absence of churches and schools on the score of long usage. + </p> + <p> + “But what do the people do when they want to go to church?” questioned + Mrs. Ferris. + </p> + <p> + “Never having heard that any of 'em wanted to go I can't say just offhand, + but don't you fret none about that, ma'am; there are churches; one's up at + the Forks, and there's another at Balaam's Cross Roads.” + </p> + <p> + “But that's ten miles from Scratch Hill, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all of that,” said Yancy. He sensed it that the lady before him, was + a person of much force and energy, capable even of reckless innovation. + Mr. Yancy himself was innately conservative; his religious inspiration had + been drawn from the Forks and Balaam's Cross Roads. It had seemed to + answer very well. Mrs. Ferris fixed his wavering glance. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think it is too bad, Mr. Yancy, the way those children have + been neglected? There is nothing for them but to run wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I seen some right good children fetched up that-a-ways—smart, + too. You see, ma'am, there's a heap a child can just naturally pick up of + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” and the monosyllable was uttered rather weakly. Mr. Yancy's name had + been given her as that of a resident of weight and influence in the + classic region of Scratch Hill. Miss Malroy came to her friend's rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Ferris thinks the children should have a chance to learn at home. + Poor little tots!—they can't walk ten or fifteen miles to + Sunday-school, now can they, Mr. Yancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless yo' heart, they won't try to!” said Yancy reassuringly. “Sunday's a + day of rest at Scratch Hill. So are most of the other days of the week, + but we all aspire to take just a little mo' rest on Sunday than any other + day. Sometimes we ain't able to, but that's our aim.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the old deserted cabin by the big pine?—the Blount + place?” asked Mrs. Ferris. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to have Sunday-school there for those children; they shan't be + neglected any longer if I can help it—I should feel guilty, quite + guilty! Now won't you let your little nephew come? Perhaps they'll not + find it so very terrible, after all.” From which Mr. Yancy concluded that + when she invaded it, skepticism had rested as a mantle on Scratch Hill. + </p> + <p> + “Every one said we would better talk with you, Mr. Yancy, and we were + hoping to meet you as we came along,” supplemented Miss Malroy, and her + words of flattery were wafted to him with so sweet a smile that Yancy + instantly capitulated. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you-all can count on my nevvy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Scratch Hill, in the waning light of day, Hannibal, in a + state of high excitement, met him at the log shed, which served as a barn. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you-all have been entertaining visitors while Uncle Bob was away,” + observed Yancy, and remembering what Crenshaw had told him, he rested his + big hand on the boy's head with a special tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “There's going to be a school in the cabin in the old field!” said the + boy. “May I go?—Oh, Uncle Bob, will you please take me?” + </p> + <p> + “When's this here school going to begin, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow at four o'clock, she said, Uncle Bob.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a quick lady, ain't she? Well, I expected you'd be hopping around + on one leg when you named it to me. You wait until Sunday and see what I + do fo' my nevvy,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + He was as good as his implied promise, but the day began discouragingly + with an extra and, as it seemed to Hannibal, an unnecessary amount of soap + and water. + </p> + <p> + “You owe it to yo'self to show a clean skin in the house of worship. Just + suppose one of them nice ladies was to cast her eye back of yo' ears! + She'd surely be put out to name it offhand whether you was black or white. + I reckon I'll have to barber you some, too, with the shears.” + </p> + <p> + “What's school like, Uncle Bob?” asked Hannibal, twisting and squirming + under the big resolute hands of the man. + </p> + <p> + “I can't just say what it's like.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, didn't you ever go to school, Uncle Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I ever go to school! Where do you reckon I got my education, + anyhow? I went to school several times in my young days.” + </p> + <p> + “On a Sunday, like this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the school I tackled was on a week-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it hard?” asked Hannibal, who was beginning to cherish secret + misgivings; for surely all this soap and water must have some sinister + portent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, some learn easier than others. I learned middling easy—it + didn't take me long—and when I felt I knowed enough I just naturally + quit and went on about my business.” + </p> + <p> + “But what did you learn?” insisted the boy. + </p> + <p> + “You-all wouldn't know if I told you, because you-all ain't ever been to + school yo'self. When you've had yo' education we'll talk over what I + learned—it mostly come out of a book.” He hoped his general + statement would satisfy Hannibal, but it failed to do so. + </p> + <p> + “What's a book. Uncle Bob?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, whatever a body don't know naturally he gets out of a book. I + reckon the way you twist, Nevvy, mebby you'd admire fo' to lose an ear!” + and Mr. Yancy refused further to discuss the knowledge he had garnered in + his youth. + </p> + <p> + Hannibal and Yancy were the first to arrive at the deserted cabin in the + old field that afternoon. They found the place had been recently cleaned + and swept, while about the wall was ranged a row of benches; there was + also a table and two chairs. Yancy inspected the premises with the eye of + mature experience. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it surely is a school; any one with an education would know that. + Just look!—ain't you glad yo' Uncle Bob slicked you up some, now you + see what them ladies has done fo' to make this place tidy?” + </p> + <p> + Shy children from the pine woods, big brothers with little sisters and big + sisters with little brothers, drifted out of the encircling forest. + Coincident with the arrival of the last of these stragglers Mrs. Ferris + and Miss Malroy appeared, attended by a colored groom. + </p> + <p> + “It was so good of you to come, Mr. Yancy! The children won't feel so shy + with you here,” said Mrs. Ferris warmly, as Yancy assisted her to + dismount, an act of courtesy that called for his finest courage. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ferris' missionary spirit manifested itself agreeably enough on the + whole. When she had ranged her flock in a solemn-faced row on the benches, + she began by explaining why Sunday was set apart for a day of rest, + touching but lightly on its deeper significance as a day of worship as + well; then she read certain chapters from the Bible, finishing with the + story of David, a narrative that made a deep impression upon Yancy, + comfortably seated in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you tell the children a story, Mr. Yancy? Something about their own + neighborhood I think would be nice, something with a moral,” the pleasant + earnest voice f Mrs. Ferris roused the Scratch Hiller from his + meditations. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, I reckon I can tell 'em a story.” He stood up, filling the + doorway with his bulk. “I can tell you-all a story about this here house,” + he said, addressing himself to the children. He smiled happily. “You-all + don't need to look so solemn, a body ain't going to snap at you! This + house are the old Blount cabin, but the Blounts done moved away from it + years and years ago. They're down Fayetteville way now. There was a passel + of 'em and they was about as common a lot of white folks as you'd find + anywhere; I know, because I come to a dance here once and Dave Blount + called me a liar right in this very room.” He paused, that this impressive + fact might disseminate itself. Hannibal slid forward in his seat, his + earnest little face bent on Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he call you a liar, Uncle Bob?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I scarcely know, Nevvy, but that's what he done, and he stuck some + words in front of it that ain't fitten I should repeat.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Malroy's cheeks had become very red, and Mrs. Ferris refused to meet + her eye, while the children were in a flutter of pleased expectancy. They + felt the wholly contemporary interest of Yancy's story; he was dealing + with forms of speech which prevailed and were usually provocative of + consequences more or less serious. He gave them a wide, sunny smile. + </p> + <p> + “When Dave Blount called me that, I struck out fo' home.” At this + surprising turn in the narrative the children looked their disgust, and + Mrs. Ferris shot Betty a triumphant glance. “Yes, ma'am, I struck out + across the fields fo' home, I didn't wish to hear no mo' of that loose + kind of talk. When I got home I found my old daddy setting up afo' the + fire, and he says, 'You come away early, son.' I told him what Dave Blount + had called me and he says, 'You acted like a gentleman, Bob, with all them + womenfolks about.”' + </p> + <p> + “You had a very good and sensible father, Mr. Yancy. How much better than + if—” began Mrs. Ferris, who feared that the moral might elude him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, but along about day he come into the loft where I was + sleeping and says to me, 'Sun-up, Bob—time fo' you to haul on yo' + pants and go back yonder and fetch that Dave Blount a smack in the jaw.'” + Mrs. Ferris moved uneasily in her chair: “I dressed and come here, but + when I asked fo' Dave he wouldn't step outside, so I just lost patience + with his foolishness and took a crack at him standing where I'm standing + now, but he ducked and you can still see, ma'am”—turning to the + embarrassed Mrs. Ferris—“where my knuckles made a dint in the + door-jamb. I got him the next lick, though!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yancy's moral tale had reached its conclusion; it was not for him to + boast unduly of his prowess. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob, you lift me up and show me them dints!” and Hannibal slipped + from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” said Betty Malroy laughing. She captured the boy and drew him + down beside her on a corner of her chair. “I am sure you don't want to see + the dents—Mr. Yancy's story, children, is to teach us how important + it is to guard our words—and not give way to hasty speech—” + </p> + <p> + “Betty!” cried Mrs. Ferris indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Judith, the moral is as obvious as it is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ferris gave her a reproachful look and turned to the children. + </p> + <p> + “You will all be here next Sunday, won't you?—and at the same hour?” + she said, rising. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden clatter of hoofs beyond the door. A man, well dressed + and well mounted had ridden into the yard. As Mrs. Ferris came from the + cabin he flung himself out of the saddle and, hat in hand, approached her. + </p> + <p> + “I am hunting a place called the Barony; can you tell me if I am on the + right road?” he asked. He was a man in the early thirties, graceful and + powerful of build, with a handsome face. + </p> + <p> + “It is my husband you wish to see? I am Mrs. Ferris.” + </p> + <p> + “Then General Quintard is dead?” His tone was one of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “His death occurred over a year ago, and my husband now owns the Barony; + were you a friend of the general's?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Madam; he was my father's friend, but I had hoped to meet him.” His + manner was adroit and plausible. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ferris hesitated. The stranger's dress and bearing was that of a + gentleman, and he could boast of his father's friendship with General + Quintard. Any doubts she may have had she put aside. + </p> + <p> + “Will you ride on with us to the Barony and meet my husband, Mr.—?” + she paused. + </p> + <p> + “Murrell—Captain Murrell. Thank you; I should like to see the old + place. I should highly value the privilege,” then his eyes rested on Miss + Malroy. + </p> + <p> + “Betty, let me present Captain Murrell.” + </p> + <p> + The captain bowed, giving her a glance of bold admiration. + </p> + <p> + By this time the children had straggled off into the pine woods as + silently as they had assembled; only Yancy and Hannibal remained. Mrs. + Ferris turned to the former. + </p> + <p> + “If you will close the cabin door, Mr. Yancy, everything will be ready for + next Sunday,” she said, and moved toward the horses, followed by Murrell. + Betty Malroy lingered for a moment at Hannibal's side. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, little boy; you must ask your Uncle Bob to bring you up to the + big house to see me,” and stooping she kissed him. “Good-by, Mr. Yancy, I + liked your story.” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal and Yancy watched them mount and ride away, then the boy said: + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob, now them ladies have gone, won't you please show me them dints + you made in the doorjamb?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. TROUBLE AT SCRATCH HILL + </h2> + <p> + Captain Murrell had established himself at Balaam's Cross Roads. He was + supposed to be interested in the purchase of a plantation, and in company + with Crenshaw visited the numerous tracts of land which the merchant + owned; but though he professed delight with the country, he was plainly in + no haste to become committed to any one of the several propositions + Crenshaw was eager to submit. Later, and still in the guise of a + prospective purchaser, he met Bladen, who also dealt extensively in land, + and apparently if anything could have pleased him more than the region + about the Cross Roads it was the country adjacent to Fayetteville. + </p> + <p> + From the first he had assiduously cultivated his acquaintance with the new + owners of the Barony. He was now on the best of terms with Nat Ferris, and + it was at the Barony that he lounged away his evenings, gossiping and + smoking with the planter on the wide veranda. + </p> + <p> + “The Barony would have suited me,” he told Bladen one day. They had just + returned from an excursion into the country and were seated in the + lawyer's office. + </p> + <p> + “You say your father was a friend of the old general's?” said Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “Years ago, in the north—yes,” answered Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Odd, isn't it, the way he chose to spend the last years of his life, shut + off like that and seeing no one?” + </p> + <p> + Murrell regarded the lawyer in silence for a moment out of his deeply sunk + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad about the boy,” he said at length slowly. + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean, Captain?” asked Bladen. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it's a pity he has no one except Yancy to look after him,” said + Murrell, but Bladen showed no interest and Murrell went on. “Don't you + reckon he must have touched General Quintard's life mighty close at some + point?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if so, it eluded me,” said Bladen. “I went through General + Quintard's papers and they contained no clue to the boy's identity that I + could discover. Fact is, the general didn't leave much beyond an old + account-book or two; I imagine that before his death he destroyed the bulk + of his private papers; it looked as if he'd wished to break with the past. + His mind must have been affected.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Yancy any legal claim on the boy?” inquired Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly not; the boy was merely left with Yancy because Crenshaw + didn't know what else to do with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Get possession of him, and if I don't buy land here I'll take him West + with me,” said Murrell quietly. Bladen gave him a swift, shrewd glance, + but Murrell, smiling and easy, met it frankly. “Come,” he said, “it's a + pity he should grow up wild in the pine woods—get him away from + Yancy—I am' willing to spend five hundred dollars on this if + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of sentiment?” + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + Bladen considered. He was not averse to making five hundred dollars, but + he was decidedly averse to letting slip any chance to secure a larger sum. + It flashed in upon him that Murrell had uncovered the real purpose of his + visit to North Carolina; his interest in land had been merely a + subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to think your proposition over,” said Bladen. + </p> + <p> + The immediate result of this conversation was that within twenty-four + hours a man driving two horses hitched to a light buggy arrived at Scratch + Hill in quest of Bob Yancy, whom he found at dinner and to whom he + delivered a letter. Mr. Yancy was profoundly impressed by the attention, + for holding the letter at arm's length, he said, + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I've lived nigh on to forty years, but I never got a piece of + writing befo'—never, sir. People, if they was close by, spoke to me, + if at a distance they hollered, but none of 'em ever wrote.” After gazing + at the written characters with satisfaction Mr. Yancy made a taper of the + letter and lit his pipe, which he puffed meditatively. “Sonny, when you + grow up you must learn so you can send writings to yo' Uncle Bob fo' him + to light his pipe with.” + </p> + <p> + “What was in the paper, Uncle Bob?” asked Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Writin',” said Mr. Yancy, and smoked. + </p> + <p> + “What did the writin' say, Uncle Bob?” insisted the boy. + </p> + <p> + “It was private,” said Mr. Yancy, “very private.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your answer?” demanded the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “That's private, too,” said Mr. Yancy. “You tell him I'll be monstrous + glad to talk it over with him any time he fancies to come out here.” + </p> + <p> + “He said something about some one I was to carry back with me,” objected + the man. + </p> + <p> + “Who said that?” asked Mr. Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Bladen did.” + </p> + <p> + “How's a body to know who yore talking about unless you name him?” said + Yancy severely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what am I to tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a free country and I got no call to dictate. You-all can tell him + whatever you like.” Further than this Mr. Yancy would not commit himself, + and the man went as he came. + </p> + <p> + The next day Yancy had occasion to visit Balaam's Cross Roads. Ordinarily + Hannibal would have gone with him, but he was engaged in digging out a + groundhog's hole with Oglethorpe Bellamy, grandson of Uncle Sammy Bellamy, + the patriarch of Scratch Hill. Mr. Yancy forbore to interrupt this + enterprise which he considered of some educational value, since the + ground-hog's hole was an old one and he was reasonably certain that a + family of skunks had taken possession of it. When Yancy reached the Cross + Roads, Crenshaw gave him a disquieting opinion as to the probable contents + of his letter, for he himself had heard from Bladen that he had decided to + assume the care of the boy. + </p> + <p> + “So you reckon it was that—” said Yancy, with a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “It's a blame outrage, Bob, fo' him to act like this!” said the merchant + with heat. + </p> + <p> + “When do you reckon he's going to send fo' him?” asked Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever the notion strikes him.” + </p> + <p> + “What about my having notions too?” inquired Yancy, flecked into passion, + and bringing his fist down on the counter with a crash. + </p> + <p> + “You surely ain't going to oppose him, Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Does he say when he's going to send fo' my nevvy?” + </p> + <p> + “He says it will be soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You take care of my mule, Mr. John,” said Yancy, and turned his back on + his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon Bladen will have the law on his side, Bob!” + </p> + <p> + “The law be damned—I got what's fair on mine, I don't wish fo' + better than that,” exclaimed Yancy, over his shoulder. He strode from the + store and started down the sandy road at a brisk run. Miserable + forebodings of an impending tragedy leaped up within him, and the miles + were many that lay between him and the Hill. + </p> + <p> + “He'll just naturally bust the face off the fellow Bladen sends!” thought + Crenshaw, staring after his friend. + </p> + <p> + That run of Bob Yancy's was destined to become a classic in the annals of + the neighborhood. Ordinarily a man walking briskly might cover the + distance between the Cross Roads and the Hill in two hours. He + accomplished it in less than an hour, and before he reached the branch + that flowed a full quarter of a mile from his cabin he was shouting + Hannibal's name as he ran. Then as he breasted the slope he came within + sight of a little group in his own dooryard. Saving only Uncle Sammy + Bellamy, the group resolved itself into the women and children of the + Hill, but there was one small figure he missed, and the color faded from + his cheeks while his heart stood still. The patriarch hurried toward him, + leaning on his cane, while his grandson clung to the skirts of his coat, + weeping bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “They've took your nevvy, Bob!” he cried, in a high, thin voice. + </p> + <p> + “Who's took him?” asked Yancy hoarsely. He paused and glanced from one to + another of the little group. + </p> + <p> + “Hit were Dave Blount. Get your gun, Bob, and go after him—kill the + miserable sneaking cuss!” cried Uncle Sammy, who believed in settling all + difficulties by bloodshed as befitted a veteran of the first war with + England, he having risen to the respectable rank of sergeant in a company + of Morgan's riflemen; while at sixty-odd in '12, when there was recruiting + at the Cross Roads, his son had only been able to prevent his tendering + his services to his country by hiding his trousers. “Fetch his rifle, some + of you fool women!” cried Uncle Sammy. “By the Fayetteville Road, Bob, not + ten minutes ago—you can cut him off at Ox Road forks!” + </p> + <p> + Yancy breathed a sigh of relief. The situation was not entirely desperate, + for, as Uncle Sammy said, he could reach the Ox Road forks before Blount + possibly could, by going as the crow flies through the pine woods. + </p> + <p> + “Hit wouldn't have happened if there'd been a man on the Hill, but there + was nothing but a passel of women about the place. I heard the boys crying + when Dave Blount lifted your nevvy into the buggy,” said Uncle Sammy; “all + I could do was to cuss him across two fields. I hope you blow his hide + full of holes!” for a rifle had been placed in Yancy's hands. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you-all kindly,” said Yancy, and turning away he struck off through + the pine woods. A brisk walk of twenty minutes brought him to the Ox Road + forks, as it was called, where he could plainly distinguish the wheel and + hoof marks left by the buggy and team as it went to Scratch Hill, but + there was only the single track. + </p> + <p> + This important point being settled, sense of sweet peace stole in upon + Yancy's spirit. He stood his rifle against a tree, lit his pipe with flint + and steel, and rested comfortably by the wayside. He had not long to wait, + for presently the buggy hove in sight; whereupon he coolly knocked the + ashes from his pipe, pocketed it, and prepared for action. As the buggy + came nearer he recognized his ancient enemy in the person of the man who + sat at Hannibal's side, and stepping nimbly into the road seized the + horses by their bits. At sight of him Hannibal shrieked his name in an + ecstasy of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob—Uncle Bob—” he, cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's Uncle Bob. You can light down, Nevvy. I reckon you've rid far + enough,” said Yancy pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Leggo them horses!” said Mr. Blount, recovering somewhat from the effect + of Yancy's sudden appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Light down, Nevvy,” said Yancy, still pleasantly. Blount turned to the + boy as if to interfere. “Don't you put the weight of yo' finger on the + boy, Blount!” warned Yancy. “Light down, Hannibal!” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal instantly availed himself of the invitation. At the same moment + Blount struck at Yancy with his whip and his horses reared wildly, + thinking the blow meant for them. Seeing that the boy had reached the + ground in safety, Yancy relaxed his hold on the team, which instantly + plunged forward. Then as the buggy swept past him he made a dexterous grab + at Blount and dragged him out over the wheels into the road, where, for + the second time in his life, he proceeded to fetch Mr. Blount a smack in + the jaw. This he followed up with other smacks variously distributed about + his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “You'll sweat for this, Bob Yancy!” cried Blount, as he vainly sought to + fend off the blows. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sweating now—scandalous,” said Mr. Yancy, taking his unhurried + satisfaction of the other. Then with a final skilful kick he sent Mr. + Blount sprawling. “Don't let me catch you around these diggings again, + Dave Blount, or I swear to God I'll be the death of you!” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal rode home through the pine woods in triumph on his Uncle Bob's + mighty shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Did you get yo' ground-hog, Nevvy?” inquired Mr. Yancy presently when + they had temporarily exhausted the excitement of Hannibal's capture and + recovery. + </p> + <p> + “It weren't a ground-hog, Uncle Bob—it were a skunk!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of that!” murmured Mr. Yancy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. LAW AT BALAAM'S CROSS-ROADS + </h2> + <p> + But Mr. Yancy was only at the beginning of his trouble. Three days later + there appeared on the borders of Scratch Hill a lank gentleman armed with + a rifle, while the butts of two pistols protruded from the depths of his + capacious coat pockets. He made his presence known by whooping from the + edge of the branch, and his whoops shaped themselves into the name of + Yancy. It was Charley Balaam, old Squire Balaam's nephew. The squire lived + at the crossroads to which his family had given its name, and dispensed + the little law that found its way into that part of the county. The whoops + finally brought Yancy to his cabin door. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see you friendly, Bob Yancy?” Balaam demanded with the lungs of a + stentor, sheltering himself behind the thick bole of a sweetgum, for he + observed that Yancy held his rifle in the crook of his arm and had no wish + to offer his person as a target to the deadly aim of the Scratch Hiller + who was famous for his skill. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you can, Charley Balaam, if you are friendly,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a family man, Bob, and I ask you candid, do you feel peevish?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in particular,” and Yancy put aside his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a-going to trust you, Bob,” said Balaam. And forsaking the shelter of + the sweetgum he shuffled up the slope. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Charley?” asked Yancy, as they shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “Only just tolerable, Bob. You've been warranted—Dave Blount swore + hit on to you.” He displayed a sheet of paper covered with much writing + and decorated with a large seal. Yancy viewed this formidable document + with respect, but did not offer to take it. + </p> + <p> + “Read it,” he said mildly. Balaam scratched his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that hit's my duty to do that, Bob. Hit's my duty to serve + it on to you. But I can tell you what's into hit, leavin' out the law—which + don't matter nohow.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture Uncle Sammy's bent form emerged from the path that led + off through the woods in the direction of the Bellamy cabin. With the + patriarch was a stranger. Now the presence of a stranger on Scratch Hill + was an occurrence of such extraordinary rarity that the warrant instantly + became a matter of secondary importance. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Charley. Here, Bob Yancy, you shake hands with Bruce Carrington,” + commanded Uncle Sammy. At the name both Yancy and Balaam manifested a + quickened interest. They saw a man in the early twenties, clean-limbed and + broad-shouldered, with a handsome face and shapely head. “Yes, sir, hit's + a grandson of Tom Carrington that used to own the grist-mill down at the + Forks. Yo're some sort of wild-hog kin to him, Bob—yo' mother was a + cousin to old Tom. Her family was powerful upset at her marrying a Yancy. + They say Tom cussed himself into a 'pleptic fit when the news was fetched + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where you located at, Mr. Carrington?” asked Yancy. But Carrington was + not given a chance to reply. Uncle Sammy saved him the trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Back in Kentucky. He tells me he's been follerin' the water. What's the + name of that place where Andy Jackson fit the British?” + </p> + <p> + “New Orleans,” prompted Carrington good naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “That's hit—he takes rafts down the river to New Orleans, then he + comes back on ships to Baltimore, or else he hoofs it no'th overland.” + Uncle Sammy had acquired a general knowledge of the stranger's habits and + pursuits in an incredibly brief space of time. “He wants to visit the + Forks,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I'm shortly goin' that way myself, Mr. Carrington, and I'll be pleased of + your company—but first I got to get through with Bob Yancy,” said + Balaam, and again he produced the warrant. “If agreeable to you, Bob, I'll + ask Uncle Sammy, as a third party friendly to both, to read this here + warrant,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Who's been a-warrantin' Bob Yancy?” cried Uncle Sammy, with shrill + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Dave Blount has.” + </p> + <p> + “I knowed hit—I knowed he'd try to get even!” And Uncle Sammy struck + his walking-stick sharply on the packed earth of Yancy's dooryard. “What's + the charge agin you, Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Read hit,” said Balaam. “Why, sho'—can't you read plain writin', + Uncle Sammy?” for the patriarch was showing signs of embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “If you gentlemen will let me—” said Carrington pleasantly. + Instantly there came a relieved chorus from the three in one breath. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Would my spectacles help you any, Mr. Carrington?” asked Uncle Sammy + officiously. + </p> + <p> + “No, I guess not.” + </p> + <p> + “They air powerful seein' glasses, and I'm aweer some folks read a heap + easier with spectacles than without 'em.” After a moment's scrutiny of the + paper that Balaam had thrust in his hand, Carrington began: + </p> + <p> + “To the Sheriff of the County of Cumberland: Greetings.” + </p> + <p> + “He means me,” explained Balaam. “He always makes 'em out to the sheriff, + but they are returned to me and I serve 'em.” Carrington resumed his + reading, + </p> + <p> + “Whereas, It is alleged that a murderous assault has been committed on one + David Blount, of Fayetteville, by Robert Yancy, of Scratch Hill, said + Blount sustaining numerous bruises and contusions, to his great injury of + body and mind; and, whereas, it is further alleged that said murderous + assault was wholly unprovoked and without cause, you will forthwith take + into custody the person of said Yancy, of Scratch Hill, charged with + having inflicted the bruises and contusions herein set forth in the + complaint of said Blount, and instantly bring him into our presence to + answer to these various and several crimes and misdemeanors. You are + empowered to seize said Yancy wherever he may be at; whether on the + hillside or in the valley, eating or sleeping, or at rest. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “De Lancy Balaam, Magistrate. +</pre> + <p> + “Fourth District, County of Cumberland, State of North Carolina. Done this + twenty-fourth day of May, 1835. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Dear Bob: Dave Blount says he ain't able to chew his meat. I thought + you'd be glad to know.” + </p> + <p> + Smilingly Carrington folded the warrant and handed it to Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are you goin' to do about hit, Bob?” inquired Balaam. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'd ought to go. I'd like to oblige the squire,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “When does this here co't set?” demanded Uncle Sammy. + </p> + <p> + “Hit don't do much else since he's took with the lumbago,” answered Balaam + somewhat obscurely. + </p> + <p> + “How are the squire, Charley?” asked Yancy with grave concern. + </p> + <p> + “Only just tolerable, Bob.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he tell you to do?” and Yancy knit his brows. + </p> + <p> + “Seems like he wanted me to find out what you'd do. He recommended I + shouldn't use no violence.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't recommend you did, either,” assented Yancy, but without heat. + </p> + <p> + “I'd get shut of this here law business, Bob,” advised Uncle Sammy. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I come to the Cross Roads this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “That's agreeable,” said the deputy, who presently departed in company + with Carrington. + </p> + <p> + Some hours later the male population of Scratch Hill, with a gravity + befitting the occasion, prepared itself to descend on the Cross Roads and + give its support to Mr. Yancy in his hour of need. To this end those + respectable householders armed themselves, with the idea that it might + perhaps be necessary to correct some miscarriage of justice. They were shy + enough and timid enough, these remote dwellers in the pine woods, but, + like all wild things, when they felt they were cornered they were prone to + fight; and in this instance it was clearly iniquitous that Bob Yancy's + right to smack Dave Blount should be questioned. That denied what was left + of human liberty. But beyond this was a matter of even greater importance: + they felt that Yancy's possession of the boy was somehow involved. + </p> + <p> + Yancy had declared himself simply but specifically on this point. Law or + no law, he would kill whoever attempted to take the boy from him, and + Scratch Hill believing to a man that in so doing he would be well within + his rights, was prepared to join in the fray. Even Uncle Sammy, who had + not been off the Hill in years, announced that no consideration of fatigue + would keep him away from the scene of action and possible danger, and + Yancy loaned him his mule and cart for the occasion. When the patriarch + was helped to his seat in the ancient vehicle he called loudly for his + rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Why, pap, what do you want with a weapon?” asked his son indulgently. “If + there air shootin' I may take a hand in it. Now you-all give me a fair + hour's start with this mule critter of Bob's, and if nothin' busts I'll be + at the squire's as soon as the best of you.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Sammy was given the time allowance he asked and then Scratch Hill + wended its way down the path to the branch and the highroad. Yancy led the + straggling procession, with the boy trotting by his side, his little + sunburned fist clasped in the man's great hand. He, too, was armed. He + carried the old spo'tin' rifle he had brought from the Barony, and + suspended from his shoulder by a leather thong was the big horn flask with + its hickory stopper his Uncle Bob had fashioned for him, while a deerskin + pouch held his bullets and an extra flint or two. He understood that + beyond those smacks he had seen his Uncle Bob fetch Mr. Blount, he himself + was the real cause of this excitement, that somebody, it was not plain to + his mind just who, was seeking to get him away from Scratch Hill, and that + a mysterious power called the Law would sooner or later be invoked to this + dread end. But he knew this much clearly, nothing would induce him to + leave his Uncle Bob! And his thin little fingers nestled warmly against + the man's hardened palm. Yancy looked down and gave him a sunny, + reassuring smile. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be all right, Nevvy,” he said gently. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't let 'em take me, would you, Uncle Bob?” asked the child in a + fearful whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Such an idea ain't entered my head. And this here warranting is just some + of Dave Blount's cussedness.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob, what'll they do to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon the squire'll feel obliged to do one of two things. He'll + either fine me or else he won't.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll you do if he fines you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, pay the fine, Nevvy—and then lick Dave Blount again for + stirring up trouble. That's the way we most in general do. I mean to say + give him a good licking, and that'll make him stop his foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't that a good licking you gave him on the Ox Road, Uncle Bob?” asked + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “It was pretty fair fo' a starter, but I'm capable of doing a better job,” + responded Yancy. + </p> + <p> + They overtook Uncle Sammy as he turned in at the squire's. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I'd come and see what kind of law a body gets at this here co't + of yours,” the patriarch explained to Mr. Balaam, who, forgetting his + lumbago, had hurried forth to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “But why did you fetch your gun, Uncle Sammy?” asked the magistrate, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Hit were to be on the safe side, Squire. Where air them Blounts?” + </p> + <p> + “Them Blounts don't need to bother you none. There air only Dave, and he + can't more than half see out of one eye to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The squire's court held its infrequent sittings in the best room of the + Balaam homestead, a double cabin of hewn logs. Here Scratch Hill was + gratified with a view of Mr. Blount's battered visage, and it was conceded + that his condition reflected creditably on Yancy's physical prowess and + was of a character fully to sustain that gentleman's reputation; for while + he was notoriously slow to begin a fight, he was reputed to be even more + reluctant to leave off once he had become involved in one. + </p> + <p> + “What's all this here fuss between you and Bob Yancy?” demanded the squire + when he had administered the oath to Blount. Mr. Blount's statement was + brief and very much to the point. He had been hired by Mr. Bladen, of + Fayetteville, to go to Scratch Hill and get the boy who had been + temporarily placed in Yancy's custody at the time of General Quintard's + death. + </p> + <p> + “Stop just there!” cried the magistrate, leveling a pudgy finger at + Blount. “This here co't is already cognizant of certain facts bearing on + that p'int. The boy was left with Bob Yancy mainly because nobody else + would take him. Them's the facts. Now go on!” he finished sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I only know what Bladen told me,” said Blount sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon Mr. Bladen ought to feel obliged to tell the truth,” said + the squire. + </p> + <p> + “He done give me the order from the judge of the co't—I was to show + it to Bob Yancy—” + </p> + <p> + “Got that order?” demanded the squire sharply. With a smile, damaged, but + clearly a smile, Blount produced the order. “Hmm—app'inted guardeen + of the boy—” the squire was presently heard to murmur. The crowded + room was very still now, and more than one pair of eyes were turned + pityingly in Yancy's direction. When the long arm of the law reached out + from Fayetteville, where there was a real judge and a real sheriff, it + clothed itself with very special terrors. The boy looked up into Yancy's + face. That tense silence had struck a chill through his heart. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” whispered Yancy reassuringly, smiling down upon him. And + Hannibal, comforted, smiled back, and nestled his head against his Uncle + Bob's side. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Blount, what did you do with this here order?” asked the + squire. + </p> + <p> + “I went with it to Scratch Hill,” said Blount. + </p> + <p> + “And showed it to Bob Yancy?” asked the squire. + </p> + <p> + “No, he wa'n't there. But the boy was, and I took him in my buggy and + drove off. I'd got as far as the Ox Road forks when I met Yancy—” + </p> + <p> + “What happened then?—but a body don't need to ask! Looks like the + law was all you had on your side!” and the squire glanced waggishly about + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I showed Yancy the order—” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, Dave Blount; you didn't!” said Yancy. “But I can't say as it + would have made no difference, Squire. He'd have taken his licking just + the same and I'd have had my nevvy out of that buggy!” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he say nothing about this here order from the colt, Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “There wa'n't much conversation, Squire. I invited my nevvy to light down, + and then I snaked Dave Blount out over the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “Who struck the first blow?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. He struck at me with his buggy whip.” + </p> + <p> + “What you got to say to this, Mr. Blount?” asked the squire. + </p> + <p> + “I say I showed him the order like I said,” answered Blount doggedly. + Squire Balaam removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It's the opinion of this here co't that the whole question of assault + rests on whether Bob Yancy saw the order. Bob Yancy swears he didn't see + it, while Dave Blount swears he showed it to him. If Bob Yancy didn't know + of the existence of the order he was clearly actin' on the idea that + Blount was stealin' his nevvy, and he done what any one would have done + under the circumstances. If, on the other hand, he knowed of this order + from the co't, he was not only guilty of assault, but he was guilty of + resistin' an officer of the co't.” The squire paused impressively. His + audience drew a long breath. The impression prevailed that the case was + going against Yancy, and more than one face was turned scowlingly on the + fat little justice. + </p> + <p> + “Can a body drap a word here?” It was Uncle Sammy's thin voice that cut + into the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Uncle Sammy. This here co't will always admire to listen to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd like to say that I consider that Fayetteville co't mighty + officious with its orders. This part of the county won't take nothin' off + Fayetteville! We don't interfere with Fayetteville, and blamed if we'll + let Fayetteville interfere with us!” There was a murmur of approval. + Scratch Hill remembered the rifles in its hands and took comfort. + </p> + <p> + “The Fayetteville co't air a higher co't than this, Uncle Sammy,” + explained the squire indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “I'm aweer of that,” snapped the patriarch. “I've seen hit's steeple.” + </p> + <p> + “Air you finished, Uncle Sammy?” asked the squire deferentially. + </p> + <p> + “I 'low I am. But I 'low that if this here case is goin' agin Bob Yancy + I'd recommend him to go home and not listen to no mo' foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yancy will oblige this co't by setting still while I finish this + case,” said the squire with dignity. “As I've already p'inted out, the + question of veracity presents itself strongly to the mind of this here + colt. Mr. Yancy has sworn to one thing, Mr. Blount to another. Now the + Yancys air an old family in these parts; Mr. Blount's folks air strangers, + but we don't know nothing agin them—” + </p> + <p> + “And we don't know nothing in their favor,” Uncle Sammy interjected. + </p> + <p> + “Dave's grandfather came here from Virginia about fifty years back and + settled near Scratch Hill—” + </p> + <p> + “We never knowed why he left Virginia or why he came here,” said Uncle + Sammy, and knowing what local feeling was, was sure he had shot a telling + bolt. + </p> + <p> + “Then, about twenty-five years ago Dave's father pulled up and went to + Fayetteville. Nobody ever knowed why—and I don't remember that he + ever offered any explanation—” continued the squire. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't—he just left,” said Uncle Sammy. + </p> + <p> + “Consequently,” pursued the squire, somewhat vindictively, “we ain't had + any time in which to form an opinion of the Blounts; but for myself, I'm + suspicious of folks that keep movin' about and who don't seem able to get + located permanent nowheres, who air here to-day and away tomorrow. But you + can't say that of the Yancys. They air an old family in the country, and + naturally this co't feels obliged to accept a Yancy's word before the word + of a stranger. And in view of the fact that the defendant did not seek + litigation, but was perfectly satisfied to let matters rest where they + was, it is right and just that all costs should fall on the plaintiff.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE ENCOUNTER + </h2> + <p> + Betty Malroy had ridden into the squire's yard during the progress of the + trial and when Yancy and Hannibal came from the house she beckoned the + Scratch Hiller to her. She was aware that Mr. Yancy, moving along the line + of least industrial resistance, might be counted of little worth in any + broad scheme of life. Nat Ferris had strongly insisted on this point, as + had Judith, who shared her husband's convictions; consequently, the rumors + of his present difficulty had merely excited them to adverse criticism. + They had been sure the best thing that could happen the boy would be his + removal from Yancy's guardianship, but this was not at all her conclusion. + She considered Mr. Bladen heartless and his course without justification, + and she regarded Yancy's affection for the boy as in itself constituting a + benefit that quite outweighed his unprogressive example. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to lose your nephew, are you, Mr. Yancy?” she asked + eagerly, when Yancy stood at her side. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am.” But his sense of elation was plainly tempered by the + knowledge that for him the future held more than one knotty problem. + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad! I know Hannibal will be much happier with you than with + any one else,” and she smiled brightly at the boy, whose small sunburned + face was upturned to hers. + </p> + <p> + “I think that-a-ways myself, Miss Betty, but this trial was only for my + smacking Dave Blount, who was trying to steal my nevvy,” explained Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you smacked him well and hard!” said the girl, whose mood was + warlike. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got no cause to complain, thank you,” returned Mr. Yancy + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “I rode out to the Hill to say good-by to Hannibal and to you, but they + said you were here and that the trial was today.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Murrell, with Crenshaw and the squire, came from the house, and + Murrell's swarthy face lit up at sight of the girl. Yancy, sensible of the + gulf that yawned between himself and what was known as “the quality,” + would have yielded his place, but Betty detained him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going away, ma'am?” he asked with concern. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—to my home in west Tennessee,” and a cloud crossed her smooth + brow. + </p> + <p> + “That surely is a right big distance for you to travel, ma'am,” said + Yancy, his mind opening to this fresh impression. “I reckon it's rising a + hundred miles or mo',” he concluded, at a venture. + </p> + <p> + “It's almost a thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of that! And you are that ca'm!” cried Yancy admiringly, as a + picture of simply stupendous effort offered itself to his mind's eye. He + added: “I am mighty sorry you are going. We-all here shall miss you—specially + Hannibal. He just regularly pines for Sunday as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will miss me a little—I'm afraid I want him to!” She + glanced down at the boy as she spoke, and into her eyes, very clear and + very blue and shaded by long dark lashes, stole a look of wistful + tenderness. She noted how his little hand was clasped in Yancy's, she + realized the perfect trust of his whole attitude toward this big bearded + man, and she was conscious of a sudden feeling of profound respect for the + Scratch Hiller. + </p> + <p> + “But ain't you ever coming back, Miss Betty?” asked Hannibal rather + fearfully, smitten with the awesome sense of impermanence which dogs our + footsteps. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope so, dear—I wish to think so. But you see my home is not + here.” She turned to Yancy, “So it is settled that he is to remain with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, Miss Betty. You see, there's an order from the Fayetteville + co't fo' me to give him up to this man Bladen.” + </p> + <p> + “But Uncle Bob says—” began Hannibal, who considered his Uncle Bob's + remarks on this point worth quoting. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what yo' Uncle Bob said,” interrupted Yancy hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Yancy, you are not going to surrender him—no matter what + the court says!” cried Betty. The expression on Yancy's face was so grim + and determined on the instant with the latent fire that was in him + flashing from his eyes that she added quickly, “You know the law is for + you as well as for Mr. Bladen!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I won't bother the law none,” responded Yancy briefly. “Me and + my nevvy will go back to Scratch Hill and there won't be no trouble so + long as they leave us be. But them Fayetteville folks want to keep away—” + The fierce light slowly died out of his eyes. “It'll be all right, ma'am, + and it's mighty good and kind of you fo' to feel the way you do. I'm + obliged to you.” + </p> + <p> + But Betty was by no means sure of the outcome Yancy seemed to predict with + such confidence. Unless Bladen abandoned his purpose, which he was not + likely to do, a tragedy was clearly pending for Scratch Hill. She saw the + boy left friendless, she saw Yancy the victim of his own primitive + conception of justice. Therefore she said: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you don't leave the Hill, Mr. Yancy. You could so easily go + where Mr. Bladen would never find you. Haven't you thought of this?” + </p> + <p> + “That are a p'int,” agreed Yancy slowly. “Might I ask what parts you'd + specially recommend?” lifting his grave eyes to hers. + </p> + <p> + “It would really be the sensible thing to do!” said Betty. “I am sure you + would like West Tennessee—they say you are a great hunter.” Yancy + smiled almost guiltily. + </p> + <p> + “I like a little spo't now and then yes, ma'am, I do hunt some,” he + admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty, Uncle Bob's the best shot we got! You had ought to see him + shoot!” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yancy, if you should cross the mountains, remember I live near + Memphis. Belle Plain is the name of the plantation—it's not hard to + find; just don't forget—Belle Plain.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't forget, and mebby you will see us there one of these days. Sho', + I've seen mighty little of the world—about as far as a dog can trot + it a couple of hours!” + </p> + <p> + “Just think what it will mean to Hannibal if you become involved further + with Mr. Bladen.” Betty spoke earnestly, bending toward him, and Yancy + understood the meaning that lay back of her words. + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of that, too,” the Scratch Hiller answered seriously. Betty + glanced toward the squire and Mr. Crenshaw. They were standing near the + bars that gave entrance to the lane. Murrell had left them and was walking + briskly down the road toward Crenshaw's store where his horse was tied. + She bent down and gave Yancy her slim white hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mr. Yancy—lift Hannibal so that I can kiss him!” Yancy + swung the child aloft. “I think you are such a nice little boy, Hannibal—you + mustn't forget me!” And touching her horse lightly with the whip she rode + away at a gallop. + </p> + <p> + “She sho'ly is a lady!” said Yancy, staring after her. “And we mustn't + forget Memphis or Belle Plain, Nevvy.” + </p> + <p> + Crenshaw and the squire approached. + </p> + <p> + “Bob,” said the merchant, “Bladen's going to have the boy—but he + made a mistake in putting this business in the hands of a fool like Dave + Blount. I reckon he knows that now.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon his next move will be to send a posse of gun-toters up from + Fayetteville,” said the squire. + </p> + <p> + “That's just what he'll do,” agreed Crenshaw, and looked disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “They certainly air an unpeaceable lot—them Fayetteville folks! It's + always seemed to me they had a positive spite agin this end of the + county,” said the squire, and he pocketed his spectacles and refreshed + himself with a chew of tobacco. “Bladen ain't actin' right, Bob. It's a + year and upwards since the old general 'died. He let you go on thinking + the boy was to stay with you and now he takes a notion to have him!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, it ain't right nor reasonable. And what's more, he shan't have + him!” said Yancy, and his tone was final. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what kind of a mess you're getting yourself into, Bob, I + declare I don't!” cried Crenshaw, who felt that he was largely responsible + for the whole situation. + </p> + <p> + “Looks like your neighbors would stand by you,” suggested the squire. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want them to stand by me. It'll only get them into trouble, and I + ain't going to do that,” rejoined Yancy, and lapsed into momentary + silence. Then he resumed meditatively, “There was old Baldy Ebersole who + shot the sheriff when they tried to arrest him for getting drunk down in + Fayetteville and licking the tavern-keeper—” + </p> + <p> + “Sho', there wa'n't no harm in Baldy!” said the squire, with heat. “When + that sheriff come along here looking for him, I told him p'inted that + Baldy said he wouldn't be arrested. A more truthful man I never knowed, + and if the damn fool had taken my word he'd be living yet!” + </p> + <p> + “But you-all know what trouble killing that sheriff made fo' Baldy!” said + Yancy. “He told me often he regretted it mo' than anything he'd ever done. + He said it was most aggravatin' having to always lug a gun wherever he + went. And what with being suspicious of strangers when he wa'n't + suspicious by nature, he reckoned in time it would just naturally wear him + out.” + </p> + <p> + “He stood it until he was risin' eighty,” said Crenshaw. + </p> + <p> + “His, father lived to be ninety, John, and as spry an old gentleman as a + body'd wish to see. I don't uphold no man for committing murder, but I do + consider the sheriff should have waited on Baldy to get mo' reasonable, + like he'd done in time if they'd just let him alone—but no, sir, he + reckoned the law wa'n't no respecter of persons. He was a fine-appearin' + man, that sheriff, and just elected to office. I remember we had to leave + off the tail-gate to my cart to accommodate him. Yes, sir, they pretty + near pestered Baldy into his grave—and seein' that pore old fellow + pottering around year after year always toting a gun was the patheticest + sight I most ever seen, and I made up my mind then if it ever seemed + necessary for me to kill a man, I'd leave the county or maybe the state,” + concluded the squire. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you reckon it would be some better to leave the state afo' you. + done the killing?” suggested Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, a man might. I don't know but what he'd be justified in getting + shut of his troubles like that.” + </p> + <p> + When Betty Malroy rode away from Squire Balaam's Murrell galloped after + her. Presently she heard the beat of his horse's hoofs as he came pounding + along the sandy road and glanced back over her shoulder. With an + exclamation of displeasure she reined in her horse. She had not wished to + ride to the Barony with him, yet she had no desire to treat him with + discourtesy, especially as the Ferrises were disposed to like him. Murrell + quickly gained a place at her side. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Ferris is at the Barony?” he said, drawing his horse down to a + walk. + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is,” said Betty with a curt little air. + </p> + <p> + “May I ride with you?” he gave her a swift glance. She nodded + indifferently and would have urged her horse into a gallop again, but he + made a gesture of protest. “Don't—or I shall think you are still + running away from me,” he said with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Were you at the trial?” she asked. “I am glad they didn't get Hannibal + away from Yancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Yancy will have his hands full with that later—so will Bladen,” + he added significantly. He studied her out of those deeply sunken eyes of + his in which no shadow of youth lingered, for men such as he reached their + prime early, and it was a swiftly passing splendor. “Ferris tells me you + are going to West Tennessee?” he said at length. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I know your half-brother, Tom Ware—I know him very well.” There was + another brief silence. + </p> + <p> + “So you know Tom?” she presently observed, and frowned slightly. Tom was + her guardian, and her memories of him were not satisfactory. A burly, + unshaven man with a queer streak of meanness through his character. She + had not seen him since she had been sent north to Philadelphia, and their + intercourse had been limited to infrequent letters. His always smelled of + strong, stale tobacco, and the well-remembered whine in the man's voice + ran through his written sentences. + </p> + <p> + “You've spent much of your time up North?” suggested Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Four years. I've been at school, you know. That's where I met Judith.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you'll like West Tennessee. It's still a bit raw compared with + what you've been accustomed to in the North. You haven't been back in all + those four years?” Betty shook her head. “Nor seen Tom—nor any one + from out yonder?” For some reason a little tinge of color had crept into + Betty's cheeks. “Will you let me renew our acquaintance at Belle Plain? I + shall be in West Tennessee before the summer is over; probably I shall + leave here within a week,” he said, bending toward her. His glance dwelt + on her face and the pliant lines of her figure, and his sense swam. Since + their first meeting the girl's beauty had haunted and allured him; with + his passionate sense of life he was disposed to these violent fancies, and + he had a masterful way with women just as he had a masterful way with men. + Now, however, he was aware that he was viewed with entire indifference. + His vanity, which was his whole inner self, was hurt, and from the black + depths of his nature his towering egotism flashed out lawless and + perverted impulses. “I must tell you that I am not of your sort, Miss + Malroy—” he continued hurriedly. “My people were plain folk out of + the mountains. For what I am I have no one to thank but myself. You must + be aware of the prejudices of the planter class, for it is your class. + Perhaps I haven't been quite frank at the Barony—I felt it was + asking too much when you were there. That was a door I didn't want closed + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine you will be welcome at Belle Plain. You are Tom's friend.” + Murrell bit his lip, and then laughed as his mind conjured up a picture of + the cherished Tom. Suddenly he reached out and rested his hand on hers. He + lived in the shadow of chance not always kind, his pleasures were + intoxicating drafts snatched in the midst of dangers, and here was youth, + sweet and perfect, that only needed awakening. + </p> + <p> + “Betty—if I might think—” he began, but his tongue stumbled. + His love-making was usually of a savage sort, but some quality in the girl + held him in check. The words he had spoken many times before forsook him. + Betty drew away from him, an angry color on her cheeks and an angry light + in her eyes. “Forgive me, Betty!” muttered Murrell, but his heart beat + against his ribs, and passion sent its surges through him. “Don't you know + what I'm trying to tell you?” he whispered. Betty gathered up her reins. + “Not yet—” he cried, and again he rested a heavy hand on hers. + “Don't you know what's kept me here? It was to be near you—only that—I've + been waiting for this chance to speak. It was long in coming, but it's + here now—and it's mine!” he exulted. His eyes burned with a luminous + fire, he urged his horse nearer and they came to a halt. “Look here—I'll + follow you North—I swear I love you—say I may!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go—let me go!” cried Betty indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “No—not yet!” he urged his horse still nearer and gathered her + close. “You've got to hear me. I've loved you since the first moment I + rested my eyes on you—and, by God, you shall love me in return!” He + felt her struggle to free herself from his grasp with a sense of savage + triumph. It was the brute force within him that conquered with women just + as it conquered with men. + </p> + <p> + Bruce Carrington, on his way back to Fayetteville from the Forks, came + about a turn in the road. Betty saw a tall, handsome fellow in the first + flush of manhood; Carrington, an angry girl, very beautiful and very + indignant, struggling in a man's grasp. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the new-comer, Murrell, with an oath, released Betty, who, + striking her horse with the whip galloped down the road toward the Barony. + As she fled past Carrington she bent low in her saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him follow me!” she gasped, and Carrington, striding forward, + caught Murrell's horse by the bit. + </p> + <p> + “Not so fast, you!” he said coolly. The two men glared at each other for a + brief instant. + </p> + <p> + “Take your hand off my horse!” exclaimed Murrell hoarsely, his mouth hot + and dry with a sense of defeat. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you see she'd rather be alone?” said Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “Let go!” roared Murrell, and a murderous light shot from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know but I should pull you out of that saddle and twist your + neck!” said Carrington hotly. Murrell's face underwent a swift change. + </p> + <p> + “You're a bold fellow to force your way into a lover's quarrel,” he said + quietly. Carrington's arm dropped at his side. Perhaps, after all, it was + that. Murrell thrust his hand into his pocket. “I always give something to + the boy who holds my horse,” he said, and tossed a coin in Carrington's + direction. “There—take that for your pains!” he added. He pulled his + horse about and rode back toward the cross-roads at an easy canter. + </p> + <p> + Carrington, with an angry flush on his sunburnt cheeks, stood staring down + at the coin that glinted in the dusty road, but he was seeing the face of + the girl, indignant, beautiful—then he glanced after Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I ought to have twisted his neck,” he said with a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. BETTY SETS OUT FOR TENNESSEE + </h2> + <p> + Bruce Carrington came of a westward-looking race. From the low coast where + they had first settled, those of his name had followed the rivers to their + headwaters. The headwaters had sent them forth toward the foot-hills, + where they made their, clearings and built their cabins in the shadow of + the blue wall that for a time marked the furthest goal of their desires. + But only for a time. Crossing the mountains they found the headwaters once + more, and following the streams out of the hills saw the roaring torrents + become great placid rivers. + </p> + <p> + Carrington's father had put the mountains at his back thirty years before. + The Watauga settlements had furnished him a wife, and some four years + later Bruce was born on the banks of the Ohio. The senior Carrington had + appeared on horseback as a wooer, but had walked on foot as a married man, + each shift of residence he made having represented a descent to a lower + social level. On the death of his wife he had embarked in the river trade + with all that enthusiasm and hope he had brought to half-a-dozen other + occupations, for he was a gentleman of prodigious energy. + </p> + <p> + Bruce's first memories had to do with long nights when he perched beside + his father on the cabin roof of their keel-boat and watched the stars, or + the blurred line of the shore where it lay against the sky, or the lights + on other barges and rafts drifting as they were drifting, with their wheat + and corn and whisky to that common market at the river's mouth. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes they dragged their boat back up-stream, painfully, laboriously; + three or four months of unremitting toil sufficed for this, when the crew + sweated at the towing ropes from dawn until dark, that the rich planters + in Kentucky and Tennessee might have tea and wine for their tables, and + silks and laces for their womenfolk. More often they abandoned their boat + and tramped north, armed and watchful, since cutthroats and robbers + haunted the roads, and river-men, if they had not drunk away their last + dollar in New Orleans, were worth spoiling. Or, if it offered, they took + passage on some fast sailing clipper bound for Baltimore or Philadelphia, + and crossed the mountains to the Ohio and were within a week or two of + home. + </p> + <p> + Bruce Carrington had seen the day of barge and raft reach its zenith, had + heard the first steam packet's shrieking whistle which sounded the + death-knell of the ancient order, though the shifting of the trade was a + slow matter and the glory of the old did not pass over to the new at once, + but lingered still in mighty fleets of rafts and keel-boats and in the + Homeric carousals of some ten thousand of the half-horse, half-alligator + breed that nightly gathered in New Orleans. Broad-horns and mud-sills they + were called in derision. A strange race of aquatic pioneers, jeans and + leather clad, the rifle and the setting-pole equally theirs, they came out + of every stream down which a scow could be thrust at flood-time; from tiny + settlements far back among the hills; from those bustling sinks of + iniquity, the river towns. But now, surely, yet almost imperceptibly, + their commerce was slipping from them. At all the landings they were being + elbowed by the newcomers—men who wore brass buttons and gold braid, + and shiny leather shoes instead of moccasins; men with white hands and + gold rings on their fingers and diamonds in their shirts—men whose + hair and clothing kept the rancid smell of oil and smoke and machinery. + </p> + <p> + After the reading of the warrant that morning, Charley Balaam had shown + Carrington the road to the Forks, assuring him when they separated that + with a little care and decent use of his eyes it would be possible to + fetch up there and not pass plumb through the settlement without knowing + where he was. But Carrington had found the Forks without difficulty. He + had seen the old mill his grandfather had built almost a hundred years + before, and in the churchyard he had found the graves and read the + inscriptions that recorded the virtues of certain dead and gone + Carringtons. It had all seemed a very respectable link with the past. + </p> + <p> + He was on his way to Fayetteville, where he intended to spend the night, + and perhaps a day or two in looking around, when the meeting with Betty + and Murrell occurred. As Murrell disappeared in the direction of Balaam's, + Carrington took a spiteful kick at the unoffending coin, and strode off + down the Fayetteville pike. But the girl's face remained with him. It was + a face he would like to see again. He wondered who she was, and if she + lived in the big house on the other road, the house beyond the red gate + which Charley Balaam had told him was called the Barony. + </p> + <p> + He was still thinking of the girl when he ate his supper that night at + Cleggett's Tavern. Later, in the bar, he engaged his host in idle gossip. + Mr. Cleggett knew all about the Barony and its owner, Nat Ferris. Ferris + was a youngish man, just married. Carrington experienced a quick sinking + of the heart. A fleeting sense of humor succeeded—had he interfered + between man and wife? But surely if this had been the case the girl would + not have spoken as she had. + </p> + <p> + He wound Mr. Cleggett up with sundry pegs of strong New England rum. He + had met a gentleman and lady on the road that day; he wondered, as he + toyed with his glass, if it could have been the Ferrises? Mounted? Yes, + mounted. Then it was Ferris and his wife—or it might have been + Captain Murrell and Miss Malroy the captain was a strapping, black-haired + chap who rode a big bay horse. Miss Malroy did not live in that part of + the country; she was a friend of Mrs. Ferris', belonged in Kentucky or + Tennessee, or somewhere out yonder—at any rate she was bringing her + visit to an end, for Ferris had instructed him to reserve a place for her + in the north-bound stage on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Carrington suddenly remembered that he had some thought of starting north + in the morning himself, but he was still undecided. How about it if he + deferred his decision until the stage was leaving? Mr. Cleggett consulted + his bookings and was of the opinion that his chances would not be good; + and Carrington hastily paid down his money. Later in the privacy of his + own room he remarked meditatively, viewing his reflection in the mirror + that hung above the chimneypiece, “I reckon you're plain crazy!” and + seemed to free himself from all further responsibility for his own acts + whatever they might be. + </p> + <p> + The stage left at six, and as Carrington climbed to his seat the next + morning Mr. Cleggett was advising the driver to look sharp when he came to + the Barony road, as he was to pick up a party there. It was Carrington who + looked sharp, and almost at the spot where he had seen Betty Malroy the + day before he saw her again, with Ferris and Judith and a pile of luggage + bestowed by the wayside. Betty did not observe him as the coach stopped, + for she was intent on her farewells with her friends. There were hasty + words of advice from Ferris, prolonged good-byes to Judith, tears—kisses—while + a place was being made for her many boxes and trunks. Carrington viewed + the luggage with awe, and listened without shame. He gathered that she was + going north to Washington; that her final destination was some point + either on the Ohio or Mississippi, and that her name was Betty. Then the + door slammed and the stage was in motion again. + </p> + <p> + Carrington felt sensibly enriched by the meager facts now in his + possession. He was especially interested in her name. Be liked the sound + of it. It suited her. He even tried it under his breath softly. Betty—Betty + Malroy—next he fell to wondering if those few hurried words she had + addressed to him could possibly be construed as forming a basis for a + further acquaintance. Or wasn't it far more likely she would prefer to + forget the episode of the previous day, which had clearly been anything + but agreeable? + </p> + <p> + All through the morning they swung forward in the heat and dust and glare, + with now and then a brief pause when they changed horses, and at midday + rattled into the shaded main street of a sleepy village and drew up before + the tavern where dinner was waiting them—a fact that was announced + by a bare-legged colored boy armed with a club, who beat upon a suspended + wagon tire. + </p> + <p> + Betty saw Carrington when she took her seat, and gave a scarcely + perceptible start of surprise. Then her face was flooded with a rich + color. This was the man who saw her with Captain Murrell yesterday I What + must he think of her! There was a brief moment of irresolution and then + she bowed coldly. + </p> + <p> + “You just barely managed it. I reckon nobody could misunderstand that. By + no means cordial—but of course not!” Carrington reflected. His own + handsome face had been expressionless when he returned her bow, and Betty + could not have guessed how consoled and comforted he was by it. With great + fortitude and self-denial he forbore to look in her direction again, but + he lingered at the table until the last moment that he might watch her + when she returned to the coach. Mr. Carrington entertained ideals where + women were concerned, and even though he had been the one to profit by it + he would not have had Betty depart in the minutest particular from those + stringent rules he laid down for her sex. Consequently that distant air + she bore toward him filled him with satisfaction. It was quite enough for + the present—for the present—that three times each day his + perseverance and determination were rewarded by that curt little + acknowledgment of her indebtedness to him. + </p> + <p> + It was four days to Richmond. Four days of hot, dusty travel, four nights + of uncomfortable cross-road stations, where Betty suffered sleepless + nights and the unaccustomed pangs of early rising. She occasionally found + herself wondering who Carrington was. She approved of the manner in which + he conducted himself. She liked a man who could be unobtrusive. Traveling + like that day after day it would have been so easy for him to be + officious. But he never addressed her and refused to see any opportunity + to assist her in entering or quitting the stage, leaving that to some one + else. Presently she was sorry she had bowed to him that first day—so + self-contained and unpresuming a person as he would evidently have been + quite satisfied to overlook the omission. Then she began to be haunted by + doubts. Perhaps, after all, he had not recognized her as the girl he had + met in the road! This gave her a very queer feeling indeed—for what + must he think of her? And the next time she bowed to this perfect stranger + she threw a chilling austerity into the salutation quite at variance with + her appearance, for the windy drive had tangled her hair and blown it in + curling wisps about her face. This served to trouble Carrington + excessively, and furnished him with food for reflection through all his + waking moments for the succeeding eight and forty hours. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he found himself seated opposite her at breakfast. He + received another curt little nod, cool and distant, as he took his seat, + but he felt strongly that a mere bowing acquaintance would no longer + suffice; so he passed her a number of things she didn't want, and + presently ventured the opinion that she must find traveling as they were, + day after day, very fatiguing. Surprised at the sound of his voice, before + she knew what she was doing, Betty said, “Not at all,” closed her red + lips, and was immediately dumb. + </p> + <p> + Carrington at once relapsed into silence and ventured no further opinion + on any topic. Betty was left wondering whether she had been rude, and when + they met again asked if the stage would reach Washington at the advertised + hour. She had been consulting the copy of Badger's and Porter's Register + which Ferris had thrust into her satchel the morning she left the Barony, + and which, among a multiplicity of detail as to hotels and taverns, gave + the runnings of all the regular stage lines, packets, canal-boats and + steamers, by which one could travel over the length and breadth of the + land. “You stop in Washington?” said Carrington. + </p> + <p> + Betty shook her head. “No, I am going on to Wheeling.” + </p> + <p> + “You're fortunate in being so nearly home,” he observed. “I am going on to + Memphis.” He felt it was time she knew this, or else she might think his + movements were dictated by her own. + </p> + <p> + Betty exclaimed: “Why, I am going to Memphis, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you? By canal to Cumberland, and then by stage over the National Road + to Wheeling?” + </p> + <p> + Betty nodded. “It makes one wish they'd finish their railroads, doesn't + it? Do you suppose they'll ever get as far west as Memphis?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “They say it's going to be bad for the river trade when they're built on + something besides paper,” answered Carrington. “And I happen to be a + flatboat-man, Miss Malroy.” + </p> + <p> + Betty gave him a glance of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, how did you learn my name?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I heard your friends speak it,” he answered glibly. But Betty's + smooth brow was puckered thoughtfully. She wondered if he had—and if + he hadn't. It was very odd certainly that he should know it. + </p> + <p> + “So the railroads are going to hurt the steamboats?” she presently said. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't say that. I was thinking of the flatboats that have already + been hurt by the steamers,” he replied. Now to the western mind the + river-men typified all that was reckless and wild. It was their carousals + that gave an evil repute to such towns as Natchez. But this particular + river-man looked harmless. “Carrington is my name, Miss Malroy,” he added. + </p> + <p> + No more was said just then, for Betty became reserved and he did not + attempt to resume the conversation. A day later they rumbled into + Washington, and as Betty descended from the coach, Carrington stepped to + her side. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you'll stop here, Miss Malroy?” he said, indicating the tavern + before which the stage had come to a stand. “Yes,” said Betty briefly. + </p> + <p> + “If I can be of any service to you—” he began, with just a touch of + awkwardness in his manner. + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank you, Mr. Carrington,” said Betty quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Good night... good-by,” he turned away, and Betty saw his tall form + disappear in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE FIGHT AT SLOSSON'S TAVERN + </h2> + <p> + Murrell had ridden out of the hills some hours back. He now faced the + flashing splendors of a June sunset, but along the eastern horizon the + mountains rose against a somber sky. Night was creeping into their + fastnesses. Already there was twilight in those cool valleys lying within + the shadow of mighty hills. A month and more had elapsed since Bob Yancy's + trial. Just two days later man and boy disappeared from Scratch Hill. This + had served to rouse Murrell to the need of immediate action, but he found, + where Yancy was concerned, Scratch Hill could keep a secret, while + Crenshaw's mouth was closed on any word that might throw light on the + plans of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “It's plain to my mind, Captain, that Bladen will never get the boy. I + reckon Bob's gone into hiding with him,” said the merchant, with spacious + candor. + </p> + <p> + The fugitives had not gone into hiding, however; they had traversed the + state from east to west, and Murrell was soon on their trail and pressing + forward in pursuit. Reaching the mountains, he heard of them first as ten + days ahead of him and bound for west Tennessee, the ten days dwindled to a + week, the week became five days, the five days three; and now as he + emerged from the last range of hills he caught sight of them. They were + half a mile distant perhaps, but he was certain that the man and boy he + saw pass about a turn in the road were the man and boy he had been + following for a month. + </p> + <p> + He was not mistaken. The man was Bob Yancy and the boy was Hannibal. Yancy + had acted with extraordinary decision. He had sold his few acres at + Scratch Hill for a lump sum to Crenshaw—it was to the latter's + credit that the transaction was one in which he could feel no real pride + as a man of business—and just a day later Yancy and the boy had + quitted Scratch Hill in the gray dawn, and turned their faces westward. + Tennessee had become their objective point, since here was a region to + which they could fix a name, while the rest of the world was strange to + them. As they passed the turn in the road where Murrell had caught his + first sight of them, Yancy glanced back at the blue wall of the mountains + where it lay along the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nevvy,” he said, “we've put a heap of distance between us and old + Scratch Hill; all I can say is, if there's as much the other side of the + Hill as there is this side, the world's a monstrous big place fo' to + ramble about in.” He carried his rifle and a heavy pack. Hannibal had a + much smaller pack and his old sporting rifle, burdens of which his Uncle + Bob relieved him at brief intervals. + </p> + <p> + For the past ten days their journey had been conducted in a leisurely + fashion. As Yancy said, they were seeing the world, and it was well to + take a good look at it while they had a chance. He was no longer fearful + of pursuit and his temperament asserted itself—the minimum of + activity sufficed. Usually they camped just where the night overtook them; + now and then they varied this by lodging at some tavern, for since there + was money in his pocket, Yancy was disposed to spend it. He could not + conceive that it had any other possible use. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly out of the silence came the regular beat of hoofs. These grew + nearer and nearer, and at last when they were quite close, Yancy faced + about. He instantly recognized Murrell and dropped his rifle into the + crook of his arm. The act was instinctive, since there was no reason to + believe that the captain had the least interest in the boy. Smilingly + Murrell reined in his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Why—Bob Yancy!” he cried, in apparent astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—Bob Yancy. Does it happen you are looking fo' him, + Captain?” inquired Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “No—no, Bob. I'm on my way West. Shake hands.” His manner was frank + and winning, and Yancy met it with an equal frankness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, me and my nevvy are glad to meet some one we've knowed afore. + The world are a lonesome place once you get shut of yo'r own dooryard,” he + said. Murrell slipped from his saddle and fell into step at Yancy's side + as they moved forward. + </p> + <p> + “They were mightily stirred up at the Cross Roads when I left, wondering + what had come of you,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “When did you quit there?” asked Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “About a fortnight ago,” said Murrell. “Every one approves of your action + in this matter, Yancy,” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “That's kind of them,” responded Yancy, a little dryly. There was no + reason for it, but he was becoming distrustful of Murrell, and uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Bladen's hurt himself by the stand he's taken it this matter,” Murrell + added. + </p> + <p> + They went forward in silence, Yancy brooding and suspicious. For the last + mile or so their way had led through an unbroken forest, but a sudden turn + in the road brought them to the edge of an extensive clearing. Close to + the road were several buildings, but not a tree had been spared to shelter + them and they stood forth starkly, the completing touch to a civilization + that was still in its youth, unkempt, rather savage, and ruthlessly + utilitarian. A sign, the work of inexpert hands, announced the somewhat + dingy structure of hewn logs that stood nearest the roadside a tavern. + There was a horse rack in front of it and a trampled space. It was flanked + by its several sheds and barns on one hand and a woodpile on the other. + Beyond the woodpile a rail fence inclosed a corn-field, and beyond the + barns and sheds a similar fence defined the bounds of a stumpy + pasture-lot. + </p> + <p> + From the door of the tavern the figure of a man emerged. Pausing by the + horse rack he surveyed the two men and boy, if not with indifference, at + least with apathy. Just above his head swung the sign with its legend, + “Slosson—Entertainment”; but if he were Slosson, one could take the + last half of the sign either as a poetic rhapsody on the part of the + painter, or the yielding to some meaningless convention, for in his + person, Mr. Slosson suggested none of those qualities of brain or heart + that trenched upon the lighter amenities of life. He was black-haired and + bull-necked, and there was about him a certain shagginess which a recent + toilet performed at the horse trough had not served to mitigate. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy?” he drawled. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy?” responded Mr. Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you stop here?” asked Murrell, sinking his voice. Yancy nodded. + “Can you put us up?” inquired Murrell, turning to the tavern-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that's what I'm here for,” said Slosson. Murrell glanced about + the empty yard. “Slack,” observed Slosson languidly. “Yes, sir, slack's + the only name for it.” It was understood he referred to the state of + trade. He looked from one to the other of the two men. As his eyes rested + on Murrell, that gentleman raised the first three fingers of his right + hand. The gesture was ever so little, yet it seemed to have a tonic effect + on Mr. Slosson. What might have developed into a smile had he not + immediately suppressed it, twisted his bearded lips as he made an + answering movement. “Eph, come here, you!” Slosson raised his voice. This + call brought a half-grown black boy from about a corner of the tavern, to + whom Murrell relinquished his horse. + </p> + <p> + “Let's liquor,” said the captain over his shoulder, moving off in the + direction of the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Nevvy!” said Yancy following, and they all entered the tavern. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's to the best of good luck!” said Murrell, as he raised his + glass to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Same here,” responded Yancy. Murrell pulled out a roll of bills, one of + which he tossed on the bar. Then after a moment's hesitation he detached a + second bill from the roll and turned to Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Here, youngster—a present for you;” he said good-naturedly. + Hannibal, embarrassed by the unexpected gift, edged to his Uncle Bob's + side. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you-all got nothing to say to the gentleman?” asked Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “That sounds a heap better. Let's see—why, if it ain't ten dollars—think + of that!” said Yancy, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have another drink,” suggested Murrell. + </p> + <p> + Presently Hannibal stole out into the yard. He still held the bill in his + hand, for he did not quite know how to dispose of his great wealth. After + debating this matter for a moment he knotted it carefully in one corner of + his handkerchief. But this did not quite suit him, for he untied the knot + and looked at the bill again, turning it over and over in his hand. Then + he folded it carefully into the smallest possible compass and once more + tied a corner of his handkerchief about it, this time with two knots + instead of one; these he afterward tested with his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I 'low she won't come undone now!” he said, with satisfaction. He stowed + the handkerchief away in his trousers pocket, ramming it very tight with + his fist. He was much relieved when this was done, for wearing a care-free + air he sauntered across the yard and established himself on the top rail + of the corn-field fence. + </p> + <p> + The colored boy, armed with an ax, appeared at the woodpile and began to + chop in the desultory fashion of his race, pausing every few seconds to + stare in the direction of his white compatriot, who met his glance with + reserve. Whereupon Mr. Slosson's male domestic indulged in certain strange + antics that were not rightly any part of woodchopping. This yet further + repelled Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “The disgustin' chattel!” he muttered under his breath, quoting his Uncle + Bob, with whom, in theory at least, race feeling was strong. Yancy + appeared at the door of the bar and called to him, and as the boy slid + from the fence and ran toward him across the yard, the Scratch Hiller + sauntered forth to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's all right, Nevvy,” he said, “but we don't know nothing + about this here Captain Murrell—as he calls himself—though he + seems a right clever sort of gentleman; but we won't mention Belle Plain.” + With this caution he led the way into the tavern and back through the bar + to a low-ceilinged room where Murrell and Slosson were already at table. + It was intolerably hot, and there lingered in the heavy atmosphere of the + place stale and unappetizing odors. Only Murrell attempted conversation + and he was not encouraged; and presently silence fell on the room except + for the rattle of dishes and the buzzing of flies. When they had finished, + the stale odors and the heat drove them quickly into the bar again, where + for a little time Hannibal sat on Yancy's knee, by the door. Presently he + slipped down and stole out into the yard. + </p> + <p> + The June night was pulsing with life. Above him bats darted in short + circling flights. In the corn-field and pasture-lot the fireflies lifted + from their day-long sleep, showing pale points of light in the half + darkness, while from some distant pond or stagnant watercourse came the + booming of frogs, presently to swell into a resonant chorus. These were + the summer night sounds he had known as far back as his memory went. + </p> + <p> + In the tavern the three men were drinking—Murrell with the idea that + the more Yancy came under the influence of Slosson's corn whisky the + easier his speculation would be managed. Mr. Yancy on his part believed + that if Murrell went to bed reasonably drunk he would sleep late and give + him the opportunity he coveted, to quit the tavern unobserved at break of + day. Gradually the ice of silence which had held them mute at supper, + thawed. At first it was the broken lazy speech of men who were disposed to + quiet, then the talk became brisk—a steady stream of rather dreary + gossip of horses and lands and negroes, of speculations past and gone in + these great staples. + </p> + <p> + Hannibal crossed to the corn-field. There, in the friendly gloom, he + examined his handkerchief and felt of the rolled-up bill. Then he made + count of certain silver and copper coins which he had in his other pocket. + Satisfied that he had sustained no loss, he again climbed to the top rail + of the fence where he seated himself with an elbow resting on one knee and + his chin in the palm of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I got ten dollars and seventy cents—yes, sir—and the clostest + shooting rifle I ever tossed to my shoulder.” He seemed but small to have + accomplished such a feat. He meditated for a little space. “I reckon when + we strike the settlements again I should like to buy my Uncle Bob a + present.” With knitted brows he considered what this should be, canvassing + Yancy's needs. He had about decided on a ring such as Captain Murrell was + wearing, when he heard the shuffling of bare feet over the ground and a + voice spoke out of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “When yo' get to feelin' like sleep, young boss, Mas'r Slosson he says I + show yo' to yo' chamber.” It was Slosson's boy Eph. + </p> + <p> + “Did you-all happen to notice what they're doing in the tavern now?” asked + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “I low they're makin' a regular hog-killin' of it,” said Eph smartly. + Hannibal descended from the fence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you can show me my chamber,” he said, and his tone was severe. What + a white man did was not a matter for a black man to criticize. They went + toward the open door of the tavern. Mr. Slosson's corn whisky had already + wrought a marked transformation in the case of Slosson himself. His + usually terse speech was becoming diffuse and irrelevant, while vacant + laughter issued from his lips. Yancy was apparently unaffected by the good + cheer of which he had partaken, but Murrell's dark face was flushed. The + Scratch Hiller's ability to carry his liquor exceeded anything he had + anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “You-all run along to bed, Nevvy,” said Yancy, as Hannibal entered the + room. “I'll mighty soon follow you.” + </p> + <p> + Eph secured a tin candle-stick with a half-burnt candle in it and led the + way into the passage back of the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Mas'r Slosson's jus' mo' than layin' back!” he said, as he closed the + door after them. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you-all will lay back, too, when you get growed up,” retorted + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I won't. White folks won't let a nigger lay back. Onliest time a + nigger sees co'n whisky's when he's totin' it fo' some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon a nigger's fool enough without corn whisky,” said Hannibal. They + mounted a flight of stairs and passed down a narrow hall. This brought + them to the back of the building, and Eph pushed open the door on his + right. + </p> + <p> + “This heah's yo' chamber,” he said, and preceding his companion into the + room, placed the candle on a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well—I low I clean forgot something!” cried Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “If it's yo' bundle and yo' gun, I done fotched 'em up heah and laid 'em + on yo' bed,” said Eph, preparing' to withdraw. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly am obliged to you,” said Hannibal, and with a good night, Eph + retired, closing the door after him, and the boy heard the patter of his + bare feet as he scuttled down the hall. + </p> + <p> + The moon was rising and Hannibal went to the open window and glanced out. + His room overlooked the back yard of the inn and a neglected truck patch. + Starting from a point beyond the truck patch and leading straight away to + the woodland beyond was a fenced lane, with the corn-field and the + pasture-lot on either hand. Immediately below his window was the steeply + slanting roof of a shed. For a moment he considered the night, not + unaffected by its beauty, then, turning from the window, he moved his + bundle and rifle to the foot of the bed, where they would be out of his + way, kicked off his trousers, blew out the candle and lay down. The gossip + of the men in the bar ran like a whisper through the house, and with it + came frequent bursts of noisy laughter. Listening for these sounds the boy + dozed off. + </p> + <p> + Yancy had become more and more convinced as the evening passed that + Murrell was bent on getting him drunk, and suspicion mounted darkly to his + brain. He felt certain that he was Bladen's agent. Now, Mr. Yancy took an + innocent pride in his ability to “cool off liquor.” Perhaps it was some + heritage from a well living ancestry that had hardened its head with Port + and Madeira in the days when the Yancys owned their acres and their + slaves. Be that as it may, he was equal to the task he had set himself. He + saw with satisfaction the flush mount to Murrell's swarthy cheeks, and + felt that the limit of his capacity was being reached. Mr. Slosson had + become a sort of Greek chorus. He anticipated all the possible phases of + drunkenness that awaited his companions. He went from silence to noisy + mirth, when his unmeaning laughter rang through the house; he told long + witless stories as he leaned against the bar; he became melancholy and + described the loss of his wife five years before. From melancholy he + passed to sullenness and seemed ready to fasten a quarrel on Yancy, but + the latter deftly evaded any such issue. + </p> + <p> + “What you-all want is another drink,” he said affably. “With all you been + through you need a tonic, so shove along that extract of cornshucks and + molasses!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a rip-staver,” said Slosson thickly. “But I've knowed enough sorrow + to kill a horse.” + </p> + <p> + “You have that look. Captain, will you join us?” asked Yancy. Murrell + shook his head, but he made a significant gesture to Slosson as Yancy + drained his glass. + </p> + <p> + “Have a drink with me!” cried Slosson, giving way to drunken laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you reckon you'll spite yo' appetite fo' breakfast, neighbor?” + suggested Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean you won't drink with me?” roared Slosson. + </p> + <p> + “The captain's dropped out and I 'low it's about time fo' these here + festivities to come to an end. I'm thinking some of going to bed myself,” + said Yancy. He kept his eyes fixed on Murrell. He realized that if the + latter could prevent it he was not to leave the bar. Murrell stood between + him and the door; more than this, he stood between him and his rifle, + which leaned against the wall in the far corner of the room. Slosson + roared out a protest to his words. “That's all right, neighbor,” retorted + Yancy over his shoulder, “but I'm going to bed.” He never shifted his + glance from Murrell's face. Scowling now, the captain's eyes blazed back + their challenge as he thrust his right hand under his coat. “Fair play—I + don't know who you are, but I know what you want!” said Yancy, the light + in his frank gray eyes deepening. Murrell laughed and took a forward step. + At the same moment Slosson snatched up a heavy club from back of the bar + and dealt Yancy a murderous blow. A single startled cry escaped the + Scratch Hitler; he struck out wildly as he lurched toward Murrell, who + drew his knife and drove it into his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Groping wildly, Yancy reached his rifle and faced about. His scalp lay + open where Slosson's treacherous blow had fallen and his face was covered + with blood; even as his fingers stiffened they found the hammer, but + Murrell, springing forward, kicked the gun out of his hands. Dashing the + blood from his eyes, Yancy threw himself on Murrell. Then, as they + staggered to and fro, Yancy dully bent on strangling his enemy, Slosson—whom + the sight of blood had wonderfully sobered—rushed out from the bar + and let loose a perfect torrent of blows with his club. Murrell felt the + fingers that gripped him grow weak, and Yancy dropped heavily to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + How long the boy slept he never knew, but he awoke with a start and a + confused sense of things. He seemed to have heard a cry for help. But the + tavern was very silent now. The distant murmur of voices and the shouts of + laughter had ceased. He lifted himself up on his elbow and glanced from + the window. The heavens were pale and gray. It was evidently very late, + probably long after midnight but where was his Uncle Bob? + </p> + <p> + He sank back on his pillow intent and listening. What he had heard, what + he still expected to hear, he could not have told, but he was sure he had + been roused by a cry of some sort. A chilling terror that gripped him fast + and would not let him go, mounted to his brain. Once he thought he heard + cautious steps beyond his door. He could not be certain, yet he imagined + the bull-necked landlord standing with his ear to some crack seeking to + determine whether or not he slept. His thin little body grew rigid and a + cold sweat started from him. He momentarily expected the latch to be + lifted, then in the heavy silence he caught the sound of some stealthy + movement beyond the lath and plaster partition, and an instant later an + audible footfall. He heard the boards creak and give, as the person who + had been standing before his door passed down the hall, down the stairs, + and to the floor below. + </p> + <p> + Limp and shivering, he drew his scanty covering tight about him. In the + silence that succeeded, he once more became aware of the tireless chorus + of the frogs, the hooting of the owls, and the melancholy and oft-repeated + call of the whippoorwill. But where was his Uncle Bob? Why didn't he come + to bed? And whose was that cry for help he had heard? Memories of idle + tales of men foully dealt with in these lonely taverns, of murderous + landlords, and mysterious guests who were in league with them, flashed + through his mind. + </p> + <p> + Murrell had followed them for this—and had killed his Uncle Bob, and + he would be sent back to Bladen! The law had said that Bladen could have + him and that his Uncle Bob must give him up. The law put men in prison—it + hanged them sometimes—his Uncle Bob had told him all about it—by + the neck with ropes until they were dead! Maybe they wouldn't send him + back; maybe they would do with him what they had already done with his + Uncle Bob; he wanted the open air, the earth under his feet, and the sky + over his head. The four walls stifled him. He was not afraid of the night, + he could run and hide in it—there were the woods and fields where he + would be safe. + </p> + <p> + He slid from the bed, and for a long moment stood cold and shaking, his + every sense on the alert. With infinite caution he got into his trousers + and again paused to listen, since he feared his least movement might + betray him. Reassured, he picked up his battered hat from the floor and + inch by inch crept across the squeaking boards to the window. When the + window was reached he paused once more to listen, but the quiet that was + everywhere throughout the house gave him confidence. He straddled the low + sill, and putting out his hand gripped the stock of his rifle and drew + that ancient weapon toward him. Next he secured his pack, and was ready + for flight. + </p> + <p> + Encumbered by his belongings, but with no mind to sacrifice them, he + stepped out upon the shed and made his way down the slant of the roof to + the eaves. He tossed his bundle to the ground and going down on his knees + lowered his rifle, letting the muzzle fall lightly against the side of the + shed as it left his hand, then he lay flat on his stomach and, feet first, + wriggled out into space. When he could no longer preserve his balance, he + gave himself a shove away from the eaves and dropped clear of the + building. + </p> + <p> + As he recovered himself he was sure he heard a door open and close, and + threw himself prone on the ground, where the black shadow cast by the + tavern hid him. At the same moment two dark figures came from about a + corner of the building. He could just distinguish that they carried some + heavy burden between them and that they staggered as they moved. He heard + Slosson curse drunkenly, and a whispered word from Murrell. The two men + slowly crossed the truck patch, and the boy's glance followed them, his + eyes starting from his head. Just at the mouth of the lane they paused and + put down their burden; a few words spoken in a whisper passed between them + and they began to drag some dark thing down the lane, their backs bent, + their heads bowed and the thing they dragged bumping over the uneven + ground. + </p> + <p> + They passed out of sight, and breathless and palsied, Hannibal crept about + a corner of the tavern. He must be sure! The door of the bar stood open; + the lamps were still burning, and the upturned chairs and a broken table + told of the struggle that had taken place there. The boy rested his hand + on the top step as he stared fearfully into the room. His palm came away + with a great crimson splotch. But he was not satisfied yet. He must be + sure—sure! He passed around the building as the men had done and + crossed the truck patch to the mouth of the lane. Here he slid through the + fence into the corn-field, and, well sheltered, worked his way down the + rows. Presently he heard a distant sound—a splash—surely it + was a splash—. + </p> + <p> + A little later the men came up the lane, to disappear in the direction of + the tavern. Hannibal peered after them. His very terrors, while they + wrenched and tortured him, gave him a desperate kind of courage. As the + gloom hid the two men, he started forward again; he must know the meaning + of that sound—that splash, if it was a splash. He reached the end of + the cornfield, climbed the fence, and entered a deadening of slashed and + mutilated timber. In the long wet grass he found where the men had dragged + their burden. He reached down and swept his hand to and fro—once—twice—the + third time his little palm came away red and discolored. + </p> + <p> + There was the first pale premonition of dawn in the sky, and as he hurried + on the light grew, and the black trunks of trees detached themselves from + the white mist that filled the woods and which the dawn made visible. + There was light enough for him to see that he was following the trail left + by the men; he could distinguish where the dew had been brushed from the + long grass. Advancing still farther, he heard the clear splash of running + water, an audible ripple that mounted into a silver cadence. Day was + breaking now. The lifeless gray along the eastern horizon had changed to + orange. Still following the trail, he emerged upon the bank of the Elk + River, white like the woods with its ghostly night sweat. + </p> + <p> + The dull beat of the child's heart quickened as he gazed out on the swift + current that was hurrying on with its dreadful secret. Then the full + comprehension of his loss seemed to overwhelm him and he was utterly + desolate. Sobs shook him, and he dropped on his knees, holding fast to the + stock of his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob—Uncle Bob, come back! Can't you come back!” he wailed + miserably. Presently he staggered to his feet. Convulsive sobs still + wrenched his little body. What was he to do? Those men—his Uncle + Bob's murderers—would go to his room; they would find his empty bed + and their search for him would begin! Not for anything would he have gone + back through the corn-field or the lane to the road. He had the courage to + go forward, but not to retrace his steps; and the river, deep and swift, + barred his path. As he glanced about, he saw almost at his feet a dug-out, + made from a single poplar log. It was secured to an overhanging branch by + a length of wild grape-vine. With one last fearful look off across the + deadening in the direction of the tavern, he crept down to the water's + edge and entered the canoe. In a moment, he had it free from its lashing + and the rude craft was bumping along the bank in spite of his best efforts + with the paddle. Then a favoring current caught it and swept it out toward + the center of the stream. + </p> + <p> + It was much too big and clumsy for him to control without the stream's + help, though he labored doggedly with his paddle. Now he was broadside to + the current, now he was being spun round and round, but always he was + carried farther and farther from the spot where he had embarked. He passed + about a bend; and a hundred yards beyond, about a second bend; then the + stream opened up straight before him a half-mile of smooth running water. + Far down it, at the point where the trees met in the unbroken line of the + forest and the water seemed to vanish mysteriously, he could distinguish a + black moving object; some ark or raft, doubtless. + </p> + <p> + In the smoother water of the long reach, Hannibal began to make head + against the flood. The farther shore became the nearer, and finally he + drove the bow of his canoe up on a bit of shelving bank, and seizing his + pack and rifle, sprang ashore. Panting and exhausted, he paused just long + enough to push the canoe out into the stream again, and then, with his + rifle and pack in his hands, turned his small tear-stained face toward the + wooded slope beyond. As he toiled up it in the wide silence of the dawn, a + mournful wind burst out of the north, filling the air about him with + withered leaves and the dead branches of trees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ON THE RIVER + </h2> + <p> + Betty stood under a dripping umbrella in the midst of a drenching + downpour, her boxes and trunks forming a neat pyramid of respectable size + beside her. She was somewhat perturbed in spirit, since they contained + much elaborate finery all in the very latest eastern fashion, spoils that + were the fruit of a heated correspondence with Tom, who hadn't seemed at + all alive to the fact that Betty was nearly eighteen and in her own right + a young woman of property. A tarpaulin had been thrown over the heap, and + with one eye on it and the other on the stretch of yellow canal up which + they were bringing the fast packet Pioneer, she was waiting impatiently to + see her belongings transferred to a place of safety. + </p> + <p> + Just arrived by the four-horse coach that plyed regularly between + Washington and Georgetown, she had found the long board platform beside + the canal crowded with her fellow passengers, their number augmented by + those who delight to share vicariously in travel and to whom the departure + of a stage or boat was a matter of urgent interest requiring their + presence, rain or shine. Suddenly she became aware of a tall, familiar + figure moving through the crowd. It was Bruce Carrington. At the same + moment he saw her, and with a casual air that quite deceived her, + approached; and Betty, who had been feeling very lonely and very homesick, + was somehow instantly comforted at sight of him. She welcomed him almost + as a friend. + </p> + <p> + “You're leaving to-night?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—isn't it miserable the way it rains? And why are they so slow—why + don't they hurry with that boat?” + </p> + <p> + “It's in the last lock now,” explained Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “My clothes will all be ruined,” said Betty. He regarded the dress she + wore with instant concern. “No—I mean the things in my trunks; this + doesn't matter,” and Betty nodded toward the pile under the steaming + tarpaulin. Carrington's dark eyes opened with an expression of mild + wonder. And so those trunks were full of clothes—Oh, Lord!—he + looked down at the flushed, impatient face beside him with amusement. + </p> + <p> + “I'll see that they are taken care of,” he said, for the boat was + alongside the platform now; and gathering up Betty's hand luggage, he + helped her aboard. + </p> + <p> + By the time they had reached Wheeling, Betty had quite parted with + whatever superficial prejudice she might have had concerning river-men. + This particular one was evidently a very nice river-man, an exception to + his kind. She permitted him to assume the burden of her plans, and no + longer scanned the pages of her Badger's and Porter's with a puckered + brow. It reposed at the bottom of her satchel. He made choice of the + steamer on which she should continue her journey, and thoughtfully chose + The Naiad—a slow boat, with no reputation for speed to sustain. It + meant two or three days longer on the river, but what of that? There would + be no temptation in the engine-room to attach a casual wrench or so to the + safety-valve as an offset to the builder's lack of confidence in his own + boilers. He saw to it that her state-room was well aft—steamers had + a trick of blowing up forward. + </p> + <p> + Ne had now reached a state of the utmost satisfaction with himself and the + situation. Betty was friendly and charming. He walked with her, and he + talked with her by the hour; and always he was being entangled deeper and + deeper in the web of her attraction. “When alone he would pace the deck + recalling every word she had spoken. There was that little air of high + breeding which was Betty's that fascinated him. He had known something of + the other sort, those who had arrived at prosperity with manners and + speech that still reflected the meaner condition from which they had + risen. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a thing to offer her—this is plain madness of mine!” he + kept telling himself, and then the expression of his face would become + grim and determined. No more of the river for him—he'd get hold of + some land and go to raising cotton; that was the way money was made. + </p> + <p> + Slow as The Naiad was, the days passed much too swiftly for him. When + Memphis was reached their friendly intercourse would come to an end. There + would be her brother, of whom she had occasionally spoken—he would + be pretty certain to have the ideas of his class. + </p> + <p> + As for Betty, she liked this tall fellow who helped her through the + fatigue of those long days, when there was only the unbroken sweep of the + forest on either hand, with here and there a clearing where some + outrageous soul was making a home for himself. The shores became duller, + wilder, more uninteresting as they advanced, and then at last they entered + the Mississippi, and she was almost home. + </p> + <p> + Betty was not unexcited by the prospect. She would be the mistress of the + most splendid place in West Tennessee. She secretly aspired to be a + brilliant hostess. She could remember when the doors of Belle Plain were + open to whoever had the least claim to distinction—statesmen and + speculators in land; men who were promoting those great schemes of + improvement, canals and railroads; hard-featured heroes of the two wars + with England—a diminishing group; the men of the modern army, the + pathfinders, and Indian fighters, and sometimes a titled foreigner. She + wondered if Tom had maintained the traditions of the place. She found that + Carrington had heard of Belle Plain. He spoke of it with respect, but with + a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, for how could he feel enthusiasm when he + must begin his chase after fortune with bare hands?—he suffered + acutely whenever it was mentioned. The days, like any other days, + dwindled. The end of it all was close at hand. Another twenty-four hours + and Carrington reflected there would only be good-by to say. + </p> + <p> + “We will reach New Madrid to-night,” he told her. They were watching the + river, under a flood of yellow moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “And then just another day—Oh, I can hardly wait!” cried Betty + delightedly. “Soon I shall hope to see you at Belle Plain, Mr. + Carrington,” she added graciously. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, your—your family—” he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “There's only just Tom—he's my half-brother. My mother was left a + widow when I was a baby. Later, some years after, she married Tom's + father.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—then he's not even your half-brother?” + </p> + <p> + “He's no relation at all—and much older. When Tom's father died my + mother made Tom, manager, and still later he was appointed my guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you own Belle Plain?” and Carrington sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You have never seen it?—it's right on the river, you know?” + then Betty's face grew sober: “Tom's dreadfully queer—I expect he'll + require a lot of managing!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'll be equal to that!” said-Carrington, convinced of Betty's + all-compelling charm. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not at all certain about Tom—I can see where we shall have + serious differences; but then, I shan't have to struggle single-handed + with him long; a cousin of my mother's is coming to Belle Plain to make + her home with me—she'll make' him behave,” and Betty laughed + maliciously. “It's a great nuisance being a girl!” + </p> + <p> + Then Betty fell to watching for the lights at New Madrid, her elbows + resting on the rail against which she was leaning, and the soft curve of + her chin sunk in the palms of her hands. She wondered absently what Judith + would have said of this river-man. She smiled a little dubiously. Judith + had certainly vindicated the sincerity of her convictions regarding the + importance of family, inasmuch as in marrying Ferris she had married her + own second cousin. She nestled her chin a little closer in her palms. She + remembered that they had differed seriously over Mr. Yancy's defiance, of + the law as it was supposed to be lodged in the sacred person of Mr. + Bladen's agent, the unfortunate Blount. Carrington, with his back against + a stanchion, watched her discontentedly. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be mighty glad to have this over with, Miss Malroy—” he said + at length, with a comprehensive sweep toward the river. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—shan't you?” and she opened her eyes questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Carrington with a short laugh, drawing a chair near hers and + sitting down. + </p> + <p> + Betty, in surprise, gave him a quick look, and then as quickly glanced + away from what she encountered in his eyes. Men were accustomed to talk + sentiment to her, but she had hoped—well, she really had thought + that he was, superior to this weakness. She had enjoyed the feeling that + here was some one, big and strong and thoroughly masculine, with whom she + could be friendly without—she took another look at him from under + the fringe of her long lashes. He was so nice and considerate—and + good looking—he was undeniably this last. It would be a pity! And + she had already determined that Tom should invite him to Belle Plain. She + didn't mind if he was a river-man—they could be friends, for clearly + he was such an exception. Tom should be cordial to him. Betty stared + before her, intently watching the river. As she looked, suddenly pale + points of light appeared on a distant headland. + </p> + <p> + “Is that New Madrid?—Oh, is it, Mr. Carrington?”' she cried eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so,” but he did not alter his position. + </p> + <p> + “But you're not looking!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am—I'm looking at you. I reckon you'll think me crazy, Miss + Malroy-presumptuous and all that but I wish Memphis could be wiped off the + map and that we could go on like this for ever!—no, not like this + but together—you and I,” he took a deep breath. Betty drew a little + farther away, and looked at him reproachfully; and then she turned to the + dancing lights far down the river. Finally she said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were—different.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not,” and Carrington's hand covered hers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—you mustn't kiss my hand like that—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear—I'm just a man—and you didn't expect, did you, that I + could see you this way day after day and not come to love you?” He rested + his arm across the back of her chair and leaned toward her. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—” and Betty moved still farther away. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a chance to win your love, Betty!” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't talk so—I am nothing to you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are. You're everything to me,” said Carrington doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not—I won't be!” and Betty stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “You can't help it. I love you and that's all there is about it. I know + I'm a fool to tell you now, Betty, but years wouldn't make any difference + in my feeling; and I can't have you go, and perhaps never see you again, + if I can help it. Betty—give me a chance—you don't hate me—” + </p> + <p> + “But I do—yes, I do—indeed—” + </p> + <p> + “I know you don't. Let me see you again and do what I can to make you care + for me!” he implored. But he had a very indignant little aristocrat to + deal with. She was angry with him, and angry with herself that in spite of + herself his words moved her. She wouldn't have it so! Why, he wasn't even + of her class—her kind! “Betty, you don't mean—” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “I mean—I am extremely annoyed. I mean just what I say.” Betty + regarded him with wrathful blue eyes. It proved too much for Carrington. + His arm, dropped about her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You shall love me—” She was powerless in his embrace. She felt his + breath on her cheek, then he kissed her. Breathless and crimson, she + struggled and pushed him from her. Suddenly his arms fell at his side; his + face was white. “I was a brute to do that!—Betty, forgive me! I am + sorry—no, I can't be sorry!”' + </p> + <p> + “How do you dare! I hope I may never see you again—I hate you—” + said Betty furiously, tears in her eyes and her pulses still throbbing + from his fierce caress. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that?” he asked slowly, rising. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes—a million times, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you—I can't—I won't!” They were alongside the + New Madrid wharf now, and a certain young man who had been impatiently + watching The Naiad's lights ever since they became visible crossed the + gang-plank with a bound. + </p> + <p> + “Betty—why in the name of goodness did you ever, choose this tub?—everything + on the river has passed it!” said the newcomer. Betty started up with a + little cry of surprise and pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Charley!” + </p> + <p> + Carrington stepped back. This must be the brother who had come up the + river from Memphis to meet her—but her brother's name was Tom! He + looked this stranger—this Charley—over with a hostile eye, + offended by his good looks, his confident manner, in which he thought he + detected an air of ownership, as if—certainly he was holding her + hands longer than was necessary! Of course, other men were in love with + her, such a radiant personality held its potent attraction for men, but + for all that, she was going to belong to him—Carrington! She did + like him; she had shown it in a hundred little ways during the last week, + and he would give her up to no man—give her up?—there wasn't + the least tie between them—except that kiss—and she was + furious because of it. There was nothing for him to do but efface himself. + He would go now, before the boat started—and an instant later, when + Betty, remembering, turned to speak to him, his place by the rail was + deserted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. JUDGE SLOCUM PRICE + </h2> + <p> + On that day Hannibal was haunted by the memory of what he had heard and + seen at Slosson's tavern. More than this, there was his terrible sense of + loss, and the grief he could not master, when his thin, little body was + shaken by sobs. Marking the course of the road westward, he clung to the + woods, where his movements were as stealthy as the very shadows + themselves. He shunned the scattered farms and the infrequent settlements, + for the fear was strong with him that he might be followed either by + Murrell or Slosson. But as the dusk of evening crept across the land, the + great woods, now peopled by strange shadows, sent him forth into the + highroad. He was beginning to be very tired, and hunger smote him with + fierce pangs, but back of it all was his sense of bitter loss, his + desolation, and his loneliness. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't forget Uncle Bob if I tried—” he told himself, with + quivering lips, as he limped wearily along the dusty road, and the tears + welled up and streaked his pinched face. Now before him he saw the + scattered lights of a settlement. All his terrors, the terrors that + grouped themselves about the idea of pursuit and capture, rushed back upon + him, and in a panic he plunged into the black woods again. + </p> + <p> + But the distant lights intensified his loneliness. He had lived a whole + day without food, a whole day without speech. He began to skirt the + settlement, keeping well within the thick gloom of the woods, and + presently, as he stumbled forward, he came to a small clearing in the + center of which stood a log dwelling. The place seemed deserted. There was + no sign of life, no light shone from the window, no smoke issued from the + stick-and-mud chimney. + </p> + <p> + Tilted back in a chair by the door of this house a man was sleeping. The + hoot of an owl from a near-by oak roused him. He yawned and stretched + himself, thrusting out his fat legs and extending his great arms. Then + becoming aware of the small figure which had stolen up the path as he + slept and now stood before him in the uncertain light, he fell to rubbing + his eyes with the knuckles of his plump hands. The pale night mist out of + the silent depths of the forest had assumed shapes as strange. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he demanded, and his voice rumbled thickly forth from his + capacious chest. The very sound was sleek and unctuous. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Hannibal,” said the small figure. He was meditating flight; he + glanced over his shoulder toward the woods. + </p> + <p> + “No, you ain't. He's been dead a thousand years, more or less. Try again,” + recommended the man. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Hannibal Wayne Hazard,” said the boy. The man quitted his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well—I am glad to know you, Hannibal Wayne Hazard. I am Slocum + Price—Judge Slocum Price, sometime major-general of militia and + ex-member of congress, to mention a few of those honors my fellow + countrymen have thrust upon me.” He made a sweeping gesture with his two + hands outspread and bowed ponderously. + </p> + <p> + The boy saw a man of sixty, whose gross and battered visage told its own + story. There was a sparse white frost about his ears; and his eyes, pale + blue and prominent, looked out from under beetling brows. He wore a shabby + plum-colored coat and tight, drab breeches. About his fat neck was a black + stock, with just a suggestion of soiled linen showing above it. His figure + was corpulent and unwieldy. + </p> + <p> + The man saw a boy of perhaps ten, barefoot, and clothed in homespun shirt + and trousers. On his head was a ruinous hat much too large for him, but + which in some mysterious manner he contrived to keep from quite engulfing + his small features, which were swollen and tear-stained. In his right hand + he carried a bundle, while his left clutched the brown barrel of a long + rifle. + </p> + <p> + “You don't belong in these parts, do you?” asked the judge, when he had + completed his scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” answered the boy. He glanced off down the road, where lights + were visible among the trees. “What town is that?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Pleasantville—which is a lie—but I am neither sufficiently + drunk nor sufficiently sober to cope with the possibilities your question + offers. It is a task one should approach only after extraordinary + preparation,” and the sometime major-general of militia grinned + benevolently. + </p> + <p> + “It's a town, ain't it?” asked Hannibal doubtfully. He scarcely understood + this large, smiling gentleman who was so civilly given to speech with him, + yet strangely enough he was not afraid of him, and his whole soul craved + human companionship. + </p> + <p> + “It's got a name—but you'll excuse me, I'd much prefer not to tell + you how I regard it—you're too young to hear. But stop a bit—have + you so much as fifty cents about you?” and the judge's eyes narrowed to a + slit above their folds of puffy flesh. Hannibal, keeping his glance fixed + on the man's face, fell back a step. “I can't let you go if you are + penniless—I can't do that!” cried the judge, with sudden vehemence. + “You shall be my guest for the night. They're a pack of thieves at the + tavern,” he lowered his voice. “I know 'em, for they've plucked me!” To + make sure of his prey, he rested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder and drew + him gently but firmly into the shanty. As they crossed the threshold he + kicked the door shut, then with flint and steel he made a light, and + presently a candle was sputtering in his hands. He fitted it into the neck + of a tall bottle, and as the light flared up the boy glanced about him. + </p> + <p> + The interior was mean enough, with its rough walls, dirt floor and black, + cavernous fireplace. A rude clapboard table did duty as a desk, a fact + made plain by a horn ink-well, a notary's seal, and a rack with a + half-dozen quill pens. Above the desk was a shelf of books in worn calf + bindings, and before it a rickety chair. A shakedown bed in one corner of + the room was tastefully screened from the public gaze by a tattered quilt. + </p> + <p> + “Boy, don't be afraid. Look on me as a friend,” urged the judge, who + towered above him in the dim candle-light. “Here's comfort without + ostentation. Don't tell me you prefer the tavern, with its corrupt + associations!” Hannibal was silent, and the judge, after a brief moment of + irresolution, threw open the door. Then he bent toward the small stranger, + bringing his face close to the child's, while his thick lips wreathed + themselves in a smile ingratiatingly genial. “You can't look me squarely + in the eye and say you prefer the tavern to these scholarly surroundings?” + he said banteringly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll be glad to stop,” answered Hannibal. The judge clapped him + playfully on the back. + </p> + <p> + “Such confidence is inspiring! Make yourself perfectly at home. Are you + hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I ain't had much to eat to-day,” replied Hannibal cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “I can offer you food then. What do you say to cold fish?” the judge + smacked his lips to impart a relish to the idea. “I dare swear I can find + you some corn bread into the bargain. Tea I haven't got. On the advice of + my physician, I don't use it. What do you say—shall we light a fire + and warm the fish?” + </p> + <p> + “I 'low I could eat it cold.” + </p> + <p> + “No trouble in the world to start a fire. All we got to do is to go out, + and pull a few palings off the fence,” urged the judge. + </p> + <p> + “It will do all right just like it is,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Very good, then!” cried the judge gaily, and he began to assemble the + dainties he had enumerated. “Here you are!” he cleared his throat + impressively, while benignity shone from every feature of his face. “A + moment since you allowed me to think that you were solvent to the extent + of fifty cents—” Hannibal looked puzzled. The judge dealt him a + friendly blow on the back, then stood off and regarded him with a glance + of great jocularity, his plump knuckles on his hips and his arms akimbo. + “I wonder”—and his eyes assumed a speculative squint “I wonder if + you could be induced to make a temporary loan of that fifty cents? The sum + involved is really such a ridiculous trifle I don't need to point out to + you the absolute moral certainty of my returning it at an early date—say + to-morrow morning; say to-morrow afternoon at the latest; say even the day + after at the very outside. Meantime, you shall be my guest. The landlady's + son has found my notarial seal an admirable plaything—she has had to + lick the little devil twice for hooking it—my pens and stationery + are at your disposal, should you desire to communicate to absent friends; + you can have the run of my library!” the judge fairly trembled in his + eagerness. It was not the loss of his money that Hannibal most feared, and + the coin passed from his possession into his host's custody. As it dropped + into the latter's great palm he was visibly moved. His moist, blue eyes + became yet more watery, while his battered old face assumed an expression + indicating deep inward satisfaction. “Thank you, my boy! This is one of + those intrinsically trifling benefits which, conferred at the moment of + acute need, touch the heart and tap the unfailing springs of human + gratitude—I must step down to the tavern—when I return, please + God, we shall know more of each other.” While he was still speaking he had + produced a jug from behind the quilt that screened his bed, and now, + bareheaded, and with every indication of haste, took himself off into the + night. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Hannibal gravely seated himself at the table. What the judge's + larder lacked in variety it more than made up for in quantity, and the boy + was grateful for this fact. He was half famished, and the coarse, abundant + food was of the sort to which he was accustomed. Presently he heard the + judge's heavy, shuffling step as he came up the path from the road, and a + moment later his gross bulk of body filled the doorway. Breathing hard and + perspiring, the judge entered the shanty, but his eagerness, together with + his shortness of breath, kept him silent until he had established himself + in his chair beside the table, with the jug and a cracked glass at his + elbow. Then, bland and smiling, he turned toward his guest. + </p> + <p> + “Will you join me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Please, I'd rather not,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you don't like good liquor?” demanded the judge. “Not + even with sugar and a dash of water?—say, now, don't you like it + that way, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't learned to like it no ways,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me—well—well—the greater the joy to which you + may reasonably aspire. The splendid possibilities of youth are yours. My + tenderest regards, Hannibal!” and he nodded over the rim of the cracked + glass his shaking hand had carried to his lips. Twice the glass was filled + and emptied, and then again, his roving, watery eyes rested meditatively + on the child, who sat very erect in his chair, with his brown hands + crossed in his lap. “Personally, I can drink or not,” explained the judge. + “But I hope I am too much a man of the world to indulge in any intemperate + display of principle.” He proved the first clause of his proposition by + again filling and emptying his glass. “Have you a father?” he asked + suddenly. Hannibal shook his head. “A mother?” demanded the judge. + </p> + <p> + “They both of them done died years and years ago,” answered the boy. “I + can't tell you how long back it was, but I reckon I don't know much about + it. I must have been a small child.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho—a small child!” cried the judge, laughing. He cocked his head on + one side and surveyed Hannibal Wayne Hazard with a glance of comic + seriousness. “A small child and in God's name what do you call yourself + now? To hear you talk one would think you had dabbled your feet in the + Flood!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm most ten,” said Hannibal, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I can well believe it,” responded the judge. “And with this weight of + years, where did you come from and how did you get here?” + </p> + <p> + “From across the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Mr. Yancy fetched me—part way.” The boy's voice broke when + he spoke his Uncle Bob's name, and his eyes swam with tears, but the judge + did not notice this. + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To West Tennessee.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any friends there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You've money enough to see you through?” and what the judge intended for + a smile of fatherly affection became a leer of infinite cunning. + </p> + <p> + “I got ten dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten dollars—” the judge smacked his lips once. “Ten dollars” he + repeated, and smacked his lips twice. There was a brief silence, in which + he seemed to give way to pleasant reveries. + </p> + <p> + From beyond the open door of the shanty came a multitude of night sounds. + The moon had risen, and what had been a dusty country road was now a + streak of silver in the hot light. The purple flush on the judge's face, + where the dignity that belonged to age had gone down in wreck, deepened. + The sparse, white frost above his ears was damp with sweat. He removed his + stock, opened his shirt at the neck, and cast aside his coat; then he + lighted a blackened pipe, filled his glass, and sank back in his chair. + The long hours of darkness were all before him, and his senses clothed + themselves in rich content. Once more his glance rested on the boy. Here, + indeed, was a guest of whom one might make much and not err—he felt + all the benevolence of his nature flow toward him. Ten dollars! + </p> + <p> + “Certainly the tavern would have been no place for you! Well, thank God, + it wasn't necessary for you to go there. You are more than welcome here. I + tell you, when you know this place as I know it, you'll regard every + living soul here with suspicion. Keep 'em at arm's length!” he sank his + voice to an impressive whisper. “In particular, I warn you against a + certain Solomon Mahaffy. You'll see much of him; I haven't known how to + rebuff the fellow without being rude—he sticks to me like my shadow. + He's profited by my charity and he admires my conversation and affects my + society, but don't tell him you have so much as a rusty copper, for he + will neither rest nor eat nor sleep until he's plucked you—tell him + nothing—leave him to me. I keep him—there—” the judge + extended his fat hands, “at arm's length. I say to him metaphorically + speaking—'so close, but no closer. I'll visit you when sick, I'll + pray with you when dying, I'll chat with you, I'll eat with you, I'll + smoke with you, and if need be, I'll drink with you—but be your + intimate? Never! Why? Because be's a damned Yankee! These are the + inextinguishable feelings of a gentleman. I am aware they are out of place + in this age, but what's bred in the bone will show in the flesh. Who says + it won't, is no gentleman himself and a liar as well! My place in the + world was determined two or three hundred years ago, and my ancestors spat + on such cattle as Mahaffy and they were flattered by the attention!” The + judge, powerfully excited by his denunciation of the unfortunate Mahaffy, + quitted his chair and, lurching somewhat as he did so, began to pace the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Take me for your example, boy! You may be poor, you may possibly be + hungry you'll often be thirsty, but through it all you will remain that + splendid thing—a gentleman! Lands, niggers, riches, luxury, I've had + 'em all; I've sucked the good of 'em; they've colored my blood, they've + gone into the fiber of my brain and body. Perhaps you'll contend that the + old order is overthrown, that family has gone to the devil? You are right, + and there's the pity of it! Where are the great names? A race of upstarts + has taken their place—sons of nobody—nephews of nobody—cousins + of nobody—I observe only deterioration in the trend of modern life. + The social fabric is tottering—I can see it totter—” and he + tottered himself as he said this. + </p> + <p> + The boy had watched him out of wide eyes, as ponderous and unwieldy he + shuffled back and forth in the dim candlelight; now shaking his head and + muttering, the judge dropped into his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm an old man-the spectacle won't long offend me. I'll die + presently. The Bench and Bar will review my services to the country, the + militia will fire a few volleys at my graveside, here and there a flag + will be at half-mast, and that will be the end—” He was so + profoundly moved by the thought that he could not go on. His voice broke, + and he buried his face in his arms. A sympathetic moisture had gathered in + the child's eyes. He understood only a small part of what his host was + saying, but realized that it had to do with death, and he had his own + terrible acquaintance with death. He slipped from his chair and stole to + the judge's side, and that gentleman felt a cool hand rest lightly on his + arm. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he said, glancing up. + </p> + <p> + “I'm mighty sorry you're going to die,” said the boy softly. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, Hannibal!” cried the judge, looking wonderfully cheerful, + despite his recent bitterness of spirit. “I'm not experiencing any of the + pangs of mortality now. My dissolution ain't a matter of to-night or + to-morrow—there's some life in Slocum Price yet, for all the rough + usage, eh? I've had my fun—I could tell you a thing or two about + that, if you had hair on your chin!” and the selfish lines of his face + twisted themselves into an exceedingly knowing grin. + </p> + <p> + “You talked like you thought you were going to die right off,” said + Hannibal gravely, as he resumed his chair. The judge was touched. It had + been more years than he cared to remember since he had launched a decent + emotion in the breast of any human being. For a moment he was silent, + struck with a sense of shame; then he said: + </p> + <p> + “You are sure you are not running away, Hannibal? I hope you know that + boys should always tell the truth—that hell has its own especial + terrors for the boy who lies? Now, if I thought the worst of you, I might + esteem it my duty to investigate your story.” The judge laid a fat + forefinger against the side of his nose, and regarded him with drunken + gravity. Hannibal shook with terror. This was what he had feared. “That's + one aspect of the case. Now, on the other hand, I might draw up a legal + instrument which could not fail to be of use to you on your travois, and + would stop all questions. As for my fee, it would be trifling, when + compared with the benefits I can see accruing to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't running away. I ain't got no one to run away from,” said the + boy chokingly. He was showing signs of fatigue. His head drooped and he + met the judge's glance with tired, sleepy eyes. The latter looked at him + and then said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “I think you'd better go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I had,” agreed Hannibal, slipping from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, take my bed back of the quilt. You'll find a hoe there. You can dig + up the dirt under the shuck tick with it—which helps astonishingly. + What would the world say if it could know that judge Slocum Price makes + his bed with a hoe! There's Spartan hardihood!” but the boy, not knowing + what was meant by Spartan hardihood, remained silent. “Nearing threescore + years and ten, the allotted span as set down by the Psalmist—once + man of fashion, soldier, statesman and lawgiver—and makes his bed + with a hoe! What a history!” muttered the judge with weary melancholy, as + one groping hand found the jug while the other found the glass. There was + a pause, while he profited by this fortunate chance. “Well, take the bed,” + he resumed hospitably. + </p> + <p> + “I can sleep most anywhere. I ain't no ways particular,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “I say, take the bed!” commanded the judge sternly. And Hannibal quickly + retired behind the quilt. “Do you find it comfortable?” the judge asked, + when the rustling of the shuck tick informed him that the child had lain + down. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Have you said your prayers?” inquired the judge. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I ain't said 'em yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say them now. Religion is as becoming in the young as it is + respectable in the aged. I'll not disturb you to-night, for it is God's + will that I should stay up and get very drunk.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. BOON COMPANIONS + </h2> + <p> + Some time later the judge was aware of a step on the path beyond his door, + and glancing up, saw the tall figure of a man pause on his threshold. A + whispered curse slipped from between his lips. Aloud he said: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Mr. Mahaffy?” He got no reply, but the tall figure, + propelled by very long legs, stalked into the shanty and a pair of keen, + restless eyes deeply set under a high, bald head were bent curiously upon + him. + </p> + <p> + “I take it I'm intruding,” the new-comer said sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you think that, Solomon Mahaffy? When has my door been closed + on you?” the judge asked, but there was a guilty deepening of the flush on + his face. Mr. Mahaffy glanced at the jug, at the half-emptied glass within + convenient reach of the judge's hand, lastly at the judge himself, on + whose flame-colored visage his eyes rested longest. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard said there was honor among thieves,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I know of no one better fitted to offer an opinion on so delicate a point + than just yourself, Mahaffy,” said the judge, with a thick little ripple + of laughter. + </p> + <p> + But Solomon Mahaffy's long face did not relax in its set expression. + </p> + <p> + “I saw your light,” he explained, “but you seem to be raising first-rate + hell all by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be reasonable, Solomon. You'd gone down to the steamboat landing,” + said the judge plaintively. By way of answer, Mahaffy shot him a + contemptuous glance. “Take a chair—do, Solomon!” entreated the + judge. + </p> + <p> + “I don't force my society on any man, Mr. Price,” said Mahaffy, with + austere hostility of tone. The judge winced at the “Mr.” That registered + the extreme of Mahaffy's disfavor. + </p> + <p> + “You feel bitter about this, Solomon?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Mahaffy, in a tone of utter finality. + </p> + <p> + “You'll feel better with three fingers of this trickling through your + system,” observed the judge, pushing a glass toward him. + </p> + <p> + “When did I ever sneak a jug into my shanty?” asked Mahaffy sternly, + evidently conscious of entire rectitude in this matter. + </p> + <p> + “I deplore your choice of words, Solomon,” said the judge. “You know damn + well that if you'd been here I couldn't have got past your place with that + jug! But let's deal with conditions. Here's the jug, with some liquor left + in it—here's a glass. Now what more do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I ever been caught like this?” demanded Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “No, you've invariably manifested the honorable disabilities of a + gentleman. But don't set it all down to virtue. Maybe you haven't had the + opportunity, maybe the temptation never came and found you weak and + thirsty. Put away your sinful pride, Solomon—a sot like you has no + business with the little niceties of selfrespect.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I drink alone?” insisted Mahaffy doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “I never give you the chance,” retorted his friend. Mr. Mahaffy drew near + the table. “Sit down,” urged the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you feel mean?” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “If it's any satisfaction to you, I do,” admitted the judge. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to.” Mahaffy drew forward a chair. The judge filled his glass. + But Mr. Mahaffy's lean face, with its long jaws and high cheek-bones, over + which the sallow skin was tightly drawn, did not relax in its forbidding + expression, even when he had tossed off his first glass. + </p> + <p> + “I love to see you in a perfectly natural attitude like that, Solomon, + with your arm crooked. What's the news from the landing?” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy brought his fist down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I heard the boat churning away round back of the bend, then I saw the + lights, and she tied up and they tossed off the freight. Then she churned + away again and her lights got back of the trees on the bank. There was the + lap of waves on the shore, and I was left with the half-dozen miserable + loafers who'd crawled out to see the boat come in. That's the news six + days a week!” + </p> + <p> + By the river had come the judge, tentatively hopeful, but at heart + expecting nothing, therefore immune to disappointment and equipped for + failure. By the river had come Mr. Mahaffy, as unfit as the judge himself, + and for the same reason, but sour and bitter with the world, believing + always in the possibility of some miracle of regeneration. + </p> + <p> + Pleasantville's weekly paper, The Genius of Liberty, had dwelt at length + upon those distinguished services judge Slocum Price had rendered the + nation in war and peace, the judge having graciously furnished an array of + facts otherwise difficult of access. That he was drunk at the time had but + added to the splendor of the narrative. He had placed his ripe wisdom, the + talents he had so assiduously cultivated, at the services of his fellow + citizens. He was prepared to represent them in any or all the courts. But + he had remained undisturbed in his condition of preparedness; that erudite + brain was unconcerned with any problem beyond financing his thirst at the + tavern, where presently ingenuity, though it expressed itself with a + silver tongue, failed him, and he realized that the river's spent floods + had left him stranded with those other odds and ends of worthless drift + that cumbered its sun-scorched mud banks. + </p> + <p> + Something of all this passed through his mind as he sat there sodden and + dreamy, with the one fierce need of his nature quieted for the moment. He + had been stranded before, many times, in those long years during which he + had moved steadily toward a diminishing heritage; indeed, nothing that was + evil could contain the shock of a new experience. He had fought and lost + all his battles—bitter struggles to think of even now, after the + lapse of years, and the little he had to tell of himself was an intricate + mingling of truth and falsehood, grotesque exaggeration, purposeless + mendacity. + </p> + <p> + He and Mahaffy had met exactly one month before, on the deck of the + steamer from which they had been put ashore at the river landing two miles + from Pleasantville. Mahaffy's historic era had begun just there. + Apparently he had no past of which he could be brought to speak. He + admitted having been born in Boston some sixty years before, and was a + printer by trade; further than this, he had not revealed himself, drunk or + sober. + </p> + <p> + At the judge's elbow Mr. Mahaffy changed his position with nervous + suddenness. Then he folded his long arms. + </p> + <p> + “You asked if there was any news, Price; while we were waiting for the + boat a raft tied up to the bank; the fellow aboard of it had a man he'd + fished up out of the river, a man who'd been pretty well cut to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knew, and he wasn't conscious. I shouldn't be surprised if he + never opens his lips again. When the doctor had looked to his cuts, the + fellow on the raft cast off and went on down the Elk.” + </p> + <p> + It occurred to the judge that he himself had news to impart. He must + account for the boy's presence. + </p> + <p> + “While you've been taking your whiff of life down at the steamboat + landing, Mahaffy, I've been experiencing a most extraordinary + coincidence.” The judge paused. By a sullen glare in his deep-sunk eyes + Mr. Mahaffy seemed to bid him go on. “Back east—” the judge jerked + his thumb with an indefinite gesture “back east at my ancestral home—” + Mahaffy snorted harshly. “You don't believe I had an ancestral home?—well, + I had! It was of brick, sir, with eight Corinthian columns across the + front, having a spacious paneled hall sixty feet long. I had the + distinguished honor to entertain General Andrew Jackson there.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you get those dimensions out of the jug?” inquiry Mahaffy, with a + frightful bark that was intended for a sarcastic laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, it is not in your province to judge me by my present degraded + associates. Near the house I have described—my father's and his + father's before him, and mine now—but for the unparalleled + misfortunes which have pursued me—lived a family by the name of + Hazard. And when I went to the war of '12—” + </p> + <p> + “What were you in that bloody time, a sutler?” inquired Mahaffy + insultingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—a colonel of infantry!—I say, when I went to the war, + one of these Hazards accompanied me as my orderly. His grandson is back of + that curtain now—asleep—in my bed!” Mahaffy put down his + glass. + </p> + <p> + “You were like this once before,” he said darkly. But at that instant the + shuck tick rattled noisily at some movement of the sleeping boy. Mahaffy + quitted his chair, and crossing the room, drew the quilt aside. A glance + sufficed to assure him that in part, at least, the judge spoke the truth. + He let the curtain fall into place and resumed his chair. + </p> + <p> + “He's an orphan, Solomon; a poor, friendless orphan. Another might have + turned him away from his door—I didn't; I hadn't the heart to. I + bespeak your sympathy for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” asked Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I just told you?” said the judge reproachfully. Mahaffy laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You've told me something. Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Hannibal Wayne Hazard. Wait until he wakes up and see if it + isn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure he isn't kin to you?” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Not a drop of my blood flows in the veins of any living creature,” + declared the judge with melancholy impressiveness. He continued with + deepening feeling, “All I shall leave to posterity is my fame.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of posterity, which isn't present, Mr. Price, I'll say it is + embarrassed by the attention,” observed Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence between them. Mr. Mahaffy drank, and when he did + not drink he bit his under lip and studied the judge. This was always + distressing to the latter gentleman. Mahaffy's silence he could never + penetrate. What was back of it—judgment, criticism, disbelief—what? + Or was it the silence of emptiness? Was Mahaffy dumb merely because he + could think of nothing to say, or did his silence cloak his feelings-and + what were his feelings? Did his meditations outrun his habitually + insulting speech as he bit his under lip and glared at him? The judge + always felt impelled to talk at such times, while Mahaffy, by that silence + of his, seemed to weigh and condemn whatever he said. + </p> + <p> + The moon had slipped below the horizon. Pleasantville had long since gone + to bed; it was only the judge's window that gave its light to the + blackness of the night. There was a hoofbeat on the road. It came nearer + and nearer, and presently sounded just beyond the door. Then it ceased, + and a voice said: + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, there!” The judge scrambled to his feet, and taking up the candle, + stepped, or rather staggered, into the yard. Mahaffy followed him. + </p> + <p> + “What's wanted?” asked the judge, as he lurched up to horse and rider, + holding his candle aloft. The light showed a tail fellow mounted on a + handsome bay horse. It was Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Is there an inn hereabouts?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find one down the road a ways,” said Mahaffy. The judge said + nothing. He was staring up at Murrell with drunken gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Have either of you gentlemen seen a boy go through here to-day? A boy + about ten years old?” Murrell glanced from one to the other. Mr. Mahaffy's + thin lips twisted themselves into a sarcastic smile. He turned to the + judge, who spoke up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Did he carry a bundle and rifle?” he asked. Murrell gave eager assent. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the judge, “he stopped here along about four o'clock and + asked his way to the nearest river landing.” Murrell gathered up his + reins, and then that fixed stare of the judge's seemed to arrest his + attention. + </p> + <p> + “You'll know me again,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I hope that's a satisfaction to you,” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't—none whatever,” answered the judge promptly. “For I don't + value you—I don't value you that much!” and he snapped his fingers + to illustrate his meaning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE ORATOR Or THE DAY + </h2> + <p> + “Hannibal!” the judge's voice and manner were rather stern. “Hannibal, a + man rode by here last night on a big bay horse. He said he was looking for + a boy about ten years old—a boy with a bundle and rifle.” There was + an awful pause. Hannibal's heart stood still for a brief instant, then it + began to beat with terrific thumps against his ribs. “Who was that man, + Hannibal?” + </p> + <p> + “I—please, I don't know—” gasped the child. + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal, who was that man?” repeated the judge. + </p> + <p> + “It were Captain Murrell.” The judge regarded him with a look of great + steadiness. He saw his small face go white, he saw the look of abject + terror in his eyes. The judge raised his fist and brought it down with a + great crash on the table, so that the breakfast dishes leaped and rattled. + “We don't know any boy ten years old with a rifle and bundle!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Please—you won't let him take me away, judge I want to stop with + you!” cried Hannibal. He slipped from his chair, and passing about the + table, seized the judge by the hand. The judge was visibly affected. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he roared, with a great oath. “He shan't have you—I'll see him + in the farthest corner of hell first! Is he kin to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Took you to raise, did he—and abused you—infernal hypocrite!” + cried the judge with righteous wrath. + </p> + <p> + “He tried to get me away from my Uncle Bob. He's been following us since + we crossed the mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is your Uncle Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “He's dead.” And the child began to weep bitterly. Much puzzled, the judge + regarded him in silence for a moment, then bent and lifted him into his + lap. + </p> + <p> + “There, my son—” he said soothingly. “Now you tell me when he died, + and all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “He were killed. It were only yesterday, and I can't forget him! I don't + want to—but it hurts—it hurts terrible!” Hannibal buried his + head in the judge's shoulder and sobbed aloud. Presently his small hands + stole about the judge's neck, and that gentleman experienced a strange + thrill of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how he died, Hannibal,” he urged gently. In a voice broken by + sobs the child began the story of their flight, a confused narrative, + which the judge followed with many a puzzled shake of the head. But as he + reached his climax—that cry he had heard at the tavern, the men in + the lane with their burden—he became more and more coherent and his + ideas clothed themselves in words of dreadful simplicity and directness. + The judge shuddered. “Can such things be?” he murmured at last. + </p> + <p> + “You won't let him take me?” + </p> + <p> + “I never unsay my words,” said the judge grandly. “With God's help I'll be + the instrument for their destruction.” He frowned with a preternatural + severity. Eh—if he could turn a trick like that, it would pull him + up! There would be no more jeers and laughter. + </p> + <p> + What credit and standing it would give him! His thoughts slipped along + this fresh channel. What a prosecution he would conduct—what a + whirlwind of eloquence he would loose! He began to breathe hard. His name + should go from end to end of the state! No man could be great without + opportunity—for years he had known this—but here was + opportunity at last! Then he remembered what Mahaffy had told him of the + man on the raft. This Slosson's tavern was probably on the upper waters of + the Elk. Yancy had been thrown in the river and had been picked up in a + dying condition. “Hannibal,” he said, “Solomon Mahaffy, who was here last + night, told me he saw down at the river landing, a man who had been fished + up out of the Elk—a man who had been roughly handled.” + </p> + <p> + “Were it my Uncle Bob?” cried Hannibal, lifting a swollen face to his. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lad, I don't know,” said the judge sympathetically. “Some people on + a raft had picked him up out of the river. He was unconscious and no one + knew him. He was apparently a stranger in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “It were Uncle Bob! It were Uncle Bob—I know it were my Uncle Bob! I + must go find him!” and Hannibal slipped from the judge's lap and ran for + his rifle and bundle. + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit!” cried the judge. “He was taken on past here, and he was + badly injured. Now, if it was your Uncle Bob, he'll come back the moment + he is able to travel. Meantime, you must remain under my protection while + we investigate this man Slosson.” + </p> + <p> + But alas—that thoroughfare which is supposed to be paved exclusively + with good resolutions, had benefited greatly by Slocum Price's labors in + the past, and he was destined to toil still in its up-keep. He borrowed + the child's money and spent it, and if any sense of shame smote his torpid + conscience, he hid it manfully. Not so Mr. Mahaffy; for while he profited + by his friend's act, he told that gentleman just what he thought of him + with insulting candor. On the eighth day there was sobriety for the pair. + Deep gloom visited Mr. Mahaffy, and the judge was a prey to melancholy. + </p> + <p> + It was Saturday, and in Pleasantville a jail-raising was in progress. + During all the years of its corporate dignity the village had never + boasted any building where the evil-doer could be placed under restraint; + hence had arisen its peculiar habit of dealing with crime; but a leading + citizen had donated half an acre of ground lying midway between the town + and the river landing as a site for the proposed structure, and the + scattered population of the region had assembled for the raising. Nor was + Pleasantville unprepared to make immediate use of the jail, since the + sheriff had in custody a free negro who had knifed another free negro and + was awaiting trial at the next term of court. + </p> + <p> + “We don't want to get there too early,” explained the judge, as they + quitted the cabin. “We want to miss the work, but be on hand for the + celebration.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we may confidently look to you to favor us with a few eloquent + words?” said Mr. Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “And why not, Solomon?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed!” echoed Mr. Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + The opportunity he craved was not denied him. The crowd was like most + southwestern crowds of the period, and no sooner did the judge appear than + there were clamorous demands for a speech. He cast a glance of triumph at + Mahaffy, and nimbly mounted a convenient stump. He extolled the climate of + middle Tennessee, the unsurpassed fertility of the soil; he touched on the + future that awaited Pleasantville; he apostrophized the jail; this simple + structure of logs in the shadow of the primeval woods was significant of + their love of justice and order; it was a suitable place for the detention + of a citizen of a great republic; it was no mediaeval dungeon, but a + forest-embowered retreat where, barring mosquitoes and malaria, the party + under restraint would be put to no needless hardship; he would have the + occasional companionship of the gentlemanly sheriff; his friends, with + such wise and proper restrictions as the law saw fit to impose, could come + and impart the news of the day to him through the chinks of the logs. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you have dealt in a hasty fashion with one or two + horse-thieves,” he continued. “Also with a gambler who was put ashore here + from a river packet and subsequently became involved in a dispute with a + late citizen of this place touching the number of aces in a pack of cards. + It is not for me to criticize! What I may term the spontaneous love of + justice is the brightest heritage of a free people. It is this same + commendable ability to acquit ourselves of our obligations that is making + us the wonder of the world! But don't let us forget the law—of which + it is an axiom, that it is not the severity of punishment, but the + certainty of it, that holds the wrong-doer in check! With this safe and + commodious asylum the plow line can remain the exclusive aid to + agriculture. If a man murders, curb your natural impulse! Give him a fair + trial, with eminent counsel!” The judge tried not to look self-conscious + when he said this. “If he is found guilty, I still say, don't lynch him! + Why? Because by your hasty act you deny the public the elevating and + improving spectacle of a legal execution!” When the applause had died out, + a lank countryman craning his neck for a sight of the sheriff, bawled out + over the heads of the crowd: + </p> + <p> + “Where's your nigger? We want to put him in here!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he's gone fishin'. I never seen the beat of that nigger to go + fishin',” said the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! Ain't you goin' to put him in here?” yelled the countryman. + </p> + <p> + “It's a mighty lonely spot for a nigger,” said the sheriff doubtingly. + </p> + <p> + “Lonely? Well, suppose he ups and lopes out of this?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know that nigger,” rejoined the sheriff warmly. “He ain't + missed a meal since I had him in custody. Just as regular as the clock + strikes he's at the back door. Good habits—why, that darky is a + lesson to most white folks!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a cuss about that nigger, but what's the use of building a + jail if a body ain't goin' to use it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's some sense in that,” agreed the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “There's a whole heap of sense in it!” + </p> + <p> + “I suggest”—the speaker was a young lawyer from the next county—“I + suggest that a committee be appointed to wait on the nigger at the + steamboat landing and acquaint him with the fact that with his assistance + we wish completely to furnish the jail.” + </p> + <p> + “I protest—” cried the judge. “I protest—” he repeated + vigorously. “Pride of race forbids that I should be a party to the + degradation of the best of civilization! Is your jail to be christened to + its high office by a nigger? Is this to be the law's apotheosis? No, sir! + No nigger is worthy the honor of being the first prisoner here!” This was + a new and striking idea. The crowd regarded the judge admiringly. + Certainly here was a man of refined feeling. + </p> + <p> + “That's just the way I feel about it,” said the sheriff. “If I'd athought + there was any call for him I wouldn't have let him go fishing, I'd have + kept him about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let the nigger fish—he has powerful luck. What's he usin', + Sheriff; worms or minnies?” + </p> + <p> + “Worms,” said the sheriff shortly. + </p> + <p> + Presently the crowd drifted away in the direction of the tavern. Hannibal + meantime had gone down to the river. He haunted its banks as though he + expected to see his Uncle Bob appear any moment. The judge and Mahaffy had + mingled with the others in the hope of free drinks, but in this hope there + lurked the germ of a bitter disappointment. There was plenty of drinking, + but they were not invited to join in this pleasing rite, and after a + period of great mental anguish Mahaffy parted with the last stray coin in + the pocket of his respectable black trousers, and while his flask was + being filled the judge indulged in certain winsome gallantries with the + fat landlady. + </p> + <p> + “La, Judge Price, how you do run on!” she said with a coquettish toss of + her curls. + </p> + <p> + “That's the charm of you, ma'am,” said the judge. He leaned across the bar + and, sinking his voice to a husky whisper, asked, “Would it be perfectly + convenient for you to extend me a limited credit?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Judge Price, you know a heap better than to ask me that!” she + answered, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + “No offense, ma'am,” said the judge, hiding his disappointment, and with + Mahaffy he quitted the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you marry the old girl? You could drink yourself to death in + six months,” said Mahaffy. “That would be a speculation worth while—and + while you live you could fondle those curls!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I'll be forced to it yet,” responded the judge with gloomy + pessimism. + </p> + <p> + With the filling of Mahaffy's flask the important event of the day was + past, and both knew it was likely to retain its preeminence for a terrible + and indefinite period; a thought that enriched their thirst as it + increased their gravity while they were traversing the stretch of dusty + road that lay between the cavern and the judge's shanty. When they had + settled themselves in their chairs before the door, Mahaffy, who was + notably jealous of his privileges, drew the cork from the flask and took + the first pull at its contents. The judge counted the swallows as + registered by that useful portion of Mahaffy's anatomy known as his Adam's + apple. After a breathless interval, Mahaffy detached himself from the + flask and civilly passing the cuff of his coat about its neck, handed it + over to the judge. In the unbroken silence that succeeded the flask passed + swiftly from hand to hand, at length Mahaffy held it up to the light. It + was two-thirds empty, and a sigh stole from between his thin lips. The + judge reached out a tremulous hand. He was only too familiar with his + friend's distressing peculiarities. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” he begged thickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” demanded Mahaffy fiercely. “Is it your liquor or mine?” He + quitted his chair end stalked to the well where he filled the flask with + water. Infinitely disgusted, the judge watched the sacrilege. Mahaffy + resumed his chair and again the flask went its rounds. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't so bad,” said the judge after a time, but with a noticeable lack + of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Were you in shape to put anything better than water into it, Mr. Price?” + The judge winced. He always winced at that “Mr.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't serve myself such a trick as that,” he said with + decision. “When I take liquor, it's one thing; and when I want water, it's + another.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed,” agreed Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “I drink as much clear water as is good for a man of my constitution,” + said the judge combatively. “My talents are wasted here,” he resumed, + after a little pause. “I've brought them the blessings of the law, but + what does it signify!” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you ever come here?” Mahaffy spoke sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I might ask the same question of you, and in the same offensive tone,” + said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask, not wishing to take a liberty, were you always the same old + pauper you've been since I've known you?” inquired Mahaffy. The judge + maintained a stony silence. + </p> + <p> + The heat deepened in the heart of the afternoon. The sun, a ball of fire, + slipped back of the tree-tops. Thick shadows stole across the stretch of + dusty road. Off in the distance there was the sound of cowbell. Slowly + these came nearer and nearer—as the golden light slanted, sifting + deeper and deeper into the woods. + </p> + <p> + They could see the crowd that came and went about the tavern, they caught + the distant echo of its mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Common—quite common,” said the judge with somber melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see anything common,” said Mahaffy sourly. “The drinks weren't + common by a long sight.” + </p> + <p> + “I referred to the gathering in its social aspect, Solomon,” explained the + judge; “the illiberal spirit that prevailed, which, I observe, did not + escape you.” + </p> + <p> + “Skunks!” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Not a man present had the public spirit to set 'em up,” lamented the + judge. “They drank in pairs, and I'd blistered my throat at their damn + jail-raising! What sort of a fizzle would it have been if I hadn't been on + hand to impart distinction to the occasion?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't begrudge 'em their liquor,” said Mahaffy with acid dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” interrupted the judge. “I hope it's poison to 'em. + </p> + <p> + “It will be in the long run, if it's any comfort to you to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no comfort, it's not near quick enough,” said the judge + relentlessly. The sudden noisy clamor of many voices, highpitched and + excited, floated out to them under the hot sky. “I wonder—” began + the judge, and paused as he saw the crowd stream into the road before the + tavern. Then a cloud of dust enveloped it, a cloud of dust that came from + the trampling of many pairs of feet, and that swept toward them, thick and + impenetrable, and no higher than a tall man's head in the lifeless air. “I + wonder if we missed anything,” continued the judge, finishing what he had + started to say. + </p> + <p> + The score or more of men were quite near, and the judge and Mahaffy made + out the tall figure of the sheriff in the lead. And then the crowd, very + excited, very dusty, very noisy and very hot, flowed into the judge's + front yard. For a brief moment that gentleman fancied Pleasantville had + awakened to a fitting sense of its obligation to him and that it was about + to make amends for its churlish lack of hospitality. He rose from his + chair, and with a splendid florid gesture, swept off his hat. + </p> + <p> + “It's the pussy fellow!” cried a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up—don't you think I know him?” retorted the sheriff + tartly. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen—” began the judge blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Get the well-rope!” + </p> + <p> + The judge was rather at loss properly to interpret these varied remarks. + He was not long left in doubt. The sheriff stepped to his side and dropped + a heavy hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Slocum Price, or whatever your name is, your little game is up!” + </p> + <p> + “Get the well-rope! Oh, hell—won't some one get the well-rope?” The + voice rose into a wail of entreaty. + </p> + <p> + The judge's eyes, rather startled, slid around in their sockets. Clearly + something was wrong—but what—what? + </p> + <p> + “Ain't he bold?” it was a woman's voice this time, and the fat landlady, + her curls awry and her plump breast heaving tumultuously, gained a place + in the forefront of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Dear madam, this is an unexpected pleasure!” said the judge, with his + hand upon his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you make your wicked old sheep's eyes at me, you brazen thing!” + cried the lady. + </p> + <p> + “You're wanted,” said the sheriff grimly, still keeping his hand on the + judge's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “For what?” demanded the judge thickly. The sheriff had no time in which + to answer. + </p> + <p> + “I want my money!” shrieked the landlady. + </p> + <p> + “Your money—Mrs. Walker, you amaze me!” The judge drew himself up + haughtily, in genuine astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I want my money!” repeated Mrs. Walker in even more piercing tones. + </p> + <p> + “I am not aware that I owe you anything, madam. Thank God, I hold your + receipted bill of recent date,” answered the judge with chilling dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Good money—not this worthless trash!” she shook a bill under his + nose. The judge recognized it as the one of which he had despoiled + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “You have been catched passing counterfeit,” said the sheriff. A light + broke on the judge, a light that dazzled and stunned. An officious and + impatient gentleman tossed a looped end of the well-rope about his neck + and the crowd yelled excitedly. This was something like—it had a + taste for the man-hunt! The sheriff snatched away the rope and dealt the + officious gentleman a savage blow on the chin that sent him staggering + backward into the arms of his friends. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, now—I'm going to arrest this old faller! I am going + to put him in jail, and I ain't going to have no nonsense—do you + hear me?” he expostulated. + </p> + <p> + “I can explain—” cried the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Make him give me my money!” wailed Mrs Walker. + </p> + <p> + “Jezebel!” roared the judge, in a passion of rage. + </p> + <p> + “Ca'm's the word, or you'll get 'em started!” whispered the sheriff. The + judge looked fearfully around. At his side stood Mahaffy, a yellow pallor + splotching his thin cheeks. He seemed to be holding himself there by an + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to them, Solomon—speak to them—you know how I came by + the money! Speak to them—you know I am innocent!” cried the judge, + clutching his friend by the arm. Mahaffy opened his thin lips, but the + crowd drowned his voice in a roar. + </p> + <p> + “He's his partner—” + </p> + <p> + “There's no evidence against him,” said the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + A tall fellow, in a fringed hunting-shirt, shook a long finger under + Mahaffy's aquiline nose. + </p> + <p> + “You scoot—that's what—you make tracks! And if we ever see + your ugly face about here again, we'll—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll what?” inquired Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “We'll fix you out with feathers that won't molt, that's what!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mahaffy seemed to hesitate. His lean hands opened and closed, and he + met the eyes of the crowd with a bitter, venomous stare. Some one gave him + a shove and he staggered forward a step, snapping out a curse. Before he + could recover himself the shove was repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Lope on out of here!” yelled the tall fellow, who had first challenged + his right to remain in Pleasantville or its environs. As the crowd fell + apart to make way for him, willing hands were extended to give him the + needed impetus, and without special volition of his own. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy was hurried toward the road. His hat was knocked flat on his head—he + turned with an angry snarl, the very embodiment of hate—but again he + was thrust forward. And then, somehow, his walk became a run and the crowd + started after him with delighted whoopings. Once more, and for the last + time, he faced about, giving the judge a hopeless, despairing glance. His + tormentors were snatching up sods and stones and he had no choice. He + turned, his long strides taking him swiftly over the ground, with the air + full of missiles at his back. + </p> + <p> + Before he had gone a hundred yards he abandoned the road and, turning off + across an unfenced field, ran toward the woods and swampy bottom. Twenty + men were in chase behind him. The judge was the sheriff's prisoner—that + official had settled that point—but Mr. Mahaffy was common property, + it was his cruel privilege to furnish excitement; his keen rage was almost + equal to the fear that urged him on. Then the woods closed about him. His + long legs, working tirelessly, carried him over fallen logs and through + tall tangled thickets, the voices behind him growing more and more distant + as he ran. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE FAMILY ON THE RAFT + </h2> + <p> + That would unquestionably have been the end of Bob Yancy when he was shot + out into the muddy waters of the Elk River, had not Mr. Richard Keppel + Cavendish, variously known as Long-Legged Dick, and Chills-and-Fever + Cavendish, of Lincoln County, in the state of Tennessee, some months + previously and after unprecedented mental effort on his part, decided that + Lincoln County was no place for him. When he had established this idea + firmly in his own mind and in the mind of Polly, his wife, he set about + solving the problem of transportation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish's paternal grandparent had drifted down the Holston and + Tennessee; and Mr. Cavendish's father, in his son's youth, had poled up + the Elk. Mr. Cavendish now determined to float down the Elk to its + juncture with the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to the Ohio, and if need + be, down the Ohio to the Mississippi, and keep drifting until he found + some spot exactly suited to his taste. Temperamentally, he was well + adapted to drifting. No conception of vicarious activity could have been + more congenial. + </p> + <p> + With this end in view he had toiled through late winter and early spring, + building himself a raft on which to transport his few belongings and his + numerous family; there were six little Cavendishes, and they ranged in + years from four to eleven; there was in addition the baby, who was always + enumerated separately. This particular infant Mr. Cavendish said he + wouldn't take a million dollars for. He usually added feelingly that he + wouldn't give a piece of chalk for another one. + </p> + <p> + June found him aboard his raft with all his earthly possessions bestowed + about him, awaiting the rains and freshets that were to waft him + effortless into a newer country where he should have a white man's chance. + At last the rains came, and he cast off from the bank at that unsalubrious + spot where his father had elected to build his cabin on a strip of level + bottom subject to periodic inundation. Wishing fully to profit by the + floods and reach the big water without delay, Cavendish ran the raft + twenty-four hours at a stretch, sleeping by day while Polly managed the + great sweep, only calling him when some dangerous bit of the river was to + be navigated. Thus it happened that as Murrell and Slosson were dragging + Yancy down the lane, Cavendish was just rounding a bend in the Elk, a + quarter of a mile distant. Leaning loosely against the long handle of his + sweep, he was watching the lane of bright water that ran between the black + shadows cast by the trees on either bank. He was in shirt and trousers, + barefoot and bareheaded, and his face, mild and contemplative, wore an + expression of dreamy contentment. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly its expression changed. He became alert and watchful. He had + heard a dull splash. Thinking that some tree had been swept into the + flood, he sought to pierce the darkness that lay along the shore. Five or + six minutes passed as the raft glided along without sound. He was about to + relapse into his former attitude of listless ease when he caught sight of + some object in the eddy that swept alongside. Mr. Cavendish promptly + detached himself from the handle of the sweep and ran to the edge of the + raft. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord—what's that!” he gasped, but he already knew it was a + face, livid and blood-streaked. Dropping on his knees he reached out a + pair of long arms and made a dexterous grab, and his fingers closed on the + collar of Yancy's shirt. “Neighbor, I certainly have got you!” said + Cavendish, between his teeth. He drew Yancy close alongside the raft, and, + slipping a hand under each arm, pulled him clear of the water. The swift + current swept the raft on down the stream. It rode fairly in the center of + the lane of light, but no eye had observed its passing. Mr. Cavendish + stood erect and stared down at the blood-stained face, then he dropped on + his knees again and began a hurried examination of the still figure. + “There's a little life here—not much, but some—you was well + worth fishing up!” he said approvingly, after a brief interval. “Polly!” + he called, raising his voice. + </p> + <p> + This brought Mrs. Cavendish from one of the two cabins that occupied the + center of the raft. She was a young woman, still very comely, though of a + matronly plumpness. She was in her nightgown, and when she caught sight of + Yancy she uttered a shriek and fled back into the shanty. + </p> + <p> + “I declare, Dick, you might ha' told a body you wa'n't alone!” she said + reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + Her cry had aroused the other denizens of the raft. The tow heads of the + six little Cavendishes rose promptly from a long bolster in the smaller of + the two shanties, and as promptly six little Cavendishes, each draped in a + single non-committal garment, apparently cut by one pattern and not at all + according to the wearer's years or length of limb, tumbled forth from + their shelter. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', Polly, he's senseless! But you dress and come here quick. Now, you + young folks, don't you tetch him!” for the six small Cavendishes, excited + beyond measure, were crowding and shoving for a nearer sight of Yancy. + They began to pelt their father with questions. Who was it? Sho', in the + river? Sho', all cut up like that—who'd cut him? Had he hurt + himself? Was he throwed in? When did pop fish him out? Was he dead? Why + did he lay like that and not move or speak—sho'! This and much more + was flung at Mr. Cavendish all in one breath, and each eager questioner + seized him by the hand, the dangling sleeve of his shirt, or his trousers—they + clutched him from all sides. “I never seen such a family!” said Mr. + Cavendish helplessly. “Now, you-all shut up, or I 'low I'll lay into you!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cavendish's appearance created a diversion in his favor. The six + rushed on her tumultously. They seized her hands or struggled for a + fragment of her skirt to hold while they poured out their tale. Pop had + fished up a man—he'd been throwed in the river! Pop didn't know if + he was dead or not—he was all cut and bloody. + </p> + <p> + “I declare, I've a mind to skin you if you don't keep still! Miss + Constance,” Polly addressed her eldest child, “I'm surprised at you! You + might be a heathen savage for all you got on your back—get into some + duds this instant!” Cavendish was on his knees again beside Yancy, and + Polly, by a determined effort, rid herself of the children. “Why, he's a + grand-looking man, ain't he?” she cried. “La, what a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “You can feel his heart beat, and he's bleeding some,” said Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see—just barely flutters, don't it? Henry, go mind the sweep + and see we don't get aground! Keppel, you start a fire and warm some + water! Connie, you tear up my other petticoat for bandages now, stir + around, all of you!” And then began a period of breathless activity. They + first lifted Yancy into the circle of illumination cast by the fire Keppel + had started on the hearth of flat stones before the shanties. Then, with + Constance to hold a pan of warm water, Mrs. Cavendish deftly bathed the + gaping wound in Yancy's shoulder where Murrell had driven his knife. This + she bandaged with strips torn from her petticoat. Next she began on the + ragged cut left by Slosson's club. + </p> + <p> + “He's got a right to be dead!” said Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Get the shears, Dick—I must snip away some of his hair.” + </p> + <p> + All this while the four half-naked youngest Cavendishes, very still now, + stood about the stone hearth in the chill dawn and watched their mother's + surgery with a breathless interest. Only the outcast Henry at the sweep + ever and anon lifted his voice between sobs of mingled rage and + disappointment, and demanded what was doing. + </p> + <p> + “Think he is going to die, Polly?” whispered Cavendish at length. Their + heads, hers very black and glossy, his very blond, were close together as + they bent above the injured man. + </p> + <p> + “I never say a body's going to die until he's dead,” said Polly. “He's + still breathing, and a Christian has got to do what they can. Don't you + think you ought to tie up?” + </p> + <p> + “The freshet's leaving us. I'll run until we hit the big water down by + Pleasantville, and then tie up,” said Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon we'd better lift him on to one of the beds—get his wet + clothes off and wrap him up warm,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, put him in our bed!” cried all the little Cavendishes. + </p> + <p> + And Yancy was borne into the smaller of the two shanties, where presently + his bandaged head rested on the long communal pillow. Then his wet clothes + were hung up to dry along with a portion of the family wash which + fluttered on a rope stretched between the two shanties. + </p> + <p> + The raft had all the appearance of a cabin dooryard. There was, in + addition to the two shelters of bark built over a light framework of + poles, a pen which housed a highly domestic family of pigs, while half a + dozen chickens enjoyed a restricted liberty. With Yancy disposed of, the + regular family life was resumed. It was sun-up now. The little + Cavendishes, reluctant but overpersuaded, had their faces washed alongside + and were dressed by Connie, while Mrs. Cavendish performed the same + offices for the baby. Then there was breakfast, from which Mr. Cavendish + rose yawning to go to bed, where, before dropping off to sleep, he played + with the baby. This left Mrs. Cavendish in full command of her floating + dooryard. She smoked a reflective pipe, watching the river between puffs, + and occasionally lending a hand at the sweeps. Later the family wash + engaged her. It had neither beginning nor end, but serialized itself from + day to day. Connie was already proficient at the tubs. It was a knack she + was in no danger of losing. + </p> + <p> + Keppel and Henry took turns at the sweeps, while the three smaller + children began to manifest a love for the water they had not seemed to + possess earlier in the day. They played along the edge of the raft, always + in imminent danger of falling in, always being called back, or seized, + just in time to prevent a catastrophe. This ceaseless activity on their + part earned them much in the way of cuffings, chastisements which Mrs. + Cavendish administered with no great spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Drat you, why don't you go look at the pore gentleman instead of + posterin' a body 'most to death!” she demanded at length, and they stole + off on tiptoe to stare at Yancy. Presently Richard ran to his mother's + side. + </p> + <p> + “Come quick—he's mutterin' and mumblin' and moving his head!” he + cried. It was as the child said. Yancy had roused from his heavy stupor. + Words almost inaudible and quite inarticulate were issuing from his lips + and there was a restless movement of his head on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “He 'pears powerful distressed about something,” said Mrs. Cavendish. “I + reckon I'd better give him a little stimulant now.” + </p> + <p> + While she was gone for the whisky, Connie, who had squatted down beside + the bed, touched Yancy's hand which lay open. Instantly his fingers closed + about hers and he was silent; the movement of his head ceased abruptly; + but when she sought to withdraw her hand he began to murmur again. + </p> + <p> + “I declare, what he wants is some one to sit beside him!” said Mrs. + Cavendish, who had returned with the whisky, a few drops of which she + managed to force between Yancy's lips. All the rest of that day some one + of the children sat beside the wounded man, who was quiet and satisfied + just as long as there was a small hand for him to hold. + </p> + <p> + “He must be a family man,” observed Mr. Cavendish when Polly told him of + this. “We'll tie up at Pleasantville landing and learn who he is.” + </p> + <p> + “He had ought to have a doctor to look at them cuts of his,” said Mrs. + Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + It was late afternoon when the landing was reached. Half a score of men + were loafing about the woodyard on shore. Mr. Cavendish made fast to a + blasted tree, then he climbed the bank; the men regarding him incuriously + as he approached. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy,” said Cavendish genially. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy,” they answered. + </p> + <p> + “Where might I find the nearest doctor?” inquired Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Within about six foot of you,” said one of the group. + </p> + <p> + “Meaning yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning myself.” + </p> + <p> + Briefly Cavendish told the story of Yancy's rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Doc, I want you should cast an eye over the way we've dressed his + cuts, and I want the rest of you to come and take a look at him and tell + who he is and where he belongs,” he said in conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “I'll know him if he belongs within forty miles of here in any direction,” + said the doctor. But he shook his head when his eye rested on Yancy. + “Never saw him,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “How about them bandages, Doc?” demanded Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I reckon they'll do,” replied the doctor indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Will he live?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say. You'll know all about that inside the next forty-eight + hours. Better let the rest have a look.” + </p> + <p> + “Just feel of them bandages—sho', I got money in my pants!” Mr. + Cavendish was rapidly losing his temper, yet he controlled himself until + each man had taken a look at Yancy; but always with the same result—a + shake of the head. “I reckon I can leave him here?” Cavendish asked, when + the last man had looked and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Leave him here—why?” demanded the doctor slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm going on, that's why. I'm headed for downstream, and he ain't + in any sort of shape to say whether he wants to go or stop,” explained + Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “You picked him up, didn't you?” asked one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly did,” said Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon if you're so anxious for him to stay hereabout, you'd + better stop, yourself,” said the owner of the woodyard. “There ain't a + house within two miles of here but mine, and he don't go there!” + </p> + <p> + “You're a healthy lot, you are!” said Cavendish. “I wonder your largeness + of heart ain't ruptured your wishbones long ago!” So saying, he retired to + the stern of his raft and leaned against the sweep-handle, apparently lost + in thought. His visitors climbed the bank and reestablished themselves on + the wood-ranks. + </p> + <p> + Presently Mr. Cavendish lifted his voice and addressed Polly and the six + little Cavendishes at the other end of the raft. He asserted that he was + the only well-born man within a radius of perhaps a hundred miles—he + excepted no one. He knew who his father and mother were, and they had been + legally married—he seemed to infer that this was not always the + case. Mr. Cavendish glanced toward the shore, then he lifted his voice + again, giving it as his opinion that he was the only Christian seen in + those parts in the last fifty years. He offered to fight any gentleman who + felt disposed to challenge this assertion. He sprang suddenly aloft, + knocked his bare heels together and uttered an ear-piercing whoop. He + subsided and gazed off into the red eye of the sun which was slipping back + of the trees. Presently he spoke again. He offered to lick any gentleman + who felt aggrieved by his previous remarks, for fifty cents, for a drink + of whisky, for a chew of tobacco, for nothing—with one hand tied + behind him! He sprang aloft, cracked his heels together as before and + crowed insultingly; then he subsided into silence. An instant later he + appeared stung by the acutest pangs of remorse. In a cringing tone he + begged Polly to forgive him for bringing her to such a place. He bewailed + that they had risked pollution by allowing any inhabitant of that region + to set foot on the raft—he feared for the innocent minds of their + children, and he implored her pardon. Perhaps it was better that they + should cast off at once—unless one of the gentlemen on shore felt + himself insulted, in which event he would remain to fight. + </p> + <p> + Then as he slowly worked the raft out toward the middle of the stream, he + repeated all his former remarks, punctuating them with frequent whoops. He + recapitulated the terms on which he could be induced to fight-fifty cents, + a drink of liquor, a chew of tobacco, nothing! His shouts became fainter + and fainter as the raft was swept down-stream, and finally died away in + the distance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGE BREAKS JAIL + </h2> + <p> + The sheriff had brought the judge's supper. He reported that the crowd was + dispersing, and that on the whole public sentiment was not particularly + hostile; indeed, he went so far as to say there existed a strong + undercurrent of satisfaction that the jail should have so speedily + justified itself. Moreover, there was a disposition to exalt the judge as + having furnished the crowning touch to the day's pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon, sir, they'd have felt obliged to string you up if there wa'n't + no jail,” continued the sheriff lazily from the open door where he had + seated himself. “I don't say there ain't them who don't maintain you had + ought to be strung up as it is, but people are funny, sir; the majority + talk like they might wish to keep you here indefinite. There's no telling + when we'll get another prisoner. Tomorrow the blacksmith will fix some + iron bars to your window so folks can look in and see you. It will give a + heap more air to the place—” + </p> + <p> + “Unless I do get more air, you will not be troubled long by me!” declared + the judge in a tone of melancholy conviction. + </p> + <p> + The building was intolerably hot, the advantages of ventilation having + been a thing the citizens of Pleasantville had overlooked. But the judge + was a reasonable soul; he was disposed to accept his immediate personal + discomfort with a fine true philosophy; also, hope was stirring in his + heart. Hope was second nature with him, for had he not lived all these + years with the odds against him? + </p> + <p> + “You do sweat some, don't you? Oh, well, a man can stand a right smart + suffering from heat like this and not die. It's the sun that's dangerous,” + remarked the sheriff consolingly. “And you had ought to suffer, sir! + that's what folks are sent to jail for,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “You will kindly bear in mind, sir, that I have been convicted of no + crime!” retorted the judge. + </p> + <p> + “If you hadn't been so blamed particular you might have had company; + politest darky you would meet anywhere. Well, sir, I didn't think the boss + orator of the day would be the first prisoner—the joke certainly is + on you!” + </p> + <p> + “I never saw such bloody-minded ruffians! Keep them out and keep me in—all + I ask is to vindicate myself in the eyes of the world,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” began the sheriff severely, “ain't it enough to make 'em + bloody-minded? Any one of 'em might have taken your money and got stuck. + Just to think of that is what hets them up.” He regarded the judge with a + glance of displeasure. “I hate to see a man so durn unreasonable in his + p'int of view. And you picked a lady—a widow-lady—say, ain't + you ashamed?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, what's going to happen to me?” demanded the judge angrily. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'll be tried. I reckon the law will deal with you—that + is, if the public remains ca'm. Maybe it will come to the conclusion that + it'd prefer a lynching—people are funny.” He seemed to detach + himself from the possible current of events. + </p> + <p> + “And, waking and sleeping, I have that before me!” cried the judge + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You had ought to have thought of that sooner, when you was unloading that + money. Why, it ain't even good counterfeit! I wonder a man of your years + wa'n't slicker.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you taken steps to find the boy, or Solomon Mahaffy?” inquired the + judge. + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “How is my innocence going to be established—how am I going to clear + myself if my witnesses are hounded out of the county?” + </p> + <p> + “I love to hear you talk, sir. I told 'em at the raising to-day that I + considered you one of the most eloquent minds I had ever listened to—but + naturally, sir, you are too smart to be honest. You say you ain't been + convicted yet; but you're going to be! There's quite a scramble for places + on the jury already. There was pistols drawed up at the tavern by some of + our best people, sir, who got het up disputin' who was eligible to serve.” + The judge groaned. “You should be thankful them pistols wasn't drawed on + you, sir,” said the sheriff amiably. “You've got a heap to be grateful + about; for we've had one lynching, and we've rid one or two parties on a + rail after giving 'em a coat of tar and feathers.” + </p> + <p> + The judge shuddered. The sheriff continued placidly: + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it you'll get all that's coming to you, sir, say about twenty + years—that had ought to let you out easy. Sort of round out your + earthly career, and leave something due you t'other side of Jordan.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose there is no use in my pointing out to you that I did not know + the money was counterfeit, and that I was quite innocent of any intention + to defraud Mrs. Walker?” said the judge, with a weary, exasperated air. + </p> + <p> + “It don't make no difference where you got the money; you know that, for + you set up to be some sort of a lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Presently the sheriff went his way into the dusk of the evening, and night + came swiftly to fellowship the judge's fears. A single moonbeam found its + way into the place, making a thin rift in the darkness. The judge sat down + on the three-legged stool, which, with a shake-down bed, furnished the + jail. His loneliness was a great wave of misery that engulfed him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just so my life ain't cut short!” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + He had known a varied career, and what he was pleased to call his + unparalleled misfortunes had reduced him to all kinds of desperate shifts + to live, but never before had the law laid its hands on him. True, there + had been times and seasons when he had been grateful for the gloom of the + dark ways he trod, for echoes had taken the place of the living voice that + had once spoken to his soul; but he could still rest his hand upon his + heart and say that the law had always nodded to him to pass on. + </p> + <p> + Where was Solomon Mahaffy, and where Hannibal? He felt that Mahaffy could + fend for himself, but he experienced a moment of genuine concern when he + thought of the child. In spite of himself, his thoughts returned to him + again and again. But surely some one would shelter and care for him! + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and work him like a horse, and probably abuse him into the + bargain—” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a scarcely audible rustle on the margin of the woods, a dry + branch snapped loudly. A little pause succeeded in which the judge's heart + stood still. Next a stealthy step sounded in the clearing. The judge had + an agonized vision of regulators and lynchers. The beat of his pulse + quickened. He knew something of the boisterous horseplay of the frontier. + The sheriff had spoken of tar and feathers—very quietly he stood + erect and picked up the stool. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven helping me, I'll brain a citizen or two before it comes to that!” + he told himself. + </p> + <p> + The cautious steps continued to approach. Some one paused below the + closely shuttered window, and a hand struck the boards sharply. A whisper + stole into the jail. + </p> + <p> + “Are you awake, Price?” It was Mahaffy who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Solomon Mahaffy!” cried the judge unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “I've got the boy—he's with me,” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you both!” repeated the judge brokenly. “Take care of him, + Solomon. I feel better now, knowing he's in good hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Judge—” it was Hannibal + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear lad?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm mighty sorry that ten dollars I loaned you was bad—but you + don't need ever to pay it back!” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy gave way to mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” said the judge indulgently. “It performed all the essential + functions of a perfectly legal currency. Just suppose we had discovered it + was counterfeit before I took it to the tavern—that would have been + a hardship!” + </p> + <p> + “It were Captain Murrell gave it to me,” explained Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “I consecrate myself to his destruction! Judge Slocum Price can not be + humiliated with impunity!” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you would save your wind, Price, until you'd waddled out + of danger!” Mahaffy spoke, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “How are you going to get me out of this, Solomon—for I suppose you + are here to break jail for me,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy inspected the building. He found that the door was secured by two + ponderous hasps to which were fitted heavy padlocks, but the solid wooden + shutter which closed the square hole in the gable that served as a window + was fastened by a hasp and peg. He withdrew the peg, opened the shutter, + and the judge's face, wreathed in smiles, appeared at the aperture. + </p> + <p> + “The blessed sky and air!” he murmured, breathing deep. “A week of this + would have broken my spirit!” + </p> + <p> + “If you can, Price, you'd better come feet first,” suggested Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Not sufficiently acrobatic, Solomon—it's heads or I lose!” said the + judge. + </p> + <p> + He thrust his shoulders into the opening and wriggled outward. Suddenly + his forward movement was arrested. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid of that!” he said, with a rather piteous smile. “It's my + stomach, Solomon!” Mahaffy seized him by the shoulders with lean muscular + hands. “Pull!” cried the judge hoarsely. But Mahaffy's vigorous efforts + failed to move him. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're stuck, Price!” + </p> + <p> + “Get your wind, Solomon,” urged the judge, “and then, if Hannibal will + reach up and work about my middle with his knuckles while you pull, I may + get through.” But even this expedient failed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you reckon you can get me back? I should not care to spend the night + so!” said the judge. He was purple and panting. + </p> + <p> + “Let's try you edgewise!” And Mahaffy pushed the judge into the jail + again. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the judge, after another period of resolute effort on his part + and on the part of Mahaffy. “Providence has been kind to me in the past, + but it's clear she didn't have me in mind when they cut this hole.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Price, I guess all we can do is to go back to town and see if I can + get into my cabin—I've got an old saw there. If I can find it, I can + come again to-morrow night and cut away one of the logs, or the cleats of + the door.” + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven's name, do that to-night, Solomon!” implored the judge. “Why + procrastinate?” + </p> + <p> + “Price, there's a pack of dogs in this neighborhood, and we must have a + full night to move in, or they'll pull us down before we've gone ten + miles!” + </p> + <p> + The judge groaned. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Solomon; I'd forgotten the dogs,” and he groaned again. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy closed and fastened the shutter, then he and Hannibal stole across + the clearing and entered the woods. The judge flung off his clothes and + went to bed, determined to sleep away as many hours as possible. He was + only aroused by the arrival of his breakfast, which the sheriff brought + about eight o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I was in your boots I couldn't sleep like you!” remarked that + official admiringly. “But I reckon, sir, this ain't the first time the + penitentiary has stared you in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you reckon wrong,” said the judge sententiously, as he hauled on his + trousers. + </p> + <p> + “No?—you needn't hurry none. I'll get them dishes when I fetch your + dinner,” he added, as he took his leave. + </p> + <p> + A little later the blacksmith appeared and fitted three iron bars to the + window. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that'll hold you, old feller!” he observed pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + He was disposed to linger, since he was interested in the mechanical means + employed in the making of counterfeit money and thirsted for knowledge at + first hand. Also, he had in his possession a one-dollar bill which had + come to him in the way of trade and which local experts had declared to be + a spurious production. He passed it in between the bars and demanded the + judge's opinion of it as though he were the first authority in the land. + But he went no wiser than he came. + </p> + <p> + It was nearing the noon hour when the judge's solitude was again invaded. + He first heard the distant murmur of voices on the road and passed an + uneasy and restless ten minutes, with his eye to a crack in the door. He + was soothed and reassured, however, when at last he caught sight of the + sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “Well, judge, I got company for you,” cried the sheriff cheerfully, as he + threw open the door. “A hoss-thief!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed into the building a man, hatless and coatless, with a pair of + pale villainous eyes and a tobacco-stained chin. The judge viewed the + new-comer with disfavor. As for the horse-thief, he gave his companion in + misery a coldly critical stare, seated himself on the stool, and with + quite a fierce air devoted all his energy to mastication. He neither + altered his position nor changed his expression until he and the judge + were alone, then, catching the judge's eye, he made what seemed a casual + movement with his hand, the three fingers raised; but to the judge this + clearly was without significance, and the horse-thief manifested no + further interest where he was concerned. He did not even condescend to + answer the one or two civil remarks the judge addressed to him. + </p> + <p> + As the long afternoon wore itself away, the judge lived through the many + stages of doubt and uncertainty, for suppose anything had happened to + Mahaffy! When the sheriff came with his supper he asked him if he had seen + or heard of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Judge, I reckon he's lopin' on yet. I never seen a man of his years run + as well as he done—it was inspirin' how he got over the ground!” + answered the sheriff. Then he attempted conversation with the horse-thief, + but was savagely cursed for his pains. “Well, I don't envy you your + company none, sir,” he remarked as he took leave of the judge. + </p> + <p> + Standing before the window, the judge watched the last vestige of light + fade from the sky and the stars appear. Would Mahaffy come? The suspense + was intolerable. It was possibly eight o'clock. He could not reasonably + expect Mahaffy until nine or half past; to come earlier would be too great + a risk. Suddenly out of the silence sounded a long-drawn whistle. Three + times it was repeated. The horse-thief leaped to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Neighbor, that means me!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The moon was rising now, and by its light the judge saw a number of + horsemen appear on the edge of the woods. They entered the clearing, + picking their way among the stumps without haste or confusion. When quite + close, five of the band dismounted; the rest continued on about the jail + or cantered off toward the road. By this time the judge's teeth were + chattering and he was dripping cold sweat at every pore. He prayed + earnestly that they might hang the horsethief and spare him. The + dismounted men took up a stick of timber that had been cut for the jail + and not used. + </p> + <p> + “Look out inside, there!” cried a voice, and the log was dashed against + the door; once—twice—it rose and fell on the clapboards, and + under those mighty thuds grew up a wide gap through which the moonlight + streamed splendidly. The horse-thief stepped between the dangling cleats + and vanished. The judge, armed with the stool, stood at bay. + </p> + <p> + “What next?” a voice asked. + </p> + <p> + “Get dry brush—these are green logs—we'll burn this jail!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” the judge recognized the horse-thief as the speaker. “There's + an old party in there! No need to singe him!” + </p> + <p> + “Friend?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I tried him.” + </p> + <p> + The judge tossed away the stool. He understood now that these men were + neither lynchers nor regulators. With a confident, not to say jaunty step, + he emerged from the jail. + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, gentlemen!” he said, lifting his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Git!” said one of the men briefly, and the judge moved nimbly away toward + the woods. He had gained its shelter when the jail began to glow redly. + </p> + <p> + Now to find Solomon and the boy, and then to put the miles between himself + and Pleasantville with all diligence. As he thought this, almost at his + elbow Mahaffy and Hannibal rose from behind a fallen log. The Yankee + motioned for silence and pointed west. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” breathed the judge. He noted that Mahaffy had a heavy pack, and the + boy his long rifle. For a mile or two they moved forward without speech, + the boy in the lead; while at his heels strode Mahaffy, with the judge + bringing up the rear. + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel, Price?” asked Mahaffy at length, over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Like one come into a fortune! Those horse-thieves gave me a fine scare, + but did me a good turn.” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal kept to the woods by a kind of instinct, and the two men yielded + themselves to his guidance; but there was no speech between them. Mahaffy + trod in the boy's steps, and the judge, puffing like an overworked engine, + came close upon his heels. In this way they continued to advance for an + hour or more, then the boy paused. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” commanded Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you 'low the judge can stand it?” asked Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, lad!” panted the judge feelingly. + </p> + <p> + “He's got to stand it—either that, or what do you suppose will + happen to us if they start their dogs?” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon's right—you are sure we are not going in a circle, + Hannibal?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm sure,” said Hannibal. “Do you see that star? My Uncle Bob + learned me how I was to watch that star when I wanted to keep going + straight.” + </p> + <p> + There was another long interval of silence. Bit by bit the sky became + overcast. Vague, fleecy rifts of clouds appeared in the heavens. A wind + sprang up, murmuring about them, there came a distant roll of thunder, + while along the horizon the lightning rushed in broken, jagged lines of + fire. In the east there was a pale flush that showed the black, hurrying + clouds the winds had summoned out of space. + </p> + <p> + The booming thunder, first only the sullen menace of the approaching + storm, rolled nearer and nearer, and the fierce light came in blinding + sheets of flame. A ceaseless, pauseless murmur sprang up out of the + distance, and the trees rocked with a mighty crashing of branches, while + here and there a big drop of rain fell. Then the murmur swelled into a + roar as the low clouds disgorged themselves. Drenched to the skin on the + instant, the two men and the boy stumbled forward through the gray wake of + the storm. + </p> + <p> + “What's come of our trail now?” shouted the judge, but the sound of his + voice was lost in the rush of the hurrying winds and the roar of the airy + cascades that fell about them. + </p> + <p> + An hour passed. There was light under the trees, faint, impalpable without + visible cause, but they caught the first sparkle of the rain drops on leaf + and branch; they saw the silvery rivulets coursing down the mossy trunks + of old trees; last of all through a narrow rift in the clouds, the sun + showed them its golden rim, and day broke in the steaming woods. With the + sun, with a final rush of the hurrying wind, a final torrent, the storm + spent itself, and there was only the drip from bough and leaf, or pearly + opalescent points of moisture on the drenched black trunks of maple and + oak; a sapphire sky, high arched, remote overhead; and the June day all + about. + </p> + <p> + “What's come of they trail now?” cried the judge again. “He'll be a good + dog that follows it through, these woods!” + </p> + <p> + They had paused on a thickly wooded hillside. + </p> + <p> + “We've come eight or ten miles if we have come a rod, Price,” said + Mahaffy, “and I am in favor of lying by for the day. When it comes dark we + can go on again.” + </p> + <p> + The judge readily acquiesced in this, and they presently found a dense + thicket which they cautiously entered. Reaching the center of the tangled + growth, they beat down the briers and bushes, or cut them away with their + knives, until they had a little cleared space where they could build a + fire. Then from the pack which Mahaffy carried, the rudiments of a simple + but filling meal were produced. + </p> + <p> + “Your parents took no chances when they named you Solomon!” said the judge + approvingly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. BELLE PLAIN + </h2> + <p> + “Now, Tom,” said Betty, with a bustling little air of excitement as she + rose from the breakfast table that first morning at Belle Plain, “I am + ready if you are. I want you to show me everything!” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'll notice some changes,” remarked Tom. + </p> + <p> + He went from the room and down the hall a step or two in advance of her. + On the wide porch Betty paused, breathing deep. The house stood on an + eminence; directly before it at the bottom of the slight descent was a + small bayou, beyond this the forest stretched away in one unbroken mass to + the Mississippi. Here and there, gleaming in the brilliant morning light, + some great bend of the river was visible through the trees, while the + Arkansas coast, blue and distant, piled up against the far horizon. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want to see, anyhow, Betty?” Tom demanded, turning on her. + </p> + <p> + “Everything—the place, Tom—Belle Plain! Oh, isn't it + beautiful! I had no idea how lovely it was!” cried Betty, as with her eyes + still fixed on the distant panorama of woods and water she went down the + steps, Tom at her heels—he bet she'd get sick of it all soon enough, + that was one comfort! + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tom! Why does the lawn look like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Like what?” inquired Tom. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this—all weeds and briers, and the paths overgrown?” and as + Betty surveyed the unkempt waste that had once been a lawn, a little frown + fixed itself on her smooth brow. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware rubbed his chin reflectively with the back of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That sort of thing looked all right, Bet,” he said, “but it kept five or + six of the best hands out of the fields right at the busiest time of the + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I slaves enough?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The dull color crept into Ware's cheeks. He hated her for that “I!” So she + was going to come that on him, was she? And he'd worked himself like a + horse to bring in more land. Why, he'd doubled the acreage in cotton and + corn in the last four years! He smothered his sense of hurt and + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want to see the crops, Bet? Let me order a team and show you + about, you couldn't walk over the place in a week!” he urged. + </p> + <p> + The girl shook her head and moved swiftly down the path that led from + terrace to terrace to the margin of the bayou. At the first terrace she + paused. All below was a wilderness of tangled vines and brush. She faced + Tom rather piteously. What had been lost was more than he could possibly + understand. Her father had planned these grounds which he was allowing a + riotous second growth to swallow up. + </p> + <p> + “It's positively squalid!” cried Betty, with a little stamp of her foot. + </p> + <p> + Ware glanced about with dull eyes. The air of neglect and decay which was + everywhere visible, and which was such a shock to Betty, had not been + reached in a season, he was really convinced that the place looked pretty + much as it had always looked. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you, Betty, I'm busy this morning; you poke about and see what + you want done and we'll do it,” he said, and made a hasty retreat to his + office, a little brick building at the other side of the house. + </p> + <p> + Betty returned to the porch and seating herself on the top step with her + elbows on her knees and her chin sunk in the palms of her hands, gazed + about her miserably enough. She was still seated there when half an hour + later Charley Norton galloped up the drive from the highroad. Catching + sight of her on the porch he sprang from the saddle, and, throwing his + reins to a black boy, hurried to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Inspecting your domain, Betty?” he asked, as he took his place near her + on the step. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me, Charley—or at least prepare me for this?” + she asked, almost tearfully. + </p> + <p> + “How was I to know, Betty? I haven't been here since you went away, dear—what + was there to bring me? Old Tom would make a cow pasture out of the Garden + of Eden, wouldn't he—a beautiful, practical, sordid soul he is!” + </p> + <p> + “What am I going to do, Charley?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep after him until you get what you want, it's the only way to manage + Tom that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “It's horrid to have to assert one's self!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to with Tom—you must, Betty—he won't understand + anything else.” Then he added: “Let's look around and see what's needed, a + season or two of care will remedy the most of this neglect. Just make Tom + put a lot of hands in here with brush-hooks and axes and soon you'll not + know the place!” + </p> + <p> + Norton spent the day at Belle Plain; and though he was there on his good + behavior as the result of an agreement they had reached on board The + Naiad, he proposed twice. + </p> + <p> + “My intentions are all right, Betty,” he assured her in extenuation. “But + I've the worst memory imaginable. Oh, yes, the lower terrace is badly + gullied, but it's no great matter, it can be fixed with a little work.” + </p> + <p> + It was soon plain to Betty that Tom's ideals, if he possessed any, had not + led him in the direction of what he termed display. His social impulse had + suffered atrophy. The house was utterly disorganized; there was a dearth + of suitable servants. Those she had known were gone—sold, she + learned. Tom explained that there had been no need for them since he had + lived pretty much in his office, what had been the use in keeping darkies + standing about doing nothing? He had got rid of those show niggers and put + their price in husky field hands, who could be made to do a day's work and + not feel they were abused. + </p> + <p> + But Tom was mistaken in his supposition that Betty would soon tire of + Belle Plain. She demanded men, and teams, and began on the lawns. This + interested and fascinated her. She was out at sun-up to direct her + laborers. She had the advantage of Charley Norton's presence and advice + for the greater part of each day in the week, and Sundays he came to look + over what had been accomplished, and, as Tom firmly believed, to put that + little fool up to fresh nonsense. He could have booted him! + </p> + <p> + As the grounds took shape before her delighted eyes, Betty found leisure + to institute a thorough reformation indoors. A number of house servants + were rescued from the quarters and she began to instruct them in their new + duties. + </p> + <p> + Tom was sick at heart. The little fool would cripple the place. It gave + him acute nausea to see the gangs at work about the lawns; it made him + sicker to pass through the house. There were five or six women in the + kitchen now—he was damned if he could see what they found to do—there + was a butler and a page. Betty had levied on the stables for one of the + best teams to draw the family carriage, which had not been in use since + her mother's death; there was a coachman for that, and another little + monkey to ride on the rumble and hop down and open gates. This came of + sending girls away to school—they only learned foolishness. + </p> + <p> + And those niggers about the house had to be dressed for their new work; + the butler, a cracking plow-hand he was, wore better clothes than he—Tom—did. + No wonder he was sick;—and waste! Tom knew all about that when the + bills began to come in from Memphis. Why, that pink-faced chit, he always + referred to her in his own mind now as a pink-faced chit, was evolving a + scheme of life that would cost eight or ten thousand dollars a year to + maintain, and she was talking of decorators for the house, either from New + Orleans or Philadelphia, and new furniture from top to bottom. + </p> + <p> + Tom felt that he was being robbed. Then he realized with a sense of shock + that here was a fortune of over half a million in lands and slaves which + he had managed and manipulated all these years, but which was not his. It + was true that under the terms of his stepmother's will he would inherit it + in the event of Betty's death—well, she looked like dying, a whole + lot—she was as strong as a mule, those soft rounded curves covered + plenty of vigorous muscle; Tom hated the very sight of her. A pink-faced + chit bubbling over with life and useless energy, a perfect curse she was, + with all sorts of extravagant tastes and he was powerless to check her, + for, although he was still her guardian, there were certain provisions of + the will—he consulted the copy he kept locked up in his desk in the + office—that permitted her to do pretty much as she pleased with her + income. It was a hell of a will! She could spend fifteen or twenty + thousand dollars a year if she wanted to and he couldn't prevent it. It + was an iniquitous document! + </p> + <p> + Well, the place could go straight off to the devil, he wouldn't wear out + his life economizing for her to waste—he didn't get a thank-you—and + he knew that nobody took off the land bigger crops than he did, while bale + for bale his cotton outsold all other cotton raised in the county—that + was the kind of a manager he was. He wagged his head in self-approval. And + what did he get out of it? A lump sum each year with a further lump sum of + twenty thousand dollars when she came of age—soon now—or + married. Tom's eyes bulged from their sockets—she'd be doing that + next, to spite him! + </p> + <p> + Betty's sphere of influence rapidly extended itself. She soon began to + have her doubts concerning the treatment accorded the slaves, and was not + long in discovering that Hicks, the overseer, ran things with a heavy + hand. Matters reached a crisis one day when, happening to ride through the + quarters, she found him disciplining a refractory black. She turned sick + at the sight. Here was a slave actually being whipped by another slave + while Hicks stood looking on with his hands in his pockets, and with a + brutal satisfied air. When he caught sight of the girl, he sang out, + </p> + <p> + “That'll do; he's had enough, I reckon, to learn him!” He added sullenly + to Betty, “Sorry you seen this, Miss!” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you order such a punishment without authority!” cried Betty + furiously. + </p> + <p> + Hicks gave her a black scowl. + </p> + <p> + “I don't need no authority to whip a shirker,” he said insolently, as he + turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” commanded Betty, her eyes blazing. She strove to keep her voice + steady. “You shall not remain at Belle Plain another hour.” + </p> + <p> + Hicks said nothing. He knew it would take more than her saying so to get + him off the place. Betty turned her horse and galloped back to the house. + She felt that she was in no condition to see Tom just at that moment, and + dismounting at the door ran up-stairs to her room. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the overseer sought out Ware in his office. His manner of stating + his grievance was singular. He began by swearing at his employer. He had + been insulted before all the quarter—his rage fairly choked him, he + could not speak. + </p> + <p> + Tom seized the opportunity to swear back. He wanted to know if he hadn't + troubles enough without the overseer's help? If he'd got himself insulted + it was his own affair and he could lump it, generally speaking, and get + out of that office! But Tom's fury quickly spent itself. He wanted to know + what the matter was. + </p> + <p> + “Sent you off the place, did she; well, you'll have to eat crow. I'll do + all I can. I don't know what girls were ever made for anyhow, damned if I + do!” he added plaintively, as a realization of a stupendous mistake on the + part of nature overwhelmed him. + </p> + <p> + Hicks consented to eat crow only after Mr. Ware had cursed and cajoled him + into a better and more forgiving frame of mind. Then Tom hurried off to + find Betty and put matters right; a more difficult task than he had + reckoned on, for Betty was obdurate and her indignation flared up at + mention of the incident; all his powers of argument and persuasion were + called into requisition before she would consent to Hicks remaining, and + then only on that most uncertain tenure, his good behavior. + </p> + <p> + “Now you come up to the house,” said Tom, when he had won his point and + gone back to Hicks, “and get done with it. I reckon you talked when you + should have kept your blame familiar mouth shut! Come on, and get it over + with, and say you're sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Later, after Hicks had made his apology, the two men smoked a friendly + pipe and discussed the situation. Tom pointed out that opposition was + useless, a losing game, you could get your way by less direct means. She + wouldn't stay long at Belle Plain, but while she did remain they must + avoid any more crises of the sort through which they had just passed, and + presently; she'd be sick of the place. Tom wagged his head. She was sick + of it already only she hadn't the sense to know it. It wasn't good enough. + Nothing suited-the house—the grounds—nothing! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of her activities Betty occasionally found time to think of + Bruce Carrington. She was sure she did not wish to see him again! But when + three weeks had passed she began to feel incensed that he had not + appeared. She thought of him with hot cheeks and a quickening beat of the + heart. It was anger. Naturally she was very indignant, as she had every + right to be! He was the first man who had dared—! + </p> + <p> + Then one day when she had decided for ever to banish all memory of him + from her mind, and never, under any circumstances, to think of him again, + he presented himself at Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + She was in her room just putting the finishing touches to an especially + satisfying toilet when her maid tapped on the door and told her there was + a gentleman in the parlor who wished to see her. + </p> + <p> + “Is it Mr. Norton?” asked Betty. + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss—he didn't give no name, Miss.” + </p> + <p> + When Betty entered the parlor a moment later she saw her caller standing + with his back turned toward her as he gazed from one of the windows, but + she instantly recognized those broad shoulders, and the fine poise of the + shapely head that surmounted them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Carrington—” and Betty stopped short, while her face grew + rather pale and then crimsoned. Then she advanced quite boldly and held + out a frigid hand, which he took carefully. “I didn't know—so you + are alive—you disappeared so suddenly that night—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm alive,” he said, and then with a smile. “But I fear before you + get through with me we'll both wish I were not, Betty.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me Betty.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man who met you at New Madrid? He can't have you, whoever he + is!” His eyes dwelt on her tenderly, and the remembered spell of her fresh + youthful beauty deepened itself for him. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he doesn't want me—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he does. That was plain as day.” + </p> + <p> + Betty surveyed him from under her lashes. What could she do with this man? + Nothing affected him. He seemed to have crossed some intangible barrier + and to stand closer to her than any other man had ever stood. + </p> + <p> + “Do you still hate me, Betty—Miss Malroy—is there anything I + can say or do that will make you forgive me?” He looked at her penitently. + </p> + <p> + But Betty hardened her heart against him and prepared to keep him in + place. Remembering that he was still holding her hand, she recovered it. + </p> + <p> + “Will you sit down?” she indicated a chair. He seated himself and Betty + put a safe distance between them. “Are you staying in the neighborhood, + Mr. Carrington?” she asked, rather unkindly. How did he dare come here + when she had forgotten him and her annoyance? And now the sight of him + brought back memories of that disagreeable night on that horrid boat—he + had deceived her about that boat, too—she would never forgive him + for that—she had trusted him and he had clearly shown that he was + not to be trusted; and Betty closed her pretty mouth until it was a thin + red line and looked away that she might not see his hateful face. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm not staying in the neighborhood. When I left you, I made up my + mind I'd wait at New Madrid until I could come on down here and say I was + sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's taken you all this time?” + </p> + <p> + Carrington regarded her seriously. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I must have come for more time, Betty—Miss Malroy.” In + spite of herself, Betty glowed under the caressing humor of his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Really—you must have chosen poorly then when you selected New + Madrid. It couldn't have been a good place for your purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “I think if I could have made up my mind to stay there long enough, it + would have answered,” said Carrington. “But when a down-river boat tied up + 'there yesterday it was more than I could stand. You 'see there's danger + in a town like New Madrid of getting too sorry. I thought we'd better + discuss this point—” + </p> + <p> + “Mayn't I show you Belle Plain?” asked Betty quickly. + </p> + <p> + But Carrington shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care anything about that,” he said. “I didn't come here to see + Belle Plain.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are candid,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to be honest with you always.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me—but I don't know that I shall particularly like it. Do you + think it was quite fair to select the boat you did, or was your resolution + to be always honest formed later?” demanded Betty severely. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with great sweetness of expression. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't advise that boat for speed, only for safety. Betty, doesn't it + mean anything to you that I love you? I admit that I wish it had been + twice as slow!” he added reflectively, as an afterthought. He looked at + her steadily, and Betty's dark lashes drooped as the color mounted to her + face. + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” she said quickly. She rose from her chair, and Carrington + followed her example with a lithe movement that bespoke muscles in good + training. She led the way through the wide hall and out to the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Now I am going to show you all over the place,” she announced resolutely. + She stood on the top step, looking off into the flaming west where the sun + rode low in the heavens. “Isn't it lovely, Mr. Carrington, isn't it + beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “Very beautiful!” Carrington's glance was fixed on her face. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't care to see Belle Plain,” began Betty, rather indignantly. + “No, I don't, Betty. This is enough for me. I'll come for that some other + time if you'll be good enough to let me?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you expect to remain in the neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “I've given up the river, and I'm going to get hold of some land—” + </p> + <p> + “Land?” said Betty, with a rising inflection. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, land.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were a river-man?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a river-man no longer. I am going to be a planter now. But I'll tell + you why, and all about it some other day.” Then he held out his hand. + “Goodby,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going—good-by, Mr. Carrington,” and Betty's fingers tingled + with his masterful clasp long after he had gone. + </p> + <p> + Carrington sauntered slowly down the path to the highroad. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't ask me to come back—an oversight,” he told himself + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + Just beyond the gates he met that same young fellow he had seen at New + Madrid. Norton nodded good-naturedly as he passed, and Carrington, + glancing back, saw that he turned in at Belle Plain. He shrugged his + shoulders, and went on his way not rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE SHOOTING-MATCH AT BOGGS' + </h2> + <p> + The judge's faith in the reasonableness of mankind having received a + staggering blow, there began a somewhat furtive existence for himself, for + Solomon Mahaffy, and for the boy. They kept to little frequented byways, + and usually it was the early hours of morning, or the cool of late + afternoons when they took the road. + </p> + <p> + The heat of silent middays found them lounging beside shady pools, where + the ripple of fretted waters filled the pauses in their talk. It was then + that the judge and Mahaffy exchanged views on literature and politics, on + religion and politics, on the public debt and politics, on canals and + national roads and more politics. They could and did honestly differ at + great length and with unflagging energy on these vital topics, especially + politics, for they were as far apart mentally as they were close together + morally. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy, morose and embittered, regarded the life they were living as an + unmixed hardship. The judge entered upon it with infinite zest. He + displayed astonishing adaptability, while he brought all the resources of + a calm and modest knowledge to bear on the vexed problem of procuring + sustenance for himself and for his two companions. + </p> + <p> + “To an old campaigner like me, nothing could be more delightful than this + holiday, coming as it does on the heels of grinding professional + activity,” he observed to Mahaffy. “This is the way our first parents + lived—close to nature, in touch with her gracious beneficence! Sir, + this experience is singularly refreshing after twenty years of slaving at + the desk. If any man can grasp the possibilities of a likely looking + truck-patch at a glance, I am that man, and as for getting around in the + dark and keeping the lay of the land—well, I suppose it's my + military training. Jackson always placed the highest value on such data as + I furnished him. He leaned on me more than any other man, Solomon—” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard he stood up pretty straight,” said Mahaffy affably. The + judge's abandoned conduct distressed him not a little, but his + remonstrances had been in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I consider that when society subjected me to the indignity of arrest, I + was relieved of all responsibility. Injustice must bear its own fruit,” + the judge had answered him sternly. + </p> + <p> + His beginnings had been modest enough: a few ears of corn, a few hills of + potatoes, and the like, had satisfied him; then one night he appeared in + camp with two streaks of scarlet down the side of his face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you hurt, Price?” demanded Mahaffy, betraying an anxiety of which he + was instantly ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “Let me relieve your apprehension, Solomon; it's only a trickle of stewed + fruit. I folded a couple of pies and put them in the crown of my hat,” + explained the judge. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you've been in somebody's springhouse?” + </p> + <p> + “It was unlocked, Solomon, This will be a warning to the owner. I consider + I have done him a kindness.” + </p> + <p> + Thus launched on a career of plunder, the judge very speedily accumulated + a water bucket—useful when one wished to milk a cow—an ax from + a woodpile, a kettle from a summer kitchen, a tin of soft soap, and an + excellent blanket from a wash-line. + </p> + <p> + “For the boy, Solomon,” he said gently, when he caught Mahaffy's steady + disapproving glance fixed upon him as he displayed this last trophy. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of an example are you setting him?” + </p> + <p> + “The world is full of examples I'd not recommend, Solomon. One must learn + to discriminate. A body can no more follow all the examples than he can + follow all the roads, and I submit that the ends of morality can as well + be served in showing a child what he should not do as in showing him what + he should. Indeed, I don't know but it's the finer educational idea!” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter the judge went through the land with an eye out for wash-lines. + </p> + <p> + “I'm looking for a change of linen for the boy, Solomon,” he said. “Let me + bring you a garment or two. Eh—how few men you'll find of my build; + those last shirts I got were tight around the armholes and had no more + tail than a rabbit!” + </p> + <p> + Two nights later Mr. Mahaffy accepted a complete change of under linen, + but without visible sign of gratitude. + </p> + <p> + A night later the judge disappeared from camp, and after a prolonged + absence returned puffing and panting with three watermelons, which proved + to be green, since his activity had been much in advance of the season. + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose there is any greater tax on human ingenuity than to carry + three watermelons!” he remarked. “The human structure is ideally adapted + to the transportation of two—it can be done with comfort; but when a + body tackles three he finds that nature herself is opposed to the + proceeding! Well, I am going back for a bee-gum I saw in a fence corner. + Hannibal will enjoy that—a child is always wanting sweets!” + </p> + <p> + In this fashion they fared gaily across the state, but as they neared the + Mississippi the judge began to consider the future. His bright and + illuminating intelligence dealt with this problem in all its + many-sidedness. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you'd enter one of the learned professions, Solomon—have you + ever thought of medicine?” he inquired. Mr. Mahaffy laughed. “But why not, + Solomon? There is nothing like a degree or a title—that always + stamps a man, gives him standing—” + </p> + <p> + “What do I know about the human system?” + </p> + <p> + “I should certainly hope you know as much as the average doctor knows. We + could locate in one of these new towns where they have the river on one + side and the canal on the other, and where everybody has the ague—” + </p> + <p> + “What do I know about medicine?” inquired Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “As much as Aesculapius, no doubt—even he had to make a beginning. + The torch of science wasn't lit in a day—you must be willing to + wait; but you've got a good sick-room manner. Have you ever thought of + opening an undertaker's shop? If you couldn't cure them you might bury + them.” + </p> + <p> + A certain hot afternoon brought them into the shaded main street of a + straggling village. Near the door of the principal building, a frame + tavern, a man was seated, with his feet on the horse-rack. There was no + other sign of human occupancy. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, sir?” said the judge, halting before this solitary + individual whom he conjectured to be the 'landlord. The man nodded, + thrusting his thumbs into the armholes of his vest. “What's the name of + this bustling metropolis?” continued the judge, cocking his head on one + side. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Bruce Carrington appeared in the tavern door; pausing there, + he glanced curiously at the shabby wayfarers. + </p> + <p> + “This is Raleigh, in Shelby County, Tennessee, one of the states of the + Union of which, no doubt, you've heard rumor in your wanderings,” said the + landlord. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the voice from the tomb?” inquired the judge, in a tone of + playful sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + Carrington, amused, sauntered toward him. + </p> + <p> + “That's one for you, Mr. Pegloe!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am charmed to meet a gentleman whose spirit of appreciation shows his + familiarity with a literary allusion,” said the judge, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “We ain't so dead as we look,” said Pegloe. “Just you keep on to Boggs' + race-track, straight down the road, and you'll find that out—everybody's + there to the hoss-racing and shooting-match. I reckon you've missed the + hoss-racing, but you'll be in time for the shooting. Why ain't you there, + Mr. Carrington?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going now, Mr. Pegloe,” answered Carrington, as he followed the + judge, who, with Mahaffy and the boy, had moved off. + </p> + <p> + “Better stop at Boggs'!” Pegloe called after them. + </p> + <p> + But the judge had already formed his decision. + </p> + <p> + Horse-racing and shooting-matches were suggestive of that progressive + spirit, the absence of which he had so much lamented at the jail raising + at Pleasantville—Memphis was their objective point, but Boggs' + became a side issue of importance. They had gained the edge of the village + when Carrington overtook them. He stepped to Hannibal's side. + </p> + <p> + “Here, let me carry that long rifle, son!” he said. Hannibal looked up + into his face, and yielded the piece without a word. Carrington balanced + it on his big, muscular palm. “I reckon it can shoot—these old guns + are hard to beat!” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “She's the clostest shooting rifle I ever sighted,” said Hannibal + promptly. “You had ought to see the judge shoot her—my! he never + misses!” + </p> + <p> + Carrington laughed. + </p> + <p> + “The clostest shooting rifle you ever sighted—eh?” he repeated. + “Why, aren't you afraid of it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hannibal scornfully. “But she kicks you some if you don't hold + her right.” + </p> + <p> + There was a rusty name-plate on the stock of the old sporting rifle; this + had caught Carrington's eye. + </p> + <p> + “What's the name here? Oh, Turberville.” + </p> + <p> + The judge, a step or two in advance, wheeled in his tracks with a + startling suddenness. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he faltered, and his face was ashen. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I was reading the name here; it is yours; sir, I suppose?” said + Carrington. + </p> + <p> + The color crept slowly back into the judge's cheeks, but a tremulous hand + stole up to his throat. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—no; my name is Price—Slocum Price! Turberville—Turberville—” + he muttered thickly, staring stupidly at Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “It's not a common name; you seem to have heard it before?” said the + latter. + </p> + <p> + A spasm of pain passed over the judge's face. + </p> + <p> + “I—I've heard it. The name is on the rifle, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Here on the stock, yes.” + </p> + <p> + The judge took the gun and examined it in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get this rifle, Hannibal?” he at length asked brokenly. + </p> + <p> + “I fetched it away from the Barony, sir; Mr. Crenshaw said I might have + it.” + </p> + <p> + The judge gave a great start, and a hoarse inarticulate murmur stole from + between his twitching lips. + </p> + <p> + “The Barony—the Barony—what Barony? The Quintard seat in North + Carolina, is that what you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + The judge, as though stunned, stared at Hannibal and stared at the rifle, + where the rusted name-plate danced before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know of the Barony, Hannibal?” the words came slowly from the + judge's lips, and his face had gone gray again. + </p> + <p> + “I lived at the Barony once, until Uncle Bob took me to Scratch Hill to be + with him. It were Mr. Crenshaw said I was to have the old sp'otin' rifle,” + said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “You—you lived at the Barony?” repeated the judge, and a dull stupid + wonder struck through his tone, he passed a shaking hand before his eyes. + “How long ago—when?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how long it were, but until Uncle Bob carried me away after + the old general died.” + </p> + <p> + The judge slipped a hand under the child's chin and tilted his face back + so that he might look into it. For a long moment he studied closely those + small features, then with a shake of the head he handed the rifle to + Carrington, and without a word strode forward. Carrington had been + regarding Hannibal with a quickened interest. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he said, as the judge moved off. “You're the boy I saw at Scratch + Hill!” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal gave him a frightened glance, and edged to Mr. Mahaffy's side, + but did not answer him. + </p> + <p> + “What's become of Bob Yancy?” Carrington went on. He looked from Mahaffy + to the judge; externally neither of these gentlemen was calculated to + inspire confidence. Mahaffy, keenly alive to this fact, returned + Carrington's glance with a fixed and hostile stare. “Come—” said + Carrington good-naturedly, “you surely remember me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I reckon I do—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you tell me about Mr. Yancy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I don't know exactly where he is—” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you get here?” persisted Carrington. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mahaffy turned on him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see he's with us?” he said truculently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear sir, I certainly intended no offense!” rejoined Carrington + rather hotly. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy was plainly disturbed, the debased currency of his affection was + in circulation where Hannibal was concerned, and he eyed the river-man + askance. He was prepared to give him the lie should he set up any claim to + the boy. + </p> + <p> + The judge plodded forward, his shoulders drooped, and his head bowed. For + once silence had fixed its seal upon his lips, no inspiring speech fell + from them. He had been suddenly swept back into a past he had striven + these twenty years and more to forget, and his memories shaped themselves + fantastically. Surely if ever a man had quitted the world that knew him, + he was that man! He had died and yet he lived—lived horribly, + without soul or heart, the empty shell of a man. + </p> + <p> + A turn in the road brought them within sight of Boggs' racetrack, a wide + level meadow. The judge paused irresolutely, and turned his bleared face + on his friend. + </p> + <p> + “We'll stop here, Solomon,” he said rather wearily, for the spirit of + boast and jest was quite gone out of him. He glanced toward Carrington. + “Are you a resident of these parts, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I've been in Raleigh three days altogether,” answered Carrington, falling + into step at his side, and they continued on across the meadow in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you observe the decorations of those refreshment booths?—the + tasteful disposition of our national colors, sir?” the judge presently + inquired. + </p> + <p> + Carrington smiled; he was able to follow his companion's train of thought. + </p> + <p> + They were elbowing the crowd now. Here were men from the small clearings + in homespun and butternut or fringed hunting-shirts, with their women folk + trailing after them. Here, too, in lesser numbers, were the lords of the + soil, the men who counted their acres by the thousand and their slaves by + the score. There was the flutter of skirts among the moving groups, the + nodding of gay parasols that shaded fresh young faces, while occasionally + a comfortable family carriage with some planter's wife or daughter rolled + silently over the turf; for Boggs' race-track was a famous meeting-place + where families that saw one another not above once or twice a year, + friends who lived a day's hard drive apart even when summer roads were at + their best, came as to a common center. + </p> + <p> + The judge's dull eye kindled, the haggard lines that had streaked his face + erased themselves. This was life, opulent and full. These swift rolling + carriages with their handsome women, these well-dressed men on foot, and + splendidly mounted, all did their part toward lifting him out of his + gloom. He settled his hat on his head with a rakish slant and his walk + became a strut, he courted observation; he would have been grateful for a + word, even a jest at his expense. + </p> + <p> + A cry from Hannibal drew his attention. Turning, he was in time to see the + boy bound away. An instant later, to his astonishment, he saw a young girl + who was seated with two men in an open carriage, spring to the ground, and + dropping to her knees put her arms about the tattered little figure. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hannibal!” cried Betty Malroy. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty! Miss Betty!” and Hannibal buried his head on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Hannibal; what is it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only I'm so glad to find you!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you, too!” said Betty, as she wiped his tears away. + “When did you get here, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “We got here just to-day, Miss Betty,” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware, careless as to dress, with a wiry black beard of a week's growth + decorating his chin and giving an unkempt appearance which his expression + did not mitigate, it being of the sour and fretful sort; scowled down on + the child. He had favored Boggs' with his presence, not because he felt + the least interest in horse-racing, but because he had no faith in girls, + and especially had he profound mistrust of Betty. She was so much easily + portable wealth, a pink-faced chit ready to fall into the arms of the + first man who proposed to her. But Charley Norton had not seemed disturbed + by the planter's forbidding air. Between those two there existed complete + reciprocity of feeling, inasmuch as Tom's presence was as distasteful to + Norton as his own presence was distressing to Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your Uncle Bob, Hannibal?” Betty asked, glancing about, and at + her question a shadow crossed the child's face and the tears gathered + again in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you seen him, Miss Betty?” he whispered. He had been sustained by + the belief that when he found her he should find his Uncle Bob, too. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you mean, Hannibal—isn't your Uncle Bob with you?” + demanded Betty. + </p> + <p> + “He got hurt in a fight, and I got separated from him way back yonder just + after we came out of the mountains.” He looked up piteously into Betty's + face. “But you think he'll find me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you poor little thing!” cried Betty compassionately, and again she + sank on her knees at Hannibal's side, and slipped her arms about him. The + child began to cry softly. + </p> + <p> + “What ragamuffin's this, Betty?” growled Ware disgustedly. + </p> + <p> + But Betty did not seem to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come alone, Hannibal?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; the judge and Mr. Mahaffy, they fetched me.” + </p> + <p> + The judge had drawn nearer as Betty and Hannibal spoke together, but + Mahaffy hung back. There were gulfs not to be crossed by him. It was + different with the judge; the native magnificence of his mind fitted him + for any occasion. He pulled up his stock, and coaxed a half-inch of limp + linen down about his wrists, then very splendidly he lifted his napless + hat from his shiny bald head and pressing it against his fat chest with + much fervor, elegantly inclined himself from the hips. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me the honor to present myself, ma'am—Price is my name—Judge + Slocum Price. May I be permitted to assume that this is the Miss Betty of + whom my young protege so often speaks?” The judge beamed benevolently, and + rested a ponderous hand on the boy's head. + </p> + <p> + Tom Ware gave him a glance of undisguised astonishment, while Norton + regarded him with an expression of stunned and resolute gravity. Mahaffy + seemed to be undergoing a terrible moment of uncertainty. He was divided + between two purposes: one was to seize Price by the coat tails and drag + him back into the crowd; the other was to kick him, and himself fly that + spot. This singular impulse sprang from the fact that he firmly believed + his friend's appearance was sufficient to blast the boy's chances in every + quarter; nor did he think any better of himself. + </p> + <p> + Betty looked at the judge rather inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad he has found friends,” she said slowly. She wanted to believe + that judge Slocum Price was somehow better than he looked, which should + have been easy, since it was incredible that he could have been worse. + </p> + <p> + “He has indeed found friends,” said the judge with mellow unction, and + swelling visibly. These prosperous appearing people should be of use to + him, God willing—he made a sweeping gesture. “I have assumed the + responsibility of his future—he is my care.” + </p> + <p> + Now Betty caught sight of Carrington and bowed. Occupied with Hannibal and + the judge, she had been unaware of his presence. Carrington stepped + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Have you met Mr. Norton, and my brother, Mr. Carrington?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The two young men shook hands, and Ware improved the opportunity to + inspect the new-comer. But as his glance wandered over him, it took in + more than Carrington, for it included the fine figure and swarthy face of + Captain Murrell, who, with his eyes fixed on Betty, was thrusting his + eager way through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + Murrell had presented himself at Belle Plain the day before. For upward of + a year, Ware had enjoyed great peace of mind as a direct result of his + absence from west Tennessee, and when he thought of him at all he had + invariably put a period to his meditations with, “I hope to hell he + catches it wherever he is!” It had really seemed a pernicious thing to him + that no one had shown sufficient public spirit to knock the captain on the + head, and that this had not been done, utterly destroyed his faith in the + good intentions of Providence. + </p> + <p> + More than this, Betty had spoken of the captain in no uncertain terms. He + was not to repeat that visit. Tom must make that point clear to him. Tom + might entertain him if he liked at his office, but the doors of Belle + Plain were closed against Captain Murrell; he was not to set his foot + inside of them. + </p> + <p> + As Murrell approached, the hot color surged into Betty's face. As for + Hannibal, he had gone white to the lips, and his small hand clutched hers + desperately; he was remembering all the terror of that hot dawn at + Slosson's. + </p> + <p> + Murrell, with all his hardihood, realized that a too great confidence had + placed him in an awkward position, for Betty turned her back on him and + began an animated conversation with Carrington and Charley Norton; only + Hannibal and the judge continued to regard him; the boy with a frightened, + fascinated stare, the judge with a wide sweet smile. + </p> + <p> + Hicks, the Belle Plain overseer, pushed his way to Murrell's side. + </p> + <p> + “Here, John Murrell, ain't you going to show us a trick or two?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + Murrell turned quickly with a sense of relief. + </p> + <p> + “If you can spare me your rifle,” he said, but his face wore a bleak look. + Glancing at Betty, he took up his station with the other contestants, + whereupon two or three young planters silently withdrew from the + firing-line. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think you've seen about enough, Bet?” demanded Tom. “You don't + care for the shooting, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the very thing I do care for; I think I'd rather see that than the + horse-racing,” said Betty perversely. This had been her first appearance + in public since her home-coming, and she felt that it had been most + satisfactory. She had met everybody she had ever known, and scores of new + people; her progress had been quite triumphal in spite of Tom, and in + spite of Charley Norton, who was plainly not anxious to share her with any + one, his devotion being rather of the monopolizing sort. + </p> + <p> + Betty now seated herself in the carriage, with Hannibal beside her, + quietly determined to miss nothing. The judge, feeling that he had come + into his own, leaned elegantly against the wheel, and explained the merits + of each shot as it was made. + </p> + <p> + “Our intruding friend, the Captain, ma'am, is certainly a master with his + weapon,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Betty was already aware of this. She turned to Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Charley, I can't bear to have him win!” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he will, for anything I can do, Betty,” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carrington, can't you shoot?—do take Hannibal's rifle and beat + him,” she coaxed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too sure that I can!” said Carrington, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “But I know you can!” urged Betty. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you gentlemen are not going to let me walk off with the prize?” + said Murrell, approaching the group about the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Norton, I am told you are clever with the rifle.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not shooting to-day,” responded Norton haughtily. + </p> + <p> + Murrell stalked back to the line. + </p> + <p> + “At forty paces I'd risk it myself, ma'am,” said the judge. “But at a + hundred, offhand like this, I should most certainly fail—I've burnt + too much midnight oil. Eh—what—damn the dog, he's scored + another center shot!” + </p> + <p> + “It would be hard to beat that—” they heard Murrell say. + </p> + <p> + “At least it would be quite possible to equal it,” said Carrington, + advancing with Hannibal's rifle in his hands. It was tossed to his + shoulder, and poured out its contents in a bright stream of flame. There + was a moment of silence. + </p> + <p> + “Center shot, ma'am!” cried the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I'll add twenty dollars to the purse!” Norton addressed himself to + Carrington. “And I shall hope, sir, to see it go in to your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Our sentiments exactly, ma'am, are they not?” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'd like to bet a little of your money?” remarked Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready to do that too, sir,” responded Norton quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred dollars, then, that this gentleman in whose success you take + so great an interest, can neither equal nor better my next shot!” Murrell + had produced a roll of bills as he spoke. Norton colored with + embarrassment. Carrington took in the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute—” he said, and passed his purse to Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Cover his money, sir,” he added briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my horses have run away with most of my cash,” explained + Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Your shot!” said Carrington shortly, to the outlaw. + </p> + <p> + Murrell taking careful aim, fired, clipping the center. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the result was known, Carrington raised his rifle; his bullet, + truer than his opponent's, drove out the center. Murrell turned on him + with an oath. + </p> + <p> + “You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man's + nerve,” he said insolently. + </p> + <p> + Carrington was charging his piece. + </p> + <p> + “I only know of one other kind of target,” he observed coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a living target!” cried Murrell. + </p> + <p> + The crowd opened from right to left. Betty's face grew white, and uttering + a smothered cry she started to descend from the carriage, but the judge + rested his hand on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear young, lady, our friend is quite able to care for himself.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington shook the priming into the pan of Hannibal's ancient weapon. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready for that, too,” he said. There was a slow smile on his lips, + but his eyes, black and burning, looked the captain through and through. + </p> + <p> + “Another time—” said Murrell, scowling. + </p> + <p> + “Any time,” answered Carrington indifferently. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE PORTAL OF HOPE + </h2> + <p> + “This—” the speaker was judge Price; “this is the place for me: They + are a warm-hearted people, sir; a prosperous people, and a patriotic + people with an unstinted love of country. A people full of rugged virtues + engaged in carving a great state out of the indulgent bosom of Nature. I + like the size of their whisky glasses; I like the stuff that goes into + them; I despise a section that separates its gallons into too many + glasses. Show me a community that does that, and I'll show you a community + rapidly tending toward a low scale of living. I'd like to hang out my + shingle here and practise law.” + </p> + <p> + The judge and Mr. Mahaffy were camped in the woods between Boggs' and + Raleigh. Betty had carried Hannibal off to spend the night at Belle Plain, + Carrington had disappeared with Charley Norton; but the judge and Mahaffy + had lingered in the meadow until the last refreshment booth struck its + colors to the twilight, and they had not lingered in vain. The judge threw + himself at full length on the ground, and Mahaffy dropped at his side. + About them, in the ruddy glow of their camp-fire, rose the dark wall of + the forest. + </p> + <p> + “I crave opportunity, Solomon—the indorsement of my own class. I + feel that I shall have it here,” resumed the judge pensively. + </p> + <p> + But Mahaffy was sad in his joy, sober in his incipientent drunkenness. The + same handsome treatment which the judge commended, had been as freely + tendered him, yet he saw the end of all such hospitality. This was the + worm in the bud. The judge, however, was an eager idealist; he still + dreamed of Utopia, he still believed in millenniums. Mahaffy didn't and + couldn't. Memory was the scarecrow in the garden of his hopes—you + could wear out your welcome anywhere. In the end the world reckoned your + cost, and unless you were prepared to make some sort of return for its + bounty, the cold shoulder came to be your portion instead of the warm + handclasp. + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal has found friends among people of the first importance. I have + made it my business to inquire into their standing, and I find that young + lady is heiress to a cool half million. Think of that, Solomon—think + of that! I never saw anything more beautiful than her manifestation of + regard for my protege—” + </p> + <p> + “And you made it your business, Mr. Price, to do your very damnedest to + ruin his chances,” said Mahaffy, with sudden heat. + </p> + <p> + “I ruin his chances?—I, sir? I consider that I helped his chances + immeasurably.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, then, you helped his chances—only you didn't, Price!” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand, Solomon, that you regard my interest in the boy as + harmful?” inquired the judge, in a tone of shocked surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I regard it as a calamity,” said Mahaffy, with cruel candor. + </p> + <p> + “And how about you, Solomon?” + </p> + <p> + “Equally a calamity. Mr. Price, you don't seem able to grasp just what we + look like!” + </p> + <p> + “The mind's the only measure of the man, Solomon. If anybody can talk to + me and be unaware that they are conversing with a gentleman, all I can say + is their experience has been as pitiable as their intelligence is meager. + But it hurts me when you intimate that I stand in the way of the boy's + opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “Price, what do you; suppose we look like—you and I?” + </p> + <p> + “In a general way, Solomon, I am conscious that our appeal is to the brain + rather than the eye,” answered the judge, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon even you couldn't do a much lower trick than use the boy as a + stepping-stone,” pursued Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you have the heart to charge me with such a purpose—I + don't indeed, Solomon.” The judge spoke with deep feeling; he was really + hurt. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you let the boy have his chance, and don't you stick in your broken + oar,” cried Mahaffy fiercely. + </p> + <p> + The judge rolled over on his back, and stared up at the heavens. + </p> + <p> + “This is a new aspect of your versatile nature, Solomon. Must I regard you + as a personally emancipated moral influence, not committed to the straight + and narrow path yourself, but still close enough to it to keep my feet + from straying?” he at length demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy having spoken his mind, preserved a stony silence. + </p> + <p> + The judge got up and replenished the camp-fire, which had burnt low, then + squatting before it, he peered into the flames. + </p> + <p> + “You'll not deny, Solomon, that Miss Malroy exhibited a real affection for + Hannibal?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Now don't you try to borrow money of her, Price,” said Mahaffy, returning + to the attack. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon—Solomon—how can you?” + </p> + <p> + “That'll be your next move. Now let her alone; let Hannibal have his luck + as it comes to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to forget, sir, that I still bear the name of gentleman!” said + the judge. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy gave way to acid merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, see that you are not tempted to forget that,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't know your sterling qualities, Solomon, and pay homage to 'em, + I might be tempted to take offense,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “It's like pouring water on a duck's back to talk to you, Price; nothing + strikes in.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I am at all times ready to listen to reason from any + quarter, but I've studied this matter in its many-sided aspect. I won't + say we might not do better in Memphis, but we must consider the boy. No; + if I can find a vacant house in Raleigh, I wouldn't ask a finer spot in + which to spend the afternoon of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Afternoon?” snapped Mahaffy irritably. + </p> + <p> + “That's right—carp—! But you can't relegate me! You can't + shove me away from the portal of hope—metaphorically speaking, I'm + on the stoop; it may be God's pleasure that I enter; there's a place for + gray heads—and there's a respectable slice of life after the + meridian is passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “I've made my impression; I've been thrown with cultivated minds quick to + recognize superiority; I've met with deference and consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you forgetting the boy?” inquired Mahaffy. “No, sir! I regard my + obligations where he is concerned as a sacred trust to be administered in + a lofty and impersonal manner. If his friends—if Miss Malroy, for + instance—cares to make me the instrument of her benefactions, I'll + not be disposed to stand on my dignity; but his education shall be my + care. I'll make such a lawyer of him as America has not seen before! I + don't ask you to accept my own opinion of my fitness to do this, but two + gentlemen with whom I talked this evening—one of them was the + justice of the peace—were pleased to say that they had never heard + such illuminating comments on the criminal law. I quoted the Greeks and + Romans to 'em, sir; I gave 'em the salient points on mediaeval law; and + they were dumfounded and speechless. I reckon they'd never heard such an + exposition of fundamental principles; I showed 'em the germ and I showed + 'em fruition. Damn it, sir, they were overwhelmed by the array of facts I + marshaled for 'em. They said they'd never met with such erudition—no + more they had, for I boiled down thirty years of study into ten minutes of + talk! I flogged 'em with facts, and then we drank—” The judge + smacked his lips. “It is this free-handed hospitality I like; it's this + that gives life its gala aspect.” + </p> + <p> + He forgot former experiences; but without this kindly refusal of memory to + perform its wonted functions, the world would have been a chill place + indeed for Slocum Price. But Mahaffy, keen and anxious, with doubt in + every glass he drained, a lurking devil to grin at him above the rim, + could see only the end of their brief hour of welcome. This made the + present moment as bitter as the last. + </p> + <p> + “I have a theory, Solomon, that I shall be handsomely supported by my new + friends. They'll snatch at the opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “I see 'em snatching, Mr. Price,” said Mahaffy grimly. + </p> + <p> + “That's right—go on and plant doubt in my heart if you can! You're + as hopeless as the grave side!” cried the judge, a spasm of rage shaking + him. + </p> + <p> + “The thing for us to do—you and I, Price—is to clear out of + here,” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “But what of the boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him with his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know Miss Malroy would be willing to assume his care? It's + scandalous the way you leap at conclusions. No, Solomon, no—I won't + shirk a single irksome responsibility,” and the judge's voice shook with + suppressed emotion. Mahaffy laughed. “There you go again, Solomon, with + that indecent mirth of yours! Friendship aside, you grow more offensive + every day.” The judge paused and then resumed. “I understand there's a + federal judgeship vacant here. The president—” Mr. Mahaffy gave him + a furtive leer. “I tell you General Jackson was my friend—we were + brothers, sir—I stood at his side on the glorious blood-wet field of + New Orleans! You don't believe me—” + </p> + <p> + “Price, you've made more demands on my stock of credulity than any man + I've ever known!” + </p> + <p> + The judge became somber-faced. + </p> + <p> + “Unparalleled misfortune overtook me—I stepped aside, but the world + never waits; I was a cog discarded from the mechanism of society—” + He was so pleased with the metaphor that he repeated it. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Price, you talk as though you were a modern job; what's the + matter anyhow?—have you got boils?” + </p> + <p> + The judge froze into stony silence. Well, Mahaffy could sneer—he + would show him! This was the last ditch and he proposed to descend into + it, it was something to be able to demand the final word of fate—but + he instantly recalled that he had been playing at hide-and-seek with + inevitable consequences for something like a quarter of a century; it had + been a triumph merely to exist. Mahaffy having eased his conscience, + rolled over and promptly went to sleep. Flat on his back, the judge stared + up at the wide blue arch of the heavens and rehearsed those promises which + in the last twenty years he had made and broken times without number. He + planned no sweeping reforms, his system of morality being little more than + a series of graceful compromises with himself. He must not get hopelessly + in debt; he must not get helplessly drunk. Dealing candidly with his own + soul in the silence, he presently came to the belief that this might be + done without special hardship. Then suddenly the rusted name-plate on + Hannibal's old rifle danced again before his burning eyes, and a bitter + sense of hurt and loss struck through him. He saw himself as he was, a + shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, the utter travesty of all he should + have been; he dropped his arm across his face. + </p> + <p> + The first rift of light in the sky found the judge stirring; it found him + in his usual cheerful frame of mind. He disposed of his toilet and + breakfast with the greatest expedition. + </p> + <p> + “Will you stroll into town with me, Solomon?” he asked, when they had + eaten. Mahaffy shook his head, his air was still plainly hostile. “Then + let your prayers follow me, for I'm off!” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes' walk brought him to the door of the city tavern, where he + found Mr. Pegloe directing the activities of a small colored boy who was + mopping out his bar. To him the judge made known his needs. + </p> + <p> + “Goin' to locate, are you?” said Mr. Pegloe. + </p> + <p> + “My friends urge it, sir, and I have taken the matter under + consideration,” answered the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Sho, do you know any folks hereabouts?” asked Mr. Pegloe. + </p> + <p> + “Not many,” said the judge, with reserve. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the only empty house in town is right over yonder; it belongs to + young Charley Norton out at Thicket Point Plantation.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah-h!” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + The house Mr. Pegloe had pointed out was a small frame building; it stood + directly on the street, with a narrow porch across the front, and a shed + addition at the back. The judge scuttled over to it. With his hands + clasped under the tails of his coat he walked twice about the building, + stopping to peer in at all the windows, then he paused and took stock of + his surroundings. Over the way was Pegloe's City Tavern; farther up the + street was the court-house, a square wooden box with a crib that housed a + cracked bell, rising from a gable end. The judge's pulse quickened. What a + location, and what a fortunate chance that Mr. Norton was the owner of + this most desirable tenement. + </p> + <p> + He must see him at once. As he turned away to recross the street and learn + from Mr. Pegloe by what road Thicket Point might be reached, Norton + himself galloped into the village. Catching sight of the judge, he reined + in his horse and swung himself from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “I was hoping, sir, I might find you,” he said, as they met before the + tavern. + </p> + <p> + “A wish I should have echoed had I been aware of it!” responded the judge. + “I was about to do myself the honor to wait upon you at your plantation.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have saved you a long walk,” said Norton. He surveyed the judge + rather dubiously, but listened with great civility and kindness as he + explained the business that would have taken him to Thicket Point. + </p> + <p> + “The house is quite at your service, sir,” he said, at length. + </p> + <p> + “The rent—” began the judge. He had great natural delicacy always in + mentioning matters of a financial nature. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Norton, with a delicacy equal to his own, entreated him not to + mention the rent. The house had come to him as boot in a trade. It had + been occupied by a doctor and a lawyer; these gentlemen had each decamped + between two days, heavily in debt at the stores and taverns, especially + the taverns. + </p> + <p> + “I can't honestly say they owed me, since I never expected to get anything + out of them; however, they both left some furniture, all that was + necessary for the kind of housekeeping they did, for they were single + gentlemen and drew the bulk of their nourishment from Pegloe's bar. I'll + turn the establishment over to you with the greatest pleasure in the + world, and wish you better luck than your predecessors had—you'll + offend me if you refer to the rent again!” + </p> + <p> + And thus handsomely did Charley Norton acquit himself of the mission he + had undertaken at Betty Malroy's request. + </p> + <p> + That same morning Tom Ware and Captain Murrell were seated in the small + detached building at Belle Plain, known as the office, where the former + spent most of his time when not in the saddle. Whatever the planter's + vices, and he was reputed to possess a fair working knowledge of good and + evil, no one had ever charged him with hypocrisy. His emotions lay close + to the surface and wrote themselves on his unprepossessing exterior with + an impartial touch. He had felt no pleasure when Murrell rode into the + yard, and he had welcomed him according to the dictates of his mood, which + was one of surly reticence. + </p> + <p> + “So your sister doesn't like me, Tom—that's on your mind this + morning, is it?” Murrell was saying, as he watched his friend out of the + corner of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “She was mad enough, the way you pushed in on us at Boggs' yesterday. What + happened back in North Carolina, Murrell, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind what happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's none of my business, I reckon; she'll have to look out for + herself, she's nothing to me but a pest sand a nuisance—I've been + more bothered since she came back than I've been in years! I'd give a good + deal to be rid of her,” said Ware, greatly depressed as he recalled the + extraordinary demands Betty had made. + </p> + <p> + “Make it worth my while and I'll take her off your hands,” and Murrell + laughed. + </p> + <p> + Tom favored him with a sullen stare. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better get rid of that notion—of all fool nonsense, this love + business is the worst! I can't see the slightest damn difference between + one good looking girl and another. I wish every one was as sensible as I + am,” he lamented. “I wouldn't miss a meal, or ten minutes' sleep, on + account of any woman in creation,” and Ware shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “So your sister doesn't like me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she doesn't,” said Ware, with simple candor. + </p> + <p> + “Told you to put a stop to my coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “Not here—to the house, yes. She doesn't give a damn, so long as she + doesn't have to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Murrell, somber-faced and thoughtful, examined a crack in the flooring. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know what happened back yonder in North Carolina to make her + so blazing mad?” continued Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you want to know, I told her I loved her.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, that's the fool talk girls like to hear,” said Ware. He + lighted a cigar with an air of wearied patience. + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, Tom,” commanded Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “It is close in here,” agreed the planter. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that, but you smoke the meanest cigars I ever smelt, I always + think your shoes are on fire. Tom, do you want to get rid of her? Did you + mean that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up,” said Tom, dropping his voice to a surly whisper. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence, during which Murrell studied his friend's face. + When he spoke, it was to give the conversation a new direction. + </p> + <p> + “Did she bring the boy here last night? I saw you drive off with him in + the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she makes a regular pet of the little ragamuffin—it's + perfectly sickening!” + </p> + <p> + “Who were the two men with him?” + </p> + <p> + “One of 'em calls himself judge Price; the other kept out of the way, I + didn't hear his name.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the boy going to stay at Belle Plain?” inquired Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “That notion hasn't struck her yet, for I heard her say at breakfast that + she'd take him to Raleigh this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the boy I traveled all the way to North Carolina to get for + Fentress. I thought I had him once, but the little cuss gave me the slip.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh—you don't say?” cried Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, what do you know about the Quintard lands; what do you know about + Quintard himself?” continued Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “He was a rich planter, lived in North Carolina. My father met him when he + was in congress and got him to invest in land here. They had some + colonization scheme on foot this was upward of twenty years ago—but + nothing came of it. Quintard lost interest.” + </p> + <p> + “And the land?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he held on to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there much of it?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand acres,” said Ware. + </p> + <p> + Murrell whistled softly under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “What's it worth?” + </p> + <p> + “A pot of money, two or three dollars an acre anyhow,” answered Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Quintard has been dead two years, Tom, and back yonder in North Carolina + they told me he left nothing but the home plantation. The boy lived there + up to the time of Quintard's death, but what relation he was to the old + man no one knew. What do you suppose Fentress wants with him? He offered + me five thousand dollars if I'd bring him West; and he still wants him, + only he's lying low now to see what comes of the two old sots—he + don't want to move in the dark. Offhand, Tom, I'd say that by getting hold + of the boy Fentress expects to get hold of the Quintard land.” + </p> + <p> + “That's likely,” said Ware, then struck by a sudden idea, he added, “Are + you going to take all the risks and let him pocket the cash? If it's the + land he's after, the stake's big enough to divide.” + </p> + <p> + “He can have the whole thing and welcome, I'm playing for a bigger stake.” + His friend stared at him in astonishment. “I tell you, Tom, I'm bent on + getting even with the world! No silver spoon came in the way of my mouth + when I was a youngster; my father was too honest—and I think the + less of him for it!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware seemed on the whole edified by the captain's unorthodox point of + view. + </p> + <p> + “My mother was the true grit though; she came of mountain stock, and + taught us children to steal by the time we could think! Whatever we stole, + she hid, and dared my father to touch us. I remember the first thing of + account was when I was ten years old. A Dutch peddler came to our cabin + one winter night and begged us to take him in. Of course, he opened his + pack before he left, and almost under his nose I got away with a bolt of + linen. The old man and woman fought about it, but if the peddler + discovered his loss he had the sense not to come back and tell of it! When + I was seventeen I left home with three good horses I'd picked up; they + brought me more money than I'd ever seen before and I got my first taste + of life—that was in Nashville where I made some good friends with + whose help I soon had as pretty a trade organized in horseflesh as any one + could wish.” A somber tone had crept into Murrell's voice, while his + glance had become restless and uneasy. He went on: “I'm licking a + speculation into shape that will cause me to be remembered while there's a + white man alive in the Mississippi Valley!” His wicked black eyes were + blazing coals of fire in their deep sockets. “Have you heard what the + niggers did at Hayti?” + </p> + <p> + “My God, John—no, I won't talk to you—and don't you think + about it! That's wrong—wrong as hell itself!” cried Ware. + </p> + <p> + “There's no such thing as right and wrong for me. That'll do for those who + have something to lose. I was born with empty hands and I am going to fill + them where and how I can. I believe the time has come when the niggers can + be of use to me—look what Turner did back in Virginia three years + ago! If he'd had any real purpose he could have laid the country waste, + but he hadn't brains enough to engineer a general uprising.” + </p> + <p> + Ware was probably as remote from any emotion that even vaguely + approximated right feeling as any man could well be, but Murrell's words + jarred his dull conscience, or his fear, into giving signs of life. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you talk of that business, we want nothing of that sort out here. + You let the niggers alone!” he said, but he could scarcely bring himself + to believe that Murrell had spoken in earnest. Yet even if he jested, this + was a forbidden subject. + </p> + <p> + “White brains will have to think for them, if it's to be more than a flash + in the pan,” said Murrell unheeding him. + </p> + <p> + “You let the niggers alone, don't you tamper with them,” said Ware. He + possessed a profound belief in Murrell's capacity. He knew how the latter + had shaped the uneasy population that foregathered on the edge of + civilization to his own ends, and that what he had christened the Clan had + become an elaborate organization, disciplined and flexible to his ruthless + will. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, what do you think I have been working for—to steal a few + niggers?” + </p> + <p> + “A few—you've been sending 'em south by the boatload! You ought to + be a rich man, Murrell. If you're not it's your own fault.” + </p> + <p> + “That furnishes us with money, but you can push the trade too hard and too + far, and we've about done that. The planters are uneasy in the sections + we've worked over, there's talk of getting together to clean out everybody + who can't give a good account of himself. The Clan's got to deal a counter + blow or go out of business. It was so with the horse trade; in the end it + became mighty unhandy to move the stock we'd collected. We've reached the + same point now with the trade in niggers. Between here and the gulf—” + he made a wide sweeping gesture with his arm. “I am spotting the country + with my men; there are two thousand active workers on the rolls of the + Clan, and as many more like you, Tom—and Fentress—on whose + friendship I can rely.” He leaned toward Ware. “You'd be slow to tell me I + couldn't count on you, Tom, and you'd be slow to think I couldn't manage + this thing when the time's ripe for it!” + </p> + <p> + But no trace of this all-sufficient sense of confidence, of which he + seemed so certain, showed on Ware's hardened visage. He spat away the + stump of his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Sure as God, John Murrell, you are overreaching yourself! Your white men + are all right, they've got to stick by you; if they don't they know it's + only a question of time until they get a knife driven into their ribs—but + niggers—there isn't any real fight in a nigger, if there was they + wouldn't be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you couldn't have made the whites in Hayti believe that,” said + Murrell, with a sinister smile. + </p> + <p> + “Because they were no-account trash themselves!” returned Ware, shaking + his head. “We'll all go down in this muss you're fixing for!” he added. + </p> + <p> + “No, you won't, Tom. I'll look out for my friends. You'll be warned in + time.” + </p> + <p> + “A hell of a lot of good a warning will do!” growled Ware. + </p> + <p> + “The business will be engineered so that you, and those like you, will not + be disturbed. Maybe the niggers will have control of the country for a day + or two in the thickly settled parts near the towns; longer, of course, + where the towns and plantations are scattering. The end will come in the + swamps and cane-brakes, and the members of the Clan who don't get rich + while the trouble is at its worst, will have to stay poor. As for the + niggers, I expect nothing else than that they will be pretty well + exterminated. But look what that will do for men like yourself, Tom, who + will have been able to hold on to their slaves!” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have some guarantee that I'd be able to; do that! No, sir, + the devils will all go whooping off to raise hell.” Ware shivered at the + picture his mind had conjured up. “Well, thank God, they're not my + niggers!” he added. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better come with me, Tom,” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “With you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm going to keep New Orleans for myself; that's a plum I'm going to + pick with the help of a few friends, and I'd cheerfully hang for it + afterward if I could destroy the city Old Hickory saved—but I expect + to quit the country in good time; with a river full of ships I shan't lack + for means of escape.” His manner was cool and decided. He possessed in an + eminent degree the egotism that makes possible great crimes and great + criminals, and his degenerate brain dealt with this colossal horror as + simply as if it had been a petty theft. + </p> + <p> + “There's no use in trying to talk you out of this, John, but I just want + to ask you one thing: you do all you say you are going to do, and then + where in hell's name will you be safe?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take my chances. What have I been taking all my life but the biggest + sort of chances?—and for little enough!” + </p> + <p> + Ware, feeling the entire uselessness of argument, uttered a string of + imprecations, and then fell silent. His acquaintance with Murrell was of + long standing. It dated back to the time when he was growing into the + management of Belle Plain. A chance meeting with the outlaw in Memphis had + developed into the closest intimacy, and the plantation had become one of + the regular stations for the band of horse-thieves of which Murrell had + spoken. But time had wrought its changes. Tom was now in full control of + Belle Plain and its resources, and he had little heart for such risks as + he had once taken. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how about the girl, Tom?” asked Murrell at length, in a low even + tone. + </p> + <p> + “The girl? Oh, Betty, you mean?” said Ware, and shifted uneasily in his + seat. “Haven't you got enough on your hands without worrying about her? + She don't like you, haven't I told you that? Think of some one else for a + spell, and you'll find it answers,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think is going to happen here if I take your advice? She'll + marry one of these young bloods!” Ware's lips twitched. “And then, Tom, + you'll get your orders to move out, while her husband takes over the + management of her affairs. What have you put by anyhow?—enough to + stock another place?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, not a damn cent!” said Ware. Murrell laughed incredulously. + “It's so! I've turned it all over—more lands, more niggers, bigger + crops each year. Another man might have saved his little spec, but I + couldn't; I reckon I never believed it would go to her, and I've managed + Belle Plain as if I were running it for myself.” He seemed to writhe as if + undergoing some acute bodily pain. + </p> + <p> + “And you are in a fair way to turn it all over to her husband when she + marries, and step out of here a beggar, unless—” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't right, John! I haven't had pay for my ability! Why, the place + would have gone down to nothing with any management but mine!” + </p> + <p> + “If she were to die, you'd inherit?” + </p> + <p> + Ware laughed harshly. + </p> + <p> + “She looks like dying, doesn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Tom. I'll take her away, and Belle Plain is yours—land, + stock and niggers!” said Murrell quietly. + </p> + <p> + Ware shifted and twisted in his seat. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be done. I can advise and urge: but I can't command. She's got + her friends, those people back yonder in North Carolina, and if I made + things uncomfortable for her here she'd go to them and I couldn't stop + her. You don't seem to get it through your head that she's got no earthly + use for you!” + </p> + <p> + Murrell favored him with a contemptuous glance. + </p> + <p> + “You're like every one else! Certain things you'll do, and certain other + things you won't even try to do—your conscience or your fear gets in + your way.” + </p> + <p> + “Call it what you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I offer to take the girl off your hands; when I quit the country she + shall go with me—” + </p> + <p> + “And I'd be left here to explain what had become of her!” cried Ware, in a + panic. + </p> + <p> + “You won't have anything to explain. She'll have disappeared, that will be + all you'll know,” said Murrell quietly. + </p> + <p> + “She'll never marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be too sure of that. She may be glad enough to in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you think you are a hell of a fellow with women! Well, maybe you are + with one sort—but what do you know about her kind?” jeered the + planter. + </p> + <p> + Murrell's brow darkened. + </p> + <p> + “I'll manage her,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “You were of some account until this took hold of you,” complained Ware. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say? One would hardly think I was offering to make you a + present of the best plantation in west Tennessee!” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + Ware seemed to suck in hope through his shut teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to know anything about this, you are going to swamp yourself + yet—you're fixing to get yourself strung up—yes, by thunder, + that'll be your finish!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want the land and the niggers? I reckon you'll have to take them + whether you want them or not, for I'm going to have the girl.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. BOB YANCY FINDS HIMSELF + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Yancy awoke from a long dreamless sleep; heavy-lidded, his eyes slid + open. For a moment he struggled with the odds and ends of memory, then he + recalled the fight at the tavern, the sudden murderous attack, the fierce + blows Slosson had dealt him, the knife thrust which had ended the + struggle. Therefore, the bandages that now swathed his head and shoulders; + therefore, the need that he should be up and doing—for where was + Hannibal? + </p> + <p> + He sought to lift himself on his elbow, but the effort sent shafts of pain + through him; his head seemed of vast size and endowed with a weight he + could not support. He sank back groaning, and closed his eyes. After a + little interval he opened them again and stared about him. There was the + breath of dawn in the air; he heard a rooster crow, and the contented + grunting of a pig close at hand. He was resting under a rude shelter of + poles and bark. Presently he became aware of a slow gliding movement, and + the silvery ripple of water. Clearly he was no longer at the tavern, and + clearly some one had taken the trouble to bandage his hurts. + </p> + <p> + At length his eyes rolling from side to side focused themselves on a low + opening near the foot of his shakedown bed. Beyond this opening, and at + some little distance, he saw a sunbonneted woman of a plump and + comfortable presence. She was leaning against a tub which rested on a rude + bench. At her back was another bark shanty similar to the one that + sheltered himself, while on either hand a shoreless expanse of water + danced and sparkled under the rays of the newly risen sun. As his eyes + slowly took in the scene, Yancy's astonishment mounted higher and higher. + The lady's sunbonnet quite hid her face, but he saw that she was smoking a + cob-pipe. + </p> + <p> + He was still staring at her, when the lank figure of a man emerged from + the other shanty. This man wore a cotton shirt and patched butternut + trousers; he way hatless and shoeless, and his hair stood out from his + head in a great flaming shock. He, too, was smoking a cob-pipe. Suddenly + the man put out a long arm which found its way about the lady's waist, an + attention that culminated in a vigorous embrace. Then releasing her, he + squared his shoulders, took a long breath, beat his chest with the flat of + his hands and uttered a cheerful whoop. The embrace, the deep breath, and + the whoop constituted Mr. Cavendish's morning devotions, and were + expressive of a spirit of thankfulness to the risen sun, his general + satisfaction with the course of Providence, and his homage to the lady of + his choice. + </p> + <p> + Swinging about on his heel, Cavendish passed beyond Yancy's range of + vision. Again the latter attempted to lift himself on his elbow, but sky + and water changed places before his eyes and he dropped down on his pillow + with a stifled sigh. He seemed to be slipping back into the black night + from which he had just emerged. Again he was at Scratch Hill, again Dave + Blount was seeking to steal his nevvy—incidents of the trial and + flight recurred to him—all was confused, feverish, without sequence. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a shadow fell obliquely across the foot of his narrow bed, and + Cavendish, bending his long body somewhat, thrust his head in at the + opening. He found himself looking into a pair of eyes that for the first + time in many a long day held the light of consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, stranger?” he demanded, in a soft drawl. + </p> + <p> + “Where am I?” the words were a whisper on Yancy's bearded lips. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, you are in the Tennessee River fo' certain; my wife will make + admiration when she hears you speak. Polly! you jest step here.” + </p> + <p> + But Polly had heard Cavendish speak, and the murmur of Yancy's voice in + reply. Now her head appeared beside her husband's, and Yancy saw that she + was rosy and smiling, and that her claim to good looks was something that + could not well be denied. + </p> + <p> + “La, you are some better, ain't you, sir?” she cried, smiling down on him. + </p> + <p> + “How did I get here, and where's my nevvy?” questioned Yancy anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “There now, you ain't in no condition fo' to pester yo'self with worry. + You was fished up out of the Elk River by Mr. Cavendish,” Polly explained, + still smiling and dimpling at him. + </p> + <p> + “When, ma'am—last night?” + </p> + <p> + “You got another guess coming to you, stranger!” It was Cavendish who + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, sir, that I been unconscious for a spell?” suggested Yancy + rather fearfully, glancing from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “It's been right smart of a spell, too; yes, sir, you've laid like you was + dead, and not fo' a matter of hours either—but days.” + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, nigh on to three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + They saw Yancy's eyes widen with a look of dumb horror. + </p> + <p> + “Three weeks!” he at length repeated, and groaned miserably. He was + thinking of Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “You was mighty droll to look at when I fished you up out of the river,” + continued Mr. Cavendish. “You'd been cut and beat up scandalous!” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't know nothing about my nevvy?—you ain't seen or heard + of him, ma'am?” faltered Yancy, and glanced up into Polly's comely face. + </p> + <p> + Polly shook her head regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “How come you in the river?” asked Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I was throwed in. It was a man named Murrell and another man + named Slosson. They tried fo' to murder me—they wanted to get my + nevvy—I 'low they done it!” and Yancy groaned again. + </p> + <p> + “You'll get him back,” said Polly soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Could you-all put me asho'?” inquired Yancy, with sudden eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “We could, but we won't,” said Cavendish, in no uncertain tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why, la!—you'd perish!” exclaimed Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Are we far from where you-all picked me up?” + </p> + <p> + Cavendish nodded. He did not like to tell Yancy the distance they had + traversed. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you-all taking me?” asked Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, stranger, that's a question I can't answer offhand. The Tennessee + are a twister; mebby it will be Kentucky; mebby it will be Illinoy, and + mebby it will be down yonder on the Mississippi. My tribe like this way of + moving about, and it certainly favors a body's legs.” + </p> + <p> + “How old was your nevvy?” inquired Polly, reading the troubled look in + Yancy's gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ten or thereabouts, ma'am. He were a heap of comfort to me,” and the + whisper on Yancy's lips was wonderfully tender and wistful. + </p> + <p> + “Just the age of my Richard,” said Polly, her glance full of compassion + and pity. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish essayed to speak, but was forced to pause and clear his + throat. The allusion to Richard in this connection having been almost more + than he could endure with equanimity. When he was able to put his thoughts + into words, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I shore am distressed fo' you. I tried to leave you back yonder where I + found you, but no one knowed you and you looked so near dead folks + wouldn't have it. What parts do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “No'th Carolina. Me and my nevvy was a-goin' into west Tennessee to a + place called Belle Plain, somewhere near Memphis. We have friends there,” + explained Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “That settles it!” cried Cavendish. “It won't be Kentucky, and it won't be + Illinoy; I'll put you asho' at Memphis; mebby you'll find yo' nevvy there + after all.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the best. You lay still and get yo' strength back as fast as you + can, and try not to worry—do now.” Polly's voice was soft and + wheedling. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I been a heap of bother to you-all,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “La, no,” Polly assured him; “you ain't been.” + </p> + <p> + And now the six little Cavendishes appeared on the scene. The pore + gentleman had come to—sho! He had got his senses back—sho! he + wa'n't goin' to die after all; he could talk. Sho! a body could hear him + plain! Excited beyond measure they scurried about in their fluttering rags + of nightgowns for a sight and hearing of the pore gentleman. They + struggled madly to climb over their parents, and failing this—under + them. But the opening that served as a door to the shanty being small, and + being as it was completely stoppered by their father and mother who were + in no mood to yield an inch, they distributed themselves in quest of + convenient holes in the bark edifice through which to peer at the pore + gentleman. And since the number of youthful Cavendishes exceeded the + number of such holes, the sound of lamentation and recrimination presently + filled the morning air. + </p> + <p> + “I kin see the soles of his feet!” shrieked Keppel with passionate + intensity, his small bleached eye glued to a crack. + </p> + <p> + He was instantly ravished of the sight by Henry. + </p> + <p> + “You mean hateful thing!—just because you're bigger than Kep!” and + Constance fell on the spoiler. As her mother's right-hand man she had + cuffed and slapped her way to a place of power among the little brothers. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish appeared to allay hostilities. + </p> + <p> + “I 'low I'll skin you if you don't keep still! Dress!—the whole kit + and b'ilin' of you!” he roared, and his manner was quite as ferocious as + his words. + </p> + <p> + But the six little Cavendishes were impressed by neither. They instantly + fastened on him like so many leeches. What was the pore gentleman saying?—why + couldn't they hear, too? Then they'd keep still, sure they would! Did he + say he knowed who throwed him in the river? + </p> + <p> + “I wonder, Connie, you ain't able to do more with these here children. + Seems like you ought to—a great big girl like you,” said Mr. + Cavendish, reduced to despair. + </p> + <p> + “It was Henry pickin' on Kep,” cried Constance. + </p> + <p> + “I found a crack and he took it away from me! drug me off by the legs, he + did, and filled my stomach full of slivers!” wailed Keppel, suddenly + remembering he had a grievance. “You had ought to let me see the pore + gentleman!” he added ingratiatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ain't you been seein' him every day fo' risin' two weeks and + upwards?—ain't you sat by him hours at a stretch?” demanded Mr. + Cavendish fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Sho—that didn't count, he only kept a mutterin'—sho!—arollin' + his head sideways, sho! And their six tow heads were rolled to illustrate + their meaning. And a-pluckin' at a body's hands!—and they plucked at + Mr. Cavendish's hands. Sho—did he say why he done that? + </p> + <p> + “If you-all will quit yo' noise and dress, you-all kin presently set by + the pore gentleman. If you don't, I'll have to speak to yo' mother; I 'low + she'll trim you! I reckon you-all don't want me to call her? No, by + thunderation!—because you-all know she won't stand no nonsense! + She'll fan you; she'll take the flat of her hand to you-all and make you + skip some; I reckon I'd get into my pants befo' she starts on the warpath. + I wouldn't give her no such special opportunity as you're offerin'!” Mr. + Cavendish's voice and manner had become entirely confidential and + sympathetic, and though fear of their mother could not be said to bulk + high on their horizon, yet the small Cavendishes were persuaded by sheer + force of his logic to withdraw and dress. Their father hurried back to + Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinkin', sir,” he said, “that if it would be any comfort to + you, we'll tie up to the bank right here and wait until you can travel. + I'm powerfully annoyed at having fetched you all this way!” + </p> + <p> + But Yancy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be glad to go on to Memphis with you. If my nevvy got away from + Murrell, that's where I'll find him. I reckon folks will be kind to him + and sort of help him along. Why, he ain't much mo' than knee high!” + </p> + <p> + “Shore they will! there's a lot of good in the world, so don't you fret + none about him!” cried Polly. + </p> + <p> + “I can't do much else, ma'am, than think of him bein' lonesome and hungry, + maybe—and terribly frightened. What do you-all suppose he thought + when he woke up and found me gone?” But neither Polly nor her husband had + any opinion to venture on this point. “If I don't find him in Memphis I'll + take the back track to No'th Carolina, stoppin' on the way to see that man + Slosson.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I 'low there's a fit comin' to him when he gets sight of you!” and + Cavendish's bleached blue eyes sparkled at the thought. + </p> + <p> + “There's a heap mo' than a fit. I don't bear malice, but I stay mad a long + time,” answered Yancy grimly: + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't talk no mo',” said Polly. “You must just lay quiet and get + yo' strength back. Now, I'm goin' to fix you a good meal of vittles.” She + motioned Cavendish to follow her, and they both withdrew from the shanty. + </p> + <p> + Yancy closed his eyes, and presently, lulled by the soft ripple that bore + them company, fell into a restful sleep. + </p> + <p> + “When he told us of his nevvy, Dick, and I got to thinkin' of his bein' + just the age of our Richard, I declare it seemed like something got in my + throat and I'd choke. Do you reckon he'll ever find him?” said Polly, as + she busied herself with preparations for their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, Polly!” said Cavendish, but her words were a powerful assault + on his feelings, which at all times lay close to the surface and were + easily stirred. + </p> + <p> + Under stress of his emotions, he now enjoined silence on his family, + fortifying the injunction with dire threats as to the consequences that + would descend with lightning—like suddenness on the head of the + unlucky sinner who forgot and raised his voice above a whisper. Then he + despatched a chicken; sure sign that he and Polly considered their guest + had reached the first stage of convalescence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. AN ORPHAN MAN OF TITLE + </h2> + <p> + The raft drifted on into the day's heat; and when at last Yancy awoke, it + was to find Henry and Keppel seated beside him, each solacing him with a + small moist hand, while they regarded him out of the serious unblinking + eyes of childhood. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy!” said he, smiling up at them. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy!” they answered, a sociable grin puckering their freckled faces. + </p> + <p> + “Do you find yo'self pretty well, sir?” inquired Keppel. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself pretty weak,” replied Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Me and Kep has been watching fo' to keep the flies from stinging you,” + explained Henry. + </p> + <p> + “We-all takes turns doin' that,” Keppel added. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and how many of you-all are there?” asked Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “There's six of we-uns and the baby.” + </p> + <p> + They covertly examined this big bearded man who had lost his nevvy, and + almost his life. They had overheard their father and mother discuss his + plans and knew when he was recovered from his wounds if he did not + speedily meet up with his nevvy at a place called Memphis, he was going + back to Lincoln County, which was near where they came from, to have the + hide off a gentleman of the name of Slosson. They imagined the gentleman + named Slosson would find the operation excessively disagreeable; and that + Yancy should be recuperating for so unique an enterprise invested him with + a romantic interest. Henry squirmed closer to the recumbent figure on the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Me and Kep would like mighty well to know how you-all are goin' to strip + the hide offen to that gentleman's back,” he observed. + </p> + <p> + Yancy instantly surmised that the reference was to Slosson. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll feel obliged to just naturally skin him,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', will he let you do that?” they demanded. + </p> + <p> + “He won't be consulted none. And his hide will come off easy once I get + hold of him by the scruff of the neck.” Yancy's speech was gentle and his + lips smiling, but he meant a fair share of what he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', is that the way you do it?” And round-eyed they gazed down on this + fascinating stranger. + </p> + <p> + “I may have to touch him up with a tickler,” continued Yancy, who did not + wish to prove disappointing. “I reckon you-all know what a tickler is?” + </p> + <p> + They nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What if Mr. Slosson totes a tickler, too?” asked Keppel insinuatingly. + This opened an inviting field for conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “That won't make no manner of difference. Why? Because it's a powerful + drawback fo' a man to know he's in the wrong, just as it's a heap in yo' + favor to know you're in the right.” + </p> + <p> + “My father's got a tickler; I seen it often,” vouchsafed Henry. + </p> + <p> + “It's a foot long, with a buck horn handle. Gee whiz!—he keeps it + keen; but he never uses it on no humans,” said Keppel. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he don't; he's a high-spirited, right-actin' gentleman. But + what do you reckon he'd feel obliged to do if a body stole one of + you-all?” inquired Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! He'd carve 'em deep!” cried Keppel. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mrs. Cavendish appeared, bringing Yancy's breakfast. In her + wake came Connie with the baby, and the three little brothers who were to + be accorded the cherished privilege of seeing the poor gentleman eat. + </p> + <p> + “You got a nice little family, ma'am,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon nobody complains mo' about their children than me, but I + reckon nobody gets mo' comfort out of their children either. I hope + you-all are a-goin' to be able to eat, you ain't had much nourishment. La, + does yo' shoulder pain you like that? Want I should feed you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, ma'am, but I reckon you'll have to,” Yancy spoke regretfully. + “I expect I been a passel of bother to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you ain't. Here's Dick to see how you make out with the chicken,” + Polly added, as Cavendish presented himself at the opening that did duty + as a door. + </p> + <p> + “This looks like bein' alive, stranger,” he commented genially. He + surveyed the group of which Yancy was the center. “If them children gets + too numerous, just throw 'em out.” + </p> + <p> + “You-all ain't told me yo' name yet?” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “It's Cavendish. Richard Keppel Cavendish, to get it all off my mind at a + mouthful. And this lady's Mrs. Cavendish.” + </p> + <p> + “My name's Yancy—Bob Yancy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish exchanged glances with Mrs. Cavendish. By a nod of her + dimpled chin the lady seemed to urge some more extended confidence on his + part. Chills and Fever seated himself at the foot of Yancy's bed. + </p> + <p> + “Stranger, what I'm a-goin' to tell you, you'll take as bein' said man to + man,” he began, with the impressive air of one who had a secret of great + moment to impart; and Yancy hastened to assure him that whatever passed + between them, his lips should be sealed. “It ain't really that, but I + don't wish to appear proud afo' no man's, eyes. First, I want to ask you, + did you ever hear tell of titles?” + </p> + <p> + Polly and the children hung breathlessly on Mr. Yancy's reply. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly have,” he rejoined promptly. “Back in No'th Carolina we went + by the chimneys.” + </p> + <p> + “Chimneys? What's chimneys got to do with titles, Mr. Yancy?” asked Polly, + while her husband appeared profoundly mystified. + </p> + <p> + “A whole lot, ma'am. If a man had two chimneys to his house we always + called him Colonel, if there was four chimneys we called him General.” + </p> + <p> + “La!” cried Polly, smiling and showing a number of new dimples. “Dick + don't mean militia titles, Mr. Yancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Them's the only ones I know anything of,” confessed Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Ever hear tell of lords?” inquired Chills and Fever, tilting his head on + one side. + </p> + <p> + “No.” And Yancy was quick to notice the look of disappointment on the + faces of his new friends. He felt that for some reason, which was by no + means clear to him, he had lost caste. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ever heard of royalty?” and Cavendish fixed the invalid's + wandering glance. + </p> + <p> + “You mean kings?” + </p> + <p> + “I shore do.” + </p> + <p> + Yancy regarded him reflectively and made a mighty mental effort. + </p> + <p> + “There's them Bible kings—” he ventured at length. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Them's sacred kings. Are you familiar with any of the profane kings, Mr. + Yancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, taking them as they come, them Bible kings seemed to average pretty + profane.” Yancy was disposed to defend this point. + </p> + <p> + “You must a heard of the kings of England. Sho', wa'n't any of yo' folks + in the war agin' him?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd plumb forgot, why my daddy fit all through that war!” exclaimed + Yancy. The Cavendishes were immensely relieved. Polly beamed on the + invalid, and the children hunched closer. Six pairs of eager lips were + trembling on the verge of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Now you-all keep still,” said Cavendish. “I want Mr. Yancy should get the + straight of this here! The various orders of royalty are kings, dukes, + earls and lords. Earls is the third from the top of the heap, but lords + ain't no slouch; it's a right neat little title, and them that has it can + turn round in most any company.” + </p> + <p> + “Dick had ought to know, fo' he's an earl himself,” cried Polly + exultantly, unable to restrain herself any longer, while a mutter came + from the six little Cavendishes who had been wonderfully silent for them. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', Richard Keppel Cavendish, Earl of Lambeth! 'Sho', that was what he + was! Sho'!” and some transient feeling of awe stamped itself upon their + small faces as they viewed the long and limber figure of their parent. + </p> + <p> + “Is that mo' than a Colonel?” Yancy risked the question hesitatingly, but + he felt that speech was expected from him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the possessor of the title. + </p> + <p> + “Would a General lay it over you any?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, he wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Yancy gazed respectfully but uncertainly at Chills and Fever. + </p> + <p> + “Then all I got to say is that I've traveled considerably, mostly between + Scratch Hill and Balaam's Cross Roads, meeting with all kinds of folks; + but I never seen an earl afo. I take it they are some scarce.” + </p> + <p> + “They are. I don't reckon there's another one but me in the whole United + States.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of that!” gasped Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “We ain't nothin' fo' style, it bein' my opinion that where a man's a born + gentleman he's got a heap of reason fo' to be grateful but none to brag,” + said Cavendish. + </p> + <p> + “Dick's kind of titles are like having red hair and squint eyes. Once they + get into a family they stick,” explained Polly. + </p> + <p> + “I've noticed that, 'specially about squint eyes.” Yancy was glad to plant + his feet on familiar ground. + </p> + <p> + “These here titles go to the eldest son. He begins by bein' a viscount,” + continued Chills and Fever. He wished Yancy to know the full measure of + their splendor. + </p> + <p> + “And their wives are ladies-ain't they, Dick?” + </p> + <p> + Cavendish nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody with half an eye would know you was a lady, ma'am,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Kep here is an Honorable, same as a senator or a congressman,” Cavendish + went on. + </p> + <p> + “At his age, too!” commented Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “And my daughter's the Lady Constance,” said Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Havin' such a mother she ain't no choice,” observed Yancy, with an air of + gentle deference. + </p> + <p> + “Dick's got the family, Mr. Yancy. My folks, the Rhetts, was plain + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of 'em ain't so noticeably plain, either,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', you've a heap of good sense, Mr. Yancy!” and Cavendish shook him + warmly by the hand. “The first time I ever seen her, I says, I'll marry + that lady if it takes an arm! Well, it did most of the time while I was + co'tin' her.” + </p> + <p> + “La!” cried Polly, blushing furiously. “You shouldn't tell that, Dick. Mr. + Yancy ain't interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I'd been hearin' about old man Rhett's Polly fo' considerable + of a spell,” said Cavendish, looking at Polly reflectively. “He lived up + at the head waters of the Elk River. Fellows who had been to his place, + when girls was mentioned would sort of shake their heads sad-like and say, + 'Yes, but you had ought to see old man Rhett's Polly, all the rest is + imitations!' Seemed like they couldn't get her off their minds. So I just + slung my kit to my back, shouldered my rifle, and hoofed it up-stream. I + says, I'll see for myself where this here paragon lays it all over the + rest of her sect, but sho—the closter I came to old man Rhett the + mo' I heard of Polly!” + </p> + <p> + “Dick, how you do run on,” cried Polly protestingly, but Chills and + Fever's knightly soul dwelt in its illusions, and the years had not made + stale his romance. Also Polly was beaming on him with a wealth of + affection. + </p> + <p> + “I seen her fo' the first time as I was warmin' the trail within a mile of + old man Rhett's. She was carrying a grist of co'n down to the mill in her + father's ox cart. When I clapped eyes on her I says, 'I'll marry that + lady. I'll make her the Countess of Lambeth—she'll shore do fo' the + peerage any day!' That was yo' mommy, sneezic's!” Mr. Cavendish paused to + address himself to the baby whom Connie had relinquished to him. + </p> + <p> + “You bet I made time the rest of the way. I says, 'She's sixteen if she's + a day, and all looks!' I broke into old man Rhett's clearin' on a keen + run. He was a settin' afo' his do' smokin' his pipe and he glanced me over + kind of weary-like and says, 'Howdy!' It wa'n't much of a greetin' the way + he said it either; but I figured it was some better than bein' chased off + the place. So I stepped indo's, stood my rifle in a corner and hung up my + cap. He was watchin' me and presently he drawled out, 'Make yo'self + perfectly at home, stranger.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'Squire'—he wa'n't a squire, but they called him that—I + says, 'Squire, my name's Cavendish. Let's get acquainted quick. I'm here + fo' to co'te yo' Polly. I seen her on the road a spell back and I couldn't + be better suited.' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'You had ought to be kivered up in salt, young man, else yo'll + spile in this climate.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'I'll keep in any climate.' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'Polly ain't givin' her thoughts much to marryin', she's busy + keepin' house fo' her pore old father.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'I've come here special fo' to arouse them thoughts you mention. + If I seem slow.' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'You don't. If this is yo' idea of bein' slow, I'd wish to avoid + you when you was in a hurry.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'Put in yo' spare moments thinkin' up a suitable blessin' fo' + us.' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'You'll have yo' hands full. There's a number of young fellows + hereabouts that you don't lay it over none in p'int of freshness or + looks.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'Does she encourage any of 'em?' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'Nope, she don't. Ain't I been tellin' you she's givin' her mind + to keepin' house fo' her pore old father?' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'If she don't encourage 'em none, she shore must disencourage + 'em. I 'low she gets my help in that.' + </p> + <p> + “He says, 'They'll run you so far into the mountings, Mr. Cavendish, + you'll never be heard tell of again in these parts.' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'I'll bust the heads offen these here galoots if they try that!' + </p> + <p> + “He asks, grinnin', 'Have you arranged how yo' remains are to be sent back + to yo' folks?' + </p> + <p> + “I says, 'I'm an orphan man of title, a peer of England, and you can leave + me lay if it cones to that.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,'. he says, 'if them's yo' wishes, the buzzards as good as got + you.”' Cavendish lapsed into a momentary silence. It was plain that these + were cherished memories. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I call co'tin!” remarked Mr. Yancy, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + The Earl of Lambeth resumed + </p> + <p> + “It was as bad as old man Rhett said it was. Sundays his do'yard looked + like a militia muster. They told it on him that he hadn't cut a stick of + wood since Polly was risin' twelve. I reckon, without exaggeration, I fit + every unmarried man in that end of the county, and two lookin' widowers + from Nashville. I served notice on to them that I'd attend to that + woodpile of old man Rhett's fo' the future; that I was qualifying fo' to + be his son-in-law, and seekin' his indorsement as a provider. I took 'em + on one at a time as they happened along, and lambasted 'em all over the + place. As fo' the Nashville widowers,” said Cavendish with a chuckle, and + a nod to Polly, “I pretty nigh drownded one of 'em in the Elk. We met in + mid-stream and fit it out there; and the other quit the county. That was + fo'teen years ago; but, mind you, I'd do it all over again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Dick, you ain't telling Mr. Yancy nothin' about yo' title,” + expostulated Polly. + </p> + <p> + “I'd admire to hear mo' about that,” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm gettin' round to that. It was my great grandfather come over here + from England. His name was Richard Keppel Cavendish, same as mine is. He + lived back yonder on the Carolina coast and went to raisin' tobacco. I've + heard my grandfather tell how he'd heard folks say his father was always + hintin' in his licker that he was a heap better than he seemed, and if + people only knowed the truth about him they'd respect him mo', and mebby + treat him better. Well, sir, he married and riz a family; there was my + grandfather and a passel of girls—and that crop of children was the + only decent crop he ever riz. I've heard my grandfather tell how, when he + got old enough to notice such things, he seen that his father had the look + of a man with something mysterious hangin' over him, but he couldn't make + it out what it was, though he gave it a heap of study. He seen, too, that + let him get a taste of licker and he'd begin to throw out them hints, how + if folks only knowed the truth they'd be just naturally fallin' over + themselves fo' to do him a favor, instead of pickin' on him and tryin' to + down him. + </p> + <p> + “My grandfather said he never knowed a man, either, with the same aversion + agin labor as his father had. Folks put it down to laziness, but they + misjudged him, as come out later, yet he never let on. He just went around + sorrowful-like, and when there was a piece of work fo' him to do he'd + spend a heap of time studyin' it, or mebby he'd just set and look at it + until he was ready fo' to give it up. Appeared like he couldn't bring + himself down to toil. + </p> + <p> + “Then one day he got his hands on a paper that had come acrost in a ship + from England. He was readin' it, settin' in the shade; my grandfather said + he always noticed he was partial to the shade, and his wife was pesterin' + of him fo' to go and plow out his truck-patch, when, all at once, he lit + on something in the paper, and he started up and let out a yell like he'd + been shot. 'By gum, I'm the Earl of Lambeth!' he says, and took out to the + nearest tavern and got b'ilin' full. Afterward he showed 'em the paper and + they seen with their own eyes where Richard Keppel Cavendish, Earl of + Lambeth, had died in London. My great grandfather told 'em that was his + uncle; that when he left home there was several cousins—which was + printed in the paper, too—but they'd up and died, so the title + naturally come to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, that was the first the family ever knowed of it, and then they + seen what it was he'd meant when he throwed out them hints about bein' a + heap better than he seemed. He said perhaps he wouldn't never have told, + only he couldn't bear to be misjudged like he'd always been. + </p> + <p> + “He never done a lick of work after that. He said he couldn't bring + himself down to it; that it was demeanin' fo' a person of title fo' to + labor with his hands like a nigger or a common white man. He said he'd + leave it to his family to see he didn't come to want, it didn't so much + matter about them; and he lived true to his principles to the day of his + death, and never riz his hand except to feed himself.” + </p> + <p> + Cavendish paused. Yancy was feeling that in his own person he had + experienced some of the best symptoms of a title. + </p> + <p> + “Then what?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, he lived along like that, never complainin', my grandfather + said, but mighty sweet and gentlelike as long as there was plenty to eat + in the house. He lived to be nigh eighty, and when he seen he was goin' to + die he called my grandfather to him and says, 'She's yours, Dick,'—meanin' + the title—and then he says, 'There's one thing I've kep' from you. + You've been a viscount ever since I come into the title, and then he went + on and explained what he wanted cut on his tombstone, and had my + grandfather write it out, so there couldn't be any mistake. When he'd + passed away, my grandfather took the title. He said it made him feel + mighty solemn and grand-like, and it come over him all at once why it was + his father hadn't no heart fo' work.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it always take 'em that way?” inquired Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “It takes the Earls of Lambeth that way. I reckon you might say it was + hereditary with 'em. Where was I at?” + </p> + <p> + “Your grandpap, the second earl,” prompted Polly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—well, he 'lowed he'd emigrate back to England, but while he + was studying how he could do this, along come the war. He said he couldn't + afford to fight agin his king, so he pulled out and crossed the mountings + to avoid being drug into the army. He said he couldn't let it get around + that the Earls of Lambeth was shootin' English soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he couldn't,” agreed Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “It's been my dream to take Polly and the children and go back to England + and see the king about my title. I 'low he'd be some surprised to see us. + I'd like to tell him, too, what the Earls of Lambeth done fo' him—that + they was always loyal, and thought a heap better of him than their + neighbors done, and mebby some better than he deserved. Don't you reckon + that not hearin' from us, he's got the notion the Cavendishes has petered + out?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yancy considered this likely, and said so. + </p> + <p> + “You might send him writin' in a letter,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + The furious shrieking of a steam-packet's whistle broke in upon them. + </p> + <p> + “It's another of them hawgs, wantin' all the river!” said Mr. Cavendish, + and fled in haste to the steering oar. + </p> + <p> + During all the long days that followed, Mr. Yancy was forced to own that + these titled friends of his were, despite their social position, uncommon + white in their treatment of him. The Earl of Lambeth consorted with him in + that fine spirit that recognizes the essential brotherhood of man, while + his Lady Countess was, as Yancy observed, on the whole, a person of simple + and uncorrupted tastes. She habitually went barefoot, both as a matter of + comfort and economy, and she smoked her cob-pipe as did those other ladies + of Lincoln County who had married into far less exalted stations than her + own. He put these simple survivals down to her native goodness of heart, + which would not allow of her succumbing to mere pride and vainglory, for + he no more doubted their narrative than they, doubted it themselves, which + was not at all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE JUDGE SEES A GHOST + </h2> + <p> + Charley Norton's good offices did not end when he had furnished judge + Price with a house, for Betty required of him that he should supply that + gentleman with legal business as well. When she pointed out the necessity + of this, Norton demurred. He had no very urgent need of a lawyer, and had + the need existed, Slocum Price would not have been his choice. Betty knit + her brows. + </p> + <p> + “He must have a chance; perhaps if people knew you employed him it would + give them confidence—you must realize this, Charley; it isn't enough + that he has a house—he can't wear it nor eat it!” + </p> + <p> + “And fortunately he can't drink it, either. I don't want to discourage + you, but his looks are all against him, Betty. If you take too great an + interest in his concerns I am afraid you are going to have him permanently + on your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you some little scrap of business that really doesn't matter + much, Charley? You might try him—just to please me—” she + persisted coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's land I'm buying—I suppose I could get him to look up + the title, I know it's all right anyhow,” said Norton, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that judge Price, before he had been three days in + Raleigh, received a civil note from Mr. Norton asking him to search the + title to a certain timber tract held by one Joseph Quaid; a communication + the effect of which was out of all proportion to the size of the fee + involved. The judge, powerfully excited, told Mahaffy he was being + understood and appreciated; that the tide of prosperity was clearly + setting his way; that intelligent foresight, not chance, had determined + him when he selected Raleigh instead of Memphis. Thereafter he spoke of + Charley Norton only as “My client,” and exalted him for his breeding, + wealth and position, refusing to admit that any man in the county was held + in quite the same esteem. All of which moved Mahaffy to flashes of grim + sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + The immediate result of Norton's communication had been to send the judge + up the street to the courthouse. He would show his client that he could be + punctual and painstaking. He should have his abstract of title without + delay; moreover, he had in mind a scholarly effort entirely worthy of + himself. The dull facts should be illuminated with an occasional striking + phrase. He considered that it would doubtless be of interest to Mr. + Norton, in this connection, to know something, too, of mediaeval land + tenure, ancient Roman and modern English. He proposed artfully to pander + to his client's literary tastes—assuming that he had such tastes. + But above all, this abstract must be entirely explanatory of himself, + since its final purpose was to remove whatever doubts his mere appearance + might have bred in Mr. Norton's mind. + </p> + <p> + “If my pocket could just be brought to stand the strain of new clothes + before the next sitting of court, I might reasonably hope for a share of + the pickings,” thought the judge. + </p> + <p> + Entering the court-house, he found himself in a narrow hall. On his right + was the jury-room, and on his left the county clerk's office, stuffy + little holes, each lighted by a single window. Beyond, and occupying the + full width of the building, was the court-room, with its hard, wooden + benches and its staring white walls. Advancing to the door, which stood + open, the judge surveyed the room with the greatest possible satisfaction. + He could fancy it echoing to that eloquence of which he felt himself to be + the master. He would show the world, yet, what was in him, and especially + Solomon Mahaffy, who clearly had not taken his measure. + </p> + <p> + Turning away from the agreeable picture his mind had conjured up, he + entered the county clerk's office. He was already known to this official, + whose name was Saul, and he now greeted him with a pleasant air of + patronage. Mr. Saul removed his feet from the top of his desk and motioned + his visitor to a chair; at the same time he hospitably thrust forward a + square box filled with sawdust. It was plain he labored under the + impression that the judge's call was of an unprofessional character. + </p> + <p> + “A little matter of business brings me here, sir,” began the judge, with a + swelling chest and mellow accents. “No, sir, I'll not be seated—another + time I'll share your leisure if I may—now I am in some haste to look + up a title for my client, Mr. Norton.” + </p> + <p> + “What Norton?” asked Mr. Saul, when he had somewhat recovered from the + effect of this announcement. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Charles Norton, of Thicket Point,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you mean that timber tract of old Joe Quaid's.” Mr. Saul viewed + the judge's ruinous exterior with a glance of respectful awe, for clearly + a man who could triumph over such a handicap must possess uncommon merit + of some sort. “So you're looking after Charley Norton's business for him, + are you?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “He's a client of mine. We have mutual friends, sir—I refer to Miss + Malroy,” the judge vouchsafed to explain. + </p> + <p> + “You're naming our best people, sir, when you name the Malroys and the + Nortons; they are pretty much in a class by themselves,” said Mr. Saul, + whose awe of the judge was momentarily increasing. + </p> + <p> + “I don't underestimate the value of a social endorsement, sir, but I've + never stood on that,” observed the judge. “I've come amongst you + unheralded, but I expect you to find me out. Now, sir, if you'll be good + enough, I'll glance at the record.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Saul scrambled up out of the depths of his chair and exerted himself + in the judge's behalf. + </p> + <p> + “This is what you want, sir. Better take the ledger to the window, the + light in here ain't much.” He drew forward a chair as he spoke, and the + judge, seating himself, began to polish his spectacles with great + deliberation. He felt that he had reached a crisis in his career, and was + disposed to linger over the hope that was springing up in his heart. + </p> + <p> + “How does the docket for the next term of court stand?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty fair, sir,” said Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Any litigation of unusual interest in prospect?” The judge was fitting + his glasses to the generous arch of his nose, a feature which nicely + indexed its owner's habits. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, just the ordinary run of cases.” + </p> + <p> + “I hoped to hear you say different.” + </p> + <p> + “You've set on the bench, sir?” suggested Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “In one of the eastern counties, but my inclination has never been toward + the judiciary. My temperament, sir, is distinctly aggressive—and + each one according to the gifts with which God has been graciously pleased + to endow him! I am frank to say, however, that my decisions have received + their meed of praise from men thoroughly competent to speak on such + matters.” He was turning the leaves of the ledger as he spoke. Suddenly + the movement of his hand was arrested. + </p> + <p> + “Found it?” asked Mr. Saul. But the judge gave him no answer; absorbed and + aloof he was staring down at the open pages of the book. “Found the + entry?” repeated Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?—what's that? No—” he appeared to hesitate. “Who is this + man Quintard?” The question cost him an effort, that was plain. + </p> + <p> + “He's the owner of a hundred-thousand-acre tract in this and abutting + counties,” said Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + The judge continued to stare down at the page. + </p> + <p> + “Is he a resident of the county?” he asked, at length. + </p> + <p> + “No, he lives back yonder in North Carolina.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred thousand acres!” the judge muttered thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “There or thereabouts—yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has charge of the land?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Fentress; he was old General Ware's law partner. I've heard it + was the general who got this man Quintard to make the investment, but that + was before my time in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + The judge lapsed into a heavy, brooding silence. + </p> + <p> + A step sounded in the narrow hall. An instant later the door was pushed + open, and grateful for any interruption that would serve to take Mr. + Saul's attention from himself, the judge abruptly turned his back on the + clerk and began to examine the record before him. Engrossed in this, he + was at first scarcely aware of the conversation that was being carried on + within a few feet of him. Insensibly, however, the cold, level tones of + the voice that was addressing itself to Mr. Saul quickened the beat of his + pulse, the throb of his heart, and struck back through the years to a day + from which he reckoned time. The heavy, calf-bound volume in his hand + shook like a leaf in a gale. He turned slowly, as if in dread of what he + might see. + </p> + <p> + What he saw was a man verging on sixty, lean and dark, with thin, shaven + cheeks of a bluish cast above the jaw, and a strongly aquiline profile. + Long, black locks swept the collar of his coat, while his tall, spare + figure was habited in sleek broadcloth and spotless linen. For a moment + the judge seemed to struggle with doubt and uncertainty, then his face + went a ghastly white and the book slipped from his nerveless fingers to + the window ledge. + </p> + <p> + The stranger, his business concluded, swung about on his heel and quitted + the office. The judge, his eyes starting from their sockets, stared after + him; the very breath died on his lips; speechless and motionless, he was + still seeing that tall, spare figure as it had passed before him, but his + memories stripped a weight of thirty years from those thin shoulders. At + last, heavy-eyed and somber, he glanced about him. Mr. Saul, bending above + his desk, was making an entry in one of his ledgers. The judge shuffled to + his side. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that man?” he asked thickly, resting a shaking hand on the + clerk's arm. + </p> + <p> + “That?—Oh, that was Colonel Fentress I was just telling you about.” + He looked up from his writing. “Hello! You look like you'd seen a ghost!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the heat in here—I reckon—” said the judge, and began to + mop his face. + </p> + <p> + “Ever seen the colonel before?” asked Mr. Saul curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, he's one of our leading planters, and a mighty fine lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he always lived here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he came into the county about ten years ago, and bought a place + called The Oaks, over toward the river.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he—has he a family?” The judge appeared to be having difficulty + with his speech. + </p> + <p> + “Not that anybody knows of. Some say he's a widower, others again say he's + an old bachelor; but he don't say nothing, for the colonel is as close as + wax about his own affairs. So it's pure conjecture, sir.” There was a + brief silence. “The county has its conundrums, and the colonel's one of + them,” resumed Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “The colonel's got his friends, to be sure, but he don't mix much with the + real quality.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “He's apparently as high-toned a gentleman as you'd meet with anywhere; + polished, sir, so smooth your fingers would slip if you tried to take hold + of him, but it's been commented on that when a horsethief or counterfeiter + gets into trouble the colonel's always first choice for counsel.” + </p> + <p> + “Get's 'em off, does he?” The judge spoke somewhat grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty nigh always. But then he has most astonishing luck in the matter + of witnesses. That's been commented on too.” The judge nodded + comprehendingly. “I reckon you'd call Tom Ware, out at Belle Plain, one of + Fentress' closest friends. He's another of your conundrums. I wouldn't + advise you to be too curious about the colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” The judge was frowning now. + </p> + <p> + “It will make you unpopular with a certain class. Those of us who've been + here long enough have learned that there are some of these conundrums we'd + best not ask an answer for.” + </p> + <p> + The judge pondered this. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me, sir, that freedom of speech is not allowed?” he + demanded, with some show of heat. + </p> + <p> + “Perfect freedom, if you pick and choose your topic,” responded Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” ejaculated the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Now you might talk to me with all the freedom you like, but I'd recommend + you were cautious with strangers. There have been those who've talked + freely that have been advised to keep still or harm would come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And did harm come of it?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “They always kept still.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by talking freely?” + </p> + <p> + “Like asking how so and so got the money to buy his last batch of + niggers,” explained Mr. Saul rather vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “And Colonel Fentress is one of those about whose affairs it is best not + to show too much curiosity?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, decidedly. His friends appear to set a heap by him. Another of his + particular intimates is a gentleman by the name of Murrell.” + </p> + <p> + The judge nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I've met him,” he said briefly. “Does he belong hereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “No, hardly; he seems to hold a sort of roving commission. His home is, I + believe, near Denmark, in Madison County.” + </p> + <p> + “What's his antecedents?” + </p> + <p> + “He's as common a white man as ever came out of the hills, but he appears + to stand well with Colonel Fentress.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Fentress!” The judge spat in sheer disgust. + </p> + <p> + “You don't appear to fancy the colonel—” said Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “I don't fancy wearing a gag—and damned if I do!” cried the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it ain't that exactly; it's just minding your own business. I reckon + you'll find there's lot's to be said in favor of goin' ca'mly on attending + strictly to your own affairs, sir,” concluded Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + Acting on a sudden impulse, the judge turned to the door. The business and + the hope that had brought him there were forgotten. He muttered something + about returning later, and hastily quitted the office. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon he's a conundrum too!” reflected Mr. Saul, as the door + swung shut. + </p> + <p> + In the hall the judge's steps dragged and his head was bowed. He was busy + with his memories, memories that spanned the desolate waste of years in + which he had walked from shame to shame, each blacker than the last. Then + passion shook him. + </p> + <p> + “Damn him—may God-for ever damn him!” he cried under his breath, in + a fierce whisper. A burning mist before his eyes, he shuffled down the + hall, down the steps, and into the shaded, trampled space that was known + as the court-house yard. Here he paused irresolutely. Across the way was + the gun-maker's shop, the weather-beaten sign came within range of his + vision, and the dingy white letters on their black ground spelled + themselves out. The words seemed to carry some message, for the judge, + with his eyes fixed on the sign as on some beacon of hope, plunged across + the dusty road and entered the shop. + </p> + <p> + At supper that night it was plain to both Mr. Mahaffy and Hannibal that + the judge was in a state of mind best described as beatific. The tenderest + consideration, the gentlest courtesy flowed from him as from an unfailing + spring; not that he was ever, even in his darkest hours, socially remiss, + but there was now a special magnificence to his manner that bred suspicion + in Mahaffy's soul. When he noted that the judge's shoes were extremely + dusty, this suspicion shaped itself definitely. He was convinced that on + the strength of his prospective fee the judge had gone to Belle Plain, for + what purpose Mr. Mahaffy knew only too well. + </p> + <p> + “It took you some time to get up that abstract, didn't it, Price?” he + presently said, with artful indirection. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go on with that in the morning, Solomon; my interest was + dissipated this evening,” rejoined the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Looks as though you had devoted a good part of your time to + pedestrianism,” suggested Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, so I did, Solomon.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you at Belle Plain?” demanded Mahaffy harshly and with a black + scowl. The judge had agreed to keep away from Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + “No, Solomon, you forget our pact.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am glad you remembered it.” + </p> + <p> + They finished supper, the dishes were cleared away and the candles + lighted, when the judge produced a mysterious leather-covered case. This + he placed upon the table and opened, and Mahaffy and Hannibal, who had + drawn near, saw with much astonishment that it held a handsome pair of + dueling pistols, together with all their necessary paraphernalia. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get 'em, Judge?—Oh, ain't they beautiful!” cried + Hannibal, circling about the table in his excitement. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lad, they were purchased only a few hours ago,” said the judge + quietly, as he began to load them. + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, Price, do be careful!” warned Mahaffy, who had a + horror of pistols that extended to no other species of firearm. + </p> + <p> + “I shall observe all proper caution, Solomon,” the judge assured him + sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “Judge, may I try 'em some day?” asked Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my boy, that's part of a gentleman's education.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, look out you don't shoot him before his education begins,” snapped + Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you buy 'em?” Hannibal was dodging about the judge, the better + to follow the operation of loading. + </p> + <p> + “At the gunsmith's, dear lad. It occurred to me that we required small + arms. If you'll stand quietly at my elbow and not hop around, you'll + relieve Mr. Mahaffy's apprehension.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare, Price, you need a guardian, if ever a man did!” cried Mahaffy, + in a tone of utter exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Solomon?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?—they are absolutely useless. It was a waste of good money that + you'll be sorry about.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, Solomon—they ain't paid for!” said the judge, with a + thick little chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't do you the injustice to suppose they were; but you haven't any + head for business; aren't you just that much nearer the time when not a + soul here will trust you? That's just like you, to plunge ahead and use up + your credit on gimcracks!” Mahaffy prided himself on his acquaintance with + the basic principles of economics. + </p> + <p> + “I can sell 'em again,” observed the judge placidly. + </p> + <p> + “For less than half what they are worth!—I never knew so poor a + manager!” + </p> + <p> + The pistols were soon loaded, and the judge turned to Hannibal. “I + regretted that you were not with me out at Boggs' this evening, Hannibal; + you would have enjoyed seeing me try these weapons there. Now carry a + candle into the kitchen and place it on the table.” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy laughed contemptuously, but was relieved to know the purpose to + which the judge had devoted the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “What aspersion is rankling for utterance within you now, Solomon?” said + the judge tolerantly. Assuming a position that gave him an unobstructed + view across the two rooms, he raised the pistol in his hand and discharged + it in that brief instant when he caught the candle's flame between the + notches of the sight, but he failed to snuff the candle, and a look of + bitter disappointment passed over his face. He picked up the other pistol. + “This time—” he muttered under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Try blowing it out try the snuffers!” jeered Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “This time!” repeated the judge, unheeding him, and as the pistol-shot + rang out the light vanished. “By Heaven, I did it!” roared the judge, + giving way to an uncontrollable burst of feeling. “I did it—and I + can 'do it again—light the candle, Hannibal!” + </p> + <p> + He began to load the pistols afresh with feverish haste, and Mahaffy, + staring at him in amazement, saw that of a sudden the sweat was dripping + from him. But the judge's excitement prevented his attempting another shot + at once, twice his hand was raised, twice it was lowered, the third time + the pistol cracked and the candle's flame was blown level, fluttered for a + brief instant, and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Did I nick the tallow, Hannibal?” The judge spoke anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, both shots.” + </p> + <p> + “We must remedy that,” said the judge. Then, as rapidly as he could load + and fire, bullet after bullet was sent fairly through the flame, + extinguishing it each time. Mahaffy was too astonished at this display of + skill even to comment, while Hannibal's delight knew no bounds. “That will + do!” said the judge at last. He glanced down at the pistol in his hand. + “This is certainly a gentleman's weapon!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. THE WARNING + </h2> + <p> + Norton had ridden down to Belle Plain ostensibly to view certain of those + improvements that went so far toward embittering Tom Ware's existence. + Gossip had it that he kept the road hot between the two places, and this + was an added strain on the planter. But Norton did not go to Belle Plain + to see Mr. Ware. If that gentleman had been the sole attraction, he would + have made just one visit suffice; had it preceded his own, he would have + attended Tom's funeral, and considered that he had done a very decent + thing. On the present occasion he and Betty were strolling about the + rehabilitated grounds, and Norton was exhibiting that interest and + enthusiasm which Betty always expected of him. + </p> + <p> + “You are certainly making the old place look up!” he said, as they passed + out upon the terrace. He had noted casually when he rode up the lane half + an hour before that a horse was tied near Ware's office; a man now issued + from the building and swung himself into the saddle. Norton turned + abruptly to Betty. “What's that fellow doing here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he comes to see Tom,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Is he here often?” + </p> + <p> + “Every day or so.” Betty's tone was indifferent. For reasons which had + seemed good and sufficient she had never discussed Captain Murrell with + Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Every day or so?” repeated Norton. “But you don't see him, Betty?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Tom has no business allowing that fellow around; if he don't know this + some one ought to tell him!” Norton was working himself up into a fine + rage. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't bother me, Charley, if that's what you're thinking of. Let's + talk of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd better not, or I'll make it a quarrel with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn't think of that, Charley, indeed you mustn't!” cried Betty + in some alarm, for young Mr. Norton was both impulsive and hot-headed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just how often is Murrell here?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I told you—every few days. He and Tom seem wonderfully congenial.” + </p> + <p> + They were silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Tom always sees him in his office,” explained Betty. She might have made + her explanation fuller on this point had she cared to do so. + </p> + <p> + “That's the first decent thing I ever heard of Tom!” said Norton with + warmth. “But he ought to kick him off the place the first chance he gets.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think Belle Plain is ever going to look as it did, Charley?—as + we remember it when we were children?” asked Betty, giving a new direction + to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course it is, dear, you are doing wonders!” + </p> + <p> + “I've really been ashamed of the place, the way it looked—and I + can't understand Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try to,” advised Norton. “Look here, Betty, do you remember it was + right on this terrace I met you for the first time? My mother brought me + down, and I arrived with a strong prejudice against you, young lady, + because of the clothes I'd been put into—they were fine but + oppressive.” + </p> + <p> + “How long did the prejudice last, Charley?” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't last at all, I thought you altogether the nicest little girl + I'd ever seen—just what I think now, I wish you could care for me, + Betty, just a little; just enough to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Charley, I do care for you! I'm very, very fond of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't make such a merit of it,” he said, and they both laughed. + “I'm at an awful disadvantage, Betty, from having proposed so often. That + gives it a humorous touch which doesn't properly reflect the state of my + feeling at all—and you hear me without the least emotion; so long as + I keep my distance we might just as well be discussing the weather!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good about that—” + </p> + <p> + “Keeping my distance, you mean?—Betty, if you knew how much + resolution that calls for! I wonder if that isn't my mistake—” And + Norton came a step nearer and took her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + With her hands on his shoulders Betty pushed him back, while the rich + color came into her cheeks. She was remembering Bruce Carrington, who had + not kept his distance. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Charley,” she said half angrily, “I do like you tremendously, but + I simply can't bear you when you act like this—let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “Betty, I despair of you ever caring for me!” and as Norton turned + abruptly away he saw Tom Ware appear from about a corner of the house. + “Oh, hang it, there's Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very nice, anyway, Charley—” said Betty hurriedly, + fortified by the planter's approach. + </p> + <p> + Ware stalked toward them. Having dined with Betty as recently as the day + before, he contented himself with a nod in her direction. His greeting to + Norton was a more ambitious undertaking; he said he was pleased to see + him; but in so far as facial expression might have indorsed the statement + this pleasure was well disguised, it did not get into his features. + Pausing on the terrace beside them, he indulged in certain observations on + the state of the crops and the weather. + </p> + <p> + “You've lost a couple of niggers, I hear?” he added with an oblique + glance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Got on the track of them yet?” Norton shook his head. “I understand + you've a new overseer?” continued Ware, with another oblique glance. + </p> + <p> + “Then you understand wrong—Carrington's my guest,” said Norton. + “He's talking of putting in a crop for himself next season, so he's + willing to help me make mine.” + </p> + <p> + Betty turned quickly at the mention of Carrington's name. She had known + that he was still at Thicket Point, and having heard him spoken of as + Norton's new overseer, had meant to ask Charley if he were really filling + that position. An undefined sense of relief came to her with Norton's + reply to Tom's question. + </p> + <p> + “Going to turn farmer, is he?” asked Ware. + </p> + <p> + “So he says.” Feeling that the only subjects in which he had ever known + Ware to take the slightest interest, namely, crops and slaves, were + exhausted, Norton was extremely disappointed when the planter manifested a + disposition to play the host and returned to the house with them, where + his mere presence, forbidding and sullen, was such a hardship that Norton + shortly took his leave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, hang Tom!” he said, as he rode away from Belle Plain. “If he thinks + he can freeze me out there's a long siege ahead of him!” + </p> + <p> + Issuing from the lane he turned his face in the direction of home, but he + did not urge his horse off a walk. To leave Belle Plain and Betty demanded + always his utmost resolution. His way took him into the solemn twilight of + untouched solitudes. A cool breath rippled through the depths of the woods + and shaped its own soft harmonies where it lifted the great branches that + arched the road. He crossed strips of bottom land where the water stood in + still pools about the gnarled and moss-covered trunks of trees. At + intervals down some sluggish inlet he caught sight of the yellow flood + that was pouring past, or saw the Arkansas coast beyond, with its mighty + sweep of unbroken forest that rose out of the river mists and blended with + the gray distance that lay along the horizon. + </p> + <p> + He was within two miles of Thicket Point when, passing about a sudden turn + in the road, he found himself confronted by three men, and before he could + gather up his reins which he held loosely, one of them had seized his + horse by the bit. Norton was unarmed, he had not even a riding-whip. This + being the case he prepared to make the best of an unpleasant situation + which he felt he could not alter. He ran his eye over the three men. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, gentlemen, but I reckon you have hold of the wrong person—” + </p> + <p> + “Get down!” said one of the men briefly. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any money, that's why I say you have hold of the wrong person.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't want your money.” The unexpectedness of this reply somewhat + disturbed Norton. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “We got a word to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can hear it in the saddle.” + </p> + <p> + “Get down!” repeated the man, a surly, bull-necked fellow. “Come—hurry + up!” he added. + </p> + <p> + Norton hesitated for an instant, then swung himself out of the saddle and + stood in the road confronting the spokesman of the party. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what do you wish to say to me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just this—you keep away from Belle Plain.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to hell!” said Norton promptly. The man glowered heavily at hire + through the gathering gloom of twilight. + </p> + <p> + “We want your word that you'll keep away from Belle Plain,” he said with + sullen insistence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you won't get it!” responded Norton with quiet decision. + </p> + <p> + “We won't?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly you won't!” Norton's eyes began to flash. He wondered if these + were Tom Ware's emissaries. He was both quick-tempered and high-spirited. + Falling back a step, he sprang forward and dealt the bullnecked man a + savage blow. The latter grunted heavily but kept his feet. In the same + instant one of the men who had never taken his eyes off Norton from the + moment he quitted the saddle, raised his fist and struck the young planter + in the back of the neck. + </p> + <p> + “You cur!” cried Norton, blind and dizzy, as he wheeled on him. + </p> + <p> + “Damn him—let him have it!” roared the bullnecked man. + </p> + <p> + Afterward Norton was able to remember that the three rushed on him, that + he was knocked down and kicked with merciless brutality, then + consciousness left him. He lay very still in the trampled dust of the + road. The bull-necked man regarded the limp figure in grim silence for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “That'll do, he's had enough; we ain't to kill him this time,” he said. An + instant later he, with his two companions, had vanished silently into the + woods. + </p> + <p> + Norton's horse trotted down the road. When it entered the yard at Thicket + Point half an hour later, Carrington was on the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Norton?” he called, but there was no response, and he saw + the horse was riderless. “Jeff!” he cried, summoning Norton's servant from + the house. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Mas'r?” asked the negro, as he appeared in the open + door. + </p> + <p> + “Why, here's Mr. Norton's horse come home without him. Do you know where + he went this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard him say he reckoned he'd ride over to Belle Plain, Mas'r,” + answered Jeff, grinning. “I 'low the hoss done broke away and come home by + himself—he couldn't a-throwed Mas'r Charley!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll make sure of that. Get lanterns, and a couple of the boys!” said + Carrington. + </p> + <p> + It was mid-afternoon of the day following before Betty heard of the attack + on Charley Norton. Tom brought the news, and she at once ordered her horse + saddled and was soon out on the river road with a black groom trailing + along through the dust in her wake. Tom's version of the attack was that + Charley, had been robbed and all but murdered, and Betty never drew rein + until she reached Thicket Point. As she galloped into the yard Bruce + Carrington came from the house. At sight of the girl, with her wind-blown + halo of bright hair, he paused uncertainly. By a gesture Betty called him + to her side. + </p> + <p> + “How is Mr. Norton?” she asked, extending her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says he'll be up and about inside of a week, anyhow, Miss + Malroy,” said Carrington. + </p> + <p> + Betty gave a great sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Then his hurts are not serious?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Carrington, “they are not in any sense serious.” + </p> + <p> + “May I see him?” + </p> + <p> + “He's pretty well bandaged up, so he looks worse off than he is. If you'll + wait on the porch, I'll tell him you are here,” for Betty had dismounted. + </p> + <p> + “If you please.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington passed on into the house. His face wore a look of somber + repression. Of course it was all right for her to come and see Norton—they + were old, old friends. He entered the room where Norton lay. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Malroy is here,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Betty?—bless her dear heart!” cried Charley rather weakly. “Just + toss my clothes into the closet and draw up a chair... There-thank you, + Bruce, that will do—let her come along in now.” And as Carrington + quitted the room, Norton drew himself up on the pillows and faced the + door. “This is worth several beatings, Betty!” he exclaimed as she + appeared on the threshold. But much cotton and many bandages lent him a + rather fearful aspect, and Betty paused with a little gasp of dismay. “I'm + lots better than I look, I expect,” said Norton. “Couldn't you arrange to + come a little closer?” he added, laughing. + </p> + <p> + He bent to kiss the hand she gave him, but groaned with the exertion. Then + he looked up into her face and saw her eyes swimming with tears. + </p> + <p> + “What—tears? Tears for me, Betty?” and he was much moved. + </p> + <p> + “It's a perfect outrage! Who did it, Charley?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You sit down and I'll tell you all about it,” said Norton happily. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me, Charley!” when she had seated herself. + </p> + <p> + “Who fetched you, Betty—old Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I came alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's mighty kind of you. I'll be all right in a day or so. What did + you hear?—that I'd been attacked and half-killed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and robbed.” + </p> + <p> + “There were three of the scoundrels. They made me climb out of the saddle, + and as I was unarmed they did as they pleased with me, which was to stamp + me flat in the road—” + </p> + <p> + “Charley!” + </p> + <p> + “I might almost be inclined to think they were friends of yours, Betty—or + at least friends of friends of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Charley—friends of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see they started in by stipulating that I should keep away from + Belle Plain, and the terms they proposed being on the face of them + preposterous, trouble quickly ensued—trouble for me, you understand. + But never mind, dear, the next man who undertakes to grab my horse by the + bit won't get off quite so easy.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should any one care whether you come to Belle Plain or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if my amiable friend, Tom, could have arranged this little + affair; it's sort of like old Tom to move in the dark, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “He couldn't—he wouldn't have done it, Charley!” but she looked + troubled, not too sure of this. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't he? Well, maybe he couldn't—but he's afraid you'll marry + me—and I'm only afraid you won't. Betty, hasn't it ever seemed worth + your while to marry me just to give old Tom the scare of his life?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Charley—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I'm in a dreadful state of mind when I think of you alone at Belle Plain—I + wish you could love me, Betty!” + </p> + <p> + “I do love you. There is no one I care half so much for, Charley.” + </p> + <p> + Norton shook his bandaged head and heaved a prodigious sigh. + </p> + <p> + “That's merely saying you don't love any one.” He dropped back rather + wearily on his pillow. “Does Tom know about this?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he able to show a proper amount of surprise?” + </p> + <p> + “He appeared really shocked, Charley.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, it wasn't Tom. He never shows much emotion, but what he does + show he usually feels, I've noticed. I had rather hoped it was Tom, I'd be + glad to think that he was responsible; for if it wasn't Tom, who was it?—who + is it to whom it makes any difference how often I see you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Charley;” but her voice was uncertain. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Betty; for the hundredth time, won't you marry me? I've loved + you ever since I was old enough to know what love meant. You've been + awfully sweet and patient with me, and I've tried to respect your wishes + and not speak of this except when it seemed necessary—” he paused, + and they both laughed a little, but he looked weak and helpless with his + bloodless face showing between the gaps in the bandages that swathed him. + Perhaps it was this sense of his helplessness that roused a feeling in + Betty that was new to her. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Charley, I fear—I am sure I don't love you the way I + should—to marry you—” + </p> + <p> + Charley, greatly excited, groaned and sat up, and groaned again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, Charley-lie still!” she entreated. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right—and you needn't pull your hand away—you like + me better than any one else, you've told me so; well, don't you see that's + the beginning of really loving me?” + </p> + <p> + “But you wouldn't want to marry me at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes I would—right away—as soon as I am able to stir around!” + said Charley promptly. “Don't you see the immediate necessity there is of + my being in a position to care for you, Betty? I wasn't served this trick + for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You must try not to worry, Charley.” + </p> + <p> + “But I shall—I expect it's going to retard my recovery,” said the + young man gloomily. “I couldn't be worse off! Here I am flat on my back; I + can't come to you or keep watch over you. Let me have some hope, dear—let + me believe that you will marry me!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him pityingly, and with a certain latent tenderness in her + mood. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really care so much for me, Charley?” + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Betty!—I want you to say you will marry me as soon as I + can stand by your side—you're not going?—I won't speak of this + again if it annoys you, dear!” for she had risen. + </p> + <p> + “I must, Charley—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't—well, then, if you will go, I want Carrington to ride + back with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I brought George with me—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, but I want you to take Carrington—the Lord knows what + we are coming to here in West Tennessee; I must have word that you reach + home safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, I'll ask Mr. Carrington. Good-by, Charley, dear!” + </p> + <p> + Norton seemed to summon all his fortitude. + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't have done a kinder thing than come here, Betty; I can't + begin to tell you how grateful I am—and as for my loving you—why, + I'll just keep on doing that to the end. I can see myself a bent, old man + still pestering you with my attentions, and you a sweet, old lady with + snow-white hair and pink cheeks, still obdurate—still saying no! Oh, + Lord, isn't it awful!” He had lifted himself on his elbow, and now sank + back on his pillow. + </p> + <p> + Betty paused irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + “Charley—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you be happy without me?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't try to be!” + </p> + <p> + “No use in my making any such foolish effort, I'd be doomed to failure.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Charley—I really must go—” + </p> + <p> + He looked up yearningly into her face, and yielding to a sudden impulse, + she stooped and kissed him on the forehead, then she fled from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come back—Betty—” cried Norton, and his voice rose to a + wail of entreaty, but she was gone. She had been quite as much surprised + by her act as Charley himself. + </p> + <p> + In the yard, Carrington was waiting for her. Jeff had just brought up + Norton's horse, and though he made no display of weapons, the Kentuckian + had fully armed himself. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ride to Belle Plain with you, Miss Malroy,” he said, as he + lifted her into her saddle. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it necessary?” she asked, but she did not look at him. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not. I'll keep a bit in advance,” he added, as he mounted his + horse, and all Betty saw of him during their ride of five miles was his + broad back. At the entrance to Belle Plain he reined in his horse. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's all right, now,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “You will return at once to Mr. Norton?” she asked. He nodded. “And you + will not leave him while he is helpless?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll not leave him,” said Carrington, giving her a steady glance. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad, I—his friends will feel so much safer with you there. + I will send over in the morning to learn how he passed the night. Good-by, + Mr. Carrington.” And still refusing to meet his eyes, she gave him her + hand. + </p> + <p> + But Carrington did not quit the mouth of the lane until she had crossed + between the great fields of waving corn, and he had seen her pass up the + hillside beyond to the oak grove, where the four massive chimneys of Belle + Plain house showed their gray stone copings among the foliage. With this + last glimpse of her he turned away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THICKET POINT + </h2> + <p> + It WAS a point with Mr. Ware to see just as little as possible of Betty. + He had no taste for what he called female chatter. A sane interest in the + price of cotton or pork he considered the only rational test of human + intelligence, and Betty evinced entire indifference where those great + staples were concerned, hence it was agreeable to him to have most of his + meals served in his office. + </p> + <p> + At first Betty had sought to adapt herself to his somewhat peculiar scheme + of life, but Tom had begged her not to regard him, his movements from hour + to hour were cloaked in uncertainty. The man who had to overlook the labor + of eighty or ninety field hands was the worst sort of a slave himself; the + niggers knew when they could sit down to a meal; he never did. + </p> + <p> + But for all his avoidance of Betty, he in reality kept the closest kind of + a watch on her movements, and when he learned that she had visited Charley + Norton—George, the groom, was the channel through which this + information reached him—he was both scandalized and disturbed. He + felt the situation demanded some sort of a protest. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it just hell the way a woman can worry you?” he lamented, as he + hurried up the path from the barns to the house. He found Betty at supper. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I'd have a cup of tea with you, Bet—what else have you + that's good?” he inquired genially, as he dropped into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “That was nice of you; we don't see very much of each other, do we, Tom?” + said Betty pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware twisted his features, on which middle age had rested an untender + hand, into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “When a man undertakes to manage a place like Belle Plain his work's laid + out for him, Betty, and an old fellow like me is pretty apt to go one of + two ways; either he takes to hard living to keep himself in trim, or he + pampers himself soft.” + </p> + <p> + “But you aren't old, Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I were sure of seeing forty-five or even forty-eight again—but + I'm not,” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + “But that isn't really old,” objected Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's old enough, Bet, as you'll discover for yourself one of + these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, Tom!” cried Betty. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware consumed a cup of tea in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You were over to see Norton, weren't you, Bet? How did you find him?” he + asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says he will soon be about again,” answered Betty. + </p> + <p> + Tom stroked his chin and gazed at her reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “Betty, I wish you wouldn't go there again—that's a good girl!” he + said tactfully, and as he conceived it, affectionately, even, paving the + way for an exercise of whatever influence might be his, a point on which + he had no very clear idea. Betty glanced up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Tom, why shouldn't I go there?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It might set people gossiping. I reckon there's been pretty near enough + talk about you and Charley Norton. A young girl can't be too careful.” The + planter's tone was conciliatory in the extreme, he dared not risk a break + by any open show of authority. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't distress yourself, Tom. I don't know that I shall go there + again,” said Betty indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't if I were you.” He was charmed to find her so reasonable. “You + know it isn't the thing for a young girl to call on a man, you'll get + yourself talked about in a way you won't like—take my word for it! + If you want to be kind and neighborly send one of the boys over to ask how + he is—or bake a cake with your own hands, but you keep away. That's + the idea!—send him something to eat, something you've made yourself, + he'll appreciate that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he couldn't eat it if I did, Tom. It's plain you have no + acquaintance with my cooking,” said Betty, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Did Norton say if he had any idea as to the identity of the men who + robbed him?” inquired Tom casually. + </p> + <p> + “Their object wasn't robbery,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “No?” Ware's glance was uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “It seems that some one objects to his coming here, Tom—here to + Belle Plain to see me, I suppose,” added Betty. The planter moved + uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to meet her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He shouldn't put out a yarn like that, Bet. It isn't just the thing for a + gentleman to do—” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't putting it out, as you call it! He has told no one, so far as I + know,” said Betty quickly. Mr. Ware fell into a brooding silence. “Of + course, Charley wouldn't mention my name in any such connection!” + continued Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Who cares how often he comes here? You don't, and I don't. There's more + back of this than Charley would want you to know. I reckon he's got his + enemies; some one's had a grudge against him and taken this way to settle + it.” The planter's tone and manner were charged with an unpleasant + significance. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like your hints, Tom,” said Betty. Her heightened color and the + light in her eyes warned Tom that he had said enough. In some haste he + finished his second cup of tea, a beverage which he despised, and after a + desultory remark or two, withdrew to his office. + </p> + <p> + Betty went up-stairs to her own room, where she tried to finish a letter + she had begun the day before to Judith Ferris, but she was in no mood for + this. She was owning to a sense of utter depression and she had been at + home less than a month. Struggle as she might against the feeling, it was + borne in upon her that she was wretchedly lonely. She had seated herself + by an open window. Now, resting her elbows on the ledge and with her chin + between her palms, she gazed off into the still night. A mile distant, on + what was called “Shanty Hill,” were the quarters of the slaves. The only + lights she saw were there, the only sounds she heard reached her across + the intervening fields. This was her world. A half-savage world with its + uncouth army of black dependents. + </p> + <p> + Tom's words still rankled. Betty's temper flared up belligerently as she + recalled them. He had evidently meant to insinuate that Charley had lied + outright when he told her the motive for the attack, and he had followed + it up by that covert slur on his character. Charley's devotion was the + thing that redeemed the dull monotony of existence. She became suddenly + humble and tenderly penitent in her mood toward him; he loved her much + better than she deserved, and she suspected that her own attitude had been + habitually ungenerous and selfish. She had accepted all and yielded + nothing. She wondered gravely why it was she did not love him; she was + fond of him—she was very, very fond of him; she wondered if after + all, as he said, this were not the beginning of love, the beginning of + that deeper feeling which she was not sure she understood, not sure she + should ever experience. + </p> + <p> + The thought of Charley's unwavering affection gave her a great sense of + peace; it was something to have inspired such devotion, she could never be + quite desperate while she had him. She must try to make him understand how + possible an ideal friendship was between them, how utterly impossible + anything else. She would like to have seen Charley happily married to some + nice girl—“I wonder whom!” thought Betty, gazing deep into the night + through her drooping lashes. She considered possible candidates for the + happiness she herself seemed so willing to forego, but for one reason or + another dismissed them all. “I am not sure I should care to see him + marry,” she confessed under her breath. “It would spoil everything. Men + are much nicer than girls!” And Charley possessed distinguished merits as + a man; he was not to be too hastily disposed of, even for his own good. + She viewed him in his various aspects, his character and disposition came + under her critical survey. Nature had given the young planter a handsome + presence; wealth and position had come to him as fortuitously. The first + of these was no great matter, perhaps; Betty herself was sometimes + burdened with a sense of possession, but family was indispensable. + </p> + <p> + In theory, at least, she was a thoroughgoing little aristocrat. A + gentleman was always a gentleman. There were exceptions, like Tom, to be + sure, but even Tom could have reached up and seized the title had he + coveted it. She rarely forgot that she was the mistress of Belle Plain and + a Malroy. Just wherein a Malroy differed from the rest of the sons of men + she had never paused to consider, it sufficed that there was a hazy Malroy + genealogy that went back to tidewater Virginia, and then if one were not + meanly curious, and would skip a generation or two that could not be + accounted for in ways any Malroy would accept, one might triumphantly + follow the family to a red-roofed Sussex manor house. Altogether, it was a + highly satisfactory genealogy and it had Betty's entire faith. The Nortons + were every bit as good as the Malroys, which was saying a great deal. + Their history was quite as pretentious, quite as vague, and as hopelessly + involved in the mists of tradition. + </p> + <p> + Inexplicably enough, Betty found that her thoughts had wandered to + Carrington; which was very singular, as she had long since formed a + resolution not to think of him at all. Yet she remembered with + satisfaction his manner that afternoon, it left nothing to be desired. He + was probably understanding the impassable gulf that separated them—education, + experience, feeling, everything that made up the substance of life but + deepened and widened this gulf. He belonged to that shifting, adventurous + population which was far beneath the slave-holding aristocracy, at least + he more nearly belonged to this lower order than to any other. She fixed + his status relentlessly as something to be remembered when they should + meet again. At last, with a little puckering of the brows and a firm + contraction of the lips, she dismissed the Kentuckian from her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Betty complied with Tom's expressed wish, for she did not again visit + Thicket Point, but then she had not intended doing so. However, the + planter was greatly shocked by the discovery he presently made that she + was engaged in a vigorous correspondence with Charley. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to blazes Murrell had told those fellows to kick the life clean + out of him while they were about it!” he commented savagely, and fell to + cursing impotently. Brute force was a factor to be introduced with caution + into the affairs of life, but if you were going to use it, his belief was + that you should use it to the limit. You couldn't scare Norton, he was in + love with that pink-faced little fool. Keep away?—he'd never think + of it, he'd stuff his pockets full of pistols and the next man who stopped + him on the road would better look out! It made him sick—the utter + lack of sense manifested by Murrell, and his talk, whenever they met, was + still of the girl. He couldn't see anything so damn uncommon about that + red-and-white chit. She wasn't worth running your neck into a halter for—no + woman that ever lived was worth that. + </p> + <p> + The correspondence, so far as Betty was responsible for it, bore just on + one point. She wanted Charley to promise that for a time, at least, he + would not attempt to see her. It seemed such a needless risk to take, + couldn't he be satisfied if he heard from her every day? + </p> + <p> + Charley was regretful, but firm. Just as soon as he could mount his horse + he would ride down to Belle Plain. She was not to distress herself on his + account; he had been surprised, but this should not happen again. + </p> + <p> + The calm manner in which he put aside her fears for his safety exasperated + Betty beyond measure. She scolded him vigorously. Charley accepted the + scolding with humility, but his resolution was unshaken; he did not + propose to vacate the public roads at any man's behest; that would be an + unwise precedent to establish. + </p> + <p> + Betty replied that this was not a matter in which silly vanity should + enter, even if his life was of no value to himself it did not follow that + she held it lightly. It required some eight closely written pages for + Charley to explain why existence would be an unsupportable burden if he + were denied the sight of her. + </p> + <p> + A week had intervened since the attack, and from Jeff, who always brought + Charley's letters, Betty learned more of Charley's condition than Charley + himself had seen fit to tell. According to Jeff his master was now able to + get around pretty tolerable well, though he had a powerful keen misery in + his side. + </p> + <p> + “That was whar' they done kicked him most, Miss,” he added. Betty + shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “How much longer will he be confined to the house?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I heard him 'low to Mas'r Carrington, Miss, as how he reckoned he'd take + a hossback ride to-morrow evenin' if the black and blue was all come out + of his features—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—” gasped Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Seems like they was mighty careless whar' they put their feet, don't it, + Miss?” said Jeff. + </p> + <p> + It was this information she gleaned from Jeff that led Betty to desperate + lengths, to the making of what her cooler judgment told her was a + desperate bargain. + </p> + <p> + At Thicket Point Charley Norton, greatly excited, hobbled into the library + in search of Carrington. He found him reading by the open window. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Bruce!” he cried. “It's settled; she's going to marry me!” + </p> + <p> + The book slipped unheeded from Carrington's hand to the floor. For a + moment he sat motionless, then he slowly pulled himself up out of his + chair. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he asked a trifle thickly. + </p> + <p> + “Betty Malroy is going to marry me,” said Norton. Carrington gazed at him + in silence. + </p> + <p> + “It's settled, is it?” he asked at length. He saw his own hopes go down in + miserable wreck; they had been utterly futile from the first. He had known + all along that Norton loved her, the young planter had made no secret of + it. He had been less frank. + </p> + <p> + “I swear you take it quietly enough,” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you wish me joy?” + </p> + <p> + Carrington held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to take any risks now, you have too much to live for,” + he said haltingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm to keep away from Belle Plain,” said Norton happily. “She insists + on that; she says she won't even see me if I come there. Everything is to + be kept a secret; nothing's to be known until we are actually married; + it's her wish—” + </p> + <p> + “It's to be soon then?” Carrington asked, still haltingly. + </p> + <p> + “Very soon.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Carrington, with face averted, looked from the + window. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to stay here as long as you need me,” he presently said. “She—Miss + Malroy asked me to, and then I am going back to the river where I belong.” + </p> + <p> + Norton turned on him quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean you've abandoned the notion of turning planter?” he + demanded in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes. What's the use of my trying my hand at a business I don't know + the first thing about?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't be in too big a hurry to decide finally on that point,” urged + Norton. + </p> + <p> + “It has decided itself,” said Carrington quietly. + </p> + <p> + But Norton was conscious of a subtle change in their relation. Carrington + seemed a shade less frank than had been habitual with him; all at once he + had removed his private affairs from the field of discussion. Afterward, + when Norton considered the matter, he wondered if it were not that the + Kentuckian felt himself superfluous in this new situation that had grown + up. + </p> + <p> + Charley Norton's features recovered their accustomed hue, but he did not + go near Belle Plain; with resolute fortitude he confined himself to his + own acres. He was tolerably familiar with certain engaging little + peculiarities of Mr. Ware's; he knew, for instance, that the latter was a + gentleman of excessively regular habits; once each fortnight, making an + excuse of business, he spent a day in Memphis, neither more nor less. + Norton told himself with satisfaction that Tom was destined to return to + the surprise of his life from the next of these trips. This conviction was + the one thing which sustained Charley for some ten days. They were + altogether the longest ten days he had ever known, and he had about + reached the limit of his endurance when Betty's groom arrived with a + letter which threw him into a state of ecstatic happiness. The + sober-minded Tom would devote the morrow to Memphis and business. This + meant that he would leave Belle Plain at sun-up and return after + nightfall. + </p> + <p> + “You may not like Tom, but you can always count on him,” said Norton. Then + he ordered his horse and rode off in the direction of Raleigh, but before + leaving the house, he scribbled a line or two to be handed Carrington, who + had gone down to the nearest river landing. + </p> + <p> + It was nightfall when the Kentuckian returned, Hearing his step in the + hall, Jeff came from the dining-room, where he was laying the cloth for + supper. + </p> + <p> + “Mas'r Charley has rid to Raleigh, Sah,” said he; “but he done lef' this + fo' me to han' to yo”—extending the letter. + </p> + <p> + Carrington took it. He guessed its contents. Breaking the seal he read the + half dozen lines. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow—” he muttered under his breath, and slowly tore the sheet + of note-paper into thin ribbons. He turned to Jeff. “Mr. Charley won't be + home until late,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I 'low yo' want yo' supper now, Sar?” But Carrington shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, you needn't bother, Jeff,” he said, as he turned toward the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later and he had got together his belongings and was ready to + quit Thicket Point. He retraced his steps to the floor below. In the hall + he paused and glanced about him. He seemed to feel her presence—and + very near—to-morrow she would enter there as Norton's wife. With his + pack under his arm he entered the dining-room in search of Jeff. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your master I have gone to Memphis,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't yo' goin' to have a hoss, Mas'r Carrington?” demanded Jeff in some + surprise. He had come to regard the Kentuckian as a fixture. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Carrington. “Good-by, Jeff,” he added, turning away. + </p> + <p> + But when he left Thicket Point he did not take the Memphis road, but the + road to Belle Plain. Walking rapidly, he reached the entrance to the lane + within the hour. Here he paused irresolutely, it was as if the force of + his purpose had already spent itself. Then he tossed his pack into a fence + corner and kept on toward the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. AT THE CHURCH DOOR + </h2> + <p> + There was the patter of small feet beyond Betty's door, and little Steve, + who looked more like a nice fat black Cupid than anything else, rapped + softly; at the same time he effected to squint through the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + “Supper served, Missy,” he announced, then he turned no less than seven + handsprings in the upper hall and slid down the balustrade to the floor + below. He was far from being a model house servant. + </p> + <p> + His descent was witnessed by the butler. Now in his own youth big Steve + with as fair a field had cut similar capers, yet he was impelled by his + sense of duty to do for his grandson what his own father had so often done + for him, and in no perfunctory manner. It was only the sound of Betty's + door opening and closing that stayed his hand as he was making choice of a + soft and vulnerable spot to which he should apply it. Little Steve slid + under the outstretched arm that menaced him and fled to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Betty came slowly down the stairs. Four hours since Jeff had ridden away + with the letter. Already there had come to her moments when, she would + have given much could she have recalled it, when she knew with dread + certainty that whatever her feeling for Charley, it was not love; moments + when she realized that she had been cruelly driven by circumstances into a + situation that offered no escape. + </p> + <p> + “Mas'r Tom he say he won't come in to supper, Missy; he 'low he's powerful + busy, gittin' ready to go to Memphis in the mo'ning,” explained Steve, as + he followed Betty into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + His mistress nodded indifferently as she seated herself at the table; she + was glad to be alone just then; she was in no mood to carry on the usual + sluggish conversation with Tom; her own thoughts absorbed her more and + more they became terrifying things to her. + </p> + <p> + She ate her supper with big Steve standing behind her chair and little + Steve balancing himself first on one foot and then on the other near the + door. Little Steve's head was on a level with the chair rail and but for + the rolling whites of his eyes he was no more than a black shadow against + the walnut wainscoting; he formed the connecting link between the + dining-room and the remote kitchen. Betty suspected that most of the + platters journeyed down the long corridor deftly perched on top of his + woolly head. She frequently detected him with greasy or sticky fingers, + which while it argued a serious breach of trust also served to indicate + his favorite dishes. These two servitors were aware that their mistress + was laboring under some unusual stress of emotion. In its presence big + Steven, who, with the slightest encouragement, became a medium through + which the odds and ends of plantation gossip reached Betty's ears, held + himself to silence; while little Steve ceased to shift his weight from + foot to foot, the very dearth of speech fixed his attention. + </p> + <p> + The long French windows, their curtains drawn, stood open. All day a hot + September sun had beaten upon the earth, but with the fall of twilight a + soft wind had sprung up and the candles in their sconces flared at its + touch. It came out of wide solitudes laden with the familiar night sounds. + It gave Betty a sense of vast unused spaces, of Belle Plain clinging on + the edge of an engulfing wilderness, of her own loneliness. She needed + Charley as much as he seemed to think he needed her. The life she had been + living had become suddenly impossible of continuance; that it had ever + been possible was because of Charley; she knew this now as she had never + known it before. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts dealt with the past. In her one great grief, her mother's + death, it had been Charley who had sustained and comforted her. She was + conscious of a choking sense of gratitude as she recalled his patient + tenderness at that time, the sympathy and understanding he had shown; it + was something never to be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Unrest presently sent her from the house. She wandered down to the + terrace. Before her was the wide sweep of the swampy fore-shore, and + beyond just beginning to silver in the moonlight, the bend of the river + growing out of the black void. With her eyes on the river and her hands + clasped loosely she watched the distant line of the Arkansas coast grow up + against the sky; she realized that the moon was rising on Betty Malroy for + the last time. + </p> + <p> + She liked Charley; she needed some one to take care of her and her + belongings, and he needed her. It was best for them both that she should + marry him. True she might have gone back to Judith Ferris; that would have + been one solution of her difficulties. Why hadn't she thought of doing + this before? Of course, Charley would have followed her East. Charley met + the ordinary duties and responsibilities of his position somewhat + recklessly; it was only where she was concerned that he became patiently + determined. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the end would have been the same there as here,” thought Betty. + </p> + <p> + A moment later she found herself wondering if Charley had told Carrington + yet; certainly the Kentuckian would not remain at Thicket Point when he + knew. She was sure she wished him to leave not Thicket Point merely, but + the neighborhood. She did not wish to see him again—not see him + again—not see him again—She found herself repeating the words + over and over; they shaped themselves into a dreadful refrain. A nameless + terror of the future swept in upon her. She was cold and sick. It was as + though an icy hand was laid upon her heart. The words ran on in endless + repetition—not see him again—they held the very soul of + tragedy for her, yet she was roused to passionate protest. She must not + think of him, he was nothing to her. She was to be married to another man, + even now she was almost a wife—but battle as she might the struggle + went on. + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of a step on the path. Betty turned, supposing it to + be Tom; but it was not Tom, it was Carrington himself who stood before + her, his face haggard and drawn. She uttered an involuntary exclamation + and shrank away from him. Without a word he stepped to her side and took + her hands rather roughly. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was silence between them, Betty stared up into his face + with wide scared eyes, while he gazed down at her as if he would fasten + something on his mind that must never be forgotten. Suddenly he lifted her + soft cold hands to his lips and kissed them passionately again and again; + then he held them in his own against his cheek, his glance still fixed + intently upon her; it held something of bitterness and reproach, but now + she kept her eyes under their quivering lids from him. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do without you?”—his voice was almost a whisper. “What + is this thing you have done?” Betty's heart was beating with dull + sickening throbs, but she dared not trust herself to answer him. He took + both her hands in one of his, and, slipping the other under her chin, + raised her face so that he could look into her eyes; then he put his arm + loosely about her, holding her hands against his breast. “If I could have + had one moment out of all the years for my own—only one. I am glad + you don't care, dear; it hurts when you reach the end of something that + has been all your hope and filled all your days. I have come to say + good-by, Betty; this is the last time I shall see you. I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + All in an instant Betty pressed close to him, hiding her face in his arm; + she clung to him in a panic of pain and horror. She felt something stir + within her that had never been there before, as a storm of passionate + longing swept through her. Her words, her promise to another man, became + as nothing. All her pride was forgotten. Without this man the days + stretched away before her a blank. His arm drew her closer still, until + she felt her heart throb against his. + </p> + <p> + “Do you care?” he said, and seemed to wonder that she should. + </p> + <p> + “Bruce, Bruce, I didn't know—and now—Oh, my dear, my dear—” + He pressed his lips against the bright little head that rested in such + miserable abandon against his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me?” he whispered. The blood ran riot in his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you stayed away—why didn't you come to me? I have promised + him—” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said, and shut his lips. There was another silence while she + waited for him to speak. She felt that she was at his mercy, that whether + right or wrong, as he decided so it would be. At length he said. “I + thought it wasn't fair to him, and it seemed so hopeless after I came + here. I had nothing—and a man feels that—so I kept away.” He + spoke awkwardly with something of the reserve that was habitual to him. + </p> + <p> + “If you had only come!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “I did—once,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't understand; why did you believe anything I said to you? It was + only that I cared—that in my heart I knew I cared—I've cared + about you ever since that trip down the river, and now I am going to be + married to-morrow—to-morrow, Bruce—do you realize I have given + my promise? I am to meet him at the Spring Bank church at ten o'clock—and + it's tomorrow!” she cried, in a laboring choked voice. For answer he drew + her closer. “Bruce, what can I do?—tell me what I can do.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington made an involuntary gesture of protest. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you that, dear—for I don't know.” His voice was + steady, but it came from lips that quivered. He knew that he might have + urged the supreme claim of his love and in her present desperate mood she + would have listened, but the memory of Norton would have been between them + always a shame and reproach; as surely as he stood there with his arms + about her, as surely as she clung to him so warm and near, he would have + lived to see the shadow of that shame in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can not do it—I can not, Bruce!” she panted. + </p> + <p> + “Dear—dear—don't tempt me!” He held himself in check. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you—just this once, Bruce—I love you—you + are my own for this one moment out of my life!” and she abandoned herself + to the passionate caressing with which he answered her. “How can I give + you up?” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He put her from him + almost roughly, and leaning against the trunk of a tree buried his face in + his hands. Betty watched him for a moment in wretched silence. + </p> + <p> + “Don't feel so bad, Bruce,” she said brokenly. “I am not worth it. I tried + not to love you—I didn't want to.” She raised a white face to his. + </p> + <p> + “I am going now, Betty. You—you shouldn't stay here any longer with + me.” He spoke with sudden resolution. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall not see you again?” she asked, in a low, stifled voice. + </p> + <p> + “It's good-by—” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet—oh, not yet, Bruce—” she implored. “I can not—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—now, dear. I don't dare stay—I may forget—” but he + turned again to her in entreaty. “Give me something to remember in all the + years that are coming when I shall be alone—let me kiss you on the + lips—let me—just this once—it's good-by we're saying—it's + good-by, Betty!” + </p> + <p> + She went to him, and, as he bent above her, slipped her arms about his + neck. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me—” she breathed. + </p> + <p> + He kissed her hair, her soft cheek, then their lips met. + </p> + <p> + He helped her as she stumbled blindly along the path to the house, and + half lifted her up the steps to the door. They paused there for a moment. + At last he turned from her abruptly in silence. A step away he halted. + </p> + <p> + “If you should ever need me—” “Never as now,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She saw his tall figure pass down the path, and her straining eyes + followed until it was lost in the mild wide spaces of the night. + </p> + <p> + Another hot September sun was beating upon the earth as Betty galloped + down the lane and swung her horse's head in the direction of Raleigh. Her + grief had worn itself out and she carried a pale but resolute face. + Carrington was gone; she would keep her promise to Charley and he should + never know what his happiness had cost her. She nerved herself for their + meeting; somewhere between Belle Plain and Thicket Point Norton would be + waiting for her. + </p> + <p> + He joined her before she had covered a third of the distance that + separated the two plantations. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, my darling!” he cried fervently, as he ranged up alongside of + her. + </p> + <p> + “Then you weren't sure of me, Charley?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wasn't sure, Betty—but I hoped. I have been haunting the road + for more than an hour. You are making one poor unworthy devil happy, + unless—” + </p> + <p> + “Unless what, Charley?” she prompted. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you came here merely to tell me that after all you couldn't marry + me.” He put out his hand and covered hers that held the reins. “I'll never + give you cause to regret it—you know how I love you, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Charley—I know.” She met his glance bravely. + </p> + <p> + “We are to go to the church. Mr. Bowen will be there; I arranged with him + last night; he will drive over with his wife and daughter, who will be our + witnesses, dear. We could have gone to his house, but I thought it would + seem more like a real wedding in a church, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Betty did not answer him, her eyes were fixed straight ahead, the last + vestige of color had faded from her face and a deathly pallor was there. + This was the crowning horror. She felt the terrible injustice she was + doing the man at her side, the depth and sincerity of his devotion was + something for which she could make no return. Her lips trembled on the + verge of an avowal of her love for Carrington. Presently she saw the + church in its grove of oaks, in the shade of one of these stood Mr. + Bowen's horse and buggy. + </p> + <p> + “We won't have to wait on him!” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + “No—” Betty gasped out the monosyllable. + </p> + <p> + “Why—my darling—what's the matter?” he asked tenderly, his + glance bent in concern on the frightened face of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing, Charley.” + </p> + <p> + They had reined in their horses. Norton sprang to the ground and lifted + her from the saddle. + </p> + <p> + “It will only take a moment, dear!” he whispered encouragingly in the + brief instant he held her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Charley, it isn't that—it's dreadfully serious—” she + said, with a wild little laugh that was almost hysterical. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have it less than that,” he said gravely. + </p> + <p> + Afterward Betty could remember standing before the church in the fierce + morning light; she heard Mr. Bowen's voice, she heard Charley's voice, she + heard another voice—her own, though she scarcely recognized it. + Then, like one aroused from a dream, she looked about her—she met + Charley's glance; his face was radiant and she smiled back at him through + a sudden mist that swam before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bowen led her toward the church door. As they neared it they caught + the clatter of hoofs, and Tom Ware on a hard-ridden horse dashed up; he + was covered with dust and inarticulate with rage. Then a cry came from him + that was like the roar of some mortally wounded animal. + </p> + <p> + “I forbid this marriage!” he shrieked, when he could command speech. + </p> + <p> + “You're too late to stop it, Tom, but you can attend it,” said Norton + composedly. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—” Words failed the planter; he sat his horse the + picture of a grim and sordid despair. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bowen divided a look of reproach between his wife and daughter; his + own conscience was clear; he had told no one of the purpose of Norton's + call the night before. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tie the horses, Betty,” said Norton. + </p> + <p> + Ware turned fiercely to Bowen. + </p> + <p> + “You knew better than to be a party to this, and by God!—if you go + on with it you shall live to regret it!” + </p> + <p> + The minister made him no answer, he thoroughly disapproved of the planter. + It was well that Betty should have a proper protector, this half-brother + was hardly that measured by any standard. + </p> + <p> + Norton, leading the horses, had reached the edge of the oaks when from the + silent depths of the denser woods came the sharp report of a rifle. The + shock of the bullet sent the young fellow staggering back among the mossy + and myrtle-covered graves. + </p> + <p> + For a moment no one grasped what had happened, only there was Norton who + seemed to grope strangely among the graves. Black spots danced before his + eyes, the little group by the church merged into the distance—always + receding, always more remote, as he, stumbled helplessly over the moss and + the thick dank myrtle and among the round graves that gave him a + treacherous footing; and then he heard Betty's agonized cry. He had fallen + now, and his strength went from him, but he kept his face turned on the + group before the church in mute appeal, and even as the shadows deepened + he was aware that Betty was coming swiftly toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm shot—” he said, speaking with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Charley—Charley—” she moaned, slipping her strong young arms + about him and gathering him to her breast. + </p> + <p> + He looked up into her face. + </p> + <p> + “It's all over—” he said, but as much in wonder as in fear. “But I + knew you would come to me—dear—” he added in a whisper. She + felt a shudder pass through him. He did not speak again. His lips opened + once, and closed on silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE JUDGE OFFERS A REWARD + </h2> + <p> + The news of Charley Norton's murder spread quickly over the county. For + two or three days bands of armed men scoured the woods and roads, and then + this activity quite unproductive of any tangible results ceased, matters + were allowed to rest with the constituted authorities, namely Mr. Betts + the sheriff, and his deputies. + </p> + <p> + No private citizen had shown greater zeal than Judge Slocum Price, no + voice had clamored more eloquently for speedy justice than his. He had + sustained a loss that was in a peculiar sense personal, he explained. Mr. + Norton was his friend and client; they had much in common; their political + ideals were in the strictest accord and he had entertained a most + favorable opinion of the young man's abilities; he had urged him to enter + the national arena and carve out a career for himself; he had promised him + his support. The judge so worked upon his own feelings that presently any + mention of Norton's name utterly unmanned him. Well, this was life. One + could only claim time as it was doled out by clock ticks; we planned for + the years and could not be certain of the moments. + </p> + <p> + He spent two entire days at the church and in the surrounding woods, nor + did any one describe the murder with the vividness he achieved in his + description of it. The minister's narrative was pale and colorless by + comparison, and those who came from a distance went away convinced that + they had talked with an eyewitness to the tragedy and esteemed themselves + fortunate. In short, he imposed himself on the situation with such + brilliancy that in the end his account of the murder became the accepted + version from which all other versions differed to their discredit. + </p> + <p> + In the same magnificent spirit of public service he would have assumed the + direction of the search for the murderer, but Mr. Betts' jealousy proved + an obstacle to his ambitious design. In view of this he was regretful, but + not surprised when the hard-ridden miles covered by dusty men and reeking + horses yielded only failure. + </p> + <p> + “If I had shot that poor boy, I wouldn't ask any surer guarantee of safety + than to have that fool Betts with his microscopic brain working in + unhampered asininity on the case,” he told Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Is it your idea that you are enlarging your circle of intimate friends by + the way you go about slamming into folks?” inquired Mahaffy, with harsh + sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + Later, the judge was shocked at what he characterized as official apathy. + It became a point on which he expressed himself with surpassing candor. + </p> + <p> + “Do they think the murderer's going to come in and give himself up?—is + that the notion?” he demanded heatedly of Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “The sheriff owns himself beat, Sir; the murderer's got safely away and + left no clue to his identity.” + </p> + <p> + The judge waived this aside. + </p> + <p> + “Clues, sir? If you mean physical evidence the eye can apprehend, I grant + it; the murderer has got away; certainly he's been given all the time he + needed, but what about the motive that prompted the crime? An + intelligently conducted examination such as I am willing to undertake + might still bring it to light. Isn't it known that Norton was attacked a + fortnight ago as he was leaving Belle Plain? He recovers and is about to + be married to Miss Malroy when he is shot at the church door; I'll hazard + the opinion the attack was in the nature of a warning for him to keep away + from Belle Plain. Now, had he a rival? Clear up these points and you get a + clue!” The judge paused impressively. + </p> + <p> + “Tom Ware has acted in a straightforward manner. He's stated frankly he + was opposed to the match, that when he heard about it on his way to + Memphis he turned back and made every effort to get to the church in time + to stop it if he could,” said Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ware need not be considered,” observed the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's been a heap of talk.” + </p> + <p> + “If he'd inspired the firing of the fatal shot he'd have kept away from + the church. No, no, Mr. Saul, is there anybody hereabout who aspired to + Miss Malroy's hand—any rejected suitor?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that we know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Under ordinary circumstances, sir, I am opposed to measures that ignore + the constituted authorities, but we find ourselves living under + extraordinary conditions, and the law—God save the name—has + proved itself abortive. It is time for the better element to join bands; + we must get together, sir. I am willing to take the initial steps and + issue the call for a mass meeting of our best citizens. I am prepared to + address such a meeting.” The very splendor of his conception dazzled the + judge; this promised a gorgeous publicity with his name flying broadcast + over the county. He continued: + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to give my time gratuitously to directing the activities of a + body of picked men who shall rid the county of the lawless element. God + knows, sir, I desire the repose of a private career, yet I am willing to + sacrifice myself. Is it your opinion, Mr. Saul, that I should move in this + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I advise you didn't,” said Mr. Saul, with disappointing alacrity. + </p> + <p> + The judge looked at him fixedly. + </p> + <p> + “Am I wrong in supposing, Mr. Saul, that if I determine to act as I have + outlined I shall have your indorsement?” he demanded. Mr. Saul looked + extremely uncomfortable; he was finding the judge's effulgent personality + rather compelling. “There is no gentleman whose support I should value in + quite the same sense that I should value yours, Mr. Saul; I should like to + feel my course met with your full approval,” pursued the judge, with + charming deference. + </p> + <p> + “You'll get yourself shot full of holes,” said Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “What causes me to hesitate is this: my name is unfamiliar to your + citizens. You know their prejudices, Mr. Saul; how would they regard me if + I put myself forward?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't say how they would take it,” rejoined Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + Again the judge gave him a fixed scrutiny. Then ha shook him warmly by the + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Think of what I have said; ponder it, sir, and let me have your answer at + another time.” And he backed from Mr. Saul's presence with spectacular + politeness. + </p> + <p> + “A cheap mind!” thought the judge, as he hurried up the street. + </p> + <p> + He broached the subject to Mr. Wesley the postmaster, to Mr. Ellison the + gunsmith, to Mr. Pegloe, employing much the same formula he had used with + Mr. Saul, and with results almost identical. He imagined there must be + some conspiracy afoot to keep him out of the public eye, and in the end he + managed to lose his temper. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't Norton any friends?” he demanded of Pegloe. “Who's going to be + safe at this rate? We want to let some law into west Tennessee, a hanging + or two would clear the air!” His emotions became a rage that blew through + him like a gale, shaking him to his center. + </p> + <p> + Two mornings later he found where it had been placed under his door during + the night a folded paper. It contained a single line of writing: + </p> + <p> + “You talk too much. Shut up, or you'll go where Norton went.” + </p> + <p> + Now the judge was accessible to certain forms of fear. He was, for + instance, afraid of snakes—both kinds—and mobs he had dreaded + desperately since his Pleasantville experience; but beyond this, fear + remained an unexplored region to Slocum Price, and as he examined the + scrawl a smile betokening supreme satisfaction overspread his battered + features. He was agreeably affected by the situation; indeed he was + delighted. His activities were being recognized; he had made his + impression; the cutthroats had selected him to threaten. Well, the damned + rascals showed their good sense; he'd grant them that! Swelling with + pride, he carried the scrawl to Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “They are forming their estimate of me, Solomon; I shall have them on the + run yet!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “You are going out of your way to hunt trouble—as if you hadn't + enough at the best of times, Price! Let these people manage their own + affairs, don't you mix up in them,” advised the conservative Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + The judge drew himself up with an air of lofty pride. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am going to be silenced, intimidated, by this sort of + thing? No, sir! No, Solomon, the stopper isn't made that will fit my + mouth.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later he burst in on Mr. Saul. + </p> + <p> + “Glance at that, my friend!” he cried, as he tossed the paper on the + clerk's desk. “Eh, what?—no joke about that, Mr. Saul. I found it + under my door this morning.” Mr. Saul glanced at the penciled lines and + drew in his breath sharply. “What do you make of it, sir?” demanded the + judge anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, you'll do as you please, but I'd keep still.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you regard this as an authentic expression, sir, and not as the + joke of some irresponsible humorist?” + </p> + <p> + “It's authentic enough,” said Mr. Saul impatiently. + </p> + <p> + The judge gave a sigh of relief; he could have hugged the little clerk who + had put to rest certain miserable doubts that had assailed him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I wish it known that I hold the writer and his threats in contempt; + if I have given offense it is to an element I shall never seek to + conciliate.” Mr. Saul was clearly divided between his admiration for the + judge's courage and fear for his safety. “One thing is proven, sir,” the + judge went on; “the man who murdered that poor boy is in our midst; that + point can no longer be disputed. Now, where are their fine-spun theories + as to how he crossed to the Arkansas coast? What does their mass of + speculation and conjecture amount to in the face of this?” He breathed + deep. “My God, sir, the murderer may be the very next man you pass the + time of day with!” Mr. Saul shivered uncomfortably. “And the case in the + hands of that pin-headed fool, Betts!” The judge laughed derisively as he + bowed himself out. He left it with Mr. Saul to disseminate the news. The + judge strutted home with his hat cocked over one eye, and his chest + expanded to such limits that it menaced all his waistcoat buttons. Perhaps + he was under observation. Ah, let the cutthroats look their full at him! + </p> + <p> + He established himself in his office. He had scarcely done so when Mr. + Betts knocked at the door. The sheriff came direct from Mr. Saul and + arrived out of breath, but the letter was not mentioned by the judge. He + spoke of the crops, the chance of rain, and the intricacies of county + politics. The sheriff withdrew mystified, wondering why it was he had not + felt at liberty to broach the subject which was uppermost in his mind. His + place was taken by Mr. Pegloe, and on the heels of the tavern-keeper came + Mr. Bowen. Judge Price received them with condescension, but back of the + condescension was an air of reserve that did not invite questions. The + judge discussed the extension of the national roads with Mr. Pegloe, and + the religion of the Persian fire-worshipers with Mr. Bowen; he permitted + never a pause and they retired as the sheriff had done without sight of + the letter. + </p> + <p> + The judge's office became a perfect Mecca for the idle and the curious, + and while he overflowed with high-bred courtesy he had never seemed so + unapproachable—never so remote from matters of local and + contemporary interest. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you show 'em the letter?” demanded Mr. Mahaffy, when they were + alone. “Can't you see they are suffering for a sight of it?” + </p> + <p> + “All in good time, Solomon.” He became thoughtful. “Solomon, I am thinking + of offering a reward for any information that will lead to the discovery + of my anonymous correspondent,” he at length observed with a finely casual + air, as if the idea had just occurred to him, and had not been seething in + his brain all day. + </p> + <p> + “There you go, Price—” began Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, this is no time for me to hang back. I shall offer a reward of + five thousand dollars for this information.” The judge's tone was + resolute. “Yes, sir, I shall make the figure commensurate with the + poignant grief I feel. He was my friend and client—” The moisture + gathered in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I should think that fifty dollars was nearer to being your figure,” + suggested the cautious Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Inadequate and most insulting,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Well, where do you expect to get five thousand dollars?” cried Mahaffy in + a tone of absolute exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “Where would I get fifty?” inquired the judge mildly. + </p> + <p> + For once Mahaffy frankly owned himself beaten. A gleam of admiration lit + up his glance. + </p> + <p> + “Price, you have a streak of real greatness!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Before the day was over it was generally believed that the judge was + wearing his gag with humility; interest in him declined, still the public + would have been grateful for a sight of that letter. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, he's nothing but an old windbag!” said Mr. Pegloe to a group of + loungers gathered before his tavern in the early evening. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, the judge's door opened and that gentleman appeared on his + threshold with a lighted candle in each hand. Glancing neither to the + right nor the left he passed out and up the street. Not a breath of wind + was blowing and the flames of the two candles burnt clear and strong, + lighting up his stately advance. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of the court-house green stood a row of locust hitching + posts. Two of these the judge decorated with his candles, next he measured + off fifteen paces, strides as liberal as he could make them without + sacrifice to his dignity; he scored a deep line in the dust with the heel + of his boot, toed it squarely, and drew himself up to his fullest height. + His right hand was seen to disappear under the frayed tails of his coat, + it reappeared and was raised with a movement quicker than the eye could + follow and a pistol shot rang out. One of the candles was neatly snuffed. + </p> + <p> + The judge allowed himself a covert glance in the direction of the loungers + before the tavern. He was aware that a larger audience was assembling. A + slight smile relaxed the firm set of his lips. The remaining candle + sputtered feebly. The judge walked to the post and cleared the wick from + tallow with his thumb-nail. There was no haste in any of his movements; + his was the deliberation of conscious efficiency. Resuming his former + station back of the line he had drawn in the dusty road he permitted his + eye to gauge the distance afresh, then his hand was seen to pass deftly to + his left hip pocket, the long barrel of the rifle pistol was leveled, the + piece cracked, and the candle's yellow flame vanished. + </p> + <p> + The judge pocketed his pistol, walked down the street, and with never a + glance toward the tavern reentered his house. + </p> + <p> + The next morning it was discovered that sometime during the night the + judge had tacked his anonymous communication on the court-house door; just + below it was another sheet of paper covered with bold script: + </p> + <p> + “TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: Judge Slocum Price assumes that the above was + intended for him since he found it under his office door on the morning of + the twenty-fifth inst. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Price begs leave to state it as his unqualified conviction that the + writer is a coward and a cur, and offers a reward of five thousand dollars + for any information that will lead to his identification. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Price has stated that he would conduct an intelligently directed + investigation of the Norton murder mystery without remuneration. He has + the honor to assure his friends that he is still willing to do so; + however, he takes this opportunity to warn the public that each day's + delay is a matter of the utmost gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Furthermore, judge Price avails himself on this occasion to say that he + has no wish to avoid personal conclusions with the murderers and + cutthroats who are terrorizing this community; on the contrary, he will + continue earnestly to seek such personal conclusions.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. THE CABIN ACROSS THE BAYOU + </h2> + <p> + Tom Ware was seated alone over his breakfast. He had left his bed as the + pale morning light crept across the great fields that were alike his pride + and his despair—what was the use of trying to sleep when sleep was + an impossibility! The memory of that tragedy at the church door was a + black horror to him; it gave substance to his dreams, it brought him awake + with writhing lips that voiced his fear in the dead stillness of the + night. The days were scarcely less terrible. Steeled and resolute as his + will could make him, he was not able to speak of what he had seen with + composure. Being as he was in this terribly perturbed state he had shirked + his morning toilet and presented a proportionately haggard and unkempt + appearance. He was about to quit the table when big Steve entered the room + to say there was a white fellow at the door wished to see him. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him along in here,” said Ware briefly, without lifting his + bloodshot eyes. + </p> + <p> + Brought into his presence the white fellow delivered a penciled note which + proved to be from Murrell, and then on Ware's invitation partook of + whisky. When he was gone, the planter ordered his horse, and while he + waited for it to be brought up from the stables, reread Murrell's note. + The expression of his unprepossessing features indicated what was passing + in his mind, his mood was one of sullen rebellion. He felt Murrell was + bent on committing him to an aggregate of crime he would never have + considered possible, and all for love of a girl—a pink-cheeked, + white-faced chit of a girl—disgust boiled up within him, rage choked + him; this was the rotten spot in Murrell's make-up, the man was mad-stark + mad! + </p> + <p> + As Ware rode away from Belle Plain he cursed him under his breath with + vindictive thoroughness. His own inclination toward evil was never very + robust; he could have connived and schemed over a long period of years to + despoil Betty of her property, he would have counted this a legitimate + field for enterprise; but murder and abduction was quite another thing. He + would wash his hands of all further connection with Murrell, he had other + things to lose besides Belle Plain, and the present would be as good a + time as any to let the outlaw know he could be coerced and bullied no + longer. But he had a saving recollection of the way in which Murrell dealt + with what he counted treachery; an unguarded word, and he would not dare + to travel those roads even at broad noon-day, while to pass before a + lighted window at night would be to invite death; nowhere would he be + safe. + </p> + <p> + Three miles from Belle Plain he entered a bridle path that led toward the + river; he was now traversing a part of the Quintard tract. Two miles from + the point where he had quitted the main road he came out upon the shores + of a wide bayou. Looking across this he saw at a distance of half a mile + what seemed to be a clearing of considerable extent, it was the first sign + of human occupation he had seen since leaving Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + An impenetrable swamp defended the head of the bayou which he skirted. + Doubling back as though he were going to retrace his steps to Belle Plain, + finally he gained a position opposite the clearing which still showed + remotely across the wide reach of sluggish water. Here he dismounted and + tied his horse, then as one tolerably familiar with the locality and its + resources, he went down to the shore and launched a dugout which he found + concealed in some bushes; entering it he pointed its blunt bow in the + direction of the clearing opposite. A growth of small timber was still + standing along the water's edge, but as he drew nearer, those betterments + which the resident of that lonely spot had seen fit to make for his own + convenience, came under his scrutiny; these consisted of a log cabin and + several lesser sheds. Landing and securing his dug-out by the simple + expedient of dragging half its length out of the water, he advanced toward + the cabin. As he did so he saw two women at work heckling flax under an + open shed. They were the wife and daughter of George Hicks, his overseer's + brother. + </p> + <p> + “Morning, Mrs. Hicks,” he said, addressing himself to the mother, a + hulking ruffian of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, sir?” she answered. Her daughter glanced indifferently in Ware's + direction. She was a fine strapping girl, giving that sense of physical + abundance which the planter admired. + </p> + <p> + “They'd better keep her out of Murrell's way!” he thought; aloud he said, + “Anybody with the captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Fentress is.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” muttered Ware. He moved to the door of the cabin and pushing it + open, entered the room where Murrell and Fentress were seated facing each + other across the breakfast table. The planter nodded curtly. He had not + seen Murrell since the murder, and the sight of him quickened the spirit + of antagonism which he had been nursing. “You roust a fellow out early + enough!” he grumbled, rubbing his unshaven chin with the back of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid you'd be gone somewhere. Sit down—here, between the + colonel and me,” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what the devil do you want of me anyhow?” demanded the planter. + </p> + <p> + “How's your sister, Tom?” inquired Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon she's the way you'd expect her to be.” Ware dropped his voice to + a whisper. Those women were just the other side of the logs, he could hear + them at their work. + </p> + <p> + “Who's at Belle Plain now?” continued Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Bowen's wife and daughter have stayed,” answered Ware, still in a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “For how long, Tom? Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “They were to go home after breakfast this morning; the daughter's to come + out again to-morrow and stay with Betty until she leaves.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that you're saying?” cried Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “She's going back to North Carolina to those friends of hers; it's no + concern of mine, she does what she likes without consulting me.” There was + a brief pause during which Murrell scowled at the planter. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon your heart's tender, too!” he presently said. Ware's dull glance + shifted to Fentress, but the colonel's cold and impassive exterior forbade + the thought that his sympathy had been roused. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that,” Ware muttered, moistening his lips. He felt the utter + futility of opposition. “I am for letting things rest just where they + are,” again his voice slid into a husky whisper. “You'll be running all + our heads into a halter, the first thing you know—and this isn't any + place to talk over such matters, there are too many people about.” + </p> + <p> + “There's only Bess and the old woman busy outside,” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “What's to hinder them from sticking an ear to a chink in the logs?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, and finish what you've got to say, and get it off your mind,” said + Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I want to tell you that I consider you didn't regard me at + all in the way you managed that business at the church! If I had known + what was due to happen there, do you think I'd have gone near the place? + But you let me go! I met you on the road and you told me you'd learned + Norton had been to see Bowen, you told me that much, but you didn't tell + me near all you might!” Ware was bitter and resentful; again he felt the + sweat of a mortal terror drip from him. + </p> + <p> + “It was the best thing for you that it happened the way it did,” rejoined + Murrell coolly. “No one will ever think you had a hand in it.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't right! You placed me in the meanest kind of a situation,” + objected Ware sullenly, mopping his face. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I was going to let the marriage take place? You knew he had + been warned to keep away from her,” said Murrell. There was a movement + overhead in the loft, the loose clapboards with which it was floored + creaked under a heavy tread. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that? Hicks?” asked Ware. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't Hicks—never mind who it is, Tom,” answered Murrell + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd sent him out of the county?” muttered Ware, his face + livid. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Tom, I don't ask your help, but I won't stand your + interference. I'm going to have the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “John, you'll ruin yourself with your damned crazy infatuation!” It was + Fentress, no longer able to control himself, who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't, Colonel, but I'm not going to discuss that. All I want is + for Tom to go to Memphis and stay there for a couple of days. When he + comes back Belle Plain and its niggers will be as good as his. I am going + to take the girl away from there to-night. I don't ask your help and you + needn't ask what comes of her afterward. That will be my affair.” + Murrell's burning eyes shifted from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “A beautiful and accomplished young lady—a great heiress—is to + disappear and no solution of the mystery demanded by the public at large!” + said Fentress with an acid smile. Murrell laughed contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “What's all this fuss over Norton's death amounted to?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you have come to the end of that, John?” inquired Fentress, + still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I don't propose to debate this further,” rejoined Murrell haughtily. + Instantly the colonel's jaw became rigid. The masterful airs of this + cutthroat out of the hills irked him beyond measure. Murrell turned to + Ware. + </p> + <p> + “How soon can you get away from here, Tom?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “By God, I can't go too soon!” cried the planter, staggering to his feet. + He gave Fentress a hopeless beaten look. “You're my witness that first and + last I've no part in this!” he added. + </p> + <p> + The colonel merely shrugged his shoulders. Murrell reached out a detaining + hand and rested it on Ware's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your wits about you, Tom, and within a week people will have + forgotten all about Norton and your sister. I am going to give them + something else to worry over.” + </p> + <p> + Ware went from the cabin, and as the door swung shut Fentress faced + Murrell across the table. + </p> + <p> + “I've gone as far with you in this affair as I can go; after all, as you + say, it is a private matter. You reap the benefits—you and Tom + between you—I shall give you a wide berth until you come to your + senses. Frankly, if you think that in this late day in the world you can + carry off an unwilling girl, your judgment is faulty.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Colonel—how do you know she is going to prove unwilling?” + objected Murrell, grinning. + </p> + <p> + Fentress gave him a glance of undisguised contempt and rose from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I admit your past successes, John—that is, I take your word for + them—but Miss Malroy is a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard enough!” said Murrell angrily. + </p> + <p> + “So have I, John,” retorted the colonel in a tone that was unvexed but + final, “and I shall count it a favor if you will never refer to her in my + hearing.” He moved in the direction of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you and I are not going to lose our tempers over this!” began + Murrell. “Come, sit down again, Colonel!” he concluded with great good + nature. + </p> + <p> + “We shall never agree, John—you have one idea and I another.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll let the whole matter drop out of our talk. Look here, how about the + boy—are you ready for him if I can get my hands on him?” + </p> + <p> + Fentress considered. From the facts he had gathered he knew that the man + who called himself Judge Price must soon run his course in Raleigh, and + then as inevitably push out for fresh fields. Any morning might find him + gone and the boy with him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't take him to my place as I had intended doing; under the + circumstances that is out of the question,” he said at length. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; but I'll send him either up or down the river and place him in + safe keeping where you can get him any time you want.” + </p> + <p> + “This must be done without violence, John!” stipulated Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I understand that perfectly well. It wouldn't suit your + schemes to have that brace of old sots handled by the Clan. Which shall it + be—up or down river?” + </p> + <p> + “Could you take care of him for me below, at Natchez?” inquired Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “As well there as anywhere, Colonel, and he'll pass into safe hands; he + won't give me the slip the second time!” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Fentress, and took his leave. + </p> + <p> + From the window Murrell watched him cross the clearing, followed by the + girl, Bess, who was to row him over to the opposite shore. He reflected + that these men—the Wares and Fentresses and their like—were + keen enough where they had schemes of their own they wished put through; + it was only when he reached out empty hands that they reckoned the + consequences. + </p> + <p> + Three-quarters of an hour slipped by, then, piercing the silence, Murrell + heard a shrill whistle; it was twice repeated; he saw Bess go down to the + landing again. A half-hour elapsed and a man issued from the scattering + growth of bushes that screened the shore. The new-comer crossed the + clearing and entered the cabin. He was a young fellow of twenty-four or + five, whose bronzed and sunburnt face wore a somewhat reckless expression. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Captain, what's doing?” he asked, as he shook hands with Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “I've been waiting for you, Hues,” said Murrell. He continued, “I reckon + the time's here when nothing will be gained by delay.” + </p> + <p> + Hues dropped down on a three-legged stool and looked at the outlaw fixedly + and in silence for a moment. At length he nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” + </p> + <p> + “If anything's to be done, now is the time. What have you to report?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've seen the council of each Clan division. They are ripe to start + this thing off.” + </p> + <p> + Murrell gave him a moment of moody regard. + </p> + <p> + “Twice already I've named the day and hour, but now I'm going to put it + through!” He set his teeth and thrust out his jaw. + </p> + <p> + “Captain, you're the greatest fellow in America! Inside of a week men who + have never been within five hundred miles of you will be asking each other + who John Murrell is!” + </p> + <p> + Murrell had expected to part with Hues then and there and for all time, + but Hues possessed qualities which might still be of use to him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect to do for yourself?” he demanded. The other laughed + shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Captain, I'm going to get rich while I have the chance. Ain't that what + we are all after?” + </p> + <p> + “How?” inquired Murrell quietly. Hues shifted his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sensitive about calling things by their short names;” he gave way to + easy laughter; “but if you've got anything special you're saving for + yourself, I'm free to say I'd rather take chances with you than with + another,” he finished carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Hues, you must start back across Tennessee. Make it Sunday at midnight—that's + three days off.” Unconsciously his voice sank to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Sunday at midnight,” repeated Hues slowly. + </p> + <p> + “When you have passed the word into middle Tennessee, turn south and make + the best of your way to New Orleans. Don't stop for anything—push + through as fast as you can. You'll find me there. I've a notion you and I + will quit the country together.” + </p> + <p> + “Quit the country! Why, Captain, who's talking of quitting the country?” + </p> + <p> + “You speak as though you were fool enough to think the niggers would + accomplish something!” said Murrell coolly. “There will be confusion at + first, but there are enough white men in the southwest to handle a heap + better organized insurrection than we'll be able to set going. Our fellows + will have to use their heads as well as their hands or they are likely to + help the nigger swallow his medicine. I look for nothing else than + considerable of a shake-up along the Mississippi... what with lynchers and + regulators a man will have to show a clean bill of health to be allowed to + live, no matter what his color—just being white won't help him any!” + </p> + <p> + “No, you're right, it won't!” and again Hues gave way to easy laughter. + </p> + <p> + “When you've done your work you strike south as I tell you and join me. + I'm going to keep New Orleans for myself—it's my ambition to destroy + the city Old Hickory saved!” + </p> + <p> + “And then it's change your name and strike out for Texas with what you've + picked up!” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't! I'll have my choice of men—a river full of ships. + Look here, there's South America, or some of those islands in the gulf + with a black-and-tan population and a few white mongrels holding on to + civilization by their eye-teeth; what's to hinder our setting up shop for + ourselves? Two or three hundred Americans could walk off with an island + like Hayti, for instance—and it's black with niggers. What we'd done + here would be just so much capital down there. We'd make it a + stamping-ground for the Clan! In the next two years we could bring in a + couple of thousand Americans and then we'd be ready to take over their + government, whether they liked it or not, and run it at a profit. We'd put + the niggers back in slavery where they belong, and set them at work + raising sugar and tobacco for their new bosses. Man, it's the richest land + in the world, I tell you—and the mountains are full of gold!” + </p> + <p> + Hues had kindled with a ready enthusiasm while Murrell was speaking. + </p> + <p> + “That sounds right, Captain—we'd have a country and a flag of our + own—and I look at those free niggers as just so much boot!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall take only picked men with me—I can't give ship room to any + other—but I want you. You'll join me in New Orleans?” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “When do you start south?” asked Hues quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Inside of two days. I've got some private business to settle before I + leave. I'll hang round here until that's attended to.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THE JUDGE EXTENDS HIS CREDIT + </h2> + <p> + That afternoon Judge Price walked out to Belle Plain. Solomon Mahaffy had + known that this was a civility Betty Malroy could by no means escape. He + had been conscious of the judge's purpose from the moment it existed in + the germ state, and he had striven to divert him, but his striving had + been in vain, for though the judge valued Mr. Mahaffy because of certain + sterling qualities which he professed to discern beneath the hard crust + that made up the external man, he was not disposed to accept him as his + mentor in nice matters of taste and gentlemanly feeling. He owed it to + himself personally to tender his sympathy. Miss Malroy must have heard + something of the honorable part he had played; surely she could not be in + ignorance of the fact that the lawless element, dreading his further + activities, had threatened him. She must know, too, about that reward of + five thousand dollars. Certainly her grief could not blind her to the fact + that he had met the situation with a largeness of public spirit that was + an impressive lesson to the entire community.' + </p> + <p> + These were all points over which he and Mahaffy had wrangled, and he felt + that his friend, in seeking to keep him away from Belle Plain, was + standing squarely in his light. He really could not understand Solomon or + his objections. He pointed out that Norton had probably left a will—no + one knew yet—probably his estate would go to his intended wife—what + more likely? He understood Norton had cousins somewhere in middle + Tennessee—there was the attractive possibility of extended + litigation. Miss Malroy needed a strong, clear brain to guide her past + those difficulties his agile fancy assembled in her path. He beamed on his + friend with a wide sunny smile. + </p> + <p> + “You mean she needs a lawyer, Price?” insinuated Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “That slap at me, Solomon, is unworthy of you. Just name some one, will + you, who has shown an interest comparable to mine? I may say I have + devoted my entire energy to her affairs, and with disinterestedness. I + have made myself felt. Will you mention who else these cutthroats have + tried to browbeat and frighten? They know that my theories and conclusions + are a menace to them! I got 'em in a panic, sir—presently some + fellow will lose his nerve and light out for the tall timber—and it + will be just Judge Slocum Price who's done the trick—no one else!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you looking for some one to take a pot shot at you?” inquired Mahaffy + sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Your remark uncovers my fondest hope, Solomon—I'd give five years + of my life just to be shot at—that would round out the episode of + the letter nicely;” again the judge beamed on Mahaffy with that wide and + sunny smile of his. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you let the boy go alone, Price?” suggested Mahaffy. He lacked + that sense of sublime confidence in the judge's tact and discretion of + which the judge, himself, entertained never a doubt. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not obtrude myself, Solomon; I shall merely walk out to Belle + Plain and leave a civil message. I know what's due Miss Malroy in her + bereaved state—she has sustained no ordinary loss, and in no + ordinary fashion. She has been the center of a striking and profoundly + moving tragedy! I would give a good deal to know if my late client left a + will—” + </p> + <p> + “You might ask her,” said Mahaffy cynically. “Nothing like going to + headquarters for the news!” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, Solomon, give me credit for common sense—go further, and + give me credit for common decency! Don't let us forget that ever since we + came here she has manifested a charmingly hospitable spirit where we are + concerned!” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't charity hit nearer the mark, Price?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never so regarded it, Solomon,” said the judge mildly. “I have + read a different meaning in the beef and flour and potatoes she's sent + here. I expect if the truth could be known to us she is wondering in the + midst of her grief why I haven't called, but she'll appreciate the + considerate delicacy of a gentleman. I wish it were possible to get cut + flowers in this cussed wilderness!” + </p> + <p> + The judge had been occupied with a simple but ingenious toilet. He had + trimmed the frayed skirts of, his coat; then by turning his cuffs inside + out and upside down a fresh surface made its first public appearance. Next + his shoes had engaged his attention. They might have well discouraged a + less resolute and resourceful character, but with the contents of his + ink-well he artfully colored his white yarn socks where they showed though + the rifts in the leather. This the judge did gaily, now humming a snatch + of song, now listening civilly to Mahaffy, now replying with undisturbed + cheerfulness. Last of all he clapped his dingy beaver on his head, giving + it an indescribably jaunty slant, and stepped to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, wish me luck, Solomon, I'm off—come, Hannibal!” he said. At + heart he cherished small hope of seeing Betty, advantageous as he felt an + interview might prove. However, on reaching Belle Plain he and Hannibal + were shown into the cool parlor by little Steve. It was more years than + the judge cared to remember since he had put his foot inside such a house, + but with true grandeur of soul he rose to the occasion; a sublimated + dignity shone from every battered feature, while he fixed little Steve + with so fierce a glance that the grin froze on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You are to say that judge Slocum Price presents his compliments and + condolences to Miss Malroy—have you got that straight, you pinch of + soot?” he concluded affably. Little Steve, impressed alike by the judge's + air of condescension and his easy flow of words, signified that he had. + “You may also say that judge Price's ward, young Master Hazard, presents + his compliments and condolences—” What more the judge might have + said was interrupted by the entrance of Betty, herself. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady—” the judge bowed, then he advanced toward her + with the solemnity of carriage and countenance he deemed suitable to the + occasion, and her extended hand was engulfed between his two plump palms. + He rolled his eyes heavenward. “It's the Lord's to deal with us as His own + inscrutable wisdom dictates,” he murmured with pious resignation. “We are + all poorer, ma'am, that he has died—just as we were richer while he + lived!” The rich cadence of the judge's speech fell sonorously on the + silence, and that look of horror which had never quite left Betty's eyes + since they saw Charley Norton fall, rose out of their clear depths again. + The judge, instantly stricken with a sense of the inadequacy of his words, + doubled on his spiritual tracks. “In a round-about way, ma'am, we're bound + to believe in the omnipresence of Providence—we must think it—though + a body might be disposed to hold that west Tennessee had got out of the + line of divine supervision recently. Let me lead you to a chair, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal had slipped to Betty's side and placed his hand in hers. The + judge regarded the pair with great benevolence of expression. “He would + come, and I hadn't the heart to forbid it. If I can be of any service to + you, ma'am, either in the capacity of a friend—or professionally—I + trust you will not hesitate to command me—” The judge backed toward + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Did you walk out, Judge Price?” asked Betty kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more than a healthful exercise—but we will not detain you, + ma'am; the pleasure of seeing you is something we had not reckoned on!” + The judge's speech was thick and unctuous with good feeling. He wished + that Mahaffy might have been there to note the reserve and dignity of his + deportment. + </p> + <p> + “But you must let me order luncheon for you,” said Betty. At least this + questionable old man was good to Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't think of it, ma'am—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have a glass of wine, then,” urged Betty hospitably. For the + moment she had lost sight of what was clearly the judge's besetting sin. + </p> + <p> + The judge paused abruptly. He endured a moment of agonizing irresolution. + </p> + <p> + “On the advice of my physician I dare not touch wine—gout, ma'am, + and liver—but this restriction does not apply to corn whisky—in + moderation, and as a tonic—either before meals, immediately after + meals or at any time between meals—always keeping in mind the idea + of its tonic properties—” The judge seemed to mellow and ripen. This + was much better than having the dogs sicked on you! His manner toward + Betty became almost fatherly. Poor young thing, so lonely and desolate in + the midst of all this splendor—he surreptitiously wiped away a tear, + and when little Steve presented himself and was told to bring whisky, + audibly smacked his lips—a whole lot better, surely! + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you think you must hurry away, Judge Price,” said Betty. She + still retained the small brown hand Hannibal had thrust into hers. + </p> + <p> + “The eastern mail gets in to-day, ma'am, and I have reason to think my + share of it will be especially heavy, for it brings the bulk of my + professional correspondence.” In ten years the judge had received just one + communication by mail—a bill which had followed him through four + states and seven counties. “I expect my secretary—” boldly fixing + Solomon Mahaffy's status, “is already dipping into it; an excellent + assistant, ma'am, but literary rather than legal.” + </p> + <p> + Little Steve reappeared bearing a silver tray on which was a decanter and + glass. + </p> + <p> + “Since you insist, ma'am,” the judge poured himself a drink, “my best + respects—” he bowed profoundly. + </p> + <p> + “If you are quite willing, judge, I think I will keep Hannibal. Miss + Bowen, who has been here—since—” her voice broke suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, ma'am,” said the judge soothingly. He gave her a glance of + great concern and turned to Hannibal. “Dear lad, you'll be very quiet and + obedient, and do exactly as Miss Malroy says? When shall I come for him, + ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send him to you when he is ready to go home. I am thinking of + visiting my friends in North Carolina, and I should like to have him spend + as much time as possible with me before I start for the East.” + </p> + <p> + It had occurred to Betty that she had done little or nothing for the + child; probably this would be her last opportunity. + </p> + <p> + The state of the judge's feelings was such that with elaborate absence of + mind he poured himself a second drink of whisky; and that there should be + no doubt the act was one of inadvertence, said again, “My best respects, + ma'am,” and bowed as before. Putting down the glass he backed toward the + door. + </p> + <p> + “I trust you will not hesitate to call upon me if I can be of any use to + you, ma'am—a message will bring me here without a moment's delay.” + He was rather disappointed that no allusion had been made to his recent + activities. He reasoned correctly that Betty was as yet in ignorance of + the somewhat dangerous eminence he had achieved as the champion of law and + order. However, he reflected with satisfaction that Hannibal, in + remaining, would admirably serve his ends. + </p> + <p> + Betty insisted that he should be driven home, and after faintly + protesting, the judge gracefully yielded the point, and a few moments + later rolled away from Belle Plain behind a pair of sleek-coated bays, + with a negro in livery on the box. He was conscious of a great sense of + exaltation. He felt that he should paralyze Mahaffy. He even temporarily + forgot the blow his hopes had sustained when Betty spoke of returning to + North Carolina. This was life—broad acres and niggers—principally + to trot after you toting liquor—and such liquor!—he lolled + back luxuriantly with half-closed eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty years in the wood if an hour!” he muttered. “I'd like to have just + such a taste in my mouth when I come to die—and probably she has + barrels of it!” he sighed deeply, and searched his soul for words with + which adequately to describe that whisky to Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + But why not do more than paralyze Solomon—that would be pleasant but + not especially profitable. The judge came back quickly to the vexed + problem of his future. He desired to make some striking display of Miss + Malroy's courtesy. He knew that his credit was experiencing the pangs of + an early mortality; he was not sensitive, yet for some days he had been + sensible of the fact that what he called the commercial class was viewing + him with open disfavor, but he must hang on in Raleigh a little longer—for + him it had become the abode of hope. The judge considered the matter. At + least he could let people see something of that decent respect with which + Miss Malroy treated him. + </p> + <p> + They were entering Raleigh now, and he ordered the coachman to pull his + horses down to a walk. He had decided to make use of the Belle Plain + turnout in creating an atmosphere of confidence and trust—especially + trust. To this end he spent the best part of an hour interviewing his + creditors. It amounted almost to a mass-meeting of the adult male + population, for he had no favorites. When he invaded virgin territory he + believed in starting the largest possible number of accounts without + delay. The advantage of his system, as he explained its workings to + Mahaffy, was that it bred a noble spirit of emulation. He let it be known + in a general way that things were looking up with him; just in what + quarter he did not specify, but there he was, seated in the Belle Plain + carriage and the inference was unavoidable that Miss Malroy was to + recognize his activities in a substantial manner. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy, loafing away the afternoon in the county clerk's office, heard of + the judge's return. He heard that Charley Norton had left a will; that + Thicket Point went to Miss Malroy; that the Norton cousins in middle + Tennessee were going to put up a fight; that Judge Price had been retained + as counsel by Miss Malroy; that he was authorized to begin an independent + search for Charley Norton's murderer, and was to spare no expense; that + Judge Price was going to pay his debts. Mahaffy grinned at this and + hurried home. He could believe all but the last, that was the crowning + touch of unreality. + </p> + <p> + The judge explained the situation. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't withhold hope from any man, Solomon; it's the cheapest thing + in the world and the one thing we are most miserly about extending to our + fellows. These people all feel better—and what did it cost me?—just + a little decent consideration; just the knowledge of what the unavoidable + associations of ideas in their own minds would do for them!” + </p> + <p> + What had seemed the corpse of credit breathed again, and the judge and + Mahaffy immediately embarked upon a characteristic celebration. Early + candlelight found them making a beginning; midnight came—the gray + and purple of dawn—and they were still at it, back of closed doors + and shuttered windows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. BETTY LEAVES BELLE PLAIN + </h2> + <p> + Hannibal had devoted himself loyally to the judge's glorification, and + Betty heard all about the letter, the snuffing of the candles and the + reward of five thousand dollars. It vastly increased the child's sense of + importance and satisfaction when he discovered she had known nothing of + these matters until he told her of them. + </p> + <p> + “Why, where would Judge Price get so much money, Hannibal?” she asked, + greatly astonished. + </p> + <p> + “He won't have to get it, Miss Betty; Mr. Mahaffy says he don't reckon no + one will ever tell who wrote the letter—he 'lows the man who done + that will keep pretty mum—he just dassent tell!” the boy explained. + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not—” and Betty saw that perhaps, after all, the + judge had not assumed any very great financial responsibility. “He can't + be a coward, though, Hannibal!” she added, for she understood that the + risk of personal violence which he ran was quite genuine. She had formed + her own unsympathetic estimate of him that day at Boggs' race-track; + Mahaffy in his blackest hour could have added nothing to it. Twice since + then she had met him in Raleigh, which had only served to fix that first + impression. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty, he's just like my Uncle Bob was—he ain't afraid of + nothing! He totes them pistols of his—loaded—if you notice + good you can see where they bulge out his coat!” Hannibal's eyes, very + round and big, looked up into hers. + </p> + <p> + “Is he as poor as he seems, Hannibal?” inquired Betty. + </p> + <p> + “He never has no money, Miss Betty, but I don't reckon he's what a body + would call pore.” + </p> + <p> + It might have baffled a far more mature intelligence than Hannibal's to + comprehend those peculiar processes by which the judge sustained himself + and his intimate fellowship with adversity—that it was his + magnificence of mind which made the squalor of his daily life seem merely + a passing phase—but the boy had managed to point a delicate + distinction, and Betty grasped something of the hope and faith which never + quite died out in Slocum Price's indomitable breast. + </p> + <p> + “But you always have enough to eat, dear?” she questioned anxiously. + Hannibal promptly reassured her on this point. “You wouldn't let me think + anything that was not true, Hannibal—you are quite sure you have + never been hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, Miss Betty; honest!” + </p> + <p> + Betty gave a sigh of relief. She had been reproaching herself for her + neglect of the child; she had meant to do so much for him and had done + nothing! Now it was too late for her personally to interest herself in his + behalf, yet before she left for the East she would provide for him. If she + had felt it was possible to trust the judge she would have made him her + agent, but even in his best aspect he seemed a dubious dependence. Tom, + for quite different reasons, was equally out of the question. She thought + of Mr. Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man is Mr. Mahaffy, Hannibal?” + </p> + <p> + “He's an awful nice man, Miss Betty, only he never lets on; a body's got + to find it out for his own self—he ain't like the judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he—drink, too, Hannibal?” questioned Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; when he can get the licker, he does.” It was evident that + Hannibal was cheerfully tolerant of this weakness on the part of the + austere Mahaffy. By this time Betty was ready to weep over the child, with + his knowledge of shabby vice, and his fresh young faith in those old + tatterdemalions. + </p> + <p> + “But, no matter what they do, they are very, very kind to you?” she + continued quite tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am—why, Miss Betty, they're lovely men!” + </p> + <p> + “And do you ever hear the things spoken of you learned about at Mrs. + Ferris' Sunday-school?” + </p> + <p> + “When the judge is drunk he talks a heap about 'em. It's beautiful to hear + him then; you'd love it, Miss Betty,” and Hannibal smiled up sweetly into + her face. + </p> + <p> + “Does he have you go to Sunday-school in Raleigh?” + </p> + <p> + The boy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got no clothes that's fitten to wear, nor no pennies to give, but + the judge, he 'lows that as soon as he can make a raise I got to go, and + he's learning me my letters—but we ain't a book. Miss Betty, I + reckon it'd stump you some to guess how he's fixed it for me to learn?” + </p> + <p> + “He's drawn the letters for you, is that the way?” In spite of herself, + Betty was experiencing a certain revulsion of feeling where the judge and + Mahaffy were concerned. They were doubtless bad enough, but they could + have been worse. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; he done soaked the label off one of Mr. Pegloe's whisky + bottles and pasted it on the wall just as high as my chin, so's I can see + it good, and he's learning me that-a-ways! Maybe you've seen the kind of + bottle I mean—Pegloe's Mississippi Pilot: Pure Corn Whisky?” But + Hannibal's bright little face fell. He was quick to see that the + educational system devised by the judge did not impress Betty at all + favorably. She drew him into her arms. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have my books—the books I learned to read out of when I + was a little girl, Hannibal!” + </p> + <p> + “I like learning from the label pretty well,” said Hannibal loyally. + </p> + <p> + “But you'll like the books better, dear, when you see them. I know just + where they are, for I happened on them on a shelf in the library only the + other day.” + </p> + <p> + After they had found and examined the books and Hannibal had grudgingly + admitted that they might possess certain points of advantage over the + label, he and Betty went out for a walk. It was now late afternoon and the + sun was sinking behind the wall of the forest that rose along the Arkansas + coast. Their steps had led them to the terrace where they stood looking + off into the west. It was here that Betty had said good-by to Bruce + Carrington—it might have been months ago, and it was only days. She + thought of Charley—Charley, with his youth and hope and high courage—unwittingly + enough she had led him on to his death! A sob rose in her throat. + </p> + <p> + Hannibal looked up into her face. The memory of his own loss was never + very long absent from his mind, and Miss Betty had been the victim of a + similarly sinister tragedy. He recalled those first awful days of + loneliness through which he had lived, when there was no Uncle Bob—soft-voiced, + smiling and infinitely companionable. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Hannibal, you are crying—what about, dear?” asked Betty + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; I ain't crying,” said Hannibal stoutly, but his wet lashes + gave the lie to his words. + </p> + <p> + “Are you homesick—do you wish to go back to the judge and Mr. + Mahaffy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am—it ain't that—I was just thinking—” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking about what, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “About my Uncle Bob.” The small face was very wistful. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—and you still miss him so much, Hannibal?” + </p> + <p> + “I bet I do—I reckon anybody who knew Uncle Bob would never get over + missing him; they just couldn't, Miss Betty! The judge is mighty kind, and + so is Mr. Mahaffy—they're awful kind, Miss Betty, and it seems like + they get kinder all the time—but with Uncle Bob, when he liked you, + he just laid himself out to let you know it!” + </p> + <p> + “That does make a great difference, doesn't it?” agreed Betty sadly, and + two piteous tearful eyes were bent upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you reckon if Uncle Bob is alive, like the judge says, and he's + ever going to find me, he had ought to be here by now?” continued Hannibal + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “But it hasn't been such a great while, Hannibal; it's only that so much + has happened to you. If he was very badly hurt it may have been weeks + before he could travel; and then when he could, perhaps he went back to + that tavern to try to learn what had become of you. But we may be quite + certain he will never abandon his search until he has made every possible + effort to find you, dear! That means he will sooner or later come to west + Tennessee, for there will always be the hope that you have found your way + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I get mighty tired waiting, Miss Betty,” confessed the boy. + “Seems like I just couldn't wait no longer.” He sighed gently, and then + his face cleared. “You reckon he'll come most any time, don't you, Miss + Betty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Hannibal; any day or hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Whoop!” muttered Hannibal softly under his breath. Presently he asked: + “Where does that branch take you to?” He nodded toward the bayou at the + foot of the terraced bluff. + </p> + <p> + “It empties into the river,” answered Betty. + </p> + <p> + Hannibal saw a small skiff beached among the cottonwoods that grew along + the water's edge and his eyes lighted up instantly. He had a juvenile + passion for boats. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you got a boat, ain't you, Miss Betty?” This was a charming and an + important discovery. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go down to it?” inquired Betty. + </p> + <p> + “'Deed I would! Does she leak any, Miss Betty?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that. Do boats usually leak, Hannibal?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you ain't ever been out rowing in her, Miss Betty, have you?—and + there ain't no better fun than rowing a boat!” They had started down the + path. + </p> + <p> + “I used to think that, too, Hannibal; how do you suppose it is that when + people grow up they forget all about the really nice things they might + do?” + </p> + <p> + “What use is she if you don't go rowing in her?” persisted Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it is used. Mr. Tom uses it in crossing to the other side where + they are clearing land for cotton. It saves him a long walk or ride about + the head of the bayou.” + </p> + <p> + “Like I should take you out in her, Miss Betty?” demanded Hannibal with + palpitating anxiety. + </p> + <p> + They had entered the scattering timber when Betty paused suddenly with a + startled exclamation, and Hannibal felt her fingers close convulsively + about his. The sound she had heard might have been only the rustling of + the wind among the branches overhead in that shadowy silence, but Betty's + nerves, the placid nerves of youth and perfect health, were shattered. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you hear something, Hannibal?” she whispered fearfully. + </p> + <p> + For answer Hannibal pointed mysteriously, and glancing in the direction he + indicated, Betty saw a woman advancing along the path toward them. The + look of alarm slowly died out of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I think it's the overseer's niece,” she told Hannibal, and they kept on + toward the boat. + </p> + <p> + The girl came rapidly up the path, which closely followed the irregular + line of the shore in its windings. Once she was seen to stop and glance + back over her shoulder, her attitude intent and listening, then she + hurried forward again. Just by the boat the three met. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening!” said Betty pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + The girl made no reply to this; she merely regarded Betty with a fixed + stare. At length she broke silence abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I got something I want to say to you—you know who I am, I reckon?” + She was a girl of about Betty's own age, with a certain dark, sullen + beauty and that physical attraction which Tom, in spite of his vexed mood, + had taken note of earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + “You are Bess Hicks,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Make the boy go back toward the house a spell—I got something I + want to say to you.” Betty hesitated. She was offended by the girl's + manner, which was as rude as her speech. “I ain't going to hurt you—you + needn't be afraid of me, I got something important to say—send him + off, I tell you; there ain't no time to lose!” The girl stamped her foot + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + Betty made a sign to Hannibal and he passed slowly back along the path. He + went unwillingly, and he kept his head turned that he might see what was + done, even if he were not to hear what was said. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Hannibal—wait there—don't go any farther!” + Betty called after him when he had reached a point sufficiently distant to + be out of hearing of a conversation carried on in an ordinary tone. “Now, + what is it? Speak quickly if you have anything to tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “I got a heap to say,” answered the girl with a scowl. Her manner was + still fierce and repellent, and she gave Betty a certain jealous regard + out of her black eyes which the latter was at a loss to explain. “Where's + Mr. Tom?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Tom? Why, about the place, I suppose—in his office, perhaps.” So it + had to do with Tom.... Betty felt sudden disgust with the situation. + </p> + <p> + “No, he ain't about the place, either! He done struck out for Memphis two + hours after sun-up, and what's more, he ain't coming back here to-night—” + There was a moment of silence. The girl looked about apprehensively. She + continued, fixing her black eyes on Betty: “You're here alone at Belle + Plain—you know what happened when Mr. Tom started for Memphis last + time? I reckon you-all ain't forgot that!” + </p> + <p> + Betty felt a pallor steal over her face. She rested a hand that shook on + the trunk of a tree to steady herself. The girl laughed shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so scared; I reckon Belle Plain's as good as his if anything + happened to you?” + </p> + <p> + By a great effort Betty gained a measure of control over herself. She took + a step nearer and looked the girl steadily in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you will stop this sort of talk, and tell me what is going to + happen to me—if you know?” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you reckon Mr. Norton was shot? I can tell you why—it was + all along of you—that was why!” The girl's furtive glance, which + searched and watched the gathering shadows, came back as it always did to + Betty's pale face. “You ain't no safer than he was, I tell you!” and she + sucked in her breath sharply between her full red lips. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” faltered Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Do you reckon you're safe here in the big house alone? Why do you reckon + Mr. Tom cleared out for Memphis? It was because he couldn't be around and + have anything happen to you—that was why!” and the girl sank her + voice to a whisper. “You quit Belle Plain now—to-night—just as + soon as you can!” + </p> + <p> + “This is absurd—you are trying to frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + “Did they stop with trying to frighten Charley Norton?” demanded Bess with + harsh insistence. + </p> + <p> + Whatever the promptings that inspired this warning, they plainly had + nothing to do with either liking or sympathy. Her dominating emotion + seemed to be a sullen sort of resentment which lit up her glance with a + dull fire; yet her feelings were so clearly and so keenly personal that + Betty understood the motive that had brought her there. The explanation, + she found, left her wondering just where and how her own fate was linked + with that of this poor white. + </p> + <p> + “You have been waiting some time to see me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since along about noon.” + </p> + <p> + “You were afraid to come to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to be seen there.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you knew I was alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone—but how do you know who's watching the place?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think there was reason to be afraid of that?” asked Betty. + </p> + <p> + Again the girl stamped her foot with angry impatience. + </p> + <p> + “You're just wastin' time—just foolin' it away—and you ain't + got none to spare!” + </p> + <p> + “You must tell me what I have to fear—I must know more or I shall + stay just where I am!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, stay!” The girl turned away, and then as quickly turned back + and faced Betty once more. “I reckon he'd kill me if he knew—I + reckon I've earned that already—” + </p> + <p> + “Of whom are you speaking?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll have you away from here to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “He?... who?... and what if I refuse to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Did they ask Charley Norton whether he wanted to live or die?” came the + sinister question. + </p> + <p> + A shiver passed through Betty. She was seeing it all again—Charley + as he groped among the graves with the hand of death heavy upon him. + </p> + <p> + A moment later she was alone. The girl had disappeared. There was only the + shifting shadows as the wind tossed the branches of the trees, and the + bands of golden light that slanted along the empty path. The fear of the + unknown leaped up afresh in Betty's soul, in an instant her flying feet + had borne her to the boy's side. + </p> + <p> + “Come—come quick, Hannibal!” she gasped out, and seized his hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Miss Betty? What's the matter?” asked Hannibal as they fled + panting up the terraces. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—only we must get away from here just as soon as we + can!” Then, seeing the look of alarm on the child's face, she added more + quietly, “Don't be frightened, dear, only we must go away from Belle Plain + at once.” But where they were to go, she had not considered. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the house, they stole up to Betty's room. Her well-filled purse + was the important thing; that, together with some necessary clothing, went + into a small hand-bag. + </p> + <p> + “You must carry this, Hannibal; if any one sees us leave the house they'll + think it something you are taking away,” she explained. Hannibal nodded + understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you trust your niggers, Miss Betty?” he whispered as they went from + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I only trust you, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you go? Was it something that woman told you? Are they coming + after us, Miss Betty? Is it Captain Murrell?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Murrell?” There was less of mystery now, but more of terror, and + her hand stole up to her heart, and, white and slim, rested against the + black fabric of her dress. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be scared, Miss Betty!” said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + They went silently from the house and again crossed the lawn to the + terrace. Under the leafy arch which canopied them there was already the + deep purple of twilight. + </p> + <p> + “Do you reckon it were Captain Murrell shot Mr. Norton, Miss Betty?” asked + Hannibal in a shuddering whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Hush—Oh, hush, Hannibal! It is too awful to even speak of—” + and, sobbing and half hysterical, she covered her face with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “But where are we going, Miss Betty?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, dear!” she had an agonizing sense of the night's approach + and of her own utter helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what, Miss Betty, let's go to the judge and Mr. Mahaffy!” + said Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Price?” She had not thought of him as a possible protector. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Miss Betty, ain't I told you he ain't afraid of nothing? We could + walk to Raleigh easy if you don't want your niggers to hook up a team for + you.” + </p> + <p> + Betty suddenly remembered the carriage which had taken the judge into + town; she was sure it had not yet returned. + </p> + <p> + “We will go to the judge, Hannibal! George, who drove him into Raleigh, + has not come back; if we hurry we may meet him on the road.” + </p> + <p> + Screened by the thick shadows, they passed up the path that edged the + bayou; at the head of the inlet they entered a clearing, and crossing this + they came to the corn-field which lay between the house and the highroad. + Following one of the shock rows they hurried to the mouth of the lane. + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal, I don't want to tell the judge why I am leaving Belle Plain—about + the woman, I mean,” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “You reckon they'd kill her, don't you, Miss Betty, if they knew what + she'd done?” speculated the boy. It occurred to him that an adequate + explanation of their flight would require preparation, since the judge was + at all times singularly alive to the slightest discrepancy of statement. + They had issued from the cornfield now and were going along the road + toward Raleigh. Suddenly Betty paused. + </p> + <p> + “Hark!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “It were nothing, Miss Betty,” said Hannibal reassuringly, and they + hurried forward again. In the utter stillness through which they moved + Betty heard the beating of her own heart, and the soft, and all but + inaudible patter of the boy's bare feet on the warm dust of the road. + Vague forms that resolved themselves into trees and bushes seemed to creep + toward them out of the night's black uncertainty. Once more Betty paused. + </p> + <p> + “It were nothing, Miss Betty,” said Hannibal as before, and he returned to + his consideration of the judge. He sensed something of that intellectual + nimbleness which his patron's physical make-up in nowise suggested, since + his face was a mask that usually left one in doubt as to just how much of + what he heard succeeded in making its impression on him; but the boy knew + that Slocum Price's blind side was a shelterless exposure. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think the carriage could have passed us while we were crossing + the corn-field?” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “No, I reckon we couldn't a-missed hearing it,” answered Hannibal. He had + scarcely spoken when they caught the rattle of wheels and the beat of + hoofs. These sounds swept nearer and nearer, and then the darkness + disgorged the Belle Plain team and carriage. + </p> + <p> + “George!” cried Betty, a world of relief in her tones. + </p> + <p> + “Whoa, you!” and George reined in his horses with a jerk. “Who's dar?” he + asked, bending forward on the box as he sought to pierce the darkness with + his glance. + </p> + <p> + “George—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it you, Missy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I wish you to drive me into Raleigh,” said Betty, and she and + Hannibal entered the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Missy. Yo'-all ready fo' me to go along out o' here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—drive fast, George!” urged Betty. + </p> + <p> + “It's right dark fo' fas' drivin' Missy, with the road jes' aimin' fo' to + bus' yo' springs with chuckholes!” He had turned his horses' heads in the + direction of Raleigh while he was speaking. “It's scandalous black in + these heah woods, Missy I 'clar' I never seen it no blacker!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage swung forward for perhaps a hundred yards, then suddenly the + horses came to a dead stop. + </p> + <p> + “Go along on, dar!” cried George, and struck them with his whip, but the + horses only reared and plunged. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, nigger!” said a rough voice out of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “What yo' doin'?” the coachman gasped. “Don' yo' know dis de Belle Plain + carriage? Take yo' han's offen to dem hosses' bits!” + </p> + <p> + Two men stepped to the side of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Show your light, Bunker,” said the same rough voice that had spoken + before. Instantly a hooded lantern was uncovered, and Hannibal uttered a + cry of terror. He was looking into the face of Slosson, the tavern-keeper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. PRISONERS + </h2> + <p> + In the face of Betty's indignant protest Slosson and the man named Bunker + climbed into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be scared, ma'am,” said the tavernkeeper, who smelt strongly of + whisky. “I wouldn't lift my hand ag'in no good looking female except in + kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you stop my carriage?” cried Betty, with a very genuine anger + which for the moment dominated all her other emotions. She struggled to + her feet, but Slosson put out a heavy hand and thrust her back. + </p> + <p> + “There now,” he urged soothingly. “Why make a fuss? We ain't going to harm + you; we wouldn't for no sum of money. Drive on, Jim—drive like + hell!” This last was addressed to the man who had taken George's place on + the box, where a fourth member of Slosson's band had forced the coachman + down into the narrow space between the seat and dashboard, and was holding + a pistol to his head while he sternly enjoined silence. + </p> + <p> + With a word to the horses Jim swung about and the carriage rolled off + through the night at a breakneck' pace. Betty's shaking hands drew + Hannibal closer to her side as she felt the surge of her terrors rise + within her. Who were these men—where could they be taking her—and + for what purpose? The events of the past weeks linked themselves in tragic + sequence in her mind. + </p> + <p> + What was it she had to fear? Was it Tom who had inspired Norton's murder? + Was it Tom for whom these men were acting? Tom who would profit greatly by + her disappearance or death. + </p> + <p> + They swept past the entrance at Belle Plain, past a break in the wall of + the forest where the pale light of stars showed Betty the corn-field she + and Hannibal had but lately crossed, and then on into pitchy darkness + again. She clung to the desperate hope that they might meet some one on + the road, when she could cry out and give the alarm. She held herself in + readiness for this, but there was only the steady pounding of the big bays + as Jim with voice and whip urged them forward. At last he abruptly checked + them, and Bunker and Slosson sprang from their seats. + </p> + <p> + “Get down, ma'am!” said the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you taking me?” asked Betty, in a voice that shook in spite of + her efforts to control it. + </p> + <p> + “You must hurry, ma'am,” urged Slosson impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I won't move until I know where you intend taking me!” said Betty, “If I + am to die—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slosson laughed loudly and indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't. If you don't want to walk, I'm man enough fo' to tote you. We + ain't far to go, and I've tackled jobs I'd a heap less heart fo' in my + time,” he concluded gallantly. From the opposite side of the carriage + Bunker swore nervously. He desired to know if they were to stand there + talking all night. “Shut your filthy mouth, Bunker, and see you keep tight + hold of that young rip-staver,” said Slosson. “He's a perfect eel—I've + had dealings with him afore!” + </p> + <p> + “You tried to kill my Uncle Bob—at the tavern, you and Captain + Murrell. I heard you, and I seen you drag him to the river!” cried + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + Slosson gave a start of astonishment at this. + </p> + <p> + “Why, ain't he hateful?” he exclaimed aghast. “See here, young feller, + that's no kind of a way fo' you to talk to a man who has riz his ten + children!” + </p> + <p> + Again Bunker swore, while Jim told Slosson to make haste. This popular + clamor served to recall the tavernkeeper to a sense of duty. + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am, like I should tote you, or will you walk?” he inquired, and + reaching out his hand took hold of Betty. + </p> + <p> + “I'll walk,” said the girl quickly, shrinking from the contact. + </p> + <p> + “Keep close at my heels. Bunker, you tuck along after her with the boy.” + </p> + <p> + “What about this nigger?” asked the fourth man. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him along with us,” said Slosson. They turned from the road while + he was speaking and entered a narrow path that led off through the woods, + apparently in the direction of the river. A moment later Betty heard the + carriage drive away. They went onward in silence for a little time, then + Slosson spoke over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, I've riz ten children but none of 'em was like him—I + trained 'em up to the minute!” Mr. Slosson seemed to have passed + completely under the spell of his domestic recollections, for he continued + with just a touch of reminiscent sadness in his tone. “There was all told + four Mrs. Slossons: two of 'em was South Carolinians, one was from + Georgia, and the last was a widow lady out of east Tennessee. She'd buried + three husbands and I figured we could start perfectly even.” + </p> + <p> + The intrinsic fairness of this start made its strong appeal. Mr. Slosson + dwelt upon it with satisfaction. “She had three to her credit, I had three + to mine; neither could crow none over the other.” + </p> + <p> + As they stumbled forward through the thick obscurity he continued his + personal revelations, the present enterprise having roused whatever there + was of sentiment slumbering in his soul. At last they came out on a wide + bayou; a white mist hung above it, and on the low shore leaf and branch + were dripping with the night dews. Keeping close to the water's edge + Slosson led the way to a point where a skiff was drawn up on the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Step in, ma'am,” he said, when he had launched it. + </p> + <p> + “I will go no farther!” said Betty in desperation. She felt an + overmastering fear, the full horror of the unknown lay hold of her, and + she gave a piercing cry for help. Slosson swung about on his heel and + seized her. For a moment she struggled to escape, but the man's big hands + pinioned her. + </p> + <p> + “No more of that!” he warned, then he recovered himself and laughed. “You + could yell till you was black in the face, ma'am, and there'd be no one to + hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you taking me?” and Betty's voice faltered between the sudden + sobs that choked her. + </p> + <p> + “Just across to George Hicks's.” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll know in plenty of time.” And Slosson leered at her through the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal is to go with me?” asked Betty tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” agreed Slosson affably. “Your nigger, too—quite a party.” + </p> + <p> + Betty stepped into the skiff. She felt her hopes quicken—she was + thinking of Bess; whatever the girl's motives, she had wished her to + escape. She would wish it now more than ever since the very thing she had + striven to prevent had happened. Slosson seated himself and took up the + oars, Bunker followed with Hannibal and they pushed off. No word was + spoken until they disembarked on the opposite shore, when Slosson + addressed Bunker. “I reckon I can manage that young rip-staver, you go + back after Sherrod and the nigger,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He conducted his captives up the bank and they entered a clearing. Looking + across this Betty saw where a cabin window framed a single square of + light. They advanced toward this and presently the dark outline of the + cabin itself became distinguishable. A moment later Slosson paused, a door + yielded to his hand, and Betty and the boy were thrust into the room where + Murrell had held his conference with Fentress and Ware. The two women were + now its only occupants and the mother, gross and shapeless, turned an + expressionless face on the intruders; but the daughter shrank into the + shadow, her burning glance fixed on Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Here's yo' guests, old lady!” said Mr. Slosson. Mrs. Hicks rose from the + three-legged stool on which she was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Hand me the candle, Bess,” she ordered. + </p> + <p> + At one side of the room was a steep flight of stairs which gave access to + the loft overhead. Mrs. Hicks, by a gesture, signified that Betty and + Hannibal were to ascend these stairs; they did so and found themselves on + a narrow landing inclosed by a partition of rough planks, this partition + was pierced by a low door. Mrs. Hicks, who had followed close at their + heels, handed the candle to Betty. + </p> + <p> + “In yonder!” she said briefly, nodding toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” cried Betty in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the woman with an almost masculine surliness of tone. “I got + nothing to say.” She pushed them into the attic, and, closing the door, + fastened it with a stout wooden bar. + </p> + <p> + Beyond that door, which seemed to have closed on every hope, Betty held + the tallow dip aloft, and by its uncertain and flickering light surveyed + her prison. The briefest glance sufficed. The room contained two shakedown + beds and a stool, there was a window in the gable, but a piece of heavy + plank was spiked before it. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty, don't you be scared,” whispered Hannibal. “When the judge + hears we're gone, him and Mr. Mahaffy will try to find us. They'll go + right off to Belle Plain—the judge is always wanting to do that, + only Mr. Mahaffy never lets him but now he won't be able to stop him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hannibal, Hannibal, what can he do there—what can any one do + there?” And a dead pallor overspread the girl's face. To speak of the + blind groping of her friends but served to fix the horror of their + situation in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Miss Betty, but the judge is always thinking of things to + do; seems like they was mostly things no one else would ever think of.” + </p> + <p> + Betty had placed the candle on the stool and seated herself on one of the + beds. There was the murmur of voices in the room below; she wondered if + her fate was under consideration and what that fate was to be. Hannibal, + who had been examining the window, returned to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty, if we could just get out of this loft we could steal their + skiff and row down to the river; I reckon they got just the one boat; the + only way they could get to us would be to swim out, and if they done that + we could pound 'em over the head with the oars the least little thing + sinks you when you're in the water.” But this murderous fancy of his + failed to interest Betty. + </p> + <p> + Presently they heard Sherrod and Bunker come up from the shore with + George. Slosson joined them and there was a brief discussion, then an + interval of silence, and the sound of voices again as the three white men + moved back across the field in the direction of the bayou. There succeeded + a period of utter stillness, both in the cabin and in the clearing, a + somber hush that plunged Betty yet deeper in despair. Wild thoughts + assailed her, thoughts against which she struggled with all the strength + of her will. + </p> + <p> + In that hour of stress Hannibal was sustained by his faith in the judge. + He saw his patron's powerful and picturesque intelligence applied to + solving the mystery of their disappearance from Belle Plain; it was + inconceivable that this could prove otherwise than disastrous to Mr. + Slosson and he endeavored to share the confidence he was feeling with + Betty, but there was something so forced and unnatural in the girl's voice + and manner when she discussed his conjectures that he quickly fell into an + awed silence. At last, and it must have been some time after midnight, + troubled slumbers claimed him. No moment of forgetfulness came to Betty. + She was waiting for what—she did not know! The candle burnt lower + and lower and finally went out and she was left in darkness, but again she + was conscious of sounds from the room below. At first it was only a word + or a sentence, then the guarded speech became a steady monotone that ran + deep into the night; eventually this ceased and Betty fancied she heard + sobs. + </p> + <p> + At length points of light began to show through chinks in the logs. + Hannibal roused and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't you able to sleep none?” he inquired. Betty shook her head. He + looked at her with an expression of troubled concern. “How soon do you + reckon the judge will know?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very soon now, dear.” Hannibal was greatly consoled by this opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Betty, he will love to find us—” + </p> + <p> + “Hark! What was that?” for Betty had caught the distant splash of oars. + Hannibal found a chink in the logs through which by dint of much squinting + he secured a partial view of the bayou. “They're fetching up a keel boat + to the shore, Miss Betty—it's a whooper!” he announced. Betty's + heart sank, she never doubted the purpose for which that boat was brought + into the bayou, or that it nearly concerned herself. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Mrs. Hicks appeared with their breakfast. It was in + vain that Betty attempted to engage her in conversation, either she + cherished some personal feeling of dislike for her prisoner, or else the + situation in which she herself was placed had little to recommend it, even + to her dull mind, and her dissatisfaction was expressed in her attitude + toward the girl. + </p> + <p> + Betty passed the long hours of morning in dreary speculation concerning + what was happening at Belle Plain. In the end she realized that the day + could go by and her absence occasion no alarm; Steve might reasonably + suppose George had driven her into Raleigh or to the Bowens' and that she + had kept the carriage. Finally all her hope centered on Judge Price. He + would expect Hannibal during the morning, perhaps when the boy did not + arrive he would be tempted to go out to Belle Plain to discover the reason + of his nonappearance. She wondered what theories would offer themselves to + his ingenious mind, for she sensed something of that indomitable energy + which in the face of rebuffs and laughter carried him into the thick of + every sensation. + </p> + <p> + At noon, Mrs. Hicks, as sullen as in the morning, brought them their + dinner. She had scarcely quitted the loft when a shrill whistle pierced + the silence that hung above the clearing. It was twice repeated, and the + two women were heard to go from the cabin. Perhaps half an hour elapsed, + then a step became audible on the packed earth of the dooryard; some one + entered the room below and began to ascend the narrow stairs, and Betty's + fingers closed convulsively about Hannibal's. This was neither Mrs. Hicks + nor her daughter, nor Slosson with his clumsy shuffle. There was a brief + pause when the landing was reached, but it was only momentary; a hand + lifted the bar, the door was thrown open, and its space framed the figure + of a man. It was John Murrell. + </p> + <p> + Standing there he regarded Betty in silence, but a deep-seated fire glowed + in his sunken eyes. The sense of possession was raging through him, his + temples throbbed, a fever stirred his blood. Love, such as it was, he + undoubtedly felt for her and even his giant project with all its monstrous + ramifications was lost sight of for the moment. She was the inspiration + for it all, the goal and reward toward which he struggled. + </p> + <p> + “Betty!” the single word fell softly from his lips. He stepped into the + room, closing the door as he did so. + </p> + <p> + The girl's eyes were dilating with a mute horror, for by some swift + intuitive process of the mind, which asked nothing of the logic of events, + but dealt only with conclusions, Murrell stood revealed as Norton's + murderer. Perhaps he read her thoughts, but he had lived in his degenerate + ambitions until the common judgments or the understanding of them no + longer existed for him. That Betty had loved Norton seemed inconsequential + even; it was a memory to be swept away by the force of his greater + passion. So he watched her smilingly, but back of the smile was the menace + of unleashed impulse. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you find some word of welcome for me, Betty?” he asked at length, + still softly, still with something of entreaty in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was you—not Tom—who had me brought here!” She could + have thanked God had it been Tom, whose hate was not to be feared as she + feared this man's love. + </p> + <p> + “Tom—no!” and Murrell laughed. “You didn't think I'd give you up? I + am standing with a halter, about my neck, and all for your sake—who'd + risk as much for love of you?” he seemed to expand with savage pride that + this was so, and took a step toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't come near me!” cried Betty. Her eyes blazed, and she looked at him + with' loathing. + </p> + <p> + “You'll learn to be kinder,” he exulted. “You wouldn't see me at Belle + Plain; what was left for me but to have you brought here?” While Murrell + was speaking, the signal that had told of his own presence on the opposite + shore of the bayou was heard again. This served to arrest his attention. A + look of uncertainty passed over his face, then he made an impatient + gesture as if he dismissed some thought that had forced itself upon him, + and turned to Betty. + </p> + <p> + “You don't ask what my purpose is where you are concerned; have you no + curiosity on that score?” She endeavored to meet his glance with a glance + as resolute, then her eyes sought the boy's upturned face. “I am going to + send you down river, Betty. Later I shall join you in New Orleans, and + when I leave the country you shall go with me—” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” gasped Betty. + </p> + <p> + “As my wife, or however you choose to call it. I'll teach you what a man's + love is like,” he boasted, and extended his hand. Betty shrank from him, + and his hand fell at his side. He looked at her steadily out of his + deep-sunk eyes in which blazed the fires of his passion, and as he looked, + her face paled and flushed by turns. “You may learn to be kind to me, + Betty,” he said. “You may find it will be worth your while.” Betty made no + answer, she only gathered Hannibal closer to her side. “Why not accept + what I have to offer, Betty?” again he went nearer her, and again she + shrank from him, but the madness of his mood was in the ascendant. He + seized her and drew her to him. She struggled to free herself, but his + fingers tightened about hers. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go!” she panted. He laughed his cool laugh of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Let you go—ask me anything but that, Betty! Have you no reward for + patience such as mine? A whole summer has passed since I saw you first—” + </p> + <p> + There was the noisy shuffling of feet on the stairs, and releasing Betty, + Murrell swung about on his heel and faced the door. It was pushed open an + inch at a time by a not too confident hand and Mr. Slosson thus guardedly + presented himself to the eye of his chief, whom he beckoned from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Murrell, when they stood together on the landing. + </p> + <p> + “Just come across to the keel boat!” and Slosson led the way down the + stairs and from the house. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you, Joe; you might have waited!” observed the outlaw. Slosson gave + him a hardened grin. They crossed the clearing and boarded the keel boat + which rested against the bank. As they did so, the cabin in the stern gave + up a shattered presence in the shape of Tom Ware. Murrell started + violently. “I thought you were hanging out in Memphis, Tom?” he said, and + his brow darkened as, sinister and forbidding, he stepped closer to the + planter. Ware did not answer at once, but looked at Murrell out of heavy + bloodshot eyes, his face pinched and ghastly. At last he said, speaking + with visible effort, + </p> + <p> + “I stayed in Memphis until five o'clock this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn your early hours!” roared Murrell. “What are you doing here? I + suppose you've been showing that dead face of yours about the neighborhood—why + didn't you stay at Belle Plain since you couldn't keep away?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't been near Belle Plain, I came here instead. How am I going to + meet people and answer questions?” His teeth were chattering. “Is it known + she's missing?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Hicks raised the alarm the first thing this morning, according to the + instructions I'd given him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” gasped Ware. He was dripping from every pore and the sickly color + came and went on his unshaven cheeks. Murrell dropped a heavy hand on his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't been at Belle Plain, you say, but has any one seen you on the + road this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, John,” cried Ware, panting between each word. There was a + moment's pause and Ware spoke again. “What are they doing at Belle Plain?” + he demanded in a whisper. Murrell's lips curled. + </p> + <p> + “I understand there is talk of suicide,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” cried Ware. + </p> + <p> + “They are dragging the bayou down below the house. It looks as though you + were going to reap the rewards of the excellent management you have given + her estate. They have been trying to find you in Memphis, so the sooner + you show yourself the better,” he concluded significantly. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure you have her safe, John, no chance of discovery? For God's + sake, get her away from here as soon as you can, it's an awful risk you + run!” + </p> + <p> + “She'll be sent down river to-night,” said Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” began Slosson who up to this had taken no part in the + conversation. “When are you going to cross to t'other side of the bayou?” + </p> + <p> + “Soon,” replied Murrell. Slosson laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know but you'd clean forgot the Clan's business. I want to ask + another question—but first I want to say that no one thinks higher + or more frequent of the ladies than just me, I'm genuinely fond of 'em and + I've never lifted my hand ag'in' 'em except in kindness.” Mr. Slosson + looked at Ware with an exceedingly virtuous expression of countenance. He + continued. “Yo' orders are that we're to slip out of this a little afore + midnight, but suppose there's a hitch—here's the lady knowing what + she knows and here's the boy knowing what he knows.” + </p> + <p> + “There can be no hitch,” rasped out Murrell arrogantly. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew a speculation that couldn't go wrong; and by rights we + should have got away last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whose fault is it you didn't?” demanded Murrell. + </p> + <p> + “In a manner it were mine, but the ark got on a sandbank as we were + fetching it in and it took us the whole damn night to get clear.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” prompted Murrell, with a sullen frown. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose they get shut of that notion of theirs that the lady's done + drowned herself, suppose they take to watching the river? Or suppose the + whole damn bottom drops out of this deal? What then? Why, I'll tell you + what then—the lady, good looking as she is, knows enough to make + west Tennessee mighty onhealthy for some of us. I say suppose it's a flash + in the pan and you have to crowd the distance in between you and this part + of the world, you can't tell me you'll have any use for her then.” Slosson + paused impressively. “And here's Mr. Ware feeling bad, feeling like hell,” + he resumed. “Him and me don't want to be left in no trap with you gone God + only knows where.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send a man to take charge of the keel boat. I can't risk any more of + your bungling, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, but you don't answer my question,” persisted Slosson, + with admirable tenacity of purpose. + </p> + <p> + “What is your question, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + “A lot can happen between this and midnight—” + </p> + <p> + “If things go wrong with us there'll be a blaze at the head of the bayou; + does that satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “And what then?” + </p> + <p> + Murrell hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “What about the girl?” insisted Slosson, dragging him back to the point at + issue between them. “As a man I wouldn't lift my hand ag'in' no good + looking woman except like I said—in kindness, but she can't be + turned loose, she knows too much. What's the word, Captain—you say + it!” he urged. He made a gesture of appeal to Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Look for the light; better still, look for the man I'll send.” And with + this Murrell would have turned away, but Slosson detained him. + </p> + <p> + “Who'll he be?” + </p> + <p> + “Some fellow who knows the river.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it's the light?” asked the tavern-keeper in a hoarse undertone. + Again he looked toward Ware, who, dry-lipped and ashen, was regarding him + steadfastly. Glance met glance, for a brief instant they looked deep into + each other's eyes and then the hand Slosson had rested on Murrell's + shoulder dropped at his side. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE JUDGE MEETS THE SITUATION + </h2> + <p> + The judge's and Mr. Mahaffy's celebration of the former's rehabilitated + credit had occupied the shank of the evening, the small hours of the + night, and that part of the succeeding day which the southwest described + as soon in the morning; and as the stone jug, in which were garnered the + spoils of the highly confidential but entirely misleading conversation + which the judge had held with Mr. Pegloe after his return from Belle + Plain, lost in weight, it might have been observed that he and Mr. Mahaffy + seemed to gain in that nice sense of equity which should form the basis of + all human relations. The judge watched Mr. Mahaffy, and Mr. Mahaffy + watched the judge, each trustfully placing the regulation of his private + conduct in the hands of his friend, as the one most likely to be affected + by the rectitude of his acts. + </p> + <p> + Probably so extensive a consumption of Mr. Pegloe's corn whisky had never + been accomplished with greater highmindedness. They honorably split the + last glass, the judge scorning to set up any technical claim to it as his + exclusive property; then he stared at Mahaffy, while Mahaffy, dark-visaged + and forbidding, stared back at him. + </p> + <p> + The judge sighed deeply. He took up the jug and inverted it. A stray drop + or so fell languidly into his glass. + </p> + <p> + “Try squeezing it, Price,” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + The judge shook the jug, it gave forth an empty sound, and he sighed + again; he attempted to peer into it, closing one watery eye as he tilted + it toward the light. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder no Yankee has ever thought to invent a jug with a glass bottom,” + he observed. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” asked Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “You astonish me, Solomon,” exclaimed the judge. “Coming as you do from + that section which invented the wooden nutmeg, and an eight-day clock that + has been known to run as much as four or five hours at a stretch. I am + aware the Yankees are an ingenious people; I wonder none of 'em ever + thought of a jug with a glass bottom, so that when a body holds it up to + the light he can see at a glance whether it is empty or not. Do you reckon + Pegloe has sufficient confidence to fill the jug again for us?” + </p> + <p> + But Mahaffy's expression indicated no great confidence in Mr. Pegloe's + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Credit,” began the judge, “is proverbially shy; still it may sometimes be + increased, like the muscles of the body and the mental faculties, by + judicious use. I've always regarded Pegloe as a cheap mind. I hope I have + done him an injustice.” He put on his hat, and tucking the jug under his + arm, went from the house. + </p> + <p> + Ten or fifteen minutes elapsed. Mahaffy considered this a good sign, it + didn't take long to say no, he reflected. Another ten or fifteen elapsed. + Mahaffy lost heart. Then there came a hasty step beyond the door, it was + thrown violently open, and the judge precipitated himself into the room. A + glance showed Mahaffy that he was laboring under intense excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, I bring shocking news. God knows what the next few hours may + reveal!” cried the judge, mopping his brow. “Miss Malroy has disappeared + from Belle Plain, and Hannibal has gone with her!” + </p> + <p> + “Where have they gone?” asked Mahaffy, and his long jaw dropped. + </p> + <p> + “Would to God I had an answer ready for that question, Solomon!” answered + the judge, with a melancholy shake of the head. He gazed down on his + friend with an air of large tolerance. “I am going to Belle Plain, but you + are too drunk. Sleep it off, Solomon, and join me when your brain is clear + and your legs steady.” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy jerked out an oath, and lifting himself off his chair, stood + erect. He snatched up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Stuff your pistols into your pockets, and come on, Price!” he said, and + stalked toward the door. + </p> + <p> + He flitted up the street, and the judge puffed and panted in his wake. + They gained the edge of the village without speech. + </p> + <p> + “There is mystery and rascality here!” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know, Price, and where did you hear this?” Mahaffy shot the + question back over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “At Pegloe's, the Belle Plain overseer had just fetched the news into + town.” + </p> + <p> + Again they were silent, all their energies being absorbed by the physical + exertion they were making. The road danced before their burning eyes, it + seemed to be uncoiling itself serpentwise with hideous undulations. Mr. + Mahaffy was conscious that the judge, of whom he caught a blurred vision + now at his right side, now at his left, was laboring painfully in the heat + and dust, the breath whistling from between his parched lips. + </p> + <p> + “You're just ripe for apoplexy, Price!” he snarled, moderating his pace. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said the judge, with stolid resolution. + </p> + <p> + Two miles out of the village they came to a roadside spring, here they + paused for an instant. Mahaffy scooped up handfuls of the clear water and + sucked it down greedily. The judge dropped on his stomach and buried his + face in the tiny pool, gulping up great thirsty swallows. After a long + breathless instant he stood erect, with drops of moisture clinging to his + nose and eyebrows. Mahaffy was a dozen paces down the road, hurrying + forward again with relentless vigor. The judge shuffled after him. The + tracks they left in the dust crossed and re-crossed the road, but + presently the slanting lines of their advance straightened, the judge + gained and held a fixed place at Mahaffy's right, a step or so in the + rear. His oppulent fancy began to deal with the situation. + </p> + <p> + “If anything happens to the child, the man responsible for it would better + never been born—I'll pursue him with undiminished energy from this + moment forth!” he panted. + </p> + <p> + “What could happen to him, Price?” asked Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “God knows, poor little lad!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you shut up!” cried Mahaffy savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you go building on that idea? Why should any one harm him—what + earthly purpose—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Solomon, we are the pivotal point in a vast circle of crime. + This is a blow at me—this is revenge, sir, neither more nor less! + They have struck at me through the boy, it is as plain as day.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the overseer say?” + </p> + <p> + “Just that they found Miss Malroy gone from Belle Plain this morning, and + the boy with her.” + </p> + <p> + “This is like you, Price! How do you know they haven't spent the night at + some neighbor's?” + </p> + <p> + “The nearest neighbor is five or six miles distant. Miss Malroy and + Hannibal were seen along about dusk in the grounds at Belle Plain, do you + mean to tell me you consider it likely that they set out on foot at that + hour, and without a word to any one, to make a visit?” inquired the judge; + but Mahaffy did not contend for this point. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do first, Price?” + </p> + <p> + “Have a look over the grounds, and talk with the slaves.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the brother—wasn't he at Belle Plain last night?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems he went to Memphis yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + They plodded forward in silence; now and again they were passed by some + man on horseback whose destination was the same as their own, and then at + last they caught sight of Belle Plain in its grove of trees. + </p> + <p> + All work on the plantation had stopped, and the hundreds of slaves—men, + women and children—were gathered about the house. Among these moved + the members of the dominant race. The judge would have attached himself to + the first group, but he heard a whispered question, and the answer, + </p> + <p> + “Miss Malroy's lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Clearly it was not for him to mix with these outsiders, these curiosity + seekers. He crossed the lawn to the house, and mounted the steps. In the + doorway was big Steve, while groups of men stood about in the hall, the + hum of busy purposeless talk pervading the place. The judge frowned. This + was all wrong. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Ware returned from Memphis?” he asked of Steve. + </p> + <p> + “No, Sah; not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Then show me into the library,” said the judge with bland authority, + surrendering his hat to the butler. “Come along, Mahaffy!” he added. They + entered the library, and the judge motioned Steve to close the door. “Now, + boy, you'll kindly ask those people to withdraw—you may say it is + Judge Price's orders. Allow no one to enter the house unless they have + business with me, or as I send for them—you understand? After you + have cleared the house, you may bring me a decanter of corn whisky—stop + a bit—you may ask the sheriff to step here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sah.” And Steve withdrew. + </p> + <p> + The judge drew an easy-chair up to the flat-topped desk that stood in the + center of the room, and seated himself. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to make this the excuse for another drunk, Price? If so, I + feel the greatest contempt for you,” said Mahaffy sternly. + </p> + <p> + The judge winced at this. + </p> + <p> + “You have made a regrettable choice of words, Solomon,” he urged gently. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your feeling for the boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” said the judge, with an eloquent gesture, resting his hand on his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “If you let whisky alone, I'll believe you, otherwise what I have said + must stand.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the sheriff slouched into the room. He was chewing a + long wheat straw, and his whole appearance was one of troubled weakness. + </p> + <p> + “Morning,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Sheriff,” and the judge indicated a meek seat for the official + in a distant corner. “Have you learned anything?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “What you turning all these neighbors out of doors for?” he questioned. + </p> + <p> + “We don't want people tracking in and out the house, Sheriff. Important + evidence may be destroyed. I propose examining the slaves first—does + that meet with your approval?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've talked with them, they don't know nothing,” said the sheriff. + “No one don't know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Please God, we may yet put our fingers on some villain who does,” said + the judge. + </p> + <p> + Outside it was noised about that judge Price had taken matters in hand—he + was the old fellow who had been warned to keep his mouth shut, and who had + never stopped talking since. A crowd collected beyond the library windows + and feasted its eyes on the back of this hero's bald head. + </p> + <p> + One by one the house servants were ushered into the judge's presence. + First he interrogated little Steve, who had gone to Miss Betty's door that + morning to rouse her, as was his custom. Next he examined Betty's maid; + then the cook, and various house servants, who had nothing especial to + tell, but told it at considerable length; and lastly big Steve. + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit,” the judge suddenly interrupted the butler in the midst of + his narrative. “Does the overseer always come up to the house the first + thing in the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, not exactly, Sah, but he come up this mo'ning, Sah. He was talking + to me at the back of the house, when the women run out with the word that + Missy was done gone away.” + </p> + <p> + “He joined in the search?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sah.'' + </p> + <p> + “When was Miss Malroy seen last?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “She and the young gemman you fotched heah were seen in the gyarden along + about sundown. I seen them myself.” + </p> + <p> + “They had had supper?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sah.” + </p> + <p> + “Who sleeps here?” + </p> + <p> + “Just little Steve and three of the women, they sleeps at the back of the + house, Sah.'' + </p> + <p> + “No sounds were heard during the night?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sah.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see the overseer—what's his name?—Hicks? Suppose you go + for him!” said the judge, addressing the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + The sheriff was gone from the room only a few moments, and returned with + the information that Hicks was down at the bayou, which was to be dragged. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” inquired the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Hicks says Miss Malroy's been acting mighty queer ever since Charley + Norton was shot—distracted like! He says he noticed it, and that Tom + Ware noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he explain the boy's disappearance?” + </p> + <p> + “He reckons she throwed herself in, and the boy tried to drag her out, + like he naturally would, and got drawed in.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I'll trouble Mr. Hicks to step here,” said the judge quietly. + </p> + <p> + “There's Mr. Carrington and a couple of strangers outside who've been + asking about Miss Malroy and the boy, seems like the strangers knowed her + and him back yonder in No'th Carolina,” said the sheriff as he turned + away. + </p> + <p> + “I'll see them.” The sheriff went from the room and the judge dismissed + the servants. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think, Price?” asked Mahaffy anxiously when they were + alone. + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish! Take my word for it, Solomon, this blow is leveled at me. I have + been too forward in my attempts to suppress the carnival of crime that is + raging through west Tennessee. You'll observe that Miss Malroy disappeared + at a moment when the public is disposed to think she has retained me as + her legal adviser, probably she will be set at liberty when she agrees to + drop the matter of Norton's murder. As for the boy, they'll use him to + compel my silence and inaction.” The judge took a long breath. “Yet there + remains one point where the boy is concerned that completely baffles me. + If we knew just a little more of his antecedents it might cause me to make + a startling and radical move.” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy was clearly not impressed by the vague generalities in which the + judge was dealing. + </p> + <p> + “There you go, Price, as usual, trying to convince yourself that you are + the center of everything!” he said, in a tone of much exasperation. “Let's + get down to business! What does this man Hicks mean by hinting at suicide? + You saw Miss Malroy yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “You have put your finger on a point of some significance,” said the + judge. “She bore evidence of the shock and loss she had sustained; aside + from that she was quite as she has always been.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want to see Hicks for? What do you expect to learn from + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like his insistence on the idea that Miss Malroy is mentally + unbalanced. It's a question of some delicacy—the law, sir, fully + recognizes that. It seems to me he is overanxious to account for her + disappearance in a manner that can compromise no one.” + </p> + <p> + Here they were interrupted by the opening of the door, and big Steve + admitted Carrington and the two men of whom the sheriff had spoken. + </p> + <p> + “A shocking condition of affairs, Mr. Carrington!” said the judge by way + of greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Carrington shortly. + </p> + <p> + “You left these parts some time ago, I believe?” continued the judge. + </p> + <p> + “The day before Norton was shot. I had started home for Kentucky. I heard + of his death when I reached Randolph on the second bluff,” explained + Carrington, from whose cheeks the weather-beaten bloom had faded. He + rested his hand on the edge of the desk and turned to the men who had + followed him into the room. “This is the gentleman you wish to see,” he + said, and stepped to one of the windows; it overlooked the terraces where + he had said good-by to Betty scarcely a week before. + </p> + <p> + The two men had paused by the door. They now advanced. One was gaunt and + haggard, his face disfigured by a great red scar, the other was a + shockheaded individual who moved with a shambling gait. Both carried + rifles and both were dressed in coarse homespun. + </p> + <p> + “Morning, sir,” said the man with the scar. “Yancy's my name, and this + gentleman 'lows he'd rather be known now as Mr. Cavendish.” + </p> + <p> + The judge started to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Bob Yancy?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, that's me.” The judge passed nimbly around the desk and shook + the Scratch Hiller warmly by the hand. “Where's my nevvy, sir—what's + all this about him and Miss Betty?” Yancy's soft drawl was suddenly eager. + </p> + <p> + “Please God we'll recover him soon!” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + By the window Carrington moved impatiently. No harm could come to the boy, + but Betty—a shudder went through him. + </p> + <p> + “They've stolen him.” Yancy spoke with conviction. “I reckon they've + started back to No'th Carolina with him—only that don't explain + what's come of Miss Betty, does it?” and he dropped rather helplessly into + a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Bob are just getting off a sick bed. He's been powerful porely in + consequence of having his head laid open and then being throwed into the + Elk River, where I fished him out,” explained Cavendish, who still + continued to regard the judge with unmixed astonishment, first cocking his + shaggy head on one side and then on the other, his bleached eyes narrowed + to a slit. Now and then he favored the austere Mahaffy with a fleeting + glance. He seemed intuitively to understand the comradeship of their + degradation. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cavendish fetched me here on his raft. We tied up to the sho' this + morning. It was there we met Mr. Carrington—I'd knowed him slightly + back yonder in No'th Carolina,” continued Yancy. “He said I'd find + Hannibal with you. I was counting a heap on seeing my nevvy.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington, no longer able to control himself, swung about on his heel. + </p> + <p> + “What's been done?” he asked, with fierce repression. “What's going to be + done? Don't you know that every second is precious?” + </p> + <p> + “I am about to conclude my investigations, sir,” said the judge with + dignity. + </p> + <p> + Carrington stepped to the door. After all, what was there to expect of + these men? Whatever their interest, it was plainly centered in the boy. He + passed out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + As the door closed on him the judge turned again to the Scratch Hiller. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yancy, Mr. Mahaffy and I hold your nephew in the tenderest regard, he + has been our constant companion ever since you were lost to him. In this + crisis you may rely upon us; we are committed to his recovery, no matter + what it involves.” The judge's tone was one of unalterable resolution. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you-all have been mighty good and kind to him,” said Yancy + huskily. + </p> + <p> + “We have endeavored to be, Mr. Yancy—indeed I had formed the + resolution legally to adopt him should you not come to claim him. I should + have given him my name, and made him my heir. His education has already + begun, under my supervision,” and the judge, remembering the high use to + which he had dedicated one of Pegloe's trade labels, fairly glowed with + philanthropic fervor. + </p> + <p> + “Think of that!” murmured Yancy softly. He was deeply moved. So was Mr. + Cavendish, who was gifted with a wealth of ready sympathy. He thrust out a + hardened hand to the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” he said. “You're a heap better than you look.” A thin ripple of + laughter escaped Mahaffy, but the judge accepted Chills and Fever's + proffered hand. He understood that here was a simple genuine soul. + </p> + <p> + “Price, isn't it important for us to know why Mr. Yancy thinks the boy has + been taken back to North Carolina?” said Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Just what kin is Hannibal to you, Mr. Yancy?” asked the judge resuming + his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Strictly speaking, he ain't none. That he come to live with me is all + owing to Mr. Crenshaw, who's a good man when left to himself, but he's got + a wife, so a body may say he never is left to himself,” began Yancy; and + then briefly he told the story of the woman and the child much as he had + told it to Bladen at the Barony the day of General Quintard's funeral. + </p> + <p> + The judge, his back to the light and his face in shadow, rested his left + elbow on the desk and with his chin sunk in his palm, followed the Scratch + Hiller's narrative with the closest attention. + </p> + <p> + “And General Quintard never saw him—never manifested any interest in + him?” the words came slowly from the judge's lips, he seemed to gulp down + something that rose in his throat. “Poor little lad!” he muttered, and + again, “Poor little lad!” + </p> + <p> + “Never once, sir. He told the slaves to keep him out of his sight. We-all + wondered, fo' you know how niggers will talk. We thought maybe he was some + kin to the Quintards, but we couldn't figure out how. The old general + never had but one child and she had been dead fo' years. The child + couldn't have been hers no how.” Yancy paused. + </p> + <p> + The judge drummed idly on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “What implacable hate—what iron pride!” he murmured, and swept his + hand across his eyes. Absorbed and aloof, he was busy with his thoughts + that spanned the waste of years, years that seemed to glide before him in + review, each bitter with its hideous memories of shame and defeat. Then + from the smoke of these lost battles emerged the lonely figure of the + child as he had seen him that June night. His ponderous arm stiffened + where it rested on the desk, he straightened up in his chair and his face + assumed its customary expression of battered dignity, while a smile at + once wistful and tender hovered about his lips. + </p> + <p> + “One other question,” he said. “Until this man Murrell appeared you had no + trouble with Bladen? He was content that you should keep the child—your + right to Hannibal was never challenged?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, sir. All my troubles began about that time.” + </p> + <p> + “Murrell belongs in these parts,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I'd admire fo' to meet him,” said Yancy quietly. + </p> + <p> + The judge grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I place my professional services at your disposal,” he said. “Yours is a + clear case of felonious assault.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it ain't, sir—I look at it this-a-ways; it's a clear case of my + giving him the damnedest sort of a body beating!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the judge, “I'll hold your hat while you are about it!” + </p> + <p> + Hicks had taken his time in responding to the judge's summons, but now his + step sounded in the hall and throwing open the door he entered the room. + Whether consciously or not he had acquired something of that surly, + forbidding manner which was characteristic of his employer. A curt nod of + the head was his only greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Will you sit down?” asked the judge. Hicks signified by another movement + of the head that he would not. “This is a very dreadful business!” began + the judge softly. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it?” agreed Hicks. “What you got to say to me?” he added + petulantly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you started to drag the bayou?” asked the judge. Hicks nodded. “That + was your idea?” suggested the judge. + </p> + <p> + “No, it wa'n't,” objected Hicks quickly. “But I said she had been actin' + like she was plumb distracted ever since Charley Norton got shot—” + </p> + <p> + “How?” inquired the judge, arching his eyebrows. Hicks was plainly + disturbed by the question. + </p> + <p> + “Sort of out of her head. Mr. Ware seen it, too—” + </p> + <p> + “He spoke of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; him and me discussed it together.” + </p> + <p> + The judge regarded Hicks long and intently and in, silence. His + magnificent mind was at work. If Betty had been distraught he had not + observed any sign of it the previous day. If Ware were better informed as + to her true mental state why had he chosen this time to go to Memphis? + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Mr. Ware asked you to keep an eye on Miss Malroy while he was + away from home?” said the judge. Hicks, suspicious of the drift of his + questioning, made no answer. “I suppose you told the house servants to + keep her under observation?” continued the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I don't talk to no niggers,” replied Hicks, “except to give 'em my + orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did you give them that order?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden and hurried entrance of big Steve brought the judge's + examination of Mr. Hicks to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “Mas'r, you know dat 'ar coachman George—the big black fellow dat + took you into town las' evenin'? I jes' been down at Shanty Hill whar + Milly, his wife, is carryin' on something scandalous 'cause George ain't + never come home!” Steve was laboring under intense excitement, but he + ignored the presence of the overseer and addressed himself to Slocum + Price. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of that?” cried Hicks quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Thar warn't no George, mind you, Mas'r, but dar was his team in de stable + this mo'ning and lookin' mighty nigh done up with hard driving.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” interrupted Hicks uneasily; “put a pair of lines in a nigger's + hands and he'll run any team off its legs!” + </p> + <p> + “An' the kerriage all scratched up from bein' thrashed through the + bushes,” added Steve. + </p> + <p> + “There's a nigger for you!” said Hicks. “She took the rascal out of the + field, dressed him like he was a gentleman and pampered him up, and now + first chance he gets he runs off!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the judge softly. “Then you knew this?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I knew—wa'n't it my business to know? I reckon he was off + skylarking, and when he'd seen the mess he'd made, the trifling fool took + to the woods. Well, he catches it when I lay hands on him!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know when and under what circumstances the team was stabled, Mr. + Hicks?” inquired the judge. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, but I reckon it must have been along after dark,” said Hicks + unwillingly. “I seen to the feeding just after sundown like I always do, + then I went to supper,” Hicks vouchsafed to explain. + </p> + <p> + “And no one saw or heard the team drive in?” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I know of,” said Hicks. + </p> + <p> + “Mas'r Ca'ington's done gone off to get a pack of dawgs—he 'lows + hit's might' important to find what's come of George,” said Steve. + </p> + <p> + Hicks started violently at this piece of news. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he'll have to travel a right smart distance to find a pack of + dogs,” he muttered. “I don't know of none this side of Colonel Bates' down + below Girard.” + </p> + <p> + The judge was lost in thought. He permitted an interval of silence to + elapse in which Hicks' glance slid round in a furtive circle. + </p> + <p> + “When did Mr. Ware set out for Memphis?” asked the judge at length. + </p> + <p> + “Early yesterday. He goes there pretty often on business.” + </p> + <p> + “You talked with Mr. Ware before he left?” Hicks nodded. “Did he speak of + Miss Malroy?” Hicks shook his head. “Did you see her during the + afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “No—maybe you think these niggers ain't enough to keep a man + stirring?” said Hicks uneasily and with a scowl. The judge noticed both + the uneasiness and the scowl. + </p> + <p> + “I should imagine they would absorb every moment of your time, Mr. Hicks,” + he agreed affably. + </p> + <p> + “A man's got to be a hog for work to hold a job like mine,” said Hicks + sourly. + </p> + <p> + “But it came to your notice that Miss Malroy has been in a disturbed + mental state ever since Mr. Norton's murder? I am interested in this + point, Mr. Hicks, because your experience is so entirely at variance with + my own. It was my privilege to see and speak with her yesterday afternoon; + I was profoundly impressed by her naturalness and composure.” The judge + smiled, then he leaned forward across the desk. “What were you doing up + here early this morning—hasn't a hog for work like you got any + business of his own at that hour?” The judge's tone was suddenly + offensive. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, what right have you got to try and pump me?” cried Hicks. + </p> + <p> + For no discernible reason Mr. Cavendish spat on his palms. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hicks,” said the judge, urbane and gracious, “I believe in + frankness.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” agreed Hicks, mollified by the judge's altered tone. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore I do not hesitate to say that I consider you a damned + scoundrel!” concluded the judge. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cavendish, accepting the judge's ultimatum as something which must + debar Hicks from all further consideration, and being, as he was, + exceedingly active and energetic by nature, if one passed over the various + forms of gainful industry, uttered a loud whoop and threw himself on the + overseer. There was a brief struggle and Hicks went down with the Earl of + Lambeth astride of him; then from his boot leg that knightly soul flashed + a horn-handled tickler of formidable dimensions. + </p> + <p> + The judge, Yancy, and Mahaffy, sprang from their chairs. Mr. Mahaffy was + plainly shocked at the spectacle of Mr. Cavendish's lawless violence. + Yancy was disturbed too, but not by the moral aspects of the case; he was + doubtful as to just how his friend's act would appeal to the judge. He + need not have been distressed on that score, since the judge's one idea + was to profit by it. With his hands on his knees he was now bending above + the two men. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to know, judge?” cried Cavendish, panting from his + exertions. “I'll learn this parrot to talk up!” + </p> + <p> + “Hicks,” said the judge, “it is in your power to tell us a few things we + are here to find out.” Hicks looked up into the judge's face and closed + his lips grimly. “Mr. Cavendish, kindly let him have the point of that + large knife where he'll feel it most!” ordered the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Talk quick!” said Cavendish with a ferocious scowl. “Talk—or what's + to hinder me slicing open your woozen?” and he pressed the blade of his + knife against the overseer's throat. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything about Miss Betty,” said Hicks in a sullen whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you don't, but what do you know about the boy?” Hicks was silent, + but he was grateful for the judge's question. From Tom Ware he had learned + of Fentress' interest in the boy. Why should he shelter the colonel at + risk to himself? “If you please, Mr. Cavendish!” said the judge quietly + nodding toward the knife. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't ask me about him,” said Hicks quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I do now,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “He was here yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cavendish—” and again the judge glanced toward the knife. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” cried Hicks. “You go to Colonel Fentress.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him up, Mr. Cavendish; that's all we want to mow,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. COLONEL FENTRESS + </h2> + <p> + The judge had not forgotten his ghost, the ghost he had seen in Mr. Saul's + office that day he went to the court-house on business for Charley Norton. + Working or idling—principally the latter—drunk or sober—principally + the former—the ghost, otherwise Colonel Fentress, had preserved a + place in his thoughts, and now as he moved stolidly up the drive toward + Fentress' big white house on the hill with Mahaffy, Cavendish, and Yancy + trailing in his wake, memories of what had once been living and vital + crowded in upon him. Some sense of the wreck that littered the long years, + and the shame of the open shame that had swept away pride and + self-respect, came back to him out of the past. + </p> + <p> + He only paused when he stood on the portico before Fentress' open door. He + glanced about him at the wide fields, bounded by the distant timber lands + that hid gloomy bottoms, at the great log barns in the hollow to his + right; at the huddle of whitewashed cabins beyond; then with his big fist + he reached in and pounded on the door. The blows echoed loudly through the + silent house, and an instant later Fentress' tall, spare figure was seen + advancing from the far end of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Price—Colonel Fentress'' said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Price,” uncertainly, and still advancing. + </p> + <p> + “I had flattered myself that you must have heard of me,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have,” said Fentress, pausing now. + </p> + <p> + “He thinks he has!” muttered the judge under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come in?” it was more a question than an invitation. + </p> + <p> + “If you are at liberty.” The colonel bowed. “Allow me,” the judge + continued. “Colonel Fentress—Mr. Mahaffy, Mr. Yancy and Mr. + Cavendish.” Again the colonel bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Will you step into the library?” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” and the judge followed the colonel briskly down the hall. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the library Fentress turned and took stock of his + guests. Mahaffy he had seen before; Yancy and Cavendish were of course + strangers to him, but their appearance explained them; last of all his + glance shifted to the judge. He had heard something of those activities by + means of which Slocum Price had striven to distinguish himself, and he had + a certain curiosity respecting the man. It was immediately satisfied. The + judge had reached a degree of shabbiness seldom equaled, and but for his + mellow, effulgent personality might well have passed for a common + vagabond; and if his dress advertised the state of his finances, his face + explained his habits. No misconception was possible about either. + </p> + <p> + “May I offer you a glass of liquor?” asked Fentress, breaking the silence. + He stepped to the walnut centertable where there was a decanter and + glasses. By a gesture the judge declined the invitation. Whereat the + colonel looked surprised, but not so surprised as Mahaffy. There was + another silence. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think we ever met before?” observed Fentress. There was something + in the fixed stare his visitor was bending upon him that he found + disquieting, just why, he could not have told. + </p> + <p> + But that fixed stare of the judge's continued. No, the man had not changed—he + had grown older certainly, but age had not come ungracefully; he became + the glossy broadcloth and spotless linen he wore. Here was a man who could + command the good things of life, using them with a rational temperance. + The room itself was in harmony with his character; it was plain but rich + in its appointments, at once his library and his office, while the + well-filled cases ranged about the walls showed his tastes to be in the + main scholarly and intellectual. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you lived here?” asked the judge abruptly. Fentress seemed + to hesitate; but the judge's glance, compelling and insistent, demanded an + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “You have known many men of all classes as a lawyer and a planter?” said + the judge. Fentress inclined his head. The judge took a step nearer him. + “People have a great trick of coming and going in these western states—all + sorts of damned riffraff drift in and out of these new lands.” A deadly + earnestness lifted the judge's words above mere rudeness. Fentress, cold + and distant, made no reply. “For the past twenty years I have been looking + for a man by the name of Gatewood—David Gatewood.” Disciplined as he + was, the colonel started violently. “Ever heard of him, Fentress?” + demanded the judge with a savage scowl. + </p> + <p> + “What's all this to me?” The words came with a gasp from Fentress' + twitching lips. The judge looked at him moody and frowning. + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to think this man Gatewood came to west Tennessee,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “If so, I have never heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not under that name—at any rate you are going to hear of + him now. This man Gatewood, who between ourselves was a damned scoundrel”—the + colonel winced—“this man Gatewood had a friend who threw money and + business in his way—a planter he was, same as Gatewood. A sort of + partnership existed between the pair. It proved an expensive enterprise + for Gatewood's friend, since he came to trust the damned scoundrel more + and more as time passed—even large sums of his money were in + Gatewood's hands—” the judge paused. Fentress' countenance was like + stone, as expressionless and as rigid. + </p> + <p> + By the door stood Mahaffy with Yancy and Cavendish; they understood that + what was obscure and meaningless to them held a tragic significance to + these two men. The judge's heavy face, ordinarily battered and debauched, + but infinitely good-natured, bore now the markings of deep passion, and + the voice that rumbled forth from his capacious chest came to their ears + like distant thunder. + </p> + <p> + “This friend of Gatewood's had a wife—” The judge's voice broke, + emotion shook him like a leaf, he was tearing open his wounds. He reached + over and poured himself a drink, sucking it down with greedy lips. “There + was a wife—” he whirled about on his heel and faced Fentress again. + “There was a wife, Fentress—” he fixed Fentress with his blazing + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A wife and child. Well, one day Gatewood and the wife were missing. Under + the circumstances Gatewood's friend was well rid of the pair—he + should have been grateful, but he wasn't, for his wife took his child, a + daughter; and Gatewood a trifle of thirty thousand dollars his friend had + intrusted to him!” + </p> + <p> + There was another silence. + </p> + <p> + “At a later day I met this man who had been betrayed by his wife and + robbed by his friend. He had fallen out of the race—drink had done + for him—there was just one thing he seemed to care about and that + was the fate of his child, but maybe he was only curious there. He + wondered if she had lived, and married—” Once more the judge paused. + </p> + <p> + “What's all this to me?” asked Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it's nothing to you?” demanded the judge hoarsely. + “Understand this, Fentress. Gatewood's treachery brought ruin to at least + two lives. It caused the woman's father to hide his face from the world, + it wasn't enough for him that his friends believed his daughter dead; he + knew differently and the shame of that knowledge ate into his soul. It + cost the husband his place in the world, too—in the end it made of + him a vagabond and a penniless wanderer.” + </p> + <p> + “This is nothing to me,” said Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” cried the judge. “About six years ago the woman was seen at her + father's home in North Carolina. I reckon Gatewood had cast her off. She + didn't go back empty-handed. She had run away from her husband with a + child—a girl; after a lapse of twenty years she returned to her + father with a boy of two or three. There are two questions that must be + answered when I find Gatewood: what became of the woman and what became of + the child; are they living or dead; did the daughter grow up and marry and + have a son? When I get my answer it will be time enough to think of + Gatewood's punishment!” The judge leaned forward across the table, + bringing his face close to Fentress' face. “Look at me—do you know + me now?” + </p> + <p> + But Fentress' expression never altered. The judge fell back a step. + </p> + <p> + “Fentress, I want the boy,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What boy?” + </p> + <p> + “My grandson.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad! What do I know of him—or you?” Fentress was gaining + courage from the sound of his own voice. + </p> + <p> + “You know who he is and where he is. Your business relations with General + Ware have put you on the track of the Quintard lands in this state. You + intend to use the boy to gather them in.” + </p> + <p> + “You're mad!” repeated Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you bring him to me inside of twenty-four hours I'll smash you!” + roared the judge. “Your name isn't Fentress, it's Gatewood; you've stolen + the name of Fentress, just as you have stolen other things. What's come of + Turberville's wife and child? What's come of Turberville's money? Damn + your soul! I want my grandson! I'll pull you down and leave you stripped + and bare! I'll tell the world the false friend you've been—the thief + you are! I'll strip you and turn you out of these doors as naked as when + you entered the world!” The judge seemed to tower above Fentress, the man + had shot up out of his deep debasement. “Choose! Choose!” he thundered, + his shaggy brows bent in a menacing frown. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about the boy,” said Fentress slowly. + </p> + <p> + “By God, you lie!” stormed the judge. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about the boy,” and Fentress took a step toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Stay where you are!” commanded the judge. “If you attempt to leave this + room to call your niggers I'll kill you on its threshold!” + </p> + <p> + But Yancy and Cavendish had stepped to the door with an intention that was + evident, and Fentress' thin face cast itself in haggard lines. He was + feeling the judge's terrible capacity, his unexpected ability to deal with + a supreme situation. Even Mahaffy gazed at his friend in wonder. He had + only seen him spend himself on trifles, with no further object than the + next meal or the next drink; he had believed that as he knew him so he had + always been, lax and loose of tongue and deed, a noisy tavern hero, but + now he saw that he was filling what must have been the measure of his + manhood. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I had no hand in carrying off the boy,” said Fentress with a + sardonic smile. + </p> + <p> + “I look to you to return him. Stir yourself, Gatewood, or by God, I'll + hold so fierce a reckoning with you—” + </p> + <p> + The sentence remained unfinished, for Fentress felt his overwrought nerves + snap, and giving way to a sudden blind fury struck at the judge. + </p> + <p> + “We are too old for rough and tumble,” said the judge, who had displayed + astonishing agility in avoiding the blow. “Furthermore we were once + gentlemen. At present I am what I am, while you are a hound and a + blackguard! We'll settle this as becomes our breeding.” He poured himself + a second glass of liquor from Fentress' decanter. “I wonder if it is + possible to insult you,” and he tossed glass and contents in Fentress' + face. The colonel's thin features were convulsed. The judge watched him + with a scornful curling of the lips. “I am treating you better than you + deserve,” he taunted. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning at sun-up at Boggs' racetrack!” cried Fentress. The + judge bowed with splendid courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing could please me half so well,” he declared. He turned to the + others. “Gentlemen, this is a private matter. When I have met Colonel + Fentress I shall make a public announcement of why this appeared necessary + to me; until then I trust this matter will not be given publicity. May I + ask your silence?” He bowed again, and abruptly passed from the room. + </p> + <p> + His three friends followed in his steps, leaving Fentress standing by the + table, the ghost of a smile on his thin lips. + </p> + <p> + As if the very place were evil, the judge hurried down the drive toward + the road. At the gate he paused and turned on his companions, but his + features wore a look of dignity that forbade comment or question. He held + out his hand to Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “if I could command the riches of the Indies, it would tax + my resources to meet the fractional part of my obligations to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of that!” said Yancy, as much overwhelmed by the judge's manner as + by his words. + </p> + <p> + “His Uncle Bob shall keep his place in my grandson's life! We'll watch him + grow into manhood together.” The judge was visibly affected. A smile of + deep content parted Mr. Yancy's lips as his muscular fingers closed about + the judge's hand with crushing force. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop!” cried Cavendish, delighted at this recognition of Yancy's love + for the boy, and he gleefully smote the austere Mahaffy on the shoulder. + But Mahaffy was dumb in the presence of the decencies, he quite lacked an + interpreter. The judge looked back at the house. + </p> + <p> + “Mine!” he muttered. “The clothes he stands in, the food he eats—mine! + Mine!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. THE BUBBLE BURSTS + </h2> + <p> + At about the same hour that the judge was hurling threats and insults at + Colonel Fentress, three men were waiting ten miles away at the head of the + bayou which served to isolate Hicks' cabin. Now no one of these three had + ever heard of Judge Slocum Price; the breath of his fame had never blown, + however gently, in their direction, yet they were preparing to thrust + opportunity upon him. To this end they were lounging about the opening in + the woods where the horses belonging to Ware and Murrell were tied. + </p> + <p> + At length the dip of oars became audible in the silence and one of the + trio stole down the path, a matter of fifty yards, to a point that + overlooked the bayou. He was gone but a moment. + </p> + <p> + “It's Murrell all right!” he said in an eager whisper. “Him and another + fellow—the Hicks girl is rowing them.” He glanced from one to the + other of his companions, who seemed to take firmer hold of themselves + under his eye. “It'll be all right,” he protested lightly. “He's as good + as ours. Wait till I give you the word.” And he led the way into an + adjacent thicket. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Ware and Murrell had landed and were coming along the path, the + outlaw a step or two in advance of his friend. They reached the horses and + were untying them when the thicket suddenly disgorged the three men; each + held a cocked pistol; two of these pistols covered Murrell and the third + was leveled at Ware. + </p> + <p> + “Hues!” cried Murrell in astonishment, for the man confronting him was the + Clan's messenger who should have been speeding across the state. + </p> + <p> + “Toss up your hands, Murrell,” said Hues quietly. + </p> + <p> + One of the other men spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You are under arrest!” + </p> + <p> + “Arrest!” + </p> + <p> + “You are wanted for nigger-stealing,” said the man. Still Murrell did not + seem to comprehend. He looked at Hues in dull wonder. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting to arrest you—ain't that plain?” said Hues, with a grim + smile. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw's hands dropped at his side, limp and helpless. With some idea + that he might attempt to draw a weapon one of the men took hold of him, + but Murrell was nerveless to his touch; his face had gone a ghastly white + and was streaked with the markings of terror. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by thunder!” cried the man in utter amazement. + </p> + <p> + Murrell looked into Hues' face. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—” and the words thickened on his tongue becoming an + inarticulate murmur. + </p> + <p> + “It's all up, John,” said Hues. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Murrell, recovering himself. “You may as well turn me loose—you + can't arrest me!” + </p> + <p> + “I've done it,” answered Hues, with a laugh. “I've been on your track for + six months.” + </p> + <p> + “How about this fellow?” asked the man, whose pistol still covered Ware. + Hues glanced toward the planter and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going to take me?” asked Murrell quickly. Again Hues + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find that out in plenty of time, and then your friends can pass + the word around if they like; now you'll come with me!” + </p> + <p> + Ware neither moved nor spoke as Hues and his prisoner passed back along + the path, Hues with his hand on Murrell's shoulder, and one of his + companions close at his heels, while the third man led off the outlaw's + horse. + </p> + <p> + Presently the distant clatter of hoofs was borne to Ware's ears—only + that; the miracle of courage and daring he had half expected had not + happened. Murrell, for all his wild boasting, was like other men, like + himself. His bloodshot eyes slid around in their sockets. There across the + sunlit stretch of water was Betty—the thought of her brought him to + quick choking terrors. The whole fabric of crime by which he had been + benefited in the past or had expected to profit in the future seemed + toppling in upon him, but his mind clutched one important fact. Hues, if + he knew of Betty's disappearance, did not connect Murrell with it. Ware + sucked in comfort between his twitching lips. Stealing niggers! No one + would believe that he, a planter, had a hand in that, and for a brief + instant he considered signaling Bess to return. Slosson must be told of + Murrell's arrest; but he was sick with apprehension, some trap might have + been prepared for him, he could not know; and the impulse to act forsook + him. + </p> + <p> + He smote his hands together in a hopeless, beaten gesture. And Murrell had + gone weak—with his own eyes he had seen it—Murrell—whom + he believed without fear! He felt that he had been grievously betrayed in + his trust and a hot rage poured through him. At last he climbed into the + saddle, and swaying like a drunken man, galloped off. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the river road he paused and scanned its dusty surface. + Hues and his party had turned south when they issued from the wood path. + No doubt Murrell was being taken to Memphis. Ware laughed harshly. The + outlaw would be free before another dawn broke. + </p> + <p> + He had halted near where Jim had turned his team the previous night after + Betty and Hannibal had left the carriage; the marks of the wheels were as + plainly distinguishable as the more recent trail left by the four men, and + as he grasped the significance of that wide half circle his sense of + injury overwhelmed him again. He hoped to live to see Murrell hanged! + </p> + <p> + He was so completely lost in his bitter reflections that he had been + unaware of a mounted man who was coming toward him at a swift gallop, but + now he heard the steady pounding of hoofs and, startled by the sound, + looked up. A moment later the horseman drew rein at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Ware!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Carrington?” said the planter. + </p> + <p> + “You are wanted at Belle Plain,” began Carrington, and seemed to hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes, I am going there at once—now—” stammered Ware, + and gathered up his reins with a shaking hand. + </p> + <p> + “You've heard, I take it?” said Carrington slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Ware, in a hoarse whisper. “My God, Carrington, I'm heart + sick; she has been like a daughter to me!” he fell silent mopping his + face. + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand your feeling,” said Carrington, giving him a level + glance. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll excuse me,” and the planter clapped spurs to his horse. Once + he looked back over his shoulder; he saw that Carrington had not moved + from the spot where they had met. + </p> + <p> + At Belle Plain, Ware found his neighbors in possession of the place. They + greeted him quietly and spoke in subdued tones of their sympathy. The + planter listened with an air of such abject misery that those who had + neither liked nor respected him, were roused to a sudden generous feeling + where he was concerned, they could not question but that he was deeply + affected. After all the man might have a side to his nature with which + they had never come in contact. + </p> + <p> + When he could he shut himself in his room. He had experienced a day of + maddening anxiety, he had not slept at all the previous night, in mind and + body he was worn out; and now he was plunged into the thick of this + sensation. He must keep control of himself, for every word he said would + be remembered. In the present there was sympathy for him, but sooner or + later people would return to their sordid unemotional judgments. + </p> + <p> + He sought to forecast the happenings of the next few hours. Murrell's + friends would break jail for him, that was a foregone conclusion, but the + insurrection he had planned was at an end. Hues had dealt its death blow. + Moreover, though the law might be impotent to deal with Murrell, he could + not hope to escape the vengeance of the powerful class he had plotted to + destroy; he would have to quit the country. Ware gloated in this idea of + craven flight. Thank God, he had seen the last of him! + </p> + <p> + But as always his thoughts came back to Betty. Slosson would wait at the + Hicks' place for the man Murrell had promised him, and failing this + messenger, for the signal fire, but there would be neither; and Slosson + would be left to determine his own course of action. Ware felt certain + that he would wait through the night, but as sure as the morning broke, if + no word had reached him, he would send one of his men across the bayou, + who must learn of Murrell's arrest, escape, flight—for in Ware's + mind these three events were indissolubly associated. The planter's teeth + knocked together. He was having a terrible acquaintance with fear, its + very depths had swallowed him up; it was a black pit in which he sank from + horror to horror. He had lost all faith in the Clan which had terrorized + half a dozen states, which had robbed and murdered with apparent impunity, + which had marketed its hundreds of stolen slaves. He had utterly collapsed + at the first blow dealt the organization, but he was still seeing Murrell, + pallid and shaken. + </p> + <p> + A step sounded in the hall and an instant later Hicks entered the room + without the formality of knocking. Ware recognized his presence with a + glance of indifference, but did not speak. Hicks slouched to his + employer's side and handed him a note which proved to be from Fentress. + Ware read and tossed it aside. + </p> + <p> + “If he wants to see me why don't he come here?” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that old fellow they call Judge Price has sprung something + sudden on the colonel,” said Hicks. + </p> + <p> + “He was out here the first thing this morning; you'd have thought he owned + Belle Plain. There was a couple of strangers with him, and he had me in + and fired questions at me for half an hour, then he hiked off up to The + Oaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Murrell's been arrested,” said Ware in a dull level voice. Hicks gave him + a glance of unmixed astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by God!” + </p> + <p> + “Who'd risk it?” + </p> + <p> + “Risk it? Man, he almost fainted dead away—a damned coward. Hell!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know this?” asked Hicks, appalled. + </p> + <p> + “I was with him when he was taken—it was Hues the man he trusted + more than any other!” Ware gave the overseer a ghastly grin and was + silent, but in that silence he heard the drumming of his own heart. He + went on. “I tell you to save himself John Murrell will implicate the rest + of us; we've got to get him free, and then, by hell—we ought to + knock him in the head; he isn't fit to live!” + </p> + <p> + “The jail ain't built that'll hold him!!” muttered Hicks. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, he can't be held,” agreed Ware. “And 'he'll never be brought + to trial; no lawyer will dare appear against him, no jury will dare find + him guilty; but there's Hues, what about him?” He paused. The two men + looked at each other for a long moment. + </p> + <p> + “Where did they carry the captain?” inquired Hicks. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like the Clan was in a hell-fired hole—but shucks! What + will be easier than to fix Hues?—and while they're fixing folks + they'd better not overlook that old fellow Price. He's got some notion + about Fentress and the boy.” Mr. Hicks did not consider it necessary to + explain that he was himself largely responsible for this. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” demanded Ware. + </p> + <p> + “He as good as said so.” Hicks looked uneasily at the planter. He knew + himself to be compromised. The stranger named Cavendish had forced an + admission from him that Murrell would not condone if it came to his + knowledge. He had also acquired a very proper and wholesome fear of Judge + Slocum Price. He stepped close to Ware's side. “What'll come of the girl, + Tom? Can you figure that out?” he questioned, sinking his voice almost to + a whisper. But Ware was incapable of speech, again his terrors completely + overwhelmed him. “I reckon you'll have to find another overseer. I'm going + to strike out for Texas,” said Hicks. + </p> + <p> + Ware's eyes met his for an instant. He had thought of flight, too, was + still thinking of it, but greed was as much a part of his nature as fear; + Belle Plain was a prize not to be lightly cast aside, and it was almost + his. He lurched across the room to the window. If he were going to act, + the sooner he did so the better, and gain a respite from his fears. The + road down the coast slid away before his heavy eyes, he marked each turn; + then a palsy of fear shook him, his heart beat against his ribs, and he + stood gnawing his lips while he gazed up at the sun. + </p> + <p> + “Do you get what I say, Tom? I am going to quit these parts,” said Hicks. + Ware turned slowly from the window. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Hicks. You mean you want me to settle with you, is that it?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm going to leave while I can, maybe I can't later on,” said Hicks + stolidly. He added: “I am going to start down the coast as soon as it + turns dark, and before it's day again I'll have put the good miles between + me and these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “You're going down the coast?” and Ware was again conscious of the + quickened beating of his heart. Hicks nodded. “See you don't meet up with + John Murrell,” said Ware. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take that chance. It seems a heap better to me than staying here.” + </p> + <p> + Ware looked from the window. The shadows were lengthening across the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Better start now, Hicks,” he advised. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait until it turns dark.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll need a horse.” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to help myself to one. This ain't no time to stand on + ceremony,” said Hicks shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Slosson shouldn't be left in the lurch like this—or your brother's + folks—” + </p> + <p> + “They'll have to figure it out for themselves same as me,” rejoined Hicks. + </p> + <p> + “You can stop there as you go by.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Hicks; “I never did believe in this damn foolishness about the + girl, and I won't go near George's—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't ask you to go there, you can give them the signal from the head + of the bayou. All I want is for you to stop and light a fire on the shore. + They'll know what that means. I'll give you a horse and fifty dollars for + the job.” + </p> + <p> + Hicks' eyes sparkled, but he only said + </p> + <p> + “Make it twice that and maybe we can deal.” + </p> + <p> + Racked and tortured, Ware hesitated; but the sun was slipping into the + west, his windows blazed with the hot light. + </p> + <p> + “You swear you'll do your part?” he said thickly. He took his purse from + his pocket and counted out the amount due Hicks. He named the total, and + paused irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want the fire lighted?” asked Hicks. He was familiar with his + employer's vacillating moods. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Ware, his lips quivering; and slowly, with shaking + fingers, he added to the pile of bills in Hicks' hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, take care of yourself,” said Hicks, when the count was complete. He + thrust the roll of bills into his pocket and moved to the door. + </p> + <p> + Alone again, the planter collapsed into his chair, breathing heavily, but + his terrors swept over him and left him with a savage sense of triumph. + This passed, he sprang up, intending to recall Hicks and unmake his + bargain. What had he been thinking of—safety lay only in flight! + Before he reached the door his greed was in the ascendant. He dropped down + on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the window. The sun sank lower. + From where he sat he saw it through the upper half of the sash, blood-red + and livid in a mist of fleecy clouds. + </p> + <p> + It was in the tops of the old oaks now, which sent their shadows into his + room. Again maddened by his terrors he started up and backed toward the + door; but again his greed, the one dominating influence in his life, + vanquished him. + </p> + <p> + He watched the sun sink. He watched the red splendor fade over the river; + he saw the first stars appear. He told himself that Hicks would soon be + gone—if the fire was not to be lighted he must act at once! He stole + to the window. It was dusk now, yet he could distinguish the distant + wooded boundaries of the great fields framed by the darkening sky. Then in + the silence he heard the thud of hoofs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. THE KEEL BOAT + </h2> + <p> + “PRICE,” began Mahaffy. They were back in Raleigh in the room the judge + called his office, and this was Mahaffy's first opportunity to ease his + mind on the subject of the duel, as they had only just parted from Yancy + and Cavendish, who had stopped at one of the stores to make certain + purchases for the raft. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word, Solomon—it had to come. I am going to kill him. I shall + feel better then.” + </p> + <p> + “What if he kills you?” demanded Mahaffy harshly. The judge shrugged his + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That is as it may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten your grandson?” Mahaffy's voice was still harsh and + rasping. + </p> + <p> + “I regard my meeting with Fentress as nothing less than a sacred duty to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “We know no more than we did this morning,” said Mahaffy. “You are mixing + up all sorts of side issues with what should be your real purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, Solomon—not at all! I look upon my grandson's speedy + recovery as an assured fact. Fentress dare not hold him. He knows he is + run to earth at last.” + </p> + <p> + “Price—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Solomon—no, my friend, we will not speak of it again. You will + go back to Belle Plain with Yancy and Cavendish; you must represent me + there. We have as good as found Hannibal, but we must be active in Miss + Malroy's behalf. For us that has an important bearing on the future, and + since I can not, you must be at Belle Plain when Carrington arrives with + his pack of dogs. Give him the advantage of your sound and mature + judgment, Solomon; don't let any false modesty keep you in the + background.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's going to second you?” snapped Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + The judge was the picture of indifference. + </p> + <p> + “It will be quite informal, the code is scarcely applicable; I merely + intend to remove him because he is not fit to live.” + </p> + <p> + “At sun-up!” muttered Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to start one day right even if I never live to begin another,” + said the judge, a sudden fierce light flashing from his eyes. “I feel that + this is the turning point in my career, Solomon!” he went on. “The + beginning of great things! But I shall take no chances with the future, I + shall prepare for every possible contingency. I am going to make you and + Yancy my grandson's guardians. There's a hundred thousand acres of land + hereabout that must come to him. I shall outline in writing the legal + steps to be taken to substantiate his claims. Also he will inherit largely + from me at my death.” + </p> + <p> + Something very like laughter escaped from Mahaffy's lips. + </p> + <p> + “There you go, Solomon, with your inopportune mirth! What in God's name + have I if I haven't hope? Take that from me and what would I be? Why, the + very fate I have been fighting off with tooth and nail would overwhelm me. + I'd sink into unimportance—my unparalleled misfortunes would degrade + me to a level with the commonest! No, sir, I've never been without hope, + and though I've fallen I've always got up. What Fentress has is based on + money he stole from me. By God, the days of his profit-taking are at an + end! I am going to strip him. And even if I don't live to enjoy what's + mine, my grandson shall! He shall wear velvet and a lace collar and ride + his pony yet, by God, as a gentleman's grandson should!” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds well, Price, but where's the money coming from to push a + lawsuit?” + </p> + <p> + The judge waved this aside. + </p> + <p> + “The means will be found, Solomon. Our horizon is lifting—I can see + it lift! Don't drag me back from the portal of hope! We'll drink the stuff + that comes across the water; I'll warm the cockles of your heart with + imported brandy. I carry twenty years' hunger and thirst under my wes-coat + and I'll feed and drink like a gentleman yet!” The judge smacked his lips + in an ecstasy of enjoyment, and dropping down before the table which + served him as a desk, seized a pen. + </p> + <p> + “It's good enough to think about, Price,” admitted Mahaffy grudgingly. + </p> + <p> + “It's better to do; and if anything happens to me the papers I am going to + leave will tell you how it's to be done. Man, there's a million of money + in sight, and we've got to get it and spend it and enjoy it! None of your + swinish thrift for me, but life on a big scale—company, and + feasting, and refined surroundings!” + </p> + <p> + “And you are going to meet Fentress in the morning?” asked Mahaffy. “I + suppose there's no way of avoiding that?” + </p> + <p> + “Avoiding it?” almost shouted the judge. “For what have I been living? I + shall meet him, let the consequences be what they may. To-night when I + have reduced certain facts to writing I shall join you at Belle Plain. The + strange and melancholy history of my life I shall place in your hands for + safe keeping. In the morning I can be driven back to Boggs'.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will go there without a second?” + </p> + <p> + “If necessary; yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare, Price, you are hardly fitted to be at large! Why, you act as + if you were tired of life. There's Yancy—there's Cavendish!” + </p> + <p> + The judge gave him an indulgent but superior smile. + </p> + <p> + “Two very worthy men, but I go to Boggs' attended by a gentleman or I go + there alone. I am aware of your prejudices, Solomon; otherwise I might ask + this favor of you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mahaffy snorted loudly and turned to the door, for Yancy and Cavendish + were now approaching the house, the latter with a meal sack slung over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Solomon, take one of my pistols,” urged the judge hastily. “You may + need it at Belle Plain. Goodby, and God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + Just where he had parted from Ware, Carrington sat his horse, his brows + knit and his eyes turned in the direction of the path. He was on his way + to a plantation below Girard, the owner of which had recently imported a + pack of bloodhounds; but this unexpected encounter with Ware had affected + him strangely. He still heard Tom's stammering speech, he was still seeing + his ghastly face, and he had come upon him with startling suddenness. He + had chanced to look back over his shoulder and when he faced about there + had been the planter within a hundred yards of him. + </p> + <p> + Presently Carrington's glance ceased to follow the windings of the path. + He stared down at the gray dust and saw the trail left by Hues and his + party. For a moment he hesitated; if the dogs were to be used with any + hope of success he had no time to spare, and this was the merest + suspicion, illogical conjecture, based on nothing beyond his distrust of + Ware. In the end he sprang from the saddle and leading his horse into the + woods, tied it to a sapling. + </p> + <p> + A hurried investigation told him that five men had ridden in and out of + that path. Of the five, all coming from the south, four had turned south + again, but the fifth man—Ware, in other words—had gone north. + He weighed the possible significance of these facts. + </p> + <p> + “I am only wasting time!” he confessed reluctantly, and was on the point + of turning away, when, on the very edge of the road and just where the + dust yielded to the hard clay of the path, his glance lighted on the print + of a small and daintily shod foot. The throbbing of his heart quickened + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Betty!” The word leaped from his lips. + </p> + <p> + That small foot had left but the one impress. There were other signs, + however, that claimed his attention; namely, the bootprints of Slosson and + his men; and he made the inevitable discovery that these tracks were all + confined to the one spot. They began suddenly and as suddenly ceased, yet + there was no mystery about these; he had the marks of the wheels to help + him to a sure conclusion. A carriage had turned just here, several men had + alighted, they had with them a child or a woman. Either they had reentered + the carriage and driven back as they had come, or they had gone toward the + river. He felt the soul within him turn sick. + </p> + <p> + He stole along the path; the terror of the river was ever in his thoughts, + and the specter of his fear seemed to flit before him and lure him on. + Presently he caught his first glimpse of the bayou and his legs shook + under him; but the path wound deeper still into what appeared to be an + untouched solitude, wound on between the crowding tree forms, a little + back from the shore, with an intervening tangle of vines and bushes. He + scanned this closely as he hurried forward, scarcely conscious that he was + searching for some trampled space at the water's edge; but the verdant + wall preserved its unbroken continuity, and twenty minutes later he came + within sight of the Hicks' clearing and the keel boat, where it rested + against the bank. + </p> + <p> + A little farther on he found the spot where Slosson had launched the skiff + the night before. The keel of his boat had cut deep into the slippery + clay; more than this, the impress of the small shoe was repeated here, and + just beside it was the print of a child's bare foot. + </p> + <p> + He no longer doubted that Betty and Hannibal had been taken across the + bayou to the cabin, and he ran back up the path the distance of a mile and + plunged into the woods on his right, his purpose being to pass around the + head of the expanse of sluggish water to a point from which he could later + approach the cabin. But the cabin proved to be better defended than he had + foreseen; and as he advanced, the difficulties of the task he had set + himself became almost insurmountable; yet sustained as he was by his + imperative need, he tore his way through the labyrinth of trailing vines, + or floundered across acre-wide patches of green slime and black mud, which + at each step threatened to engulf him in their treacherous depths, until + at the end of an hour he gained the southern side of the clearing and a + firmer footing within the shelter of the woods. + </p> + <p> + Here he paused and took stock of his surroundings. The two or three + buildings Mr. Hicks had erected stood midway of the clearing and were very + modest improvements adapted to their owner's somewhat flippant pursuit of + agriculture. While Carrington was still staring about him, the cabin door + swung open and a woman stepped forth. It was the girl Bess. She went to a + corner of the building and called loudly: + </p> + <p> + “Joe! Oh, Joe!” + </p> + <p> + Carrington glanced in the direction of the keel boat and an instant later + saw Slosson clamber over its side. The tavern-keeper crossed to the cabin, + where he was met by Bess, who placed in his hands what seemed to be a + wooden bowl. With this he slouched off to one of the outbuildings, which + he entered. Ten or fifteen minutes slipped by, then he came from the shed + and after securing the door, returned to the cabin. He was again met by + Bess, who relieved him of the bowl; they exchanged a few words and Slosson + walked away and afterward disappeared over the side of the keel boat. + </p> + <p> + This much was clear to the Kentuckian: food had been taken to some one in + the shed—to Betty and the boy!—more likely to George. + </p> + <p> + He waited now for the night to come, and to him the sun seemed fixed in + the heavens. At Belle Plain Tom Ware was watching it with a shuddering + sense of the swiftness of its flight. But at last the tops of the tall + trees obscured it; it sank quickly then and blazed a ball of fire beyond + the Arkansas coast, while its dying glory spread aslant the heavens, + turning the flanks of the gray clouds to violet and purple and gold. + </p> + <p> + With the first approach of darkness Carrington made his way to the shed. + Hidden in the shadow he paused to listen, and fancied he heard difficult + breathing from within. The door creaked hideously on its wooden hinges + when he pushed it open, but as it swung back the last remnant of the day's + light showed him some dark object lying prone on the dirt floor. He + reached down and his hand rested on a man's booted foot. + </p> + <p> + “George—” Carrington spoke softly, but the man on the floor gave no + sign that he heard, and Carrington's questioning touch stealing higher he + found that George—if it were George—was lying on his side with + his arms and legs securely bound. Thinking he slept, the Kentuckian shook + him gently to arouse him. + </p> + <p> + “George?” he repeated, still bending above him. This time an inarticulate + murmur answered him. At the same instant the woolly head of the negro came + under his fingers and he discovered the reason of his silence. He was as + securely gagged as he was bound. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, George—it's Carrington—I am going to take off this + gag, but don't speak above a whisper—they may hear us!” And he cut + the cords that held the gag in place. + </p> + <p> + “How yo' get here, Mas'r Ca'ington?” asked the negro guardedly, as the gag + fell away. + </p> + <p> + “Around the head of the bayou.” + </p> + <p> + “Lawd!” exclaimed George, in a tone of wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Miss Betty?” + </p> + <p> + “She's in the cabin yonder—fo' the love of God, cut these here other + ropes with yo' knife, Mas'r Ca'ington—I'm perishin' with 'em!” + Carrington did as he asked, and groaning, George sat erect. “I'm like I + was gone to sleep all over,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You'll feel better in a moment. Tell me about Miss Malroy?” + </p> + <p> + “They done fetched us here last night. I was drivin' Missy into Raleigh—her + and young Mas'r Hazard—when fo' men stop us in the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were they, do you know?” asked Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “Lawd—what's that?” + </p> + <p> + Carrington, knife in hand swung about on his heel. A lantern's light + flashed suddenly in his face and Bess Hicks, with a low startled cry + breaking from her lips, paused in the doorway. Springing forward, + Carrington seized her by the wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he grimly warned. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doin' here?” demanded the girl, as she endeavored to shake + off his hand, but Carrington drew her into the shed, and closing the door, + set his back against it. There was a brief silence during which Bess + regarded the Kentuckian with a kind of stolid fearlessness. She was the + first to speak. “I reckon you-all have come after Miss Malroy,” she + observed quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you reckon right,” answered Carrington. The girl studied him from + beneath her level brows. + </p> + <p> + “And you-all think you can take her away from here,” she speculated. “I + ain't afraid of yo' knife—you-all might use it fast enough on a man, + but not on me. I'll help you,” she added. Carrington gave her an + incredulous glance. “You don't believe me? What's to hinder my calling for + help? That would fetch our men up from the keel boat. No—yo'-all's + knife wouldn't stop me!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too sure of that,” said Carrington sternly. The girl met the + menace of his words with soft, fullthroated laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yo' hand's shakin' now, Mr. Carrington!” + </p> + <p> + “You know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I seen you once at Boggs'.” She made an impatient movement. “You + can't do nothing against them fo' men unless I help you. Miss Malroy's to + go down river to-night; they're only waiting fo' a pilot—you-all's + got to act quick!” + </p> + <p> + Carrington hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want Miss Malroy to escape?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl's mood changed abruptly. She scowled at him. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that's a private matter. Ain't it enough fo' you-all to know + that I do? I'm showing how it can be done. Them four men on the keel boat + are strangers in these parts, they're waiting fo' a pilot, but they don't + know who he'll be. I've heard you-all was a riverman; what's to hinder yo' + taking the pilot's place? Looks like yo' was willing to risk yo' life fo' + Miss Malroy or you wouldn't be here.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready,” said Carrington, his hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + “No, you ain't—jest yet,” interposed the girl hastily. “Listen to me + first. They's a dugout tied up 'bout a hundred yards above the keel boat; + you must get that to cross in to the other side of the bayou, then when + yo're ready to come back yo're to whistle three times—it's the + signal we're expecting—and I'll row across fo' you in one of the + skiffs.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you see Miss Malroy in the meantime?” + </p> + <p> + “If I want to, they's nothin' to hinder me,” responded Bess sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her then—” began Carrington, but Bess interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “I know what yo' want. She ain't to cry out or nothin' when she sees + you-all. I got sense enough fo' that.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington looked at her curiously. + </p> + <p> + “This may be a serious business for your people,” he said significantly, + and watched her narrowly. + </p> + <p> + “And you-all may get killed. I reckin if yo' want to do a thing bad enough + you don't mind much what comes after,” she answered with a hard little + laugh, as she went from the shed. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Carrington to the negro, when he had seen the cabin door + close on Bess and her lantern; and they stole across the clearing. + Reaching the bayou side they began a noiseless search for the dugout, + which they quickly found, and Carrington turned to George. “Can you swim?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mas'r.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go down into the water and drag the canoe farther along the shore—and + for God's sake, no sound!” he cautioned. + </p> + <p> + They placed a second hundred yards between themselves and the keel boat in + this manner, then he had George bring the dug-out to the bank, and they + embarked. Keeping within the shadow of the trees that fringed the shore, + Carrington paddled silently about the head of the bayou. + </p> + <p> + “George,” he at length said, bending toward the negro; “my horse is tied + in the woods on the right-hand side of the road just above where you were + taken from the carriage last night—you can be at Belle Plain inside + of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mas'r Ca'ington, those folks yonder is kin to Boss Hicks. If + he get his hand on me first don't you reckon he'll stop my mouth? I been + here heaps of times fotchin' letters fo' Mas'r Tom,” added George. + </p> + <p> + “Who were the letters for?” asked the Kentuckian, greatly surprised. + </p> + <p> + “They was fo' that Captain Murrell; seems like him and Mas'r Tom was mixed + up in a sight of business.” + </p> + <p> + “When was this—recently?” inquired Carrington. He was turning this + astonishing statement of the slave over in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, Mas'r; seems like they ain't so thick here recently.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you'd better keep away from the big house yet a while,” said + Carrington. “Instead of going there, stop at the Belle Plain landing. + You'll find a raft tied up to the shore, it belongs to a man named + Cavendish. Tell him what you know. That I've found Miss Malroy and the + boy, tell him to cast off and drift down here. I'll run the keel boat + aground the first chance I get, so tell him to keep a sharp lookout.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later they had separated, George to hurry away in search of + the horse, and Carrington to pass back along the shore until he gained a + point opposite the clearing. He whistled shrilly three times, and after an + interval of waiting heard the splash of oars and presently saw a skiff + steal out of the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” It was Bess who asked the question. + </p> + <p> + “Carrington,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky you ain't met the other man!” she said as she swept her skiff + alongside the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky for him, you mean. I'll take the oars,” added Carrington as he + entered the skiff. + </p> + <p> + Slowly the clearing lifted out of the darkness, then the keel boat became + distinguishable; and Carrington checked the skiff by a backward stroke of + the oars. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he called. + </p> + <p> + There was no immediate answer to his hail, and he called again as he sent + the skiff forward. He felt that he was risking all now. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” asked a surly voice. + </p> + <p> + “You want Slosson!” quickly prompted the girl in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Slosson!” said Carrington glibly and with confidence, and + once more he checked the skiff. + </p> + <p> + “Who be you?” + </p> + <p> + “Murrell sent you,” prompted the girl again, in a hurried whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Murrell—” And in his astonishment Carrington spoke aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Murrell?” cried the voice sharply. + </p> + <p> + “—sent me!” said Carrington quickly, as though completing an + unfinished sentence. The girl laughed nervously under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Row closter!” came the sullen command, and the Kentuckian did as he was + bidden. Four men stood in the bow of the keel boat, a lantern was raised + aloft and by its light they looked him over. There was a moment's silence + broken by Carrington, who asked: + </p> + <p> + “Which one of you is Slosson?” And he sprang lightly aboard the keel boat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Slosson,” answered the man with the lantern. The previous night Mr. + Slosson had been somewhat under the enlivening and elevating influence of + corn whisky, but now he was his own cheerless self, and rather jaded by + the passing of the hours which he had sacrificed to an irksome + responsibility. “What word do you fetch from the Captain, brother?” he + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Malroy is to be taken down river,” responded Carrington. Slosson + swore with surpassing fluency. + </p> + <p> + “Say, we're five able-bodied men risking our necks to oblige him! You can + get married a damn sight easier than this if you go about it right—I've + done it lots of times.” Not understanding the significance of Slosson's + allusion to his own matrimonial career, Carrington held his peace. The + tavern-beeper swore again with unimpaired vigor. “You'll find mighty few + men with more experience than me,” he asserted, shaking his head. “But if + you say the word—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm all for getting shut of this!” answered Carrington promptly, with a + sweep of his arm. “I call these pretty close quarters!” Still shaking his + head and muttering, the tavernkeeper sprang ashore and mounted the bank, + where his slouching figure quickly lost itself in the night. + </p> + <p> + Carrington took up his station on the flat roof of the cabin which filled + the stern of the boat. He was remembering that day in the sandy Barony + road—and during all the weeks and months that had intervened, + Murrell, working in secret, had moved steadily toward the fulfilment of + his desires! Unquestionably he had been back of the attack on Norton, had + inspired his subsequent murder, and the man's sinister and mysterious + power had never been suspected. Carrington knew that the horse-thieves and + slave stealers were supposed to maintain a loosely knit association; he + wondered if Murrell were not the moving spirit in some such organization. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd only pushed my quarrel with him!” he thought bitterly. + </p> + <p> + He heard Slosson's shuffling step in the distance, a word or two when he + spoke gruffly to some one, and a moment later he saw Betty and the boy, + their forms darkly silhouetted against the lighter sky as they moved along + the top of the bank. Slosson, without any superfluous gallantry, helped + his captives down the slope and aboard the keel boat, where he locked them + in the cabin, the door of which fastened with a hasp and wooden peg. + </p> + <p> + “You're boss now, pardner!” he said, joining Carrington at the steering + oar. + </p> + <p> + “We'll cast off then,” answered Carrington. + </p> + <p> + Thus far nothing had occurred to mar his plans. If they could but quit the + bayou before the arrival of the man whose place he had taken, the rest + would be if not easy of accomplishment, at least within the realm of the + possible. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you're a river-man?” observed Slosson. + </p> + <p> + “All my life.” + </p> + <p> + The line had been cast off, and the crew with their setting poles were + forcing the boat away from the bank. All was quietly done; except for an + occasional order from Carrington no word was spoken, and soon the unwieldy + craft glided into the sluggish current and gathered way. Mr. Slosson, who + clearly regarded his relation to the adventure as being of an official + character, continued to stand at Carrington's elbow. + </p> + <p> + “What have we, between here and the river?” inquired the latter. It was + best, he felt, not to give Slosson an opportunity to ask questions. + </p> + <p> + “It narrows considerably, pardner, but it's a straight course,” said + Slosson. “Black in yonder, ain't it?” he added, nodding ahead. + </p> + <p> + The shores drew rapidly together; they were leaving the lakelike expanse + behind. In the silence, above the rustling of the trees, Carrington heard + the first fret of 'the river against its bank. Slosson yawned + prodigiously. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you ain't needing me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Better go up in the bow and get some sleep,” advised Carrington, and + Slosson, nothing loath, clambered down from the roof of the cabin and + stumbled forward. + </p> + <p> + The ceaseless murmur of the rushing waters grew in the stillness as the + keel boat drew nearer the hurrying yellow flood, and the beat of the + Kentuckian's pulse quickened. Would he find the raft there? He glanced + back over the way they had come. The dark ranks of the forest walled off + the clearing, but across the water a dim point of light was visible. He + fixed its position as somewhere near the head of the bayou. Apparently it + was a lantern, but as he looked a ruddy glow crept up against the + sky-line. + </p> + <p> + From the bow Bunker had been observing this singular phenomenon. Suddenly + he bent and roused Slosson, who had fallen asleep. The tavern-keeper + sprang to his feet and Bunker pointed without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Mebby you can tell me what that light back yonder means?” cried Slosson, + addressing himself to Carrington; as he spoke he snatched up his rifle. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'm trying to make out,” answered Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “Hell!” cried Slosson, and tossed his gun to his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + What seemed to be a breath of wind lifted a stray lock of Carrington's + hair, but his pistol answered Slosson in the same second. He fired at the + huddle of men in the bow of the boat and one of them pitched forward with + his arms outspread. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back, you!” he said, and dropped off the cabin roof. + </p> + <p> + His promptness had bred a momentary panic, then Slosson's bull-like voice + began to roar commands; but in that brief instant of surprise and shock + Carrington had found and withdrawn the wooden peg that fastened the cabin + door. He had scarcely done this when Slosson came tramping aft supported + by the three men. + </p> + <p> + Calling to Betty and Hannibal to escape in the skiff which was towing + astern the Kentuckian rushed toward the bow. At his back he heard the door + creak on its hinges as it was pushed open by Betty and the boy, and again + he called to them to escape by the skiff. The fret of the current had + grown steadily and from beneath the wide-flung branches of the trees which + here met above his head, Carrington caught sight of the starspecked arch + of the heavens beyond. They were issuing from the bayou. He felt the river + snatch at the keel boat, the buffeting of some swift eddy, and saw the + blunt bow swing off to the south as they were plunged into the black shore + shadows. + </p> + <p> + But what he did not see was a big muscular hand which had thrust itself + out of the impenetrable gloom and clutched the side of the keel boat. + Coincident with this there arose a perfect babel of voices, high-pitched + and shrill. + </p> + <p> + “Sho—I bet it's him! Sho'—it's Uncle Bob's nevvy! Sho', you + can hear 'em! Sho', they're shootin' guns! Sho'!” + </p> + <p> + Carrington cast a hurried glance in the direction of these sounds. There + between the boat and the shore the dim outline of a raft was taking shape. + It was now canopied by a wealth of pale gray smoke that faded from before + his eyes as the darkness lifted. Turning, he saw Slosson and his men + clearly. Surprise and consternation was depicted on each face. + </p> + <p> + The light increased. From the flat stone hearth of the raft ascended a + tall column of flame which rendered visible six pygmy figures, tow-headed + and wonderfully vocal, who were toiling like mad at the huge sweeps. The + light showed more than this. It showed a lady of plump and pleasing + presence smoking a cobpipe while she fed the fire from a tick stuffed with + straw. It showed two bark shanties, a line between them decorated with the + never-ending Cavendish wash. It showed a rooster perched on the ridge-pole + of one of these shanties in the very act of crowing lustily. + </p> + <p> + Hannibal, who had climbed to the roof of the cabin, shrieked for help, and + Betty added her voice to his. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Nevvy!” came the cheerful reply, as Yancy threw himself over + the side of the boat and grappled with Slosson. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!” cried Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + Slosson uttered a cry of terror. He had a simple but sincere faith in the + supernatural, and even with the Scratch Hiller's big hands gripping his + throat, he could not rid himself of the belief that this was the ghost of + a murdered man. + </p> + <p> + “You'll take a dog's licking from me, neighbor?” said Yancy grimly. “I + been saving it fo' you!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Cavendish, whose proud spirit never greatly inclined him to + the practice of peace, had prepared for battle; Springing aloft he knocked + his heels together. + </p> + <p> + “Whoop! I'm a man as can slide down a thorny locust and never get + scratched!” he shouted. This was equivalent to setting his triggers; then + he launched himself nimbly and with enthusiasm into the thick of the + fight. It was Mr. Bunker's unfortunate privilege to sustain the onslaught + of the Earl of Lambeth. + </p> + <p> + The light from the Cavendish hearth continued to brighten the scene, for + Polly was recklessly sacrificing her best straw tick. Indeed her behavior + was in every way worthy of the noble alliance she had formed. Her cob-pipe + was not suffered to go out and with Connie's help she kept the six small + Cavendishes from risking life and limb in the keel boat, toward which they + were powerfully drawn. Despite these activities she found time to call to + Betty and Hannibal on the cabin roof. + </p> + <p> + “Jump down here; that ain't no fittin' place for you-all to stop in with + them gentlemen fightin'!” + </p> + <p> + An instant later Betty and Hannibal stood on the raft with the little + Cavendishes flocking about them. Mr. Yancy's quest of his nevvy had taken + an enduring hold on their imagination. For weeks it had constituted their + one vital topic, and the fight became merely a satisfying background for + this interesting restoration. + </p> + <p> + “Sho', they'd got him! Sho'—he wa'n't no bigger than Richard! Sho'!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Betty, with a fearful glance toward the keel boat. “Can't you + stop them?” + </p> + <p> + “What fo'?” asked Polly, opening her black eyes very wide. + </p> + <p> + “Bless yo' tender heart!-you don't need to worry none, we got them strange + gentlemen licked like they was a passel of children! Connie, you-all mind + that fire!” + </p> + <p> + She accurately judged the outcome of the fight. The boat was little better + than a shambles with the havoc that had been wrought there when Yancy and + Carrington dropped over its side to the raft. Cavendish followed them, + whooping his triumph as he came. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. THE RAFT AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + Yancy and Cavendish threw themselves on the sweeps and worked the raft + clear of the keel boat, then the turbulent current seized the smaller + craft and whirled it away into the night; as its black bulk receded from + before his eyes the Earl of Lambeth spoke with the voice of authority and + experience. + </p> + <p> + “It was a good fight and them fellows done well, but not near well + enough.” A conclusion that could not be gainsaid. He added, “No one ain't + hurt but them that had ought to have got hurt. Mr. Yancy's all right, and + so's Mr. Carrington—who's mighty welcome here.” The earl's shock of + red hair was bristling like the mane of some angry animal and his eyes + still flashed with the light of battle, but he managed to summon up an + expression of winning friendliness. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carrington's kin to me, Polly,” explained Yancy to Mrs. Cavendish. + His voice was far from steady, for Hannibal had been gathered into his + arms and had all but wrecked the stoic calm with which the Scratch Hiller + was seeking to guard his emotions. + </p> + <p> + Polly smiled and dimpled at the Kentuckian. Trained to a romantic point of + view she had a frank liking for handsome stalwart men. Cavendish was + neither, but none knew better than Polly that where he was most lacking in + appearance he was richest in substance. He carried scars honorably earned + in those differences he had been prone to cultivate with less generous + natures; for his scheme of life did not embrace the millennium. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, you got here when you did!” said Carrington. + </p> + <p> + “We was some pushed fo' time, but we done it,” responded the earl + modestly. He added, “What now?—do we make a landing?” + </p> + <p> + “No—unless it interferes with your plans not to. I 'want to get + around the next bend before we tie up. Later we'll all go back. Can I + count on you?” + </p> + <p> + “You shorely can. I consider this here as sociable a neighborhood as I + ever struck. It pleases me well. Folks are up and doing hereabout.” + </p> + <p> + Carrington looked eagerly around in search of Betty. She was sitting on an + upturned tub, a pathetic enough figure as she drooped against the wall of + one of the shanties with all her courage quite gone from her. He made his + way quickly to her side. + </p> + <p> + “La!” whispered Polly in Chills and Fever's ear. “If that pore young thing + yonder keeps a widow it won't be because of any encouragement she gets + from Mr. Carrington. If I ever seen marriage in a man's eye I seen it in + his this minute!” + </p> + <p> + “Bruce!” cried Betty, starting up as Carrington approached. “Oh, Bruce, I + am so glad you have come—you are not hurt?” She accepted his + presence without question. She had needed him and he had not failed her. + </p> + <p> + “We are none of us hurt, Betty,” he said gently, as he took her hand. + </p> + <p> + He saw that the suffering she had undergone during the preceding + twenty-four hours had left its record on her tired face and in her heavy + eyes. She retained a shuddering consciousness of the unchecked savagery of + those last moments on the keel boat; she was still hearing the oaths of + the men as they struggled together, the sound of blows, and the dreadful + silences that had followed them. She turned from him, and there came the + relief of tears. + </p> + <p> + “There, Betty, the danger is over now and you were so brave while it + lasted. I can't bear to have you cry!” + </p> + <p> + “I was wild with fear—all that time on the boat, Bruce—” she + faltered between her sobs. “I didn't know but they would find you out. I + could only wait and hope—and pray!” + </p> + <p> + “I was in no danger, dear. Didn't the girl tell you I was to take the + place of a man Slosson was expecting? He never doubted that I was that man + until a light—a signal it must have been—on the shore at the + head of the bayou betrayed me.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we going now, Bruce? Not the way they went—” and Betty + glanced out into the black void where the keel boat had merged into the + gloom. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—but we can't get the raft back up-stream against the + current, so the best thing is to land at the Bates' plantation below here; + then as soon as you are able we can return to Belle Plain,” said + Carrington. + </p> + <p> + There was an interval broken only by the occasional sweep of the great + steering oar as Cavendish coaxed the raft out toward the channel. The + thought of Charley Norton's murder rested on Carrington like a pall. + Scarcely a week had elapsed since he quitted Thicket Point and in that + week the hand of death had dealt with them impartially, and to what end? + Then the miles he had traversed in his hopeless journey up-river + translated themselves into a division of time as well as space. They were + just so much further removed from the past with its blight of tragic + terror. He turned and glanced at Betty. He saw that her eyes held their + steady look of wistful pity that was for the dead man; yet in spite of + this, and in spite of the bounds beyond which he would not let his + imagination carry him, the future enriched with sudden promise unfolded + itself. The deep sense of recovered hope stirred within him. He knew there + must come a day when he would dare to speak of his love, and she would + listen. + </p> + <p> + “It's best we should land at Bates' place—we can get teams there,” + he went on to explain. “And, Betty, wherever we go we'll go together, + dear. Cavendish doesn't look as if he had any very urgent business of his + own, and I reckon the same is true of Yancy, so I am going to keep them + with us. There are some points to be cleared up when we reach Belle Plain—some + folks who'll have a lot to explain or else quit this part of the state! + And I intend to see that you are not left alone until—until I have + the right to take care of you for good and all—that's what you want + me to do one of these days, isn't it, darling?” and his eyes, glowing and + infinitely tender, dwelt on her upturned face. + </p> + <p> + But Betty shrank from him in involuntary agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not now, Bruce—not now—we mustn't speak of that—it's + wrong—it's wicked—you mustn't make me forget him!” she cried + brokenly, in protest. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Betty, I'll not speak of it again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Bruce, and some time—Oh, don't make me say it,” she gasped, + “or I shall hate myself!” for in his presence she was feeling the horror + of her past experience grow strangely remote, only the dull ache of her + memories remained, and to these she clung. They were silent for a moment, + then Carrington said: + </p> + <p> + “After I'm sure you'll be safe here perhaps I'll go south into the Choctaw + Purchase. I've been thinking of that recently; but I'll find my way back + here—don't misunderstand me—I'll not come too soon for even + you, Betty. I loved Norton. He was one of my best friends, too,” he + continued gently. “But you know—and I know—dear, the day will + come when no matter where you are I shall find you again—find you + and not lose you!” + </p> + <p> + Betty made no answer in words, but a soft and eloquent little hand was + slipped into his and allowed to rest there. + </p> + <p> + Presently a light wind stirred the dead dense atmosphere, the mist lifted + and enveloped the shore, showing them the river between piled-up masses of + vapor. Apparently it ran for their raft alone. It was just twenty-four + hours since Carrington had looked upon such another night but this was a + different world the gray fog was unmasking—a world of hopes, and + dreams, and rich content. Then the thought of Norton—poor Norton who + had had his world, too, of hopes and dreams and rich content— + </p> + <p> + The calm of a highly domestic existence had resumed its interrupted sway + on the raft. Mr. Cavendish, associated in Betty's memory with certain + earsplitting manifestations of ferocious rage, became in the bosom of his + family low-voiced and genial and hopelessly impotent to deal with his five + small sons; while Yancy was again the Bob Yancy of Scratch Hill, violence + of any sort apparently had no place in his nature. He was deeply absorbed + in Hannibal's account of those vicissitudes which had befallen him during + their separation. They were now seated before a cheerful fire that blazed + on the hearth, the boy very close to Yancy with one hand clasped in the + Scratch Hiller's, while about them were ranged the six small Cavendishes + sedately sharing in the reunion of uncle and nevvy, toward which they felt + they had honorably labored. + </p> + <p> + “And you wa'n't dead, Uncle Bob?” said Hannibal with a deep breath, + viewing Yancy unmistakably in the flesh. + </p> + <p> + “Never once. I been floating peacefully along with these here titled + friends of mine; but I was some anxious about you, son.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Slosson, Uncle Bob—did you smack him like you smacked Dave + Blount that day when he tried to steal me?” asked Hannibal, whose childish + sense of justice demanded reparation for the wrongs they had suffered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yancy extended a big right hand, the knuckle of which was skinned and + bruised. + </p> + <p> + “He were the meanest man I ever felt obliged fo' to hit with my fist, + Nevvy; it appeared like he had teeth all over his face.” + </p> + <p> + “Sho—where's his hide, Uncle Bob?” cried the little Cavendishes in + an excited chorus. “Sho—did you forget that?” They themselves had + forgotten the unique enterprise to which Mr. Yancy was committed, but the + allusion to Slosson had revived their memory of it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he begged so piteous to be allowed fo' to keep his hide, I hadn't + the heart to strip it off,” explained Mr. Yancy pleasantly. “And the + winter's comin' onat this moment I can feel a chill in the air—don't + you-all reckon he's goin' to need it fo' to keep the cold out,' Sho', you + mustn't be bloody-minded!” + </p> + <p> + “What was it about Mr. Slosson's hide, Uncle Bob?” demanded Hannibal. + “What was you a-goin' to do to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nevvy, after he beat me up and throwed me in the river, I was some + peevish fo' a spell in my feelings fo' him,” said Yancy, in a tone of + gentle regret. He glanced at his bruised hand. “But I'm right pleased to + be able to say that I've got over all them oncharitable thoughts of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “And you seen the judge, Uncle Bob?” questioned Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've seen the judge. We was together fo' part of a day. Me and him + gets on fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now, Uncle Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he's back at Belle Plain by this time. You see we left him in + Raleigh along after noon to 'tend to some business he had on hand. I never + seen a gentleman of his weight so truly spry on his legs—and all + about you, Nevvy; while as to mind! Sho—why, words flowed out of him + as naturally as water out of a branch.” + </p> + <p> + Of Hannibal's relationship to the judge he said nothing. He felt that was + a secret to be revealed by the judge himself when he should see fit. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob, who'm I going to live with now?” questioned Hannibal + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “That p'int's already come up, Nevvy—him and me's decided that there + won't be no friction. You-all will just go on living with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about you, Uncle Bob?” cried Hannibal, lifting a wistful little + face to Yancy's. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, me?—well, you-all will go right on living with me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will come of Mr. Mahaffy?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you-all will go right on living with him, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob, you mean you reckon we are all going to live in one house?” + </p> + <p> + “I 'low it will have to be fixed that-a-ways,” agreed Yancy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE JUDGE RECEIVES A LETTER + </h2> + <p> + After he had parted with Solomon Mahaffy the judge applied himself + diligently to shaping that miracle-working document which he was preparing + as an offset to whatever risk he ran in meeting Fentress. As sanguine as + he was sanguinary he confidently expected to survive the encounter, yet it + was well to provide for a possible emergency—had he not his + grandson's future to consider? While thus occupied he saw the afternoon + stage arrive and depart from before the City Tavern. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Mr. Wesley, the postmaster, came sauntering up the + street. In his hand he carried a letter. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy,” he drawled, from just beyond the judge's open door. + </p> + <p> + The judge glanced up, his quill pen poised aloft. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, sir; won't you step inside and be seated?” he asked + graciously. His dealings with the United States mail service were of the + most insignificant description, and in personally delivering a letter, if + this was what had brought him there, he felt Mr. Wesley had reached the + limit of official courtesy and despatch. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir; it looks like you'd never told us more than two-thirds of the + truth!” said the postmaster. He surveyed the judge curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I am complimented by your opinion of my veracity,” responded that + gentleman promptly. “I consider two-thirds an enormously high per cent to + have achieved.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something in that, too,” agreed Mr. Wesley. “Who is Colonel + Slocum Price Turberville?” + </p> + <p> + The judge started up from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I have that honor,” said he, bowing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's a letter come in addressed like that, and as you've been + using part of the name I am willing to assume you're legally entitled to + the rest of it. It clears up a point that off and on has troubled me + considerable. I can only wonder I wa'n't smarter.” + </p> + <p> + “What point, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, about the time you hung out your shingle here, some one wrote a + letter to General Jackson. It was mailed after night, and when I seen it + in the morning I was clean beat. I couldn't locate the handwriting and yet + I kept that letter back a couple of days and give it all my spare time. It + ain't that I'm one of your spying sort—there's nothing of the Yankee + about me!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” agreed the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Candid, Judge, I reckon you wrote that letter, seeing this one comes + under a frank from Washington. No, sir—I couldn't make out who was + corresponding with the president and it worried me, not knowing, more than + anything I've had to contend against since I came into office. I calculate + there ain't a postmaster in the United States takes a more personal + interest in the service than me. I've frequently set patrons right when + they was in doubt as to the date they had mailed such and such a letter.” + As Mr. Wesley sometimes canceled as many as three or four stamps in a + single day he might have been pardoned his pride in a brain which thus + lightly dealt with the burden of official business. He surrendered the + letter with marked reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Your surmise is correct,” said the judge with dignity. “I had occasion to + write my friend, General Jackson, and unless I am greatly mistaken I have + my answer here.” And with a fine air of indifference he tossed the letter + on the table. + </p> + <p> + “And do you know Old Hickory?” cried Mr. Wesley. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Does it surprise you?” inquired the judge. It was only his + innate courtesy which restrained him from kicking the postmaster into the + street, so intense was his desire to be rid of him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know as it does, judge. Naturally a public man like him is in + the way of meeting with all sorts. A politician can't afford to be too + blame particular. Well, next time you write you might just send him my + regards—G. W. M. de L. Wesley's regards—there was considerable + contention over my getting this office; I reckon he ain't forgot. There + was speeches made, I understand the lie was passed between two United + States senators, and that a quid of tobacco was throwed in anger.” Having + thus clearly established the fact that he was a more or less national + character, Mr. Wesley took himself off. + </p> + <p> + When he had disappeared from sight down the street, the judge closed the + door. Then he picked up the letter. For along minute he held it in his + hand, uncertain, fearful, while his mind slipped back into the past until + his inward searching vision ferreted out a handsome soldierly figure—his + own. + </p> + <p> + “That's what Jackson remembers if he remembers anything!” he muttered, as + with trembling fingers he broke the seal. Almost instantly a smile + overspread his battered features. He hitched his chin higher and squared + his ponderous shoulders. “I am not forgotten—no, damn it—no!” + he exulted under his breath, “recalls me with sincere esteem and considers + my services to the country as well worthy of recognition—” the judge + breathed deep. What would Mahaffy find to say now! Certainly this was well + calculated to disturb the sour cynicism of his friend. His bleared eyes + brimmed. After all his groping he had touched hands with the realities at + last! Even a federal judgeship, though not an office of the first repute + in the south had its dignity—it signified something! He would make + Solomon his clerk! The judge reached for his hat. Mahaffy must know at + once that fortune had mended for them. Why, at that moment he was actually + in receipt of an income! + </p> + <p> + He sat down, the better to enjoy the unique sensation. Taxes were being + levied and collected with no other end in view than his stipend—his + ardent fancy saw the whole machinery of government in operation for his + benefit. It was a singular feeling he experienced. Then promptly his + spendthrift brain became active. He needed clothes—so did Mahaffy—so + did his grandson; they must take a larger house; he would buy himself a + man servant; these were pressing necessities as he now viewed them. + </p> + <p> + Once again he reached for his hat, the desire to rush off to Belle Plain + was overmastering. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'd be justified in hiring a conveyance from Pegloe,” he + thought, but just here he had a saving memory of his unfinished task; that + claimed precedence and he resumed his pen. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Pegloe's black boy presented himself to the judge. He came + bearing a gift, and the gift appropriately enough was a square case bottle + of respectable size. The judge was greatly touched by this attention, but + he began by making a most temperate use of the tavern-keeper's offering; + then as the formidable document he was preparing took shape under his hand + he more and more lost that feeling of Spartan fortitude which had at first + sustained him in the presence of temptation. He wrote and sipped in + complete and quiet luxury, and when at last he had exhausted the contents + of the bottle it occurred to him that it would be only proper personally + to convey his thanks to Pegloe. Perhaps he was not uninspired in this by + ulterior hopes; if so, they were richly rewarded. The resources of the + City Tavern were suddenly placed at his disposal. He attributed this to a + variety of causes all good and sufficient, but the real reason never + suggested itself, indeed it was of such a perfidious nature that the + judge, open and generous-minded, could not have grasped it. + </p> + <p> + By six o'clock he was undeniably drunk; at eight he was sounding still + deeper depths of inebriety with only the most confused memory of impending + events; at ten he collapsed and was borne up-stairs by Pegloe and his + black boy to a remote chamber in the kitchen wing. Here he was undressed + and put to bed, and the tavernkeeper, making a bundle of his clothes, + retired from the room, locking the door after him, and the judge was + doubly a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Rousing at last from a heavy dreamless sleep the judge was aware of a + faint impalpable light in his room, the ashen light of a dull October + dawn. He was aware, too, of a feeling of profound depression. He knew this + was the aftermath of indulgence and that he might look forward to + forty-eight hours of utter misery of soul, and, groaning aloud, he closed + his eyes, Sleep was the thing if he could compass it. Instead, his memory + quickened. Something was to happen at sunup—he could not recall what + it was to be, though he distinctly remembered that Mahaffy had spoken of + this very matter—Mahaffy, the austere and implacable, the + disembodied conscience whose fealty to duty had somehow survived his own + spiritual ruin, so that he had become a sort of moral sign-post, ever + pointing the way yet never going it himself. The judge lay still and + thought deeply as the light intensified itself. What was it that Mahaffy + had said he was to do at sun-up? The very hour accented his suspicions. + Probably it was no more than some cheerless obligation to be met, or + Mahaffy would not have been so concerned about it. Eventually he decided + to refer everything to Mahaffy. He spoke his friend's name weakly and in a + shaking voice, but received no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon!” he repeated, and shifting his position, looked in what should + have been the direction of the shake-down bed his friend occupied. Neither + the bed nor Mahaffy were there. The judge gasped he wondered if this were + not a premonition of certain hallucinations to which he was not a + stranger. Then all in a flash he remembered Fentress and the meeting at + Boggs', something of how the evening had been spent, and a spasm of regret + shook him. + </p> + <p> + “I had other things to think of. This must never happen again!” he told + himself remorsefully. + </p> + <p> + He was wide-awake now. Doubtless Pegloe had put him to bed. Well, that had + been thoughtful of Pegloe—he would not forget him—the City + Tavern should continue to enjoy his patronage. It would be something for + Pegloe to boast of that judge Slocum Price Turberville always made his + place headquarters when in Raleigh. Feeling that he had already conferred + wealth and distinction on the fortunate Pegloe the judge thrust his fat + legs over the side of his bed and stood erect. Stooping he reached for his + clothes. He confidently expected to find them on the floor, but his hand + merely swept an uncarpeted waste. The judge was profoundly astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I've got 'em on, I don't recall taking them off!” he thought + hopefully. He moved uncertainly in the direction of the window where the + light showed him his own bare extremities. He reverted to his original + idea that his clothes were scattered about the floor. + </p> + <p> + He was beginning to experience a great sense of haste, it was two miles to + Boggs' and Fentress would be there at sun-up. Finally he abandoned his + quest of the missing garments and turned to the door. To say that he was + amazed when he found it locked would have most inadequately described his + emotions. Breathing deep, he fell back a step or two, and then with all + the vigor he could muster launched himself at the door. But it resisted + him. “It's bolted on the other side!” he muttered, the full measure of + Pegloe's perfidy revealing itself to his mind. + </p> + <p> + He was aghast. It was a plot to discredit him. Pegloe's hospitality had + been inspired by his enemy, for Pegloe was Fentress' tenant. + </p> + <p> + Again he attacked the door; he believed it might be possible to force it + from its hinges, but Pegloe had done his work too well for that, and at + last, spent and breathless, the judge dropped down on the edge of his bed + to consider the situation. He was without clothes and he was a prisoner, + yet his mind rose splendidly to meet the difficulties that beset him. His + greatest activities were reserved for what appeared to be only a season of + despair. He armed himself with a threelegged stool he had found and turned + once more to the door, but the stout planks stood firm under his blows. + </p> + <p> + “Unless I get out of here in time I'm a ruined man!” thought the judge. + “After this Fentress will refuse to meet me!” + </p> + <p> + The window next engaged his attention. That, too, Pegloe had taken the + precaution to fasten, but a single savage blow of the stool shattered + glass and sash and left an empty space that framed the dawn's red glow. + The judge looked out and shook his head dubiously. It was twelve feet or + more to the ground, a risky drop for a gentleman of his years and build. + The judge considered making a rope of his bedding and lowering himself to + the ground by means of it, he remembered to have read of captives in that + interesting French prison, the Bastille, who did this. However, an equally + ingenious but much more simple use for his bedding occurred to him; it + would form a soft and yielding substance on which to alight. He gathered + it up into his arms, feather-tick and all, and pushed it through the + window, then he wriggled out across the ledge, feet first, and lowering + himself to the full length of his arms, dropped. + </p> + <p> + He landed squarely on the rolled-up bed with a jar that shook him to his + center. Almost gaily he snatched up a quilt, draping it about him after + the manner of a Roman, toga, and thus lightly habited, started across Mr. + Pegloe's truck-patch, his one thought Boggs' and the sun. It would have + served no purpose to have gone home, since his entire wardrobe, except for + the shirt on his back, was in the tavern-keeper's possession, besides he + had not a moment to lose, for the sun was peeping at him over the horizon. + </p> + <p> + Unobserved he gained the edge of the town and the highroad that led past + Boggs' and stole a fearful glance over his shoulder. The sun was clear of + the treetops, he could even feel the lifeless dust grow warm beneath his + feet; and wrapping the quilt closer about him he broke into a labored run. + </p> + <p> + Some twenty minutes later Boggs' came in sight. He experienced a moment of + doubt—suppose Fentress had been there and gone! It was a hideous + thought and the judge groaned. Then at the other end of the meadow near + the woods he distinguished several men, Fentress and his friends beyond + question. The judge laughed aloud. In spite of everything he was keeping + his engagement, he was plucking his triumph out of the very dregs of + failure. The judge threw himself over the fence, a corner of the quilt + caught on one of the rails; he turned to release it, and in that instant + two pistol shots rang out sharply in the morning air. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DUEL + </h2> + <p> + It had been with no little reluctance that Solomon Mahaffy accompanied + Yancy and Cavendish to Belle Plain; he would have preferred to remain in + Raleigh in attendance upon judge Price. Intimately acquainted with the + judge's mental processes, he could follow all the devious workings of that + magnificent mind; he could fathom the simply hellish ingenuity he was + capable of putting forth to accomplish temporary benefits. Permitting his + thoughts to dwell upon the mingled strength and weakness which was so + curiously blended in Slocum Price's character, he had horrid visions of + that great soul, freed from the trammels of restraint, confiding his + melancholy history to Mr. Pegloe in the hope of bolstering his fallen + credit at the City Tavern. + </p> + <p> + Always where the judge was concerned he fluctuated between extremes of + doubt and confidence. He felt that under the urgent spur of occasion his + friend could rise to any emergency, while a sustained activity made + demands which he could not satisfy; then his efforts were discounted by + his insane desire to realize at once on his opportunities; in his haste he + was for ever plucking unripe fruit; and though he might keep one eye on + the main chance the other was fixed just as resolutely on the nearest + tavern. + </p> + <p> + With the great stake which fate had suddenly introduced into their losing + game, he wished earnestly to believe that the judge would stay quietly in + his office and complete the task he had set himself; that with this off + his hands the promise of excitement at Belle Plain would compel his + presence there, when he would pass somewhat under the restraining + influence which he was determined to exert; in short, to Solomon, life + embraced just the one vital consideration, which was to maintain the judge + in a state of sobriety until after his meeting with Fentress. + </p> + <p> + The purple of twilight was stealing over the land when he and his two + companions reached Belle Plain. They learned that Tom Ware had returned + from Memphis, that the bayou had been dragged but without results, and + that as yet nothing had been heard from Carrington or the dogs he had gone + for. + </p> + <p> + Presently Cavendish and Yancy set off across the fields. They were going + on to the raft, to Polly and the six little Cavendishes, whom they had not + seen since early morning; but they promised to be back at Belle Plain + within an hour. + </p> + <p> + By very nature an alien, Mahaffy sought out a dark corner on the wide + porch that overlooked the river to await their return. The house had been + thrown open, and supper was being served to whoever cared to stay and + partake of it. The murmur of idle purposeless talk drifted out to him; he + was irritated and offended by it. There was something garish in this + indiscriminate hospitality in the very home of tragedy. As the moments + slipped by his sense of displeasure increased, with mankind in general, + with himself, and with the judge—principally with the judge—who + was to make a foolish target of himself in the morning. He was going to + give the man who had wrecked his life a chance to take it as well. + Mahaffy's cold logic dealt cynically with the preposterous situation his + friend had created. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of his angry meditations he heard a clock strike in the hall + and counted the strokes. It was nine o'clock. Surely Yancy and Cavendish + had been gone their hour! He quitted his seat and strolled restlessly + about the house. He felt deeply indignant with everybody and everything. + Human intelligence seemed but a pitiable advance on brute instinct. A + whole day had passed and what had been accomplished? Carrington, the + judge, Yancy, Cavendish—the four men who might have worked together + to some purpose had widely separated themselves; and here was the duel, + the very climax of absurdity. He resumed his dark corner and waited + another hour. Still no Carrington, and Yancy and Cavendish had not come up + from the raft. + </p> + <p> + “Fools!” thought Mahaffy bitterly. “All of them fools!” + </p> + <p> + At last he decided to go back to the judge; and a moment later was + hurrying down the lane in the direction of the highroad, but, jaded as he + was by the effort he had already put forth that day, the walk to Raleigh + made tremendous demands on him, and it was midnight when he entered the + little town. + </p> + <p> + It can not be said that he was altogether surprised when he found their + cottage dark and apparently deserted. He had half expected this. Entering, + and not stopping to secure a candle, he groped his way up-stairs to the + room on the second floor which he and the judge shared. + </p> + <p> + “Price!” he called, but this gained him no response, and he cursed softly + under his breath. + </p> + <p> + He hastily descended to the kitchen, lighted a candle, and stepped into + the adjoining room. On the table was a neat pile of papers, and topping + the pile was the president's letter. Being burdened by no false scruples, + and thinking it might afford some clue to the judge's whereabouts, Mahaffy + took it up and read it. Having mastered its contents he instantly glanced + in the direction of the City Tavern, but it was wrapped in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Price is drunk somewhere,” was his definite conclusion. “But he'll be at + Boggs' the first thing in the morning—most likely so far gone he can + hardly stand!” The letter, with its striking news, made little or no + impression on him just then; it merely furnished the clue he had sought. + The judge was off somewhere marketing his prospects. + </p> + <p> + After a time Mahaffy went up-stairs, and, without removing his clothes, + threw himself on the bed. He was worn down to the point of exhaustion, yet + he could not sleep, though the deep silence warned him that day was not + far off. What if—but he would not let the thought shape itself in + his mind. He had witnessed the judge's skill with the pistol, and he had + even a certain irrational faith in that gentleman's destiny. He prayed God + that Fentress might die quickly and decently with the judge's bullet + through his brain. Over and over in savage supplication he muttered his + prayer that Fentress might die. + </p> + <p> + He began to watch for the coming of the dawn, but before the darkness + lifted he had risen from the bed and gone downstairs, where he made + himself a cup of wretched coffee. Then he blew out his candle and watched + the gray light spread. He was impatient now to be off, and fully an hour + before the sun, set out for Boggs', a tall, gaunt figure in the shadowy + uncertainty of that October morning. He was the first to reach the place + of meeting, but he had scarcely entered the meadow when Fentress rode up, + attended by Tom Ware. They dismounted, and the colonel lifted his hat. + Mahaffy barely acknowledged the salute; he was in no mood for courtesies + that meant nothing. Ware was clearly of the same mind. + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward pause, then Fentress and Ware spoke together in a low + tone. The planter's speech was broken and hoarse, and his heavy, bloodshot + eyes were the eyes of a haunted man; this was all a part of Fentress' + scheme to face the world, and Ware still believed that the fires Hicks had + kindled had served his desperate need. + </p> + <p> + When the first long shadows stole out from the edge of the woods Fentress + turned to Mahaffy, whose glance was directed toward the distant corner of + the field, where he knew his friend must first appear. + </p> + <p> + “Why are we waiting, sir?” he demanded, his tone cold and formal. + </p> + <p> + “Something has occurred to detain Price,” answered Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + The colonel and Ware exchanged looks. Again they spoke together, while + Mahaffy watched the road. Ten minutes slipped by in this manner, and once + more Fentress addressed Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what could have detained him?” he inquired, the ghost of a + smile curling his thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” said Mahaffy, and relapsed into a moody and anxious silence. He + held dueling in very proper abhorrence, and only his feeling of intense + but never-declared loyalty to his friend had brought him there. + </p> + <p> + Another interval of waiting succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “I have about reached the end of my patience; I shall wait just ten + minutes longer,” said Fentress, and drew out his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Something has happened—” began Mahaffy. + </p> + <p> + “I have kept my engagement; he should have kept his,” Fentress continued, + addressing Ware. “I am sorry to have brought you here for nothing, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said Mahaffy, planting himself squarely before Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “I consider this comic episode at an end,” and Fentress pocketed his + watch. + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely!” rejoined Mahaffy. His long arm shot out and the open palm of + his hand descended on the colonel's face. “I am here for my friend,” he + said grimly. + </p> + <p> + The colonel's face paled and colored by turns. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a weapon?” he asked, when he could command his voice. Mahaffy + exhibited the pistol he had carried to Belle Plain the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Step off the ground, Tom.” Fentress spoke quietly. When Ware had done as + he requested, the colonel spoke again. “You are my witness that I was the + victim of an unprovoked attack.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ware accepted this statement with equanimity, not to say indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready?” he asked; he glanced at Mahaffy, who by a slight + inclination of the head signified that he was. “I reckon you're a green + hand at this sort of thing?” commented Tom evilly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mahaffy tersely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, listen: I shall count, one, two, three; at the word three you will + fire. Now take your positions.” + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy and the colonel stood facing each other, a distance of twelve + paces separating them. Mahaffy was pale but dogged, he eyed Fentress + unflinchingly. Quick on the word Fentress fired, an instant later + Mahaffy's pistol exploded; apparently neither bullet had taken effect, the + two men maintained the rigid attitude they had assumed; then Mahaffy was + seen to turn on his heels, next his arm dropped to his side and the pistol + slipped from his fingers, a look of astonishment passed over his face and + left it vacant and staring while his right hand stole up toward his heart; + he raised it slowly, with difficulty, as though it were held down by some + invisible weight. + </p> + <p> + A hush spread across the field. It was like one of nature's invisible + transitions. Along the edge of the woods the song of birds was stricken + into silence. Ware, heavy-eyed Fentress, his lips twisted by a tortured + smile, watched Mahaffy as he panted for breath, with his hand clenched + against his chest. That dead oppressive silence lasted but a moment, from + out of it came a cry that smote on the wounded man's ears and reached his + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “It's Price—” he gasped, his words bathed in blood, and he pitched + forward on his face. + </p> + <p> + Ware and Fentress had heard the cry, too, and running to their horses + threw themselves into the saddle and galloped off. The judge midway of the + meadow roared out a furious protest but the mounted men turned into the + highroad and vanished from sight, and the judge's shaking legs bore him + swiftly in the direction of the gaunt figure on the ground. + </p> + <p> + Mahaffy struggled to rise, for he was hearing his friend's voice now, the + voice of utter anguish, calling his name. At last painful effort brought + him to his knees. He saw the judge, clothed principally in a gaily colored + bed-quilt, hatless and shoeless, his face sodden and bleary from his + night's debauch. Mahaffy stood erect and staggered toward him, his hand + over his wound, his features drawn and livid, then with a cry he dropped + at his friend's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon! Solomon!” And the judge knelt beside him. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Price; I kept your appointment,” whispered Mahaffy; a + bloody spume was gathering on his lips, and he stared up at his friend + with glassy eyes. + </p> + <p> + In very shame the judge hid his face in his hands, while sobs shook him. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon—Solomon, why did you do this?” he cried miserably. + </p> + <p> + The harsh lines on the dying man's face erased themselves. + </p> + <p> + “You're the only friend I've known in twenty years of loneliness, Price. + I've loved you like a brother,” he panted, with a pause between each word. + </p> + <p> + Again the judge buried his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Solomon—I know it!” he moaned wretchedly. + </p> + <p> + “Price, you are still a man to be reckoned with. There's the boy; take + your place for his sake and keep it—you can.” + </p> + <p> + “I will—by God, I will!” gasped the judge. “You hear me? You hear + me, Solomon? By God's good help, I will!” + </p> + <p> + “You have the president's letter—I saw it,” said Mahaffy in a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” cried the judge. “Solomon, the world is changing for us!” + </p> + <p> + “For me most of all,” murmured Mahaffy, and there was a bleak instant when + the judge's ashen countenance held the full pathos of age and failure. + “Remember your oath, Price,” gasped the dying man. A moment of silence + succeeded. Mahaffy's eyes closed, then the heavy lids slid back. He looked + up at the judge while the harsh lines of his sour old face softened + wonderfully. “Kiss me, Price,” he whispered, and as the judge bent to + touch him on the brow, the softened lines fixed themselves in death, while + on his lips lingered a smile that was neither bitter nor sneering. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. A CRISIS AT THE COURT-HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + In that bare upper room they had shared, the judge, crushed and broken, + watched beside the bed on which the dead man lay; unconscious of the + flight of time he sat with his head bowed in his hands, having scarcely + altered his position since he begged those who carried Mahaffy up the + narrow stairs to leave him alone with his friend. + </p> + <p> + He was living over the past. He recalled his first meeting with Mahaffy in + the stuffy cabin of the small river packet from which they had later gone + ashore at Pleasantville; he thanked God that it had been given him to see + beneath Solomon's forbidding exterior and into that starved heart! He + reviewed each phase of the almost insensible growth of their intimacy; he + remembered Mahaffy's fine true loyalty at the time of his arrest—he + thought of Damon and Pythias—Mahaffy had reached the heights of a + sublime devotion; he could only feel enobled that he had inspired it. + </p> + <p> + At last the dusk of twilight invaded the room. He lighted the candles on + the chimneypiece, then he resumed his seat and his former attitude. + Suddenly he became aware of a small hand that was resting on his arm and + glanced up; Hannibal had stolen quietly into the room. The boy pointed to + the still figure on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Judge, what makes Mr. Mahaffy lie so quiet—is he dead?” he asked in + a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear lad,” began the judge in a shaking voice as he drew Hannibal + toward him, “your friend and mine is dead—we have lost him.” He + lifted the boy into his lap, and Hannibal pressed a tear-stained face + against the judge's shoulder. “How did you get here?” the judge questioned + gently. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob fetched me,” said Hannibal. “He's down-stairs, but he didn't + tell me Mr. Mahaffy was dead-” + </p> + <p> + “We have sustained a great loss, Hannibal, and we must never forget the + moral grandeur of the man. Some day, when you are older, and I can bring + myself to speak of it, I will tell you of his last moments.” The judge's + voice broke, a thick sob rose chokingly in his throat. “Poor Solomon! A + man of such tender feeling that he hid it from the world, for his was a + rare nature which only revealed itself to the chosen few he honored with + his love.” The judge lapsed into a momentary brooding silence, in which + his great arms drew the boy closer against his heart. “Dear lad, since I + left you at Belle Plain a very astonishing knowledge has come to me. It + was the Hand of Providence—I see it now—that first brought us + together. You must not call me judge any more; I am your grandfather your + mother was my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal instantly sat erect and looked up at the judge, his blue eyes + wide with amazement at this extraordinary statement. + </p> + <p> + “It is a very strange story, Hannibal, and its links are not all in my + hands, but I am sure because of what I already know. I, who thought that + not a drop of my blood flowed in any veins but my own, live again in you. + Do you understand what I am telling you? Your are my own dear little + grandson—” and the judge looked down with no uncertain love and + pride into the small face upturned to his. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad if you are my grandfather, judge,” said Hannibal very gravely. + “I always liked you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear lad,” responded the judge with equal gravity, and then as + Hannibal nestled back in his grandfather's arms a single big tear dropped + from the end of that gentleman's prominent nose. + </p> + <p> + “There will be many and great changes in store for us,” continued the + judge. “But as we met adversity with dignity, I am sure we shall be able + to endure prosperity with equanimity, only unworthy natures are affected + by what is at best superficial and accidental. I mean that the blight of + poverty is about to be lifted from our lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean we ain't going to be pore any longer, grandfather?” asked + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + The judge regarded him with infinite tenderness of expression; he was + profoundly moved. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind saying that again, dear lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean we ain't going to be pore any longer, grandfather?” repeated + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “I shall enjoy an adequate competency which I am about to recover. It will + be sufficient for the indulgence of those simple and intellectual tastes I + propose to cultivate for the future.” In spite of himself the judge + sighed. This was hardly in line with his ideals, but the right to choose + was no longer his. “You will be very rich, Hannibal. The Quintard lands—your + grandmother was a Quintard—will be yours; they run up into the + hundred of thousand of acres here about; this land will all be yours as + soon as I can establish your identity.” + </p> + <p> + “Will Uncle Bob be rich too?” inquired Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. How can he be poor when we possess wealth?” answered the + judge. + </p> + <p> + “You reckon he will always live with us, don't you, grandfather?” + </p> + <p> + “I would not have it otherwise. I admire Mr. Yancy—he is simple and + direct, and fit for any company under heaven except that of fools. His + treatment of you has placed me under everlasting obligations; he shall + share what we have. My one bitter, unavailing regret is that Solomon + Mahaffy will not be here to partake of our altered fortunes.” And the + judge sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Bob told me Mr. Mahaffy got hurt in a duel, grandfather?” said + Hannibal. + </p> + <p> + “He was as inexperienced as a child in the use of firearms, and he had to + deal with scoundrels who had neither mercy nor generous feeling—but + his courage was magnificent.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Hannibal was deep in his account of those adventures he had + shared with Miss Betty. + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Malroy—where is she now?” asked the judge, in the first + pause of the boy's narrative. + </p> + <p> + “She's at Mr. Bowen's house. Mr. Carrington and Mr. Cavendish are here + too. Mrs. Cavendish stayed down yonder at the Bates' plantation. + Grandfather, it were Captain Murrell who had me stole—do you reckon + he was going to take me back to Mr. Bladen?” + </p> + <p> + “I will see Miss Malroy in the morning. We must combine—our + interests are identical. There should be hemp in this for more than one + scoundrel! I can see now how criminal my disinclination to push myself to + the front has been!” said the judge, with conviction. “Never again will I + shrink from what I know to be a public duty.” + </p> + <p> + A little later they went down-stairs, where the judge had Yancy make up a + bed for himself and Hannibal on the floor. He would watch alone beside + Mahaffy, he was certain this would have been the dead man's wish; then he + said good night and mounted heavily to the floor above to resume his vigil + and his musings. + </p> + <p> + Just at daybreak Yancy was roused by the pressure of a hand on his + shoulder, and opening his eyes saw that the judge was bending over him. + </p> + <p> + “Dress!” he said briefly. “There's every prospect of trouble—get + your rifle and come with me!” + </p> + <p> + Yancy noted that this prospect of trouble seemed to afford the judge a + pleasurable sensation; indeed, he had quite lost his former air of somber + and suppressed melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “I let you sleep, thinking you needed the rest,” the judge went on. “But + ever since midnight we've been on the verge of riot and possible + bloodshed. They've arrested John Murrell—it's claimed he's planned a + servile rebellion! A man named Hues, who had wormed his way into his + confidence, made the arrest. He carried Murrell into Memphis, but the + local magistrate, intimidated, most likely, declined to have anything to + do with holding him. In spite of this, Hues managed to get his prisoner + lodged in jail, but along about nightfall the situation began to look + serious. Folks were swarming into town armed to the teeth, and Hues + fetched Murrell across country to Raleigh—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the sheriff has refused to take Murrell into custody. Hues has him + down at the court-house, but whether or not he is going to be able to hold + him is another matter!” + </p> + <p> + Yancy and Hannibal had dressed by this time, and the judge led the way + from the house. The Scratch Hiller looked about him. Across the street a + group of men, the greater number of whom were armed, stood in front of + Pegloe's tavern. Glancing in the direction of the court-house, he observed + that the square before it held other groups. But what impressed him more + was the ominous silence that was everywhere. At his elbow the judge was + breathing deep. + </p> + <p> + “We are face to face with a very deplorable condition, Mr. Yancy. Court + was to sit here to-day, but judge Morrow and the public prosecutor have + left town, and as you see, Murrell's friends have gathered for a rescue. + There's a sprinkling of the better element—but only a sprinkling. I + saw judge Morrow this morning at four o'clock—I told him I would + obligate myself to present for his consideration evidence of a striking + and sensational character, evidence which would show conclusively that + Murrell should be held to await the action of the next grand jury—this + was after a conference with Hues—I guaranteed his safety. Sir, the + man refused to listen to me! He showed himself utterly devoid of any + feeling of public duty.” The bitter sense of failure and futility was + leaving the judge. The situation made its demands on that basic faith in + his own powers which remained imbedded in his character. + </p> + <p> + They had entered the court-house square. 'On the steps of the building + Betts was arguing loudly with Hues, who stood in the doorway, rifle in + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you don't know this is county property?” the sheriff was saying. + “And that you have taken unlawful possession of it for an unlawful + purpose? I am going to open them doors-a passel of strangers can't keep + folks out of a building their own money has bought and paid for!” While he + was speaking, the judge had pushed his way through the crowd to the foot + of the steps. + </p> + <p> + “That was very nicely said, Mr. Betts,” observed the judge. He smiled + widely and sweetly. The sheriff gave him a hostile glare. “Do you know + that Morrow has left town?” the judge went on. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got nothing to do with judge Morrow. It's my duty to see that + this building is ready for him when he's a mind to open court in it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are willing to assume the responsibility of throwing open these + doors?” inquired the judge affably. + </p> + <p> + “I shorely am,” said Betts. “Why, some of these folks are our leading + people!” + </p> + <p> + The judge turned to the crowd, and spoke in a tone of excessive civility. + “Just a word, gentlemen!—the sheriff is right; it is your + court-house and you should not be kept out of it. No doubt there are some + of you whose presence in this building will sooner or later be urgently + desired. We are going to let all who wish to enter, but I beg you to + remember that there will be five men inside whose prejudices are all in + favor of law and order.” He pushed past Hues and entered the court-house, + followed by Yancy and Hannibal. “We'll let 'em in where I can talk to + 'em,” he said almost gaily. “Besides, they'll come in anyhow when they get + ready, so there's no sense in exciting them.” + </p> + <p> + In the court-house, Murrell, bound hand and foot, was seated between + Carrington and the Earl of Lambeth in the little railed-off space below + the judge's bench. Fear and suffering had blanched his unshaven cheeks and + given a wild light to his deeply sunken eyes. At sight of Yancy a + smothered exclamation broke from his lips, he had supposed this man dead + these many months! + </p> + <p> + Hues had abandoned his post and the crowd, suddenly grown clamorous, + stormed the narrow entrance. One of the doors, borne from its hinges, went + down with a crash. The judge, a fierce light flashing from his eyes, + turned to Yancy. + </p> + <p> + “No matter what happens, this fellow Murrell is not to escape—if he + calls on his friends to rescue him he is to be shot!” + </p> + <p> + The hall was filling with swearing, struggling men, the floor shook + beneath their heavy tread; then they burst into the court-room and saluted + Murrell with a great shout. But Murrell, bound, in rags, and silent, his + lips frozen in a wolfish grin, was a depressing sight, and the boldest + felt something of his unrestrained lawlessness go from him. + </p> + <p> + Less noisy now, the crowd spread itself out among the benches or swarmed + up into the tiny gallery at the back of the building. Man after man had + hurried forward, intent on passing beyond the railing, but each lead + encountered the judge, formidable and forbidding, and had turned aside. + Gradually the many pairs of eyes roving over the little group surrounding + the outlaw focussed themselves on Slocum Price. It was in unconscious + recognition of that moral force which was his, a tribute to the grim + dignity of his unshaken courage; what he would do seemed worth + considering. + </p> + <p> + He was charmed to hear his name pass in a whisper from lip to lip. Well, + it was time they knew him! He squared his ponderous shoulders and made a + gesture commanding silence. Battered, shabby and debauched, he was like + some old war horse who sniffs the odor of battle that the wind + incontinently brings to his nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him speak!” cried a voice, and a tumult succeeded. + </p> + <p> + Cool and indomitable the judge waited for it to subside. He saw that the + color was stealing back into Murrell's face. The outlaw was feeling that + he was a leader not overthrown, these were his friends and followers, his + safety was their safety too. In a lull in the storm of sound the judge + attempted to make himself heard, but his words were lost in the angry roar + that descended on him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let him speak! Kill him! Kill him!” + </p> + <p> + A score of men sprang to their feet and from all sides came the click of + rifle and pistol hammers as they were drawn to the full cock. The judge's + fate seemed to rest on a breath. He swung about on his heel and gave a + curt nod to Yancy and Cavendish, who, falling back a step, tossed their + guns to their shoulders and covered Murrell. A sudden hush grew up out of + the tumult; the cries, angry and jeering, dwindled to a murmur, and a dead + pall of silence rested on the crowded room. + </p> + <p> + The very taste of triumph was in the judge's mouth. Then came a commotion + at the back of the building, a whispered ripple of comment, and Colonel + Fentress elbowed his way through the crowd. At sight of his enemy the + judge's face went from white to red, while his eyes blazed; but for the + moment the force of his emotions left him speechless. Here and there, as + he advanced, Fentress recognized a friend and bowed coolly to the right + and left. + </p> + <p> + “What does this ridiculous mockery mean?” he demanded harshly. “Mr. + Sheriff, as a member of the bar, I protest! Why don't you clear the + building?” He did not wait for Betts to answer him, but continued. “Where + is this man Hues?” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder, Colonel, by the captain,” said Betts. + </p> + <p> + “I have a warrant for his arrest. You will take him into custody.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” cried the judge. “I represent Mr. Hues. I desire to see that + warrant!” + </p> + <p> + But Fentress ignored him. He addressed the crowded benches. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, it is a serious matter forcibly to seize a man without + authority from the courts and expose him to the danger of mob violence—Mr. + Hues will learn this before we have done with him.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly there was a noisy demonstration that swelled into a burst of + applause, which quickly spent itself. The struggle seemed to have narrowed + to an individual, contest for supremacy between Fentress and the judge. On + the edge of the railed off space they confronted each other: the colonel, + a tall, well-cared-for presence; the judge shabby and unkempt. For a + moment their eyes met, while the judge's face purpled and paled, and + purpled again. The silence deepened. Fentress' thin lips opened, twitched, + but no sound came from them; then his glance wavered and fell. He turned + away. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sheriff!” he called sharply. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “Take your man into custody,” ordered Fentress. As he spoke he handed the + warrant to Betts, who looked at it, grinned, and stepped toward Hues. He + would have pushed the judge aside had not that gentleman, bowing civilly, + made way for him. + </p> + <p> + “In my profound respect for the law and properly constituted authority I + yield to no man, not even to Colonel Fentress,” he said, with a gracious + gesture. “I would not place the slightest obstacle in the way of its + sanctioned manifestation. Colonel Fentress comes here with that high + sanction.” He bowed again ceremoniously to the colonel. “I repeat, I + respect his dependence upon the law!” He whirled suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Cavendish—Yancy—Carrington—I call upon you to arrest + John Murrell! I do this by virtue of the authority vested in me as a judge + of the United States Federal Court. His crime—a mere trifle, my + friends—passing counterfeit money! Colonel Fentress will inform you + that this is a violation of the law which falls within my jurisdiction,” + and he beamed blandly on Fentress. + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” cried the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “You'll answer for that later!” said the judge, with abrupt austerity of + tone. + </p> + <p> + “For all we know you may be some fugitive from justice! Why, your name + isn't Price!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of that?” asked the judge quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You're an impostor! Your name is Turberville!” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to relieve your apprehensions. It is Turberville who has + received the appointment. Would you like to examine my credentials?—I + have them by me—no? I am obliged for your introduction. It could not + have come at a more timely moment!” The judge seemed to dismiss Fentress + contemptuously. Once more he faced the packed benches. “Put down your + weapons!” he commanded. “This man Murrell will not be released. At the + first effort at rescue he will be shot where he sits—we have sworn + it—his plotting is at an end.” He stalked nearer the benches. “Not + one chance in a thousand remains to him. Either he dies here or he lives + to betaken before every judge in the state, if necessary, until we find + one with courage to try him! Make no mistake—it will best conserve + the ends of justice to allow the state court's jurisdiction in this case; + and I pledge myself to furnish evidence which will start him well on his + road to the gallows!” The judge, a tremendous presence, stalked still + nearer the benches. Outfacing the crowd, a sense of the splendor of the + part he was being called upon to play flowed through him like some elixir; + he felt that he was transcending himself, that his inspiration was drawn + from the hidden springs of the spirit, and that he could neither falter + nor go astray. “You don't know what you are meddling with! This man has + plotted to lay the South in ruins—he has been arming the negroes—it—it + is incredible that you should all know this—to such I say, go home + and thank God for your escape! For the others”—his shaggy brows met + in a menacing frown—“if they force our hand we will toss them John + Murrell's dead carcass—that's our answer to their challenge!” + </p> + <p> + He strode out among the gun muzzles which wavered where they still covered + him. He was thinking of Mahaffy—Mahaffy, who had said he was still a + man to be reckoned with. For the comfort of his own soul he was proving + it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what a servile insurrection means?—you men who have + wives and daughters, have you thought of their fate? Of the monstrous + savagery to which they would be exposed? Do you believe he could limit and + control it? Look at him! Why, he has never had a consideration outside of + his own safety, and yet he expects you to risk your necks to save his! He + would have left the state before the first blow was struck—his + business was all down river—but we are going to keep him here to + answer for his crimes! The law, as implacable as it is impartial, has put + its mark on him—the shadow in which he sits is the shadow of the + gallows!” + </p> + <p> + The judge paused, but the only sound in that expectant silence was the + heavy breathing of men. He drew his unwieldy form erect, while his voice + rumbled on, aggressive and threatening in its every intonation. + </p> + <p> + “You are here to defend something that no longer exists. Your organization + is wrecked, your signals and passwords are known, your secrets have become + public property—I can even produce a list of your members; there are + none of you who do not stand in imminent peril—yet understand, I + have no wish to strike at those who have been misled or coerced into + joining Murrell's band!” The judge's sodden old face glowed now with the + magnanimity of his sentiments. “But I have no feeling of mercy for your + leaders, none for Murrell himself. Put down your guns!—you can only + kill us after we have killed Murrell—but you can't kill the law! If + the arch conspirator dies in this room and hour, on whose head will the + punishment fall?” He swung round his ponderous arm in a sweeping gesture + and shook a fat but expressive forefinger in the faces of those nearest + him. “On yours—and yours—and yours!” + </p> + <p> + Across the space that separated them the judge grinned his triumph at his + enemy. He had known when Fentress entered the room that a word or a sign + from him would precipitate a riot, but he knew now that neither this word + nor this sign would be given. Then quite suddenly he strode down the + aisle, and foot by foot Fentress yielded ground before his advance. A + murderous light flashed from the judge's bloodshot eyes and his right hand + was stealing toward the frayed tails of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Look out—he's getting ready to shoot!” cried a frightened voice. + </p> + <p> + Instantly by doors and windows the crowd, seized with inexplicable panic, + emptied itself into the courthouse yard. Fentress was caught up in the + rush and borne from the room and from the building. When he reached the + graveled space below the steps he turned. The judge was in the doorway, + the center of a struggling group; Mr. Bowen, the minister, Mr. Saul and + Mr. Wesley were vainly seeking to pinion his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Draw—damn you!” he roared at Fentress, as he wrenched himself free, + and the crowd swayed to right and left as Fentress was seen to reach for + his pistol. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Saul made a last frantic effort to restrain his friend; he seized the + judge's arm just as the latter's finger pressed the trigger, and an + instant later Fentress staggered back with the judge's bullet in his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. THE END AND THE BEGINNING + </h2> + <p> + It was not strange that a number of gentlemen in and about Raleigh yielded + to an overmastering impulse to visit newer lands, nor was it strange that + the initial steps looking toward the indulgence of their desires should + have been taken in secrecy. Mr. Pegloe was one of the first to leave; Mr. + Saul had informed him of the judge's declared purpose of shooting him on + sight. Even without this useful hint the tavern-keeper had known that he + should experience intense embarrassment in meeting the judge; this was now + a dreary certainty. + </p> + <p> + “You reckon he means near all he says?” he had asked, his fat sides + shaking. + </p> + <p> + “I'd take his word a heap quicker than I would most folks,” answered Mr. + Saul with conviction. + </p> + <p> + Pegloe promptly had a sinking spell. He recalled the snuffing of the + candles by the judge, an extremely depressing memory under the + circumstances, also the reckless and headlong disregard of consequences + which had characterized so many of that gentleman's acts, and his plans + shaped themselves accordingly, with this result: that when the judge took + occasion to call at the tavern, and the hostile nature of his visit was + emphasized by the cautious manner of his approach, he was greatly shocked + to discover that his intended victim had sold his business overnight for a + small lump sum to Mr. Saul's brother-in-law, who had appeared most + opportunely with an offer. + </p> + <p> + Pegloe's flight created something of a sensation, but it was dwarfed by + the sensation that developed a day or so later when it became known that + Tom Ware and Colonel Fentress had likewise fled the country. Still later, + Fentress' body, showing marks of violence, was washed ashore at a + wood-yard below Girard. It was conjectured that he and Ware had set out + from The Oaks to cross the river; there was reason to believe that + Fentress had in his possession at the time a considerable sum of money, + and it was supposed that his companion had murdered and robbed him. Of + Ware's subsequent career nothing was ever known. + </p> + <p> + These were, after all, only episodes in the collapse of the Clan, sporific + manifestations of the great work of disintegration that was going forward + and which the judge, more than any other, perhaps, had brought about. This + was something no one questioned, and he quickly passed to the first phase + of that unique and peculiar esteem in which he was ever after held. His + fame widened with the succeeding suns; he had offers of help which + impressed him as so entirely creditable to human nature that he quite + lacked the heart to refuse them, especially as he felt that in the + improvement of his own condition the world had bettered itself and was + moving nearer those sound and righteous ideals of morality and patriotism + which had never lacked his indorsement, no matter how inexpedient it had + seemed for him to put them into practice. But he was not diverted from his + ultimate purpose by the glamour of a present popularity; he was able to + keep his bleared eyes resolutely fixed on the main chance, namely the + Fentress estate and the Quintard lands. It was highly important that he + should go east to South Carolina to secure documentary evidence that would + establish his own and Fentress' identity, to Kentucky, where Fentress had + lived prior to his coming to Tennessee. + </p> + <p> + Early in November the judge set out by stage on his journey east; he was + accompanied by Yancy and Hannibal, from neither of whom could he bring + himself to be separated; and as the woods, flaming now with the touch of + frost, engulfed the little town, he turned in his seat and looked back. He + had entered it by that very road, a beggar on foot and in rags; he was + leaving it in broadcloth and fine linen, visible tokens of his altered + fortunes. More than this, he could thrust his hands deep down into his + once empty pockets and hear the clink of gold and silver. The judge slowly + withdrew his eyes from the last gray roof that showed among the trees, and + faced the east and the future with a serenely confident expression. + </p> + <p> + Betty Malroy and Carrington had ridden into Raleigh to take leave of their + friends. They had watched the stage from sight, had answered the last + majestic salute the judge had given them across the swaying top of the + coach before the first turn of the road hid it from sight, and then they + had turned their horses' heads in the direction of Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + “Bruce, do you think judge Price will ever be able to accomplish all he + hopes to?” Betty asked when they had left the town behind. She drew in her + horse as she spoke, and they went forward at a walk under the splendid + arch of the forest and over a carpet of vivid leaves. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he will, Betty,” responded Carrington. Unfavorable as had been + his original estimate of the judge's character, events had greatly + modified it. + </p> + <p> + “He really seems quite sure, doesn't he?” said Betty. + </p> + <p> + “There's not a doubt in his mind,” agreed Carrington. + </p> + <p> + He was still at Belle Plain, living in what had been Ware's office, while + the Cavendishes were domiciled at the big house. He had arranged with the + judge to crop a part of that hopeful gentleman's land the very next + season; the fact that a lawsuit intervened between the judge and + possession seemed a trifling matter, for Carrington had become infected + with the judge's point of view, which did not admit of the possibility of + failure; but he had not yet told Betty of his plans. Time enough for that + when he left Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + His silence concerning the future had caused Betty much thought. She + wondered if he still intended going south into the Purchase; she was not + sure but it was the dignified thing for him to do. She was thinking of + this now as they went forward over the rustling leaves, and at length she + turned in the saddle and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to miss Hannibal dreadfully—yes, and the judge, and Mr. + Yancy!” she began. + </p> + <p> + “And when I leave—how about me, Betty?” Carrington asked + unexpectedly, but he only had in mind leaving Belle Plain. + </p> + <p> + A little sigh escaped Betty's red lips, for she was thinking of the + Purchase, which lay far down the river, many, many miles distant. The sigh + was ever so little, but Carrington had heard it. + </p> + <p> + “I am to be missed, too, am I, Betty?” he inquired, leaning toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You, Bruce?—Oh, I shall miss you, too—dreadfully—but + then, perhaps in five years, when you come back—” + </p> + <p> + “Five years!” cried Carrington, but he understood, something of what was + passing in her mind, and laughed shortly. “Five years, Betty?” he + repeated, dwelling on the numeral. + </p> + <p> + Betty hesitated and looked thoughtful. Presently she stole a surreptitious + glance at Carrington from under her long lashes, and went on slowly, as + though she were making careful choice of her words. + </p> + <p> + “When you come back in three years, Bruce—” + </p> + <p> + Carrington still regarded her fixedly. There was a light in his black eyes + that seemed to penetrate to the most secret recesses of her heart and + soul. + </p> + <p> + “Three years, Betty?” he repeated again. + </p> + <p> + Betty, her eyes cast down, twisted her rein nervously between her slim, + white fingers, but Carrington's steady glance never left her sweet face, + framed by its halo of bright hair. She stole another look at him from + beneath her dark lashes. + </p> + <p> + “Three years, Betty?” he prompted. + </p> + <p> + “Bruce, don't stare at me that way, it makes me forget what I was going to + say! When you come, back—next year—” and then she lifted her + eyes to his and he saw that they were full of sudden tears. “Bruce, don't + go away—don't go away at all—” + </p> + <p> + Carrington slipped from the saddle and stood at her side. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that, Betty?” he asked. He took her hands loosely in his and + relentlessly considered her crimsoned face. “I reckon it will always be + right hard to refuse you anything—here is one settler the Purchase + will never get!” and he laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “It was the Purchase—you were going there!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “No, I wasn't, Betty; that notion died its natural death long ago. When we + are sure you will be safe at Belle Plain with just the Cavendishes, I am + going into Raleigh to wait as best I can until spring.” He spoke so + gravely, that she asked in quick alarm. + </p> + <p> + “And then, Bruce—what?” + </p> + <p> + “And then—Oh, Betty, I'm starving—” All in a moment he lifted + her slender figure in his arms, gathering her close to him. “And then, + this—and this—and this, sweetheart—and more—and—oh, + Betty! Betty!” + </p> + <p> + When Murrell was brought to trial his lawyers were able to produce a host + of witnesses whose sworn testimony showed that so simple a thing as + perjury had no terrors for them. His fight for liberty was waged in and + out of court with incredible bitterness, and, as judge and jury were only + human, the outlaw escaped with the relatively light sentence of twelve + years' imprisonment; he died, however, before the expiration of his term. + </p> + <p> + The judge, where he returned to Raleigh, resumed his own name of + Turberville, and he allowed it to be known that he would not be offended + by the prefix of General. During his absence he had accumulated a wealth + of evidence of undoubted authenticity, with the result that his claim + against the Fentress estate was sustained by the courts, and when The Oaks + with its stock and slaves was offered for sale, he, as the principal + creditor, was able to buy it in. + </p> + <p> + One of his first acts after taking possession of the property was to have + Mahaffy reinterred in the grove of oaks below his bedroom windows, and he + marked the spot with a great square of granite. The judge, visibly shaken + by his emotions, saw the massive boulder go into place. + </p> + <p> + “Harsh and rugged like the nature of him who lies beneath it—but + enduring, too, as he was,” he murmured. He turned to Yancy and Hannibal, + and added, + </p> + <p> + “You will lay me beside him when I die.” + </p> + <p> + Then when the bitter struggle came and he was wrenched and tortured by + longings, his strength was in remembering his promise to the dead man, and + it was his custom to go out under the oaks and pace to and fro beside + Mahaffy's grave until he had gained the mastery of himself. Only Yancy and + Hannibal knew how fierce the conflict was he waged, yet in the end he won + that best earned of all victories, the victory over himself. + </p> + <p> + “My salvation has been a costly thing; it was bought with the blood of my + friend,” he told Yancy. + </p> + <p> + It was Hannibal's privilege to give Cavendish out of the vast Quintard + tract such a farm as the earl had never dreamed of owning even in his most + fervid moments of imagining; and he abandoned all idea of going to England + to claim his title. At the judge's suggestion he named the place Earl's + Court. He and Polly were entirely satisfied with their surroundings, and + never ceased to congratulate themselves that they had left Lincoln County. + They felt that their friends the Carringtons at Belle Plain, though + untitled people, were still of an equal rank with themselves; while as for + the judge, they doubted if royalty itself laid it any over him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yancy accepted his changed fortunes with philosophic composure. + Technically he filled the position of overseer at The Oaks, but the + judge's activity was so great that this position was largely a sinecure. + The most arduous work he performed was spending his wages. + </p> + <p> + Certain trifling peculiarities survived with the judge even after he had + entered what he had once been prone to call the Portal of Hope; for while + his charity was very great and he lived with the splendid air of plenty + that belonged to an older order, it required tact, patience, and + persistence to transact business with him; and his creditors, of whom + there were always a respectable number, discovered that he esteemed them + as they were aggressive and determined. He explained to Yancy that too + great certainty detracted from the charm of living, for, after all, life + was a game—a gamble—he desired to be reminded of this. Yet he + was held in great respect for his wisdom and learning, which was no more + questioned that his courage. + </p> + <p> + Thus surrounded by his friends, who were devoted to him, he began + Hannibal's education and the preparation of his memoirs, intended + primarily for the instruction of his grandson, and which he modestly + decided to call The History of My Own Times, which clearly showed the + magnificence of his mind and its outlook. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prodigal Judge, by Vaughan Kester + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRODIGAL JUDGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5129-h.htm or 5129-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/5129/ + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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